Since I was a little girl, I’ve been forced to watch the official National News on Cuban TV. “You have to be informed,” my father used to say; “we should know what is going on in the world so nobody can fool us,” my mother used to add.
It’s been quite some time since I last felt like writing. I feel like it’s the closest thing to rolling around in a pile of shit. I hope you’re not offended by my language, including the editor who I hope doesn’t censor me. But it’s a lot more honest than beating around the bush.
Bárbara was my schoolfriend and neighbor, and because she didn’t have any brothers or sisters, we shared a lot together: we loved listenening to music, playing ludo, talking for hours on end and watching films.
My friend recently told me that he feels like he doesn’t understand Cubans anymore, and that he feels out of place. “I don’t know if it’s just me who’s got it wrong”, he said confused “but I see so much craziness everywhere.”
For many many years, Cuban culture was buried beneath racial discrimination, and the few tourists who visited Cuba came from the United States, where there was even worse discrimination than the one in our own country.
Let us continue to go through Cuba’s 2015 Yearly Statistics Report. In this piece, we are going to compare our country’s main health indicators with those of the rest of the world.
Like childhood’s many other discoveries, which occur simultaneously, I was invited for my first time to a Yoruba* ritual drumming party when I was 9 years old and found myself alone in front of a santera.
This year, I noticed that, despite having been denied much publicity on television, as is habitual in our socialist country, the number of people who attended the rally was a bit greater than in previous years.
My dad would always tell me that, when I was small, I would constantly put him a hard spot with difficult questions at inopportune times, and that, many a time, he didn’t know how to handle these.