Claudia's decision

Illustration: Guamá

Every day I wake up with a final decision which is generally the opposite of the day before: Am I going to bang the pot versus am I not going to bang the pot. Today, for example, I’ve decided I’m going to bang it, I don’t know if I’ll manage to keep to that until the first, or if I’ll simply go back and forth between yes and no and if I land on yes on Friday, then I’ll bang it.

And then when I land on “yes” I fall into other deeper debates: Will I bang the pot in my house? Will I go with a few jugs to the Malecon? Is a pot a weapon? Could we get a little jug band going here? Lia says we’re going to go to the Malecon and have ourselves a party and probably that’s the best option.

I could bang on a pot every day for Cuba, for permission to leave, for the prisoners, for the system, and for nothing, for the great metallic sound of “ME? NO!”: any reason and no reason sounds good to me.

I will bang the pot for all my friends who would like to bang one but don’t dare, I’ll bang it for Yoani and for Edgar, and for me and my neighbors. While banging I’ll secretly wish that the next call will be to do something like “Turn off the light.” I think I could convince even my mother to turn off the light… I haven’t been able to convince anyone to bang the pots and pans. I’ll do it really hard so it will echo and I’ll be sorry if it doesn’t reach the ears of everyone in every part of my city who is also banging.

Although maybe I will change my mind.