When Willpower Hits a Wall in Today’s Cuba
It isn’t fair to make me feel guilty for being unable to fly when my wings were clipped at birth and access to the sky has been closed to me.
It isn’t fair to make me feel guilty for being unable to fly when my wings were clipped at birth and access to the sky has been closed to me.
My mother has been a junior high school teacher for most of her life. She taught History. She retired recently and told us at home that she wanted to go back to work.
There are places where you expect to find relief. A hospital, for example. Even if the wait to be attended to drags on for hours.
Generally speaking, it is a regressive and totalitarian, one-party regime characterized by the glorification of a supreme leader who embodies the will of the nation.
Today, nothing remains of Hotel Trotcha’s halls, its gardens, or the façade that endured for decades, like one last sign of another era.
Practically every day, at around 10 in the morning, my mother goes around to the different small private markets to find the day’s food.
I want to tell you about the new way workers and retirees are being paid. Although it has already been happening for a few years.
I’m doing what I call “stockroom work.” Dusting things off, organizing, setting aside some books to offer first…
There are things about Cuba that I can still feel even though I am far away. One of them is the smell of burning garbage.
September awaits me, winking from the edge of the road, but for the first time, going back to school has a different light.