Maria Matienzo’s Diary

I’ve sensed death nearby. Sometimes when I cross the street I’ll see it reflected on the hood of a car, or I’ll see it in the basement of my building, or in the face of someone passing by me.

This conversation could have happened anywhere in contemporary Cuba after the publication of the new immigration law.

Yesterday I had the botella (hitchhiking experience) of my life. I left my boss’s house (she lives near the heavily trafficked corner of 23rd and 26th streets in the Vedado district), and proceeded to ask a Cubataxi driver for a free lift.

When I was a little girl I used to play like I was going to be a great scientist; I thought that I was going to discover something great. I saw myself as working in a laboratory one day, among test tubes and suspicious fumes coming out of them.

Adela’s in-laws are a typical Cuban couple of their generation…an elderly pair with shared hatreds. The mother-in-law still hasn’t forgiven the father-in-law for his infidelity committed with a black woman way back during their first years of marriage.

In 2002, when all humankind was convinced that the world didn’t end in 2000, Cuba was conducting its population census. I imagine it was intended to see how many Cubans were still left on the island (a notion that always makes me chuckle).

Back to school took place a week ago in Cuba. Luckily, every time the school year starts, all Cuban children have a place in our educational system. That’s not just a slogan; it’s true.

Carlos’ telling me to choose whatever book that I wanted was a great birthday present. Anyone who knows me even a little knows about my obsession with reading. I chose Afrocubanas (Afro-Cuban Women).

When Lupe came home and asked whose billfold was on the table, her husband replied: “I found it in the street.” He didn’t seem to mind that she found him completely naked or that the apartment had a different smell.