By Lien Estrada
HAVANA TIMES – In the book The Book of Embraces, the Uruguayan author Eduardo Galeano expresses the following idea: “Books no longer need to be banned by the police; they are banned by their price.” As a reader, I must agree. He’s absolutely right. As a Cuban, I am familiar with both dimensions of this expression.
As an individual, for decades the government prohibited me from selling my own house, from slaughtering my own livestock for food or for any other purpose (the latter is still prohibited, and in many cases, killing a cow in Cuba is punished more severely than killing a human being). The government prohibited me from selling my car. Running private businesses, whether big or small, was forbidden. Until very recently, I was even prohibited from entering hotels, which were reserved solely for international tourists.
I recall one occasion when my cousin from Santiago de Cuba visited me in Holguín. I invited him to Guardalavaca Beach, feeling very proud as it’s the second most desirable beach in the country after Varadero. At one point, we wanted to rent a kayak offered right there on the beach, but we were told no — they were for foreigners only. This sense of inferiority as a people has been ingrained in us for generations. For me, for instance, who was born in 1980, it has always been part of life.
Later, the government, in its omnipotence, decided that we, Cuban men and women, could enter hotels initially designed and reserved for others. But the prices are so high, and the average salaries on the island are so low, that the vast majority of us cannot afford them. Only those who have managed to create private businesses (permitted later on) or those fortunate enough to have family or friends abroad to invite them to such places can afford it.
Yes, Eduardo Galeano is right. The same prohibitions persist for millions of Cubans, seemingly endlessly. Some of us are aware of it; others aren’t and perhaps never will be. But what strikes me as truly brutal, even barbaric, is that if we follow Galeano’s concept of prohibitions, then in Cuba, eating is also prohibited.
Food has become so expensive that its prices are inconceivable. For example, a pound of mandarins can cost 400 pesos, and the joke is that making a stew is like committing financial suicide. Keep in mind that the minimum monthly wage in the country is 2,100 pesos, with the average salary slightly higher. Pensions are around 1,600 pesos, except for military prosecutors, whose magnetic cards hold balances of 10,000 to 12,000 pesos.
In other words, in Cuba, one could say that the only people who are not “prohibited” from eating are the military and communist leaders of the island. And we’re only talking about food — that basic necessity our culture dictates we consume three times a day.
But let’s start with breakfast. A bag of bread, for instance — with about six rolls — costs 250 pesos, a liter of milk 150 pesos. Butter is a luxury, as are cheese and ham. Bread is eaten on its own, and not always, as sometimes it doesn’t arrive at the store. Don’t think that the bags of bread sold on the streets and in private bakeries is affordable for everyone either.
So, breakfast may well not happen. What about lunch? Or dinner?
According to the logic of the Latin American writer, in Cuba, even eating is prohibited. Sadly, this is the outcome of 67 years of revolution. A revolution that constantly proclaims in official speeches, billboards, and everywhere else: “For the good of all.”
Surely, it’s time to reconsider more than one principle of this system, which many Eastern European countries deem criminal. The global left, particularly in this region, should look more closely at these realities and rethink some of its slogans. Because, as Lama Rinchen Gyaltsen would say: Between the discussion of my preconceived reality and Reality itself, Reality always wins.
Read more from the diary of Lien Estrada here.
