When Gorky was detained in August, among the blogs of Cubans inside and outside of Cuba we established a social network: exchange of information, giving priority to news about the situation in Havana, etc. From here, we also established a much smaller network connecting the bloggers and prioritizing solidarity. I remember Lizabel Mónica called me and said it could be any one of us who were in the dungeon. If, when we left the protestódromo, a friend with a telephone hadn’t been there to take me on a bike to the home of another friend who had a computer, and I hadn’t had an email account from another friend, I’d never have been able to send out a message about the beatings and arrests. We didn’t know it, but we were a small social network.
What this is, more or less, is a completely independent group of citizens who are not active in the same organization, or who don’t belong to any (like me), and who for solidarity, conviction, or because it works for them and they like it, establish contact for mutual help.
The good thing is that it is NOT an organization and everyone can participate up to whatever point they consider comfortable and convenient. You don’t have to sign anything, write anything, take responsibility, protest, or take any risk you don’t want to take.
I do believe that in Cuba there are people who read the blogs, and I also believe that these people can help other people read the blogs. If you read me from Cuba, you have copies of the discs, pass them around in USB flash drives, renew your copy monthly with the person who gave it to you last month, and pass it on to your friends.
And always remember: You are reading Cuban voices because you like doing it, and that has no risk.
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.