The special train No.18 Manzanillo-La Havana had to make an emergency stop because of a diarrheal outbreak between passengers.
Havana, Cuba – before, when the city of Manzanillo was mentioned, immediately remembered Celia Sánchez, and also to that fulminating shot that left Jesus Menéndez forever in those oriental lands, but things change, even in those geographies that have the grandiloquence, the Prosopopeya of what tends to be tragic, perhaps too nefarious.
Manzanillo, and probably the entire Cuban oriental territory, loads with that presumption, with that vanity that the tragic awakens in many, especially in those who believe are the only architects of the most recent history of this island.
The story, at least in Cuba, does not write the men, at least not the footsses on foot. The story is written by those who dictate, those who say what can be told about A historical event And what cannot be counted. Cuban history writes it, rather they decide, the bosses, those big heads that are interested in the part of the story that can be told without fears, without revaluation, and also the one that must be discarded and hidden under four keys.
The story, at least in the Cuba after 1959, has been written by the bosses, by those high -ranking decision makers who are the ones that dictate that parties can be made to light and which will be hidden forever and under four keys. In Cuba the bosses often believe historians. The bosses dictate, warn the passages that must be brought to light, and disseminated to satiety according to the interests of the most powerful, of those reviewers that are usually the greatest censors in our history.
And sometimes they also appear what my grandmother called the imponderables, those events that there is no one to stop them, there is no one who can keep them hidden forever. And so it happened these days, and in those “heroic” lands of the Irredentanto East Cuban, in those lands in which the communists have believed to have their great decisions and loyalty center, in the most faithful place, the most impregnable among all those that exist on the island, according to them, those who are supposed to of the communist revolution.
And a Pantagruélica diarrhea happened there in the East, in that land praised by the communists. A diarrhea on a train, a diarrhea on a train that has a destination and has very precise, invulnerable schedules, and perhaps only a very brief urinary one where to leave those evacuations that must be immediately deposited in a very brief cup destined to those emergencies that human physiology recommends that they be treated with urgentness, and in the most absolute of deprivation.
And in that train out of Manzanillo, from the land that saw Celia Sánchez, from that Celia Sánchez, who took care of all the stationery of what some still call “revolution”, there was a hecatombe, and to be more specific a great outbreak of diarrhea, perhaps because they ate a lot, perhaps because they did not ate anything. An outbreak of diarrhea, a pantagruélico sprout of decompositions on a train in progress, on a train in which many times the bathroom is a very rare thing, especially if there are many travelers who must respond promptly to those claims that the sick body makes and that end up suffering these pantagruélicas stories that exasperate, especially if there are many who must do the most urgent evacuations.
And yes, they say that a great deposition occurred on that train, a long and very insistent diarrhea, pantagruélica, in which even the slightest containment signal appeared. And they say that many of those buttocks that were involved, many of those buttocks that had already posed in the seats reserved to make the trip From Manzanillo Even Havana suffered that rotrefacta hecatombe.
Manzanillo, his train on travel to Havana was not loaded with communists this time, was loaded with diarrhea, those filths that were leftovers, which are the detritus of those battered and very sick bodies. This time Manzanillo did not exhibit heroicities that deserved the usual applause. This time Manzanillo made the shit rapport, endlessly of sick bodies and all his detritus. This time Manzanillo, the Irredenta city, the city of the Fidelista East was extinguished in deposits.
And that is Cuba, a sick country gathered on a train that disagrees a road path, and where the best solution to avoid a greater disaster is to put the buttocks in some window, and depose, depose with all the strength, take out all the bad, even in a path of rails, even if the pregnant is huge, unstoppable. Cuba is a diarrhea cluster, horror.
