We do not stop, not even for a moment, from seeking money, because it is money that guarantees us some well-being.
HAVANA, Cuba. – An old song says that money is not life, that it is just vanity, but even so we continue listening to that piece of music to this day, and not with little insistence, never in the midst of reluctance. We hum it, we whistle it, even after having recognized our many disagreements. We sing, perhaps assuming that if we follow the cadence of that piece we will do better in monetary matters.
We do not stop, not even for a moment, from seeking money, because it is money that guarantees us some well-being. Money is not life, so say those who keep their bills in the National Bank, right next to the earrings that the moon is still missing. And so, without peace, was my very young neighbor, one of those good boys who, luckily, are still around. My neighbor was needing some money, he wanted to take a nice walk with his girlfriend, and he made a decision.
He went out to fight for the tickets to have, at least once, a nice night of walking with his girl. He decided to make his way to that corner of Prado and Neptuno, the one where the deceiver in the famous song also used to go. That young man came to that corner. They had told him that this was the best place to do business, and that it is not for nothing that they call it “the new Wall Street” (because of the so many deals that are carried out there, even, and not infrequently, with the consent of the police).
The boy only wanted to sell his cell phone for a few euros, and with that money pay for that walk with his girl. He very soon found a buyer for the cell phone, and he was very happy, but that enthusiasm lasted very little, just a few short minutes, just until that police officer who had been very attentive arrived without them noticing. And the police officer let them know very quickly, and bluntly, that for currency trafficking, they could serve a sentence that would take them to jail for a long time. The policeman said much more, and always in a stern tone, and then he again mentioned the bars and the many horrors he would experience in prison.
The police officer ordered them to get into the patrol car, and they got in, distressed, very afraid. They insisted throughout that journey that separated them from the Zapata station. The policeman laughed maliciously and pointed out many details of prison life. I asked if they thought they could endure all those years in prison, in that place that is full of murderers, rapists and many violent police officers who turned out to be worse than the prisoners themselves.
And the boy then accepted the proposals that the police officer made. He accepted because his girlfriend was crying, because he was crying too. My neighbor paid for his freedom a little before arriving at the Zanja station. My neighbor paid the policeman for his freedom, while they made the path that would take them to the Zapata station. He said yes once, and many more, because his girl was crying. My neighbor paid for his freedom. The couple paid with 10,000 pesos, and they were left without taking the walk, and now they will have to buy a cell phone. And they wish all that was just a story. They would like the police to return the 10,000 pesos, but I don’t think that will happen, because they are not going to report it, because they are afraid, very afraid of the Police.
