HAVANA, Cuba.- One of the figures that already floods Havana are the coleros, “coleros of a new type”, a “cholera of a new type” and not a good prognosis. The queues could be, at least in some way, a little more sophisticated than their peers from other times, in that eternal queue to which the official discourse gave the name of revolution. They, the coleras and the coleros, are not very sophisticated, rather they have a simple appearance, and we could find them in any Havana neighborhood, but especially in those sales spaces in which we, the residents of the capital, try to survive.
And that figure that the “revolution” gave birth to now looks renewed and shows his skills in his attempts to establish communication with his “victims.” Really today’s coleros are more sophisticated than those of other times, even when the causes, and the intended end, are the mystics of yesteryear. These coleros, among whom there are “new men” and “new women”, all Cuban-style, are a little more skilled than their predecessors, and perhaps it is the circumstances that caused the changes.
His speeches, his persuasions, have a certain grace, even some hints of altruism, although for some it is only pure speech to deceive their prey, who most of the time are their neighbors, even when they operate in places far from their residences.
And this figure of the colero could leave us the impression that they are a bit more dapper. Everyone, men and women, dress discreetly, with a reserved elegance so as not to attract much attention, especially when they knock on the doors of their neighbors, the possible “victims”, and smile before saying good morning, good afternoon. or whatever; and all this after they did thorough “market studies”. The coleros are of such honorable appearance that many could suppose that they are friars or nuns without habits, because after all communion, devotion and contemplation do not always need those habits that we have known for centuries.
But these people I am writing about are not nuns or priests, and they could show up at your door when you open it after the insistence of a few loud knocks. And they smile with a dazzling candor, and with such “purity” that it could even make you pray an Our Father and many Hail Marys. Then the big moment will come, that moment in which they offer you their services in a low voice and with a look so tender that it throws you off balance, so distant from the grim look that the shopkeeper always gives you. So sweet are the looks of those who are dedicated to queuing, and not out of altruism, that it would even be likely that you would start crying because of the emotion and the innocence of the one who “came to save you”.
And we already know that all that glitters is not gold, and that these “devotees” are not so fervent, although they offer to stand in line for you, so that you do not have to get up at dawn or spend the whole night in the surroundings. of the store in the company of strangers and the possible stalking of the police. The coleros are willing to work for everyone, although they prefer to approach those who comb gray hair, especially those who live with certain relief. This group of fleeces choose their fleeces carefully, who could have any name or political or religious affiliation, but the most important thing is that they pay all their attention to those who are full of deficiencies, and look for their victims among the elderly with little health that will not resist the offers.
With proven cunning they knock on doors to offer their services. Those ladies and gentlemen, among whom there are those who received high studies, are very subtle and convincing, and with fluid speeches, and with the appearance of unhappy little women mistreated by life and shortages, of sick little men and for whom retirement is not enough, although, and I am very certain, in that army there are already university graduates, federates, members of the CDR, and even Party members who insist on pointing out, as if it were necessary, the high cost of life. And this is how they convince of how beneficial it can be not to go to the store in times of so many contagious diseases.
The verbiages of these figures kind are moving, and so are their stories: a bedridden mother waiting for death, young children with chronic illnesses, unfaithful husbands, houses in ruins and about to fall to the ground, and they are even capable of handling the Eucharist. And it is that in Cuba there are not a few who dare to wield that in a chicken bag there is the body and blood of Christ, and even his passion, his death and his resurrection. Cuba right now is that grotesque, much more than a shame.
And that old figure of the coleros is, in something, different from those who preceded it, as if they were previously assisted by a certain commitment to renovation, and even promotes the tranquility of certain homes, although at very high prices. They, they, demand five hundred pesos to stand in line and buy the chicken, the mincemeat, the cigarettes, and they keep, by mutual agreement with the fleeced client, with a package of chicken, from among those three that each family unit has once a month, and they also pocket a picadillo, and sausages, and three packs of cigarettes, which they then sell to others at very high prices, so much so that it makes the business so convenient, and profitable, extremely profitable.
The coleros-buyers are a figure of Cuban misery. They and they do the saddest and most outstanding tasks of these Cuban days: bring food to homes at crazy, abusive prices.
And they even have the appearance of the “seers”, those who with just a sidelong glance can recognize the truth of the world and of time, and follow a passion, but an insane and selfish passion, an ambitious and cruel passion. And are they really guilty? I don’t think so, the real culprits are those power guys who think they’re different from us. The fault lies with those who are supposed to be heroes, those who believe they are irreducible gods and immune to the fury of the people.
The figure of the colero has the appearance of being infallible, due to his great cunning, but they are also, and in many ways, instruments of power, they serve power and mortify as much as the “energetic communists”. The colero brings the chicken to the door of the house. And that is why for most of them they turn out to be heroes and heroines who live in a very unfair context, and they make us notice that they risk their freedoms, that they can be discovered and serve long prisons. And the colero is not the one who protests, he is the one who stands still to queue up every day, and fleece.
Most discreetly show their anger at the situation in the country. And you can even blame rude imperialism, its injustices, so much so that there are even those who suppose heroics in their behavior. The colero is a savior figure who points out that his enemy is the same as everyone else, and after acknowledging the political affiliation of his victims, he repudiates, or not, the government. They are willing to face the most infamous dangers, only that these confrontations only occur in speeches, in their strategies to convince the victims.
Undoubtedly everything is a matter of ethics, everything is a matter of unraveling the means used by these figures, fleecers, to suffocate the fleeced. And without a doubt, it will be necessary to attend to their true impulses, which without a doubt is not an ethical issue, of that ethics that we have heard about since the time of Plato, the Greek, not the plato in which we marinate the chicken before cooking it. Undoubtedly, the justice that we lack is the propitiator of these evils.
Injustice is the basis of everything bad that happens to us. If something has propitiated Cuban communism, and all communisms, it is isolation Y the propensity selfish to search at any price for what you don’t have, and whoever falls falls. Whenever I remember that certainty of Saint Thomas, who supposed that God was the ultimate humanI think Cubans are looking more for chicken than for God himself.
It seems that kindness and love are not the purpose and happiness of Cubans. We Cubans are more interested in the tail of the chicken, in the chicken itself. In those rows, in those moloteras, are the Cuban men and women; but since the “revolution” is more about males, the tail of the chicken, almost always, is for women. The males celebrate the flavors, the sacrifice of their women in the queue. The males “are” better at savoring the chicken, offering a spanking to her wife and assuring that she had a very good chicken. And to prove it they give him a burp. That’s how rude we are.
OPINION ARTICLE
The opinions expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the issuer and do not necessarily represent the opinion of CubaNet.
Receive information from CubaNet on your cell phone through WhatsApp. Send us a message with the word “CUBA” on the phone +1 (786) 316-2072, You can also subscribe to our electronic newsletter by giving click here.
