Bearded Dictator disses Cuba's Bravest Broad

Raul, a reader originally from the land of los conquistadores, alerts us to the news that the retired Bearded Dictator has risen from his La-Z-Boy to diss Yoani Sanchez, the notorious and brave young Cuban woman who blogs about life in Cuba from her apartment in Havana.

Gracias, Raul for the link. It's in Spanish, but Raul translates:

"I tried to find the English version, for those who don't speak Spanish, but no luck. It's basically a bunch of garbage about the "Cuban youth" doing the dirty work for the "neocolonial press of the former Spanish metropolis"...

Somebody give that man his meds! :)''

Or unplug him.

Cuban reporters unmuzzled. Perhaps.

NPR keeps me company while I cook dinner.
I had to put my knife down to take in the whole of this story.

Cuban journalists who work at the paper Juventud Rebelde (Rebel Youth) are doing actual investigative pieces. The word "journalist'' is used loosely when it comes to the island nation, which controls the media and, well, everything else.

As you listen to the NPR story you can hear the joy in the reporters' voices. The yee haw of being able to actually do their jobs. Fabulous, really fabulous.

From the NPR story:

"For years, Fidel Castro told Cubans that their problems were the result of the U.S. trade embargo, the loss of Soviet aid or globalization: There was always an excuse. But Herminio Camacho, deputy editor of Juventud Rebelde, says it's time for Cuba to acknowledge its own failings.
"These articles aim at raising people's awareness," Camacho says. "People need to know that things don't have to be like this here. We're bringing up problems that can't be blamed on our shortages, or on outside forces, or the embargo, or the world situation."

We in the Fourth Estate (I still claim ink in the veins) get bashed a lot. Some deserved, of course. But, without a free press, without the kind of people who revel in the truth, many of us would be much, much worse off.

Getting down from soapbox now.

Go listen to the story. It's wonderful and inspiring. Makes me hope.

--30--

A Cookbook and Cubans, Cubans, Cubans Everywhere

Car'ai, this post was intended to be longer and poetic and maybe even funny, but I'm headed to Geek Squad con PDF problemas. Oy.

So, without the fluff, let me tell you about Marta's new Cuban cookbook. You know Marta from My Big Fat Cuban Family. If you don't. Go there now. Hang out, read and be happy you are Cuban, or wish that you were. Buy her fabulous cookbook. Give it as a gift, maybe coupled with one of her aprons and a mojito muddler. (Andy Garcia will have one soon.) Marta is in Southern California.

Next, because it is true there is a Cuban everywhere, let me tell you about A Cuban in London. I have no idea who he is yet, but tripped onto his site yesterday and spent more time than I truly have. It's beautifully written and the music and poetry he posts is wonderful.

And, while I have been reading Elsa Mora's blog for a while, I have failed -- I mean, really failed -- at posting a link from here. I am sorry to have deprived you, if you haven't already found her. Go look at her beautiful and creative art, her etsy shop and the amazing Oscar dress she designed for herself. Elsa is a multi-talented Cubanita in California with a Hollywood Husband.

Now, I am off, praying to los santos that this computer is not about to fry.
Enjoy the links.

Yoani Sanchez: Time magazine's 100 Most Influential People in the World

Yoani Sanchez is quickly becoming a personal hero of mine. When I heard this story on NPR this morning, I could not stop smiling, could not stop shaking my head at her audacity and courage and smarts and big you-know-whats.

If you don't know about Sanchez, she's a Cuban in Cuba who blogs about Cuba -- with honesty and regularity, defying government regulation, censorship and blockage.

In Cuba most don't even dare tell their brother what they really think about the government, but the 32-year-old Sanchez tells the world. Her posts can get more than 1,000 comments. I believe she is educating the globe and inspiring change on the island. (I hope those who defend The Retired Bearded Dictator and his brother read her blog thoroughly.)

The Spanish newspaper, El Pais, gave her a prize for journalism, which the Cuban government did not let her go get this week. (Thank you to my Spanish friend, Raul, for correcting my original post. I had said it was the government who gave the prize).

And now, Time has named her among the 100 Most Influential People in the World.

I love her. I cheer her. I wish her safety. And freedom.

An interview in Spanish:

Smelling change

I have, I admit, become addicted to Yoani Sanchez's blog -- the Cuban woman in Cuba who writes about whatever the hell she wants. This morning, there was a link to a new one, Potro Salvaje (Wild Pony) -- a new blog giving Cuban bloggers tips on getting away with posting in internet cafes, getting tourists to help them post undercover, and they're linking to sites Cubans are officially banned from reading.

They call it a "virtual raft.'' So clever.

It smells like change.

It's amazing to me because during my trips to Cuba I met so many young people who just shook their heads, had no idea what to do, or how to do it, or what to do it with. (My last trip was in 1998, so not too much Internet access). One young man, whose father held an esteemed government position, said he trusted no one and therefore could not even bring up the subject of making change. Even your brother would turn you in if it meant getting something as reward.

Looks like brothers and sisters have joined forces.

Cuba by a Cuban in Cuba and what's up with those Y names.

My mom has a pretty hilarious childhood friend who tells great stories. She hasn't been in the states too long and so, lived most of her life under dictatorship. When I was in Miami in January she came to visit and had me both bent over in laughter, and head hung in sadness, with tales from Cuba.

This woman, like my family, is from Banes, a pretty little tip on the eastern side of the island. She told me men women and children trolled the beach daily looking for items that were either thrown off, or had fallen off, of freighters and cruise ships. Everything was put to use.

One time hundreds of Chinese straw mats washed ashore and everyone in town suddenly had new carpeting. Four apples (not found in Cuba) were collected once and the oldest person of the group, this woman's father, said he'd take the first bite. If he lived, everyone else could have a slice. They all lived. And the littlest ones tasted apple for the first and only time.

Empty jugs also were a common find, but she could never figure out why people kept those.

My mom's friend worked at the hospital filling out birth certificates. She helped talk a few guajiros out of odd names. Many she didn't: Danger, Sindulfo, Usnavy (Get it, U.S. Navy?), Katiuska, after a Russian rocket launcher.

Her favorite however was this story: A woman who had about five kids insisted the new baby's name start with a Y, as was a popular custom in Cuba in the '70s and '80s. They were mostly made up names like Yudislady, Yulieski, Yunio. But, the new mom couldn't figure out which name to pick, or how to make another one up.

"Yo ni se,'' she told my mom's friend. ("I don't know.'')
And then she quickly said: "Oh, that's nice! Let's do that one. Yonise.''

And so, Yonise aka "I don't know'' was named.

The point of this?

A friend last week introduced me to a blog written by a young Cuban in Cuba about Cuba. It is raw and honest. At least, I hope she's being honest and speaking from her own gut. The conspiracy theorists wonder if she's just a tool of the Revolution. It stands to reason, I guess, for many others have been jailed or killed for less. A lot less.

The blog is called Generation Y and the writer, Yoani Sanchez, says: "Generatión Y is a Blog inspired by people like me, with names that start or contain a "Y". Born in the Cuba of the 70s and the 80s, marked by the "schools to the countryside", the Russian cartoons, the illegal exits and the frustration. So, an invitation goes especially to Yanisleidi, Yoandri, Yusimí, Yuniesky and others that drag their Ys, to read me and write back."

Some posts have more than 800 comments. She's gotten international press and many, many hits.

My favorite of the posts I have read is this one, in which she searches all day for a lemon to make tea to soothe her sore throat. She didn't find one.

I hope she is real.

But, even if she isn't, the sentiment and longing and anger she displays is real.

The blog as an English translation button, by the way, and it's pretty good.

More thoughts on The Bearded Dictator's "Retirement"

Here's what keeps bugging me about the Bearded Dictator retirement and his "I won't cling to power'': There are more Bearded Dictator haters at my mom's on any given Sunday afternoon -- when the Tias, Tios and Primos gather -- than there seemed to be on the streets of Miami yesterday.

Growing up, I imagined the Any Day Now really could be Any Day Now. I imagined taking to the streets, like we did when the Dolphins won in '72, honking horns, causing traffic jams, waving flags. I imagined the pachanga of a lifetime. A party to last for days, a party to end all parties. The tears of joy, the boats leaving for Havana Harbor and coming from Havana Harbor, just like during the 1980 Mariel Boat Lift.

The Any Day Now of my making would have meant these TV reporters could barely have heard themselves above the total Cuban racket, the kind only Cubans know how to make. But it was do damned calm.

This was so anti-climatic, so not a victory, from where I sit. Same old mierda, same old misery.

I'm still waiting for my Any Day Now.

That's it? You just resign after a lifetime of Hell Making?

When the arch enemy of your people just kinda resigns it's a little bit of a let down.

I am a peace-loving girl, so I didn't want bloodshed or bombs, but really, to just resign like some corporate CEO, on your own terms, after so much hell has been wrought?

That's just not right.

For those of you with kind of a passing or romanticized idea of bearded dictators know this:
Bearded Dictator: Bad
Bearded Dictator Brother: Badder

At least that's always been the talk at home and during our visits to Cuba.

I'm hoping Bearded Dictator Brother has gotten hold of Oprah and her nice Friends on XM, maybe listened to a little Course in Miracles.

Because really, what we need on that little Lost Island is a miracle.

(If you want to follow what's going on in the Exilio today go here and check out the Exile, Cuban Style links to the right and be sure to read the post at the Adventures of the Coconut Caucus, a site I am really loving.)

Big Tease

It might just be that one particular crazy, old bearded man is the biggest tease in the history of the universe.

My cell rang in the 2 o'clock hour. The voice on the other end was in Miami and whispering the intel that was swirling around the hot streets, intoxicating and inspiring la gente.

A few hours later, nada.

Jipped again.

Tease, I tell you.

Crazy tease.

Grave condition. Then what?

I woke too early, and unfortunately, to the sounds of a high-pitch Winnie the Pooh song. Seems la nena had to use the potty and turn on the CD player. Checked the clock and thought it said 6 a.m. Laid there desperate for sleep while my husband faded in and out of consciousness. Got up and took the monitor blaring Winnie with me so he could sleep. He’s got a long day ahead. Much to my freak-outness, the clocks in the kitchen read 5:27 a.m.

So, I do what any modern mother does. Make sure the kid is safe and then log on. Hot coffee in my favorite mug.

But AP blares at me too: Bearded dictator reportedly in “grave condition.’’

So here, alone in the dark, I am trying _ unsuccessfully _ to wrap my head around what life would be like with that man dead. My generation does not know a life without A Bad Guy and a thick wall of separation from the familial homeland.

I have told my family I firmly believe the guy never will die. The bargain with the devil thing. But the news this morning, and of late, promises to prove me wrong.

How much lighter would life seem? How would family gatherings and conversation change? What would Miami, my hometown, be like in the days following? What would a change mean for our family still on the island, several of whom are committed to their “president.’’

What would Cuba become to my own daughter and her generation? Will they have safe access, will they care whether they do or don’t? Will it become just some place they go to get rowdy on Spring Break?

Friends, especially the reporter types, in Tennessee ask me a lot of questions about the bearded dictator and Cuba. They know we have traveled there. They know we have relatives there. Some really want an opinion while others want to confirm a notion or strongly voice their own opinion, whether correct or not -- Free health care! Free education! Utopia! Yeah right. Sometimes I tell them I really am Mexican and I don’t know nothing about no island.

So friends, let me point you elsewhere for the reactions and information you may seek today and on The Big Day, whenever it may be.

Babalu (Be sure to check out the extensive links section.)

Miami Herald

Me? I’m going to take a nap.