It seems that some official journalists, the organizers of cultural events within Cuba, the ministers, the representatives of institutions, and even “compañero” Fidel, are afflicted by a strange evil. This already has the stink of an epidemic and it’s said it doesn’t even have a cure. Their most obvious symptom is the inability to pronounce one name: Yoani Sánchez.
From “misguided sheep”, “cocky”, up to the latest, “The girl blogger is very famous,” as Abel Prieto said of the intervention of Yoani Sánchez in Tania Bruguera’s performance, this is how they refer to her. Could it be that officialdom doesn’t have the ability to pronounce names with Y? Is this a technique of State Security to reduce the importance of the phenomenon Generation Y? It seems that Security has not taken into account that they could be putting Ministers and Government in an uncomfortable situation: either they are completely uninformed or they have amnesia.
It’s a pity that the Minister of Culture not only can’t remember the name of Yoani Sánchez, but also has forgotten those of everyone who spoke at this microphone on Sunday, March 29 at 8pm. I refer to the artists and non-artists (like me) and to those outside the culture (according to an official notice from the organizers of the biennial), to those whom they don’t even manage to identify (at best they refer to the dove).
Another interesting thing in the statements of Abel Prieto:
"... took the microphone to make a speech against the revolution. She said the Internet was a crack in the censorship in Cuba."
Then he adds below:
"What she has created is something we consider important: creating an appropriate climate for the reception of this kind of art…”
Is it only my impression or is there really ambiguity in his words?
This is an excerpt to a version of the song, Epitaph for Vladimir Visotski by Karsmarski Jacek (Polish dissident songwriter), which includes Ciro Diaz in his latest album, The Blue Slug, that I listened to compulsively for at least two months, especially on the street with my mp3 inherited from a friend who now has an I-pod. (Download the lyrics here) (Download the recording and album cover here) The song (in summary, which runs about ten minutes) is about a desperate artist going through the circles of hell in search of an answer or death, and at the end of his journey there is only loneliness and the weight of the supreme power above himself. So I found myself at times catching the bus across Havana at 12 noon in August under the perennial sunshine and with the distressing feeling of not going anywhere, or arriving too late, or going for pleasure ... I feel that I have already arrived at the eighth enclosure (this is the finale of the song) where there is nothing, and I feel useless and empty, and I look at people without faith who walk along the street and who have so much fear that they no longer know they're afraid, and who have seen so many Roundtables and so many news broadcasts that they no longer know what belongs to reality or just to the TV screen. They cannot discern that they no longer believe, but cannot disbelieve either, and just move along past me not going anywhere.