By Lien Estrada
HAVANA TIMES – On 26th Street in the Libertad neighborhood in the city of Holguin, a variety of goods has been offered for a long time. Birds, fruits, meat, medicines, bicycles, meals, plants, herbs, jewelry, and whatever else we could imagine… All illegal.
A customer overhears a conversation between a woman and a man, book vendors, about a topic of interest. He apologizes for intervening and says, “May I join the conversation…? It’s evident that you are educated people, even if you haven’t been to university,” and continues with his comment.
He never suspected that the woman selling those carefully organized books on that sack on the ground, a meter from the sidewalk, holds a technical degree, a bachelor’s degree, and two master’s degrees in her drawers. The elderly gentleman, also with his books next to the others, graduated in Medicine before the Revolution from the University of Oriente, Santiago de Cuba, and spent decades in laboratories, so he has profound knowledge of biochemistry. But he can also recite extensive passages from Martín Fierro, poems by José Martí, and is a pleasure to talk to about philosophy, art, and literature. Of course, no one interrupted the customer to clarify about their diverse educational backgrounds. They just politely listened to what he wanted to say.
However, this opinion is not exclusive to this gentleman who stopped to observe the texts lined up on the ground. It is possibly a criterion of the majority of the population. Perhaps because it is part of the imaginary construction of that Cuba that has somehow imposed itself on our society.
Professionals, trade workers, intellectuals, creators, workers in general, are devoted to centers and institutions that respond to the common good. Because in our Cuban socialism, we have a well-organized society. Where everyone knows their place and understands their duties and rights. Only those misfits like alcoholics, social misfits who need rehabilitation at some point, engage in activities outside the law, in various places. So goes the official line on Cuban society.
For this reason, it is not strange that passersby on this prolonged and busy street, with numerous vendors without licenses who have decided to set up here, also consider it that way. Some vendors sit on stones, tiny wooden seats, presentable or not so much, offering their products on improvised tables made of anything.
But the truth is that the Cuban reality that was intended in the 1960s, with the creation of the “new man and new woman” does not precisely correspond to what is shown day by day in the country now. Among these illegal vendors who occupy a place next to each other, like a well-programmed fair by authorities, are people of all ages, beliefs, races, genders, and of course, educational levels. This well-defined society seems to blur in this not-so-new, not-so-old jungle.
The present experience is that they are not precisely rogues who engage in stealing at night and selling the plunder during the day. In addition to some theft cases that may occur, you can find a young man who was the youngest worker at the power company and ended up leaving his job because the salary was not enough for him. In the same circuit, you also find sellers of bicycle parts and pigeons, Jehovah’s Witnesses forced to leave their studies early but were always responsible for supporting the family and the household. There is Abel, tall and robust, who announces while walking slowly back and forth: “Razors, face masks, pens…!” Graduated in Metallurgy in Russia in the 70s, when he stops to talk to someone about those times, he speaks of those European rivers where you cannot see one shore from the other.
Next to the smuggler of medicines who believes this is his best business, there is Felix with paintings that he paints himself because he graduated from the Art School but has been left out of the international tourism market.
There is also Bernardo, who looks like a farmer with his ordinary long-sleeved shirts and the enormous yarey hat to protect himself from the sun. He goes with his plastic bucket full of mint and strawberry candies, but he is a chemist by profession. He has efficient formulas for everything, and that’s why the candy turns out wonderfully. He dedicated himself to making and selling them once he resigned from the hospital where he worked, because refusing to collaborate with State Security made the atmosphere unbearably hostile.
The man dragging a leg and pushing a cart with cups and thermoses of coffee is a retired engineer. And under the shade of one of the cedar trees, there is always Jorge, selling packs of cigarettes, although he is a professional musician. He has such bad luck that the group to which he belongs has not been able to organize itself due to the high cost of transportation to move instruments so they can play in hotels. Nor has he secured a contract in Havana.
Jose, who comes with a tiny wooden seat and places it behind some tables made of cardboard boxes, offers toys for children, light bulbs, and razor blades. He also plays the guitar and lived off music for 16 years in the United States. He left through the Mariel boatlift (1980) and confesses regretting having returned. He likes to practice English from time to time because he has always liked languages.
More book vendors appear, and there is Makarenko, who dedicated years to teaching. One day he decided to definitively leave the field of education. He says that working conditions were always bad, and the salary never solved anything.
Authorities repeatedly order to clear the area and emphasize that being there is prohibited, supposedly for more than one reason. They threaten, fine, pursue, come with buses, confiscate goods, and take many to police stations. But the reality is that every morning, hundreds of vendors coincide again on the same street, with their life stories and hopes, with their own legal reasons and without legalizing. Beings who insist every day on survival tested against everything, who do not know what Saturday or Sunday is. Some from very early and until any hour, with the street smarts acquired to identify the dates when they must be more careful with the police.
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