September 3, 2008
A revolutionary fight against the demon
However typical they
are of the Caribbean, hurricanes are now growing in size and number as a
result of human disdain toward nature’s balance.
By Celia Hart Santamaría, for Kaos en la Red.
A CubaNews translation. Edited by Walter
Lippmann.
We should be used
by now to seeing our scorching Caribbean summers ended by enemies
attacking us by air and sea, as if they were intent on training us for
other contingencies.
However typical
they are of this region, hurricanes are now growing in size and number
as a result of human disdain toward nature’s balance.
We are condemned
by the insatiable greed of the wealthy of the world and their mortal
obsession with using their money to pay for what their poor souls just
can’t perceive to deal with these new enemies who turn up in the summer
to threaten –for a change– the fragile Caribbean islands along with all
their dispossessed.
That’s what
happened two days ago with Hurricane Gustav.
In one of his
latest reflections, Fidel said: “We
are lucky to have a Revolution”, and with good reason. Right
now I wish that even the New Orleanians would have one, so that they can
be spared what they went through three years ago.
Over 70 people
were killed by Gustav in Hispaniola and Jamaica alone when it was still
a tropical ttorm. Not one dead in Cuba, if only because even storms are
fought by a Revolution. And it’s precisely with a massive and
well-timbered revolution that we’ll build the bridges, towers and houses
destroyed by the rich people’s heartlessness.
Days before
arrival
We lead a humble
life in Cuba, but our happiness is certainly worth millions. True, we
rack our brains and rummage around in our drawers before we dip into our
“vacation” money to make sure these little talking monsters we brought
to this world “have lunch and dinner at home”. Raiding the fridge –and
our pockets– to feed them has become quite a feat in today’s Cuba. Yet,
we always succeed, feeling happy to have them near us as they fill our
homes with that infectious laughter that I seem to recognize only in
Cuban children –any chauvinism aside– or playing in the streets with a
half-deflated soccer ball, going around in bunches as if they had been
glued to each other at birth. Unless the paltry selfishness of some
parents gets in the way, our children have no race, age or name. They’re
organized in a communist guild and manage to have fun from sun-up until
after nightfall, like resolved democratic militants of secret
organizations.
Elsewhere, the
children we see in the streets have no home, or refrigerator, or parents
who might take pride in their good grades and suffer when they fail at
school… Who cares, they don’t have a school anyway! The others, no less
unhappy, suffer a similar fate, having to stay shut up inside their
house all day to avoid a possible kidnapping or rape or any other evil…
Children in Cuba
are not just another statistic. They’re millions of owners who have at
their service our whole institutional structure and, of course, their
slaves, that is, their parents, perhaps because –as José Martí said–
“it is they who know how to love” and therefore the most sensible
human beings.
Saying that every
Cuban summer teems with children is an understatement. They’re on TV, in
theaters… and around the table! They wolf down in no time everything we
go to great lengths to buy, but how comforting it is to see them happy
and healthy! If you lived near the sea like me and –fortunately– and
many other Cubans given our nation’s narrow shape, you would see them
having fun in the water and playing on the sand, and you would drown
your sorrows in laughter.
This summer we
also had the Olympics with their ups and downs… but Fidel already talked
about that with words as clear as my coastal waters in
summer, and I take the opportunity to send my best wishes to Ángel
Valodia Matos, our tae kwon do fighter who so “subtly” made a corrupt
referee understand that we may be left with nothing but our dignity,
which will never be put at stake. Angel has been banned from
international matches, but many of us will remember him better for what
he did.
Now the summer
season is coming to an end and we’re all looking forward to the school
year and the
“You-can-no-longer-wear-these-shoes-to-play” admonitions,
not to mention the task of getting everything ready, from their
schoolbags to our alarm clocks and the batteries they need, all the
seemingly trivial details that make us wake up to the realization that a
new period is beginning in our children’s life… as well as in this
Revolution.
Gustav is
coming
As in previous
years when the summer is nearly over, our wicked, insensitive enemy
threatens to destroy it all, including our children and their sea waves.
It’s capitalism at its worst.
So it happened
with Hurricane Gustav, which for several days lashed against the
southern part of the eastern provinces after laying waste to Hispaniola
and Jamaica. By the way, whatever God has in mind for Haiti still eludes
me: hunger, intervention even by friendly countries, and storms for good
measure. I don’t know about God’s mood, but we human beings, and
especially here in America, should do something about it. Sometimes I’m
aghast at the thought that Haiti gave us the first revolution in the
continent and now it only gives us its worst set of statistics.
Gustav battered
our eastern provinces from the south with growing fury as it went
through the tiny island of Jamaica, whose mountains tried unsuccessfully
to soothe the event, albeit alone, with no coordinated help from its
citizens. In just a few hours, the death toll rose to eleven, like it
happened in Haiti. It emerged from Jamaica as a tropical storm –with
wind speeds of more than 100 km/h– before it gained strength from the
warm Caribbean waters and its eye, better organized, began to look,
lascivious, in our direction.
Our beautiful
green alligator is much more than just a poor Caribbean island: it’s the
richest and most committed of America’s daughters. Regardless, Gustav
dared to damage irreverent Cuba.
People were
evacuated from 20 of the 54 eastern municipalities, mainly to protect
them from the heavy rains.
Believe it or
not, my people are very educated in science. All preventive measures and
every plan to avoid economic losses and preserve our dams were set in
motion because of this damned summer ghost. And mark my words, as it
grew stronger and got ready to travel the length and breadth of the
island, it had to confront no-nonsense contenders… among them the
Revolution’s scientific expertise.
Our committed
science and José Rubiera
Fidel said once
that socialism should be “of men of science”. Yet, I’m afraid that many
misunderstood him.
Socialism will be a society of men of science, but of a committed,
revolutionary science, never the conceited paper-pushing career that
science has become in many places. I won’t dwell on that fact… for now!
However, that’s one of science’s major aberrations: a merciless fight to
find out who’s better at publishing more stupid things.
Dr. José Rubiera
is to me the best public example of the role a true scientist, and
particularly a physicist, can play in society. He performs his functions
as a communicator without neglecting research, as one of those who
“throw all the meat upon the grill”, as they say in Argentina, even
at the risk of missing.
When a young
person tells me that physics is unintelligible or dense, I only ask
them, ”Do you dig the weather
report? If you do, then you dig physics”.
And that’s simply
because these comrades have got our joyful Cuban people used to this
discipline.
Hurricane season
turns Dr. Rubiera into the Cuban people’s Public Friend No. 1. Every
time someone points out, “Rubiera
said so”, we’re all satisfied. Whenever he showed up here,
there and everywhere these days while things were getting tough, many of
us wondered, “Does he ever sleep?”.
We would listen to his soothing voice give a master class in physics to
forecast the birth and growth of the beast and to explain how cyclones
revolve and why they depend on atmospheric pressure, wind speed and
water temperature. No one realized we were seeing a lecture on
thermodynamics or fluid dynamics in the committed and humble peace of
this colleague, or better yet, this comrade.
Another question,
now that issues like salary (or non-salary), surplus value, profits,
etc., are in fashion: how much does Rubiera earn? What’s his social
class? OK, he’s an intellectual, but where does he stand with respect to
the means of production? If we merely go by the old concept of “to each
according to their work”, how much could we pay the brilliant expert for
his services? He would surely be a multimillionaire, since when it comes
to the crunch we want to hear nobody but him. That’s why he’s a
communist. What he does is something money can’t buy, no matter how much
he gets on top of his doubtlessly very modest salary as a reward for his
work, and he knows that. Yes, he does: I’ve seen it in his eyes.
I had the honor
of meeting him in a Toronto airport once. No sooner had I seen him than
I rushed to greet him as if we were family, as any Cuban would do. Of
course, he knew nothing about the person who was stalking him, but I did
know him. I was amazed at his great unaffectedness, dressed as he was
like the man next door and carrying an oilcloth briefcase. I was this
close to start shouting in my bad English,
“This is Rubiera, the hurricane guy!”.
I was lucky that
there’s not much you can do in an airport lounge, so I took up all his
attention under pretense of our being colleagues –he had studied physics
before meteorology. That’s when he confessed what he wanted: to put
science not only at people’s service, but use it to inform
people, because a scientist sometimes gets into the bad habit of staying
within concentric circles and becoming a super expert well beyond the
reach of those unfamiliar with natural sciences, and it’s all a big fat
lie. Nature is not as complicated as it’s cracked up to be. Einstein was
one of greatest humanists in the world, and yet he managed to explain
his theories in a way that even the children understood. José Martí, in
turn, said that it was in the books on science where he found the best
poetry. That poetry of science is what José Rubiera dissects for us
every single day.
True, August 31,
2008 was rather dramatic poetry, what with our sorrow over the
heartbreaking devastation Gustav caused in the Isle of Youth and Pinar
del Río province. In face of that terror, Rubiera once again shared with
us his scientific knowledge about the event.
And the
murderous eye made landfall in Cuba
… and stumbled upon a Revolution.
Short pieces of
news have already been reported about the disaster in both territories:
almost 100,000 homes destroyed, power and telephone lines lying on the
ground, solid pylons bent in half like putty, vast crops completely
lost… an impressive string of calamities.
There’s talk that
even a ship was pushed inland and ended up in the center of Nueva
Gerona, the municipal capital of the Isle of Youth.
When electric
power was restored here in Havana and we could see footage of what those
humble people went through, there was no option but put our hands
together and sob quietly.
Later that day we
heard a live radio transmission about what was going on with our fellow
citizens in the western provinces. Curiously enough, it was being
broadcast by Radio Rebelde. Its voice kept us posted in the midst of the
gusts and the anguish, now and then using the same phrase that made it
so typical back when bearded men and underground guerrillas were
fighting against human hurricanes who were tearing our homeland to
pieces: “This is Radio Rebelde,
broadcasting from free Cuban territory”. And then would come
Che Guevara’s voice: “Attention,
attention, Column Two, Column Two… Camilo, this is Che”. You
could hear it very often, but in those days the words
“This is Che” would bring
great hopes every time. Now Radio Rebelde would get in touch with
comrades Olga Lidia Tapia and Ana Isa Delgado, Municipal Defense Council
leaders and First Secretaries of the Party in the Isle of Youth and
Pinar del Río province respectively. I’ll always remember both their
names and their courage. They were on a war footing, so where were their
children? Probably with their fathers. Things have changed here in that
regard: there’s growing confidence in women, no doubt a major
achievement. We’re aware of our Revolution when we’re faced with
hardship.
José Martí had
talked about that: “¡It is true! The
sudden blows reveal the core of things”. Many things were
revealed in Cuba after Gustav’s sudden blow.
According to the
reports, Gustav has been the worst meteorological phenomenon in half a
century, leaving almost 80 people dead in its wake when it passed by
nearby islands, even if it was not so strong then. How can you explain
Cuba’s verve after we were hit by a much stronger storm?
It’s precisely
because we’ve had a Revolution for the last 50 years. It’s true that we
lost many things. My compatriots from Pinar del Río and the Isle of
Youth lost everything… except their lives and their confidence that not
only the nation’s leaders but every one of us will be at their beck and
call to help.
Cuba put every
effort into the task of keeping all citizens safe and cared for. Only
with a Revolution like ours can every available resource be used with a
single purpose in mind. Television and radio stations, bakeries,
hospitals, schools… all of them devoted to protecting every soul. You
should have heard the Party secretary in the Isle of Youth, hoarse
almost to the point of speechlessness, encouraging her fellow islanders
not to be fooled out of their homes by the apparent calm conveyed by the
lethal eye of the hurricane. Dr. Rubiera had made it clear that the wind
speed would be more violent along its rear wall. We were all scared of
the winds blowing at 200 km/h with gusts of over 300 km/h, yet the two
women in charge seemed oblivious to the danger.
No system can
match the impact of a revolutionary process. Therefore, thank heavens
for centralization, since it made it possible for linemen from the
eastern provinces to go help from day one the areas hit by Gustav.
Almost 450,000
were evacuated in less than one day, and all hospitals were ready.
What’s more, a comrade gave birth to a child right in the middle of one
of the strongest gusts. She named him Gustavo….
In less than two
days, by virtue of the Energy Revolution –Fidel’s pet project that some
criticized so much– electricity was restored in 40% of Pinar del Río
province.
On Sunday, as we
went out to have a quick look at the city, the unanimous remark was, “Poor
souls, they’re always hit by hurricanes”, with feelings of
solidarity only possible in a socialist country…
We’ll have great
economic loss… there’s talk of a billion pesos… but we lost none of our
compatriots, In fact, the revolutionary miracle made us grow in number
thanks to the woman who brought us little Gustavo! Instead of losing
people, we increased their number.
I’ll make a
comparison just this once… Over a million people left New Orleans, their
minds filled with memories of a deadly Katrina three years ago. Many of
them were immigrants afraid of being deported instead of evacuated. In
the US, for all its wealth, people are left by themselves. Some make it,
but many others –as Katrina made so patently obvious– are abandoned to
their fate.
All the more
reason to appreciate the Revolution at a time like this. There were also
certain clowns that not even a hurricane kept away from us who put up a
two-bit obscene show around a rock singer that some
counterrevolutionaries here tried to turn into a prisoner of conscience.
Good God! A musician who heeded no social rule was fined for being
vulgar and noisy, while the foreign media strived to make a fatuous
trial look outrageous instead of covering the unique natural and human
lesson Gustav gave. But that’s how they are, and they’ll never change.
Let them go on spending paper and money in the most incomprehensible and
ineffective nonsense they can think of to try and hurt the Revolution,
for she can look after herself.
Thoughts by
the seashore
Sunday dawned
without electricity, so I joined the rest of my neighbors and went down
to the seashore. The waves were huge, but not enough to spill over,
while the air gave off scents of seaweed and salt water indicative of
the lull that comes after a storm. I managed to find an empty place to
sit and tried to figure out where my indescribable melancholy came
from….
My first thoughts
went to the Caribbean islands, somehow doomed to endure the pounding of
tropical hurricanes, perhaps the price of living in such a pretty sunlit
region of the planet. However, we’re not condemned to suffer year after
year from the malice of monsters bred by an irrational capitalism. The
toxic emissions to the troposphere cause an almost unlimited warming of
the ocean and thus these colossal cyclones and the thawing of our
beautiful glaciers. Hence the polar bears can’t feed their offspring, we
get skin disease and our flowers wither… just to produce more shoes,
cars and perfumes that only 10% of the human race will ever enjoy.
Recently, the World Bank “found out” –as if it had been nothing but a
miscalculation until then– that there are 400 million people more than
they had thought. We’re turning the world into a statistic, and nature
will never forgive us.
At least for
starters, Cuba and the Caribbean islands should sue the centers of power
for millions in compensation for these losses.
Eventually, we’ll
build the houses, schools, churches and pylons the hurricane victims
need, but what about next August? Capitalism kills nature while we’re
left to breathe worse, starve to death and suffer from the ravages of
their squandering.
Something’s wrong
with the world to which only socialism has alternatives.
After some more
thinking I started to feel proud of being part of a Revolution where the
ups outnumber the downs and people can organize themselves and
synchronize action with love to stand up to these excesses. I felt proud
of the certainty that we have both Dr. Rubiera and his remarkable way of
going about Physics and comrades Olga Lidia and Ana Isa, the provincial
Party leaders who demonstrated their leadership capabilities in such a
difficult time. Then I watched my son as he happily ran around the reefs
with his friends, making the most of the few days they still had left
before a new school year.
My melancholy was
still there, though. And then I looked at the green leaves of the
coconut trees floating on the water and realized that I missed a voice,
a green, cap-wearing, larger-than-life figure with a stealthy but
decisive gait. For the first time Fidel is not leading this fight, and
no matter how hard I try his absence makes me feel a profound,
inexplicable pain, eased only by his own reflections on the hurricane.
Nevertheless, my
ease of mind improved much more when it dawned on me, as if I had been
struck by lightning, that he was in Rubiera’s expertise, the olive green
of the fatigues my comrades from Pinar del Río and the Isle of Youth
were wearing, the unfathomable optimism of my compatriots even after
losing everything they had to the inclemency of the weather and the
greed of the rich and still shouted
“Long live Fidel!” as they stood in torn streets and
collapsed buildings, aware that our greatest strength is our enjoyment
of life and the commitment Fidel helped us develop, which neither
arrogance, nor wickedness nor the enemy will ever defeat…
That’s what our
many enemies, be they a gluttonous hurricane or a nuclear bomb, will
have to learn to respect. And for that we have Fidel’s green strength.
Revolution or
Death
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