FROM
CUBA
The kingdom of the forbidden
Rafael Ferro Salas, Abdala Press
PINAR DEL RIO, Cuba - April (www.cubanet.org)
- I saw the disturbance in the neighborhood
from the street corner. A neighbor brought
me up to date about what happened. "They're
searching the house of a guy who's a dissident."
I approached and saw it was the house of
Abigail Ortega Beltrán. Two police
patrol cars were parked in front of the
building. Some neighbors looked on with
curiosity. I came to the group of people.
"They took away the books and some
radios," an old lady who was carrying
a little boy said. I watched as the two
policemen left the house. Behind them Abigail
went out. He saw me right away. He made
a signal and continued to one of the police
cars.
Afterwards two officers of the State Security
police came out. The same ones as always:
Mario and Beune.
A while later we were inside the house.
Everything had been moved from its place.
Abigail is the head of an independent library;
now there's nothing left of that library.
It's forbidden to have a private library
in Cuba, it's all in daring to say it is
independent, because that word is also banned.
There are endless things banned in this
country, it reaches the absurd in an environment
of so many prohibitions.
"They ordered me to appear tomorrow
afternoon at the State Security office.
They told me it's to draw up a warning act
against me," Abigail tells me while
he picks up some papers strewn on the floor,
proof of what happened only a few minutes
earlier. His wife arrives with two cups
of coffee. I take a sip and say thank you.
Afterwards I see how Abigail hides the
papers in his pocket, as if he feared someone
would return to take them away from him.
After a house search you're left with that
fear that they'll keep removing things;
this reporter has been through that.
"I don't know why these people are
upset over one having his books. They're
wholesome books. It's not a crime to have
books," my friend says to me. We have
so many banned things that I have no answer
for this question. We went out on the patio
and I look at a pair of sparrows singing.
Later they fly off over the rooftops. I
think they smelled a scent of the search,
they went away scared but free.
"Don't think the worst, friend, but
sometimes I would like to have wings and
fly away from this country of trash. They've
forced me to that, they've forced everyone
to that."
I was about to tell him he was right, but
then I smiled and told him: "It's not
worth it, my friend. If you become a bird
you fly freely, but you'd give the pleasure
of taking away reading to those who searched
you a while ago."
My friend puts his hand on my shoulder,
embraces me and says in agreement: "Right,
they can't take reading away from us, much
less what we've read."
Versión
original en español
|