José Antonio Fornaris, Cuba-Verdad
HAVANA, July - After several phone calls to set a time and place, I met a
young German journalist from the daily Die Welt who wanted to interview me.
We met on June 29 in a centrally-located cafeteria in the upscale district
of Vedado. As a result of a natural apprehensiveness bred from living here, I
started right in with the questions, notwithstanding that I was to be the
subject of the interview in this case.
"Who gave you my phone number?"
"I sent an e-mail to CubaNet and they gave me information about you and
how to find you."
"Did you come into Cuba as a journalist or as a tourist?"
"I tried for months to come as a journalist, and even though they never
said no, I didn't get the permit, either. I came as a tourist."
"Well, most likely they will deport you."
"I'm leaving today, anyway."
"The telephone you called, we can't prove it, but we are sure it's
monitored by the political police. They, State Security, know we are here and
that we are talking."
My young colleague wanted to record the interview. The cafeteria was not an
appropriate place for that, so we walked down 23rd Street to Paseo boulevard,
with the shade trees and benches on its median.
As we walked by an office of the ICAIC, the Cuban Institute of
Cinematographic Art and Industry, one of five people who were standing around
pointed a video camera in our direction, apparently casually.
The last time someone accidentally pointed a video camera in my direction
was six years ago, as I talked in a public place with two officials from the
Chilean embassy, and I spent 19 days in a blind cell [a cell without windows] at
100th and Aldabó Streets, as it is generally known, the Department of
Technical Investigations of the National Police.
As we sat down on one of the benches, a young man approached us, trying to
sell us a ring. He then stood a short distance from us for several minutes as he
watched the German prepare his small recorder for the interview.
The ring salesman left and immediately another young man made himself
comfortable in a bench to our left, about sixty feet from us. He stayed there
for as long as the interview lasted.
A while later, another man came by asking for a light. He was out of luck,
as neither one of us smokes, and he moved on.
Some minutes later, another man, better dressed than the others, sat on a
bench to our right.
At the end of the interview, which lasted about an hour, the German took out
a map of Havana, opened it and asked me to show him how to get to a certain
address.
The better-dressed man could not see the paper from where he was sitting,
and he immediately came up to us, also to ask for a light.
I have no idea if the young German noticed so many people milling about us
or approaching us with some pretext. All he wanted was to know details about how
independent journalists here do our work.
I walked him to a bus stop and wished him luck on his trip back. It appears
he didn't have any problems.
Versión
original en español
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