I met a friend of José Antonio Echeverría. He was called Augustine. He was a taxi driver, my aunt’s grandfather-in-law. We talked for hours at a time in his apartment in Vedado. And one day he told me about the last time he saw the student leader.
«We called him Manzanita. There came a time when I spent so much time hidden from the police that we barely saw each other anymore. I was aware of the danger I was running. Once I told him: I want to be in what you are. He put his arm around my shoulders: Better not, Agustín, I know you and I know that this is not for you. But if one day I need a car to go to a beach, I’ll call you. A few days before he was killed I saw him for the last time. I was cleaning the windows of the car and he passed by in another machine. He yelled at me: Agustin, even more to see! And I waved to him. The other story you know. I got very sad, I remember I cried. I even had a fight with a neighbor who told me that Manzanita was a criminal. If that was the most decent man I knew!
“Once, at the house of a mutual friend, he told me that we all deserved a better country. I told him: there is no one to make this car move. He let out a laugh: Well, if we have to drag it, we’ll drag it! He was a force of nature.”
