The Cubans are attending the normalization of misery, the banalization of destitution, the enthronement of the camp mentality.
Havana, Cuba. – I can’t help indignantly, getting back and more, when I hear someone announce, as if it were the most normal and natural in the world, that “we have the blackout at such an hour.”
No, it touches us, it does not correspond to us due to any obligation, it is not our duty to endure the daily blackout, it may be two or three times a day, heat roasts, riddled by mosquito bites and lol and, to top it off, with the guts raising hunger if we cannot use the electric bun and do not have gas for cooking.
No, it does not touch us: what touches us, corresponds to us because it is our right, because we are human beings and not cockroaches, it is life, this miserable and cohambrous survival that have imposed some mandamases that prefer to end the nation before losing power.
But the submissions and resigned continue to say, that “we have the blackout” to such a block, at that time (if not before) and for the time that the electrical union (UNE) estimates necessary. We have the blackout, as “we touch” the three pounds of rice and the handful of peas that had owed us for two months, the few medications that arrive at the pharmacy if you have the card, the monthly salary if there is money in the ATM and is not broken, the four cigarette cigarettes a month, the water in the pipe every three or four days, or the pip Fajar as dogs, let’s load the cube.
After the hard years of Special period We did not conceive that we could be worse, much worse. But, as Raúl Castro used to say, “yes you can!” You just have to see how we are today.
We are attending the Cubans, with a patience greater than that of Job, to the normalization of misery, to the banalization of destitution, to the enthronement of the camp’s mentality.
We are becoming an intimidated chusma that lives from tail in tail, surrounded by filth, eating what appears, waiting for them to put the light, repeating rituals of shipwrecks, looking for pretexts to justify impotence, simulating jubilation to reggaeton’s rhythm.
The worst that can happen to a town is to lose hope, give up their improvement aspirations and get used to living, in a miserable submundo, like poultry. It is what is happening to the Cubans, with this collective culture of survival that has been developed in recent years.
So many years of crisis and bad experiences have left Cubans a very ugly and large collective scar that the mandamases do not find the way to hide with their lies and ridiculous slogans.
Forget about that fame that Cubans had of being friendly, sharing, good feelings … the survival mechanisms to face the save the one who can everyday is making us more and more selfish, insensitive, cynical, marrulleros and unscrupulous. And those who resist being, those who refuse to the customs of the pasture, to be part of the chusma and accept as normal what in no way is, are defeated by depression, incommunication and neurosis of all kinds.
As criminals increase, there are more and more losers in this society. Those who do not find a way of resisting are thrown into alcohol or drugs, go crazy, commit suicide.
The psychosocial fabric of the nation is so damaged that when this nightmare ends – which we do not know how but one day, of a fade time you have to end – it will take so many decades or more than those that led him to Castism destroy it.
