Surviving Cuba's Prisons
Unbowed, Jorge Olivera
Castillo emerges from jail to speak out.
By Sauro González
Rodríguez. CPJ,
April, 2005.
For the crime of reporting the news, Jorge
Olivera Castillo spent most of two years
in the hellish conditions of Cuba's prisons.
The director of a small independent news
agency, the Havana Press, Olivera Castillo
was one of 29 journalists arrested in a
massive government crackdown on dissidents
and theindependent media in March 2003.
He was convicted in a one-day, closed-door
proceeding under a law prohibiting acts
"aimed at subverting the internal order
of the nation and destroying its political,
economic, and social system."
Olivera Castillo was sentenced to 18 years
in prison, parts of which he spent in State
Security Department confinement at Villa
Marista, the Guantánamo provincial
prison, the Guantánamo provincial
hospital, and a prison infirmary in western
Matanzas province. Freed last December 6,
he was among a half-dozen imprisoned journalists
released on medical parole in 2004. After
his release, the 43-year-old editor discussed
with CPJ his early career in the state media,
his professional evolution, his imprisonment,
and his plans for the future. Here are translated
excerpts of his interview with CPJ's Sauro
González Rodríguez:
SG: Tell us about your work for the official
media.
JOC: From 1983 to 1993, I worked at the
Cuban Institute for Radio and Television
as an editor. During the decade I worked
at this state-owned entity, I spent two
years in the national television news system
where news programs, news reports are made.
I had a close experience with all the censorship,
the self-censorship, and all the news manipulation
that takes place in the official media.
SG: Describe this climate of self-censorship.
JOC: Propaganda is very tightly controlled
by a Central Committee agency called Revolutionary
Orientation Department, where information
and indoctrination policies are designed.
All media are subordinated to the strategies
devised by this agency. People fear crossing
a line-they don't know where it is or what
the limits are-and that' s where self-censorship
comes in. They censor themselves for fear
of retaliation.
SG: When and why did you decide to join
the independent press?
JOC: One thing that had a profound effect
were the events during perestroika and glasnost
in the Soviet Union. That opened my eyes,
made me ask myself some questions and search
for answers. I began maturing as time went
by, and then I was faced with how to break
the barrier of fear, of terror, which is
something natural in Cuba, part of our culture.
SG: Can you describe for us how independent
journalism is done in Cuba?
JOC: We face shortages of materials, a
lack of information sources. Everything
conspires against you; everything is so
adverse, particularly the way to send your
reports abroad. There's no computer network
cheap enough for us to send our reports;
phone communications are terrible.
Nevertheless, we have been able to articulate
a nationwide movement of independent journalists.
We even published a magazine that was shut
down with our imprisonment, De Cuba magazine,
which was developed by the journalists association
Sociedad de Periodistas Manuel Márquez
Sterling. The persecution, harassment, economic
adversities, lack of proper technology-a
number of factors conspired against our
doing a quality job.
SG: Would you describe your arrest?
JOC: I was at my wife's aunt's house napping
when plainclothes agents showed up with
a search warrant. My wife woke me up, a
bit scared, and they all came in and carried
out an exhaustive search. They took many
pictures of everything they confiscated,
which wasn't much: two old, worn-out typewriters,
and many news stories; books on politics,
economics, even world literature; and a
small 8mm camcorder. When we went downstairs
to go to my house, the street was blocked.
There were several police cars and motorbikes;
it was a huge police operation. People were
terrified, and many were watching from their
balconies.
The search at my house was very similar.
While they were searching, one of them turned
on a radio and tuned in the "Mesa Redonda"
talk show-which was talking about us, about
the crackdown taking place at the same time
at many homes in Cuba, and they were using
epithets to denigrate and slander us. Around
10, 10:30 p.m., I arrived in Villa Marista,
where they carried out a thorough body search
and gave me prisoner's clothes.
SG: Were you expecting the arrest?
JOC: I wasn't expecting it, honestly. I
thought it would be what had happened many
times before. When the political police
didn't want me to cover an event, they would
simply knock on my door and tell me I couldn't
leave. I thought it was routine harassment.
I never thought it would be the beginning
of a terrible period in the history of Cuba
.
SG: Tell us about your experiences in prison.
JOC: To feel that you're imprisoned, are
surrounded by walls and bars everywhere,
without reason, it's a double shock that
you suffer. I spent 36 days in a cell with
common criminals in Villa Marista. The four
of us could not stand at the same time,
that's how small the cell was. There was
no ventilation and we had a fluorescent
lamp on 24 hours a day. The bathroom was
a hole; the smell was unbearable.
Then the trial came. The trial was a sham,
a grotesque sham. I only saw my lawyer 10
to 15 minutes before my court hearing was
to start. I felt I had been convicted in
advance. Thank God I had the strength of
character and could face such a difficult
situation. I did not keep silent. I defended
myself against all the allegations prosecutors
made, full of visceral hatred -I can't forget
that. I refuted all of them.
Then there was the distance. I was sent
over 900 kilometers (560 miles) from my
place of residence, which was an additional
punishment for my wife and my children.
I was first at the Combinado Provincial
de Guantánamo, and we were placed
with common prisoners for 17 days. Then
we were placed in solitary confinement.
We had an hour a day to get some sun. I
began having pain in my bones, due to the
cell's humidity and the lack of sunlight.
I was sick all of one year. The food arrived
rotten sometimes, and the water was muddy
and brown. I contracted parasites twice.
I would tell the doctor: "Look, the
food is poorly prepared and sometimes rotten.
The water is contaminated; we should not
drink it." And she would say: "That's
not my problem. My problem is if you get
sick."
And there were lots of insects: mosquitoes,
scorpions, flies, ants, lizards. It was
a terrible situation. All amid the indifference,
the indolence by the medical services and
the prison officers. I was later placed
in a cell with common prisoners-pedophiles
and murderers. Something terribly harsh
and brutal goes on in Cuban prisons.
Hunger, alienation, the guards' willingness
to beat up prisoners who in many cases do
not deserve it-the prisoners become so alienated
that they turn to self-mutilation. I saw
two people make a hot paste by melting plastic
shopping bags and then put their hands inside
this substance. They lost their hands, which
were amputated, and were released on medical
parole. Other people stab themselves; swallow
wires, small spoons; take fluids that are
harmful to their digestive system. To sum
it up, it's a world of horror.
After being jailed for a year, I was transferred
to the Guantánamo Provincial Hospital.
This happened a year after I had been requesting
adequate medical attention. During the time
I spent at the hospital, conditions improved.
I would receive the hospital's food, and
there was a snack. I was like any other
patient, except that I remained jailed at
a ward for prisoners, living with com mon
prisoners, which was not easy. But at least
there was more ventilation.
SG: How was your relationship with other
prisoners?
JOC: You have to apply a lot of psychology.
You may get stabbed, because they traffic
in pills and prisoners get high, particularly
in Guantánamo. There's also trafficking
in knives. They make them at the prison
and sell them for cigarettes. Fights also
break out and you may be wounded; that's
very common. It's a very difficult coexistence.
I didn't have any problems with common prisoners,
but it's a potential problem, particularly
for political prisoners and prisoners of
conscience in Cuba.
SG: What medical problems did you suffer?
JOC: I suffer from a colon disorder, and
I need to avoid stress. The pain in my lower
abdomen is terrible, and I may have bouts
of diarrhea. All of this upsets my nerves,
and it becomes a vicious cycle because then
I have another crisis. I also suffered from
high blood pressure, apparently because
of stress and the harsh conditions. Like
I said, I barely caught any sunlight during
all the time I was jailed. When I was at
the hospital, I would ask my guards, "Please,
handcuff me and take me outdoors."
But they would reply, "No, no, because
of security concerns." So I would talk
to the doctor and I would tell the guards
they should give me at least an hour outdoors,
and sometimes the guards would give me an
hour, or half an hour, or nothing.
SG: Were you aware of the international
protests over the imprisonments?
JOC: You don't know how important it is
for a political prisoner, for a prisoner
of conscience to feel and see through your
family and through phone calls what people
were doing. We were desperate. I would ask
my relatives what CPJ was doing, what Reporters
without Borders was doing, what the Inter
American Press Association was doing, what
Amnesty International was doing, what many
other people, including politicians and
people of good will were doing. That was
very important from a spiritual point of
view, to strengthen ourselves in those conditions
and endure them. And this should not let
up; it's crucial for those journalists who
are still in jail in conditions similar
to those I have described. Their minds may
be affected and so their bodies may be.
SG: How did your family cope during your
imprisonment?
JOC: If you suffer in jail, your family
suffers much more. Here, I have only my
wife and my two children. My wife had to
solve every problem and take care of the
family-and she never stopped caring about
me and denouncing all the injustices against
me. Because of the distance to the prison,
sometimes my family struggled to buy the
transportation fare. They also struggled
to provide for themselves, and bring things
to me despite such a long trip. But my family
stuck together.
SG: What is your view on the government
crackdown and everything that has happened
since?
JOC: I don't think the crackdown was very
successful. The international reaction has
been very strong, massive, and sustained.
I think the government underestimated that,
and it has caused the government to lose
a very large amount of prestige. The independent
press has moved forward, and so have the
trade unions, political parties, and human
rights activists. So, I believe that in
political terms the government hasn't won
anything. However, the language of confrontation
persists and this is very dangerous. We
can't rule out that the government won't
take drastic measures, although smaller
in scale. They could imprison three, four
persons every few months, and it wouldn't
draw international attention.
SG: Do you feel inhibited from working
as a journalist again?
JOC: I have a refugee visa and I'm not
a healthy person. I'm thinking about my
family. I have been 12 years, including
those two in prison, trying to create a
space and I think we have been successful
in establishing an independent press, a
cornerstone of a future democracy. It's
been 12 years I have invested in this, and
now I have to think about my family, my
children.
SG: What are your plans for the future?
JOC: I think one day I'll be able to leave
Cuba. I don't know how I'm going to do in
the United States; I don't know whether
I will settle there permanently. I would
like to keep writing, working as a television
editor, but I know it won't be easy. First
I want to protect my family, my children,
and above all, I want to cope better with
my illness. One thing I do know for sure:
I'll never renounce my principles. I will
always support a plural, inclusive society
wherever I am. Nobody should be discriminated
against because of his or her ideology.
And all ideological lines should have their
own media, their own way of expressing ideas
and sharing them with other people. I will
always defend these ideas. I took them up
one day, haven't renounced them and never
will-let alone now.
Sauro González Rodríguez is
research associate for CPJ's Americas program.
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