Text and Photos by Ella Fernandez (El Toque)
HAVANA TIMES – Amid the chaos of the Zocalo, Mexico City’s central plaza, Cuban Osvel Barzagas was free. He didn’t know if he was happy, but yes, he was free.
The Zocalo, in the heart of the historic center of Mexico City, is 46,000 square meters of pure anarchy. Bordered by the walls of the Cathedral, the National Palace, the Government Building and other structures a bit more modern, this plaza brings together thousands and thousands of passers-by and hundreds of vendors offering the products of so-called “Magic Mexico.” The calacas [ornate skulls] and ajebrijes [mythic dogs] representing the Day of the Dead, join with printed fabrics, and even paraphernalia allusive to Mexico’s new female president Claudia Sheinbaum, to form a brilliant rainbow of souvenirs whose offering price goes down as you move away from the tables.
Everyone talks in loud voices, or better said, they all yell. It’s the only way to break through the sound barrier. It’s an unmelodious soundtrack, made up of the cries of the artisans – in tongues that meld together into an indecipherable gibberish – music from restaurants and bars, and the drums of the “rituals” carried out by individuals dressed as shamans. Healers who for a “modest amount” can purify you of all your ills, using plants whose origin I don’t know, but which exude a pleasant odor when held close to a fire.
A friend remarks that she saw a similar performance in Santiago, Chile. Maybe there’s some connection between the original Mexican peoples and the Mapuche of Chile’s southern cone. Or perhaps we all need to close our eyes from time to time and entrust our luck to the hands of others.
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I met Osvel, a native of Cuba’s Isle of Youth, by chance, while I was heading to take the Metro. Very clearly an asere [Cuban term meaning “bro” or “friend”], he stood out above every other linguistic identity that mingled there. We connected. Maybe it was the magic of the shamans.
I asked him if he was Cuban. “Not only am I Cuban, I’m one of the July 11 protesters,” he told me proudly while putting away the articles he offered for sale at his stand. [Note: on July 11, 2021, hundreds of Cubans took to the street to protest. Large numbers of them were subsequently jailed.] Osvel is – or was – a member of the opposition “Pinero Autonomous Party” from the Isle of Youth.
When I met Osvel, his was a merchandise table was filled mostly with Christmas products. It was autumn and very hot. Not even a week had passed since the Mexican families took down their Day of the Dead decorations. But Osvel had laid out an assortment of products to celebrate the imminent arrival of Santa Claus or Papa Noel.
A Cuban friend helped him get this work. He didn’t complain about the gig. The only thing that bothered him was the poor treatment of the police. At any rate, he knew it was a temporary occupation. He had other ambitions.
Osvel left Cuba on March 4,2024. “It was a rough trip,” he told me. He occasionally introduced the Mexican slang word guey [“guy”] into the conversation, without ever losing his pronounced Cuban accent. He traveled first to Colombia, then to El Salvador, and passed through Nicaragua, Honduras, and Guatemala before arriving in Mexico. He describes the country that has taken him in as a “very difficult” place. But he had to leave Cuba.
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After he went out on to the street on July 11, 2021, Osvel was detained by the police. He spent 32 days in jail and was freed on bail. Afterwards, he had to pay a fine of 3,000 pesos. One year later, during the first anniversary of the massive protests, the dissenter was summoned by state security agents, this time, for the supposed crime of disobedience.
“The problem is that I was on the streets a lot, annoying them, because I have a lot of followers on the Island. As we Cubans say, the people unload a lot on me. I’m a popular guy there, in my zone,” he told me.
During Osvel’s interrogation, the officials tried to take his phone away, with the objective of fining him under Decree 370. That law, in effect since 2019, is used to punish those who express opinions on social media that are contrary to the interests of those in power and their repressive organs. On his Facebook page, Osvel had been denouncing for a while the police harassment of members of his organization, the Pinero Autonomous Party.
“They wanted to take my telephone away for nothing, although I hadn’t been filming. I even had the phone turned off, because when I arrived at the summons the section head told me: “Turn off your phone,” so I turned it off and put it away in my backpack,” he recounted. “They told me they were going to apply a fine of 3,000 pesos for posting against the Revolution.”
Osvel didn’t object. “One more fine, among many,” he thought.
His serene reaction wasn’t well received by the agents, who then tried to grab his telephone. They had no orders for this seizure, and the dissenter resisted. Rather than turning his device over to them, Osvel preferred to slam it to the floor. A kick finished off the mechanism.
“They gave me ten months in prison for that,” he noted.
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In Mexico City, he lived with five other Cubans from the Isle of Youth. What he earned as a vender in that whirlpool of a central plaza was enough to allow him to subsist and help his mother economically. She remains in Cuba, along with other family members.
Osvel was always very close to his mother. His eyes tear up slightly when he speaks of her, without mentioning her name. He takes off his cap and pauses for a few seconds before completing his sentence. The distance has been the hardest part of his migratory journey. The border crossings, the police and the incessant bureaucracy are in second place.
“It’s been eight months since I last saw my mother. But the desire for freedom has won me over,” he assured.
“In Mexco, I’ve worked on all kinds of jobs I never had in Cuba. I’ve worked in construction, painting houses, I’ve emptied trashcans, mowed yards, cleaned houses; I’ve worked in restaurants, selling sunglasses, regular glasses. I’ve worked at all kinds of things here in Mexico. I’m not afraid of work.”
Mexico has never been his final destination. That same afternoon I met Osvel, he had his CPB One appointment in hand [phone application managed by US Customs and Border Patrol]. Over the next few days, he’d be heading north for his interview with the US Immigration authorities. He expected to enter the US on November 23rd, just in time to celebrate Thanksgiving.
As we chatted, Osvel spoke of a promising future in the United States. Today, he posted photos on social media of some of his travels through Texas and Florida.
“I see myself free. That’s what I’m seeking – liberty. Freedom of expression. Freedom of all kinds. Freedom that we don’t have in Cuba. Freedom that we young people in Cuba don’t have,” he told me.
Once in the United States, he planned to apply this same dogma. He especially hoped to be able to reunite at some moment – soon – with his mother and the rest of his family. He knows and understands that this reunion will have to take place on foreign soil, because he has no intentions of returning to Cuba. Not while a dictatorship exists.
First published in Spanish by El Toque and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.
Read more from Cuba here on Havana Times.
