GRANMA INTERNATIONAL
Havana.  May 22, 2008

http://www.granma.cu/ingles/2008/mayo/juev22/marta.html

Marta at 80

BY MICHEL HERNANDEZ—Granma Daily staff writer—

• ON May 17 Marta Rojas celebrated her 80th birthday enveloped by memories that visit her with hurricane force: the Moncada Garrison, the first years of the Revolution, the Vietnamese jungle… Always accompanied by her notepad to reflect everything that her eyes see and an imagination that has moved her to write five novels (El Columpio de Rey Spencer (Rey Spencer’s Swing), Holy Lust, El harén de Oviedo (Oviedo’s Harem), Inglesa por un año (English for One Year) and El Viaje (The Journey), and to recreate new endings for every event in a life marked by her optimism, that virtue which seems to paint her face with the secret of eternal youth.

How does the Marta of today recall the child Marta?

I was always very active from an early age. I liked skating down the hills of Santiago de Cuba. My family didn’t have any pressing economic problems and I had a very happy childhood. My father, a Santiago native, was a tailor and almost all my aunts were dressmakers. My mother, a talented couturier, was born in Matanzas. I learnt to read from newspaper headlines. But in any event I was sent to a school run by a retired teacher, from where I went on to the school adjoining the teacher training college, which was a public school but with a very high professional level. Every classroom had an experienced teacher. The poet César López studied there as well. We weren’t in the same class, but I knew him. At first I wanted to study Medicine. But by the first or second year in the Institute I was losing my enthusiasm, because I very much enjoyed reading and writing essays.

Listening to the radio one afternoon, they announced that there was a School of Journalism in Havana for which the enrolment fee was six pesos and I said to my parents that I was going to go there. I took the tests and passed, but I never was an outstanding student. I liked to live fully, to see things… Even if I had an exam the next day, I would go out dancing. I did practical classes in Channel 4 Television on Masón and San Miguel (Streets). But I didn’t like television, I was into writing.

A photographer called Panchito Cano lived near my house in Santiago, and he worked as a Bohemia correspondent. He did graphic reports and I took over writing the photo captions during the vacations. That was my first link with Bohemia magazine, where I was from 1953-63, the stage when I became a witness of the Moncada Garrison assault and the trial of the revolutionaries.

Could you say more about your relation with that episode?

The night before the Moncada assault I was with friends at the Santiago Carnival where a confrontation was expected between the Hoyos and Tívoli comparsas (street bands). But everyone left in the early hours and the two rivals still hadn’t "clashed." So I stayed around with Panchito. Around 5:00 a.m. we could hear what I thought were fireworks; they turned out to be shots. So I said to him: "All right, let’s do a report on the shots." Other journalists told us that the shooting came from the Moncada, that soldiers were fighting with each other, which had a certain evident logic, because the revolutionaries were wearing soldiers’ uniforms. At the Moncada, Panchito, who had amassed a vast experience, was aware that the guards might seize the photos that they had taken. He asked me for the rolls of the Carnival and handed me those of the attack.

Soon after that the guards ordered the photographers to throw all their rolls of film into a suitcase. But I kept the ones that made graphic history in the pocket of my skirt. The afternoon was very cloudy, thick, with the sun shut out behind them, it was a sad afternoon. From there we went to his studio, but first we passed by that of Senén Carabia, who photographed soldiers of the regiment, and Panchito handed him the photos of the dead soldiers. He couldn’t identify one sergeant who turned out to be José Luis Tasende, still alive.

He developed the photos and gave me the negatives to take to Havana and give them to Miguel Angel Quevedo, the editor of Bohemia, or Enrique de la Osa. I left on the first flight the next day. When Quevedo saw them, he quickly closed the door of his office. I set about writing my report with the emotion of someone who is in possession of something very important. Later, he told me that they were going to publish the photos, but not the report, because an official army note was coming in. He sent me back to Santiago de Cuba so as not to arouse any suspicions.

I dedicated a number of months to visiting places related to the events in order to extend the report and publish it in Bohemia when the censorship was lifted. I wanted to participate in the Moncada trial and spoke with the court president. Within a few days I saw my name on the journalists list as a Bohemia correspondent, even though I wasn’t as yet.

One night I went out with my friends. We were walking towards a restaurant that faced a stop light on the corner of San Feliz to have a soda. At that point the light turned to red and an army jeep containing Alberto Río Chaviano, chief of the regiment, braked to a halt.

"Aren’t you the little girl that was with Panchito at the Carnival," he asked me in an ironic tone with his eyes fixed on my face. When I said that I was, he asked about my colleague and I replied that I hadn’t seen him. "If he calls you, you let me know, because what that s.o.b did to me was something else."

On January 1 (1959), Quevedo rang me and give me the joyful news that my report could be published because Fidel was entering Santiago. Later I changed the title of my piece on the Moncada trial. I had titled it The Centennial Generation at the Moncada trial. (Alejo) Carpentier read it like that. At that time he was dedicating his time to seeking information for his book The Rite of Spring. And he lacked information on that period.

I attended all the sessions of the court hearing on the Moncada events, which started on September 21, and even the one that took place in the nurses room of the Saturnino Lora Hospital, where Fidel was tried on October 16, the time when he gave his historic defense known by the name of History Will Absolve Me. When I saw him entering the courtroom protesting because an accused person cannot be brought in handcuffed, I recognized his historical dimension; in minutes he turned from the accused into the accuser. I also had an intuition of his future projection. A man who even magnetized the soldiers guarding him in the court. Seeing him and his compañeros, it seemed to me as if I was seeing the mambises (19th century freedom fighters), and I said that to everyone who asked me about that day, beginning with my family.

I remember that during a press conference at the triumph of the Revolution some U.S. journalists asked Fidel about the conduct of the Moncada assailants at the trial. He called me to explain that event to them and gave me the chair he was using in that appearance. All that I can say is that it is a matter of pride for me to be a contemporary of such a person.

Once I said to Melba Hernández that I wanted to go to Vietnam to write first-hand on what was happening there. The Vietnamese accepted that one journalist would go from the Revolución newspaper and one from Hoy; it was Raúl Valdés Vivó for the latter. When we reached Beijing we took a train to the border with Vietnam. And one night traveling along the highway under a heavy downpour, the car stopped, the doors opened and some guerrillas in black uniforms and camouflage hats emerged from the mountains. And they took us into the jungle. On the second day we started to see and hear the sound of B-52, F-100, F-105 bombers…

Once, sheltered inside a tunnel, we heard the news over a U.S. radio that Che had left Cuba, that Fidel had read out his farewell letter, that the newspapers Hoy and Revolución had disappeared and a new newspaper named Granma had been founded. Then the guerrillas called Hanoi via Radio Liberación and got the exact information for us. The founding of Granma caught me in the jungle of South Vietnam. Raúl Valdés Vivó said to me jokingly: "You left for Revolución and me for Hoy and now we’ve lost our jobs."

Once we went to see the Playa Girón Battalion, one of the flagship brigades of the Vietnamese army. The U.S. soldiers were two kilometers away. But my greatest fear was reserved for the shelters. Suddenly the Vietnamese pushed me into a shelter because some aircraft were approaching, flying lower than the B-2s. Inside I felt some insects starting to crawl around my neck; I forgot about the bombings and rushed out, which prompted a guerrilla to throw himself on top of me to protect me. That happened to me twice. Another time a leaf touched my face and burned me. Apparently it had toxic gases.

The interview took place one day between July 10-12, 1969, at six in the morning at the Central Palace in Hanoi. On entering the palace I saw a figure dressed totally in white, in sandals and a silk robe. It was Ho Chi Minh. During the course of the conversation he told me that he had learned Spanish on a boat navigating through the Caribbean. In his youth he was the kitchen hand on a French ship. To a certain extent he reminded me of Fidel, because it was he who started by asking me questions for almost 30 minutes. He also told me that he liked the cinema a lot and the films of Charles Chaplin… I traveled immediately to Paris and sent the interview to Granma from the Prensa Latina office. One day Charles Chapin’s daughter, Geraldine Chaplin, went to Granma, where I told her the story of the conversation with Ho Chi Minh and his admiration for Chaplin’s films. Geraldine told me that once, when her father was traveling in a boat, a young Vietnamese asked him for his autograph. And that pleased him so much that he went down to the kitchen and began to talk with the young man. And when, with the passing of time, he realized that that young man was Ho Chi Minh, they began to establish a communication that resulted in them becoming close friends.

"I met Alejo in a hotel in Vietnam, now called the Continental, where journalists going to the North to look for news used to meet. There he asked me if my book on the Moncada trial was going to be reprinted and when I told him that it was, he promised me that he would write the prologue and he did, thus giving me one of the greatest satisfactions of my professional life.

I have the impression that the habit of seeking out the news has been a bit lost and has fallen into the facile. Certain journalists, young and not so young, have lost the desire to see things for themselves. Curiosity is one of the virtues that should be most nourished in journalism.

I would have liked to have done in Africa what I did in Vietnam. During the war in Algeria I was very close to going, but at that point I was totally absorbed with what was going on in Cuba with the Revolution.

I always seek out positive aspects of life, even in its worst moments. I think that one should always be optimistic. That attitude has always served me well…•
 

http://www.cubarte-english.cult.cu/global/loader.php?cat=actualidad&cont=showitem.php&id=1829&tabla=entrevista&anno=&seccion=&tipo=

Marta Rojas en sus 80

"Desde pequeña siempre fui muy activa. Me gustaba tirarme en patines de las lomas de Santiago de Cuba. Mi familia no tenía problemas económicos acuciantes y viví una infancia muy feliz. Mi papá, santiaguero, era sastre y mis tías casi todas modistas. Mi mamá, costurera de alta costura, nació en Matanzas. Aprendí a leer con los titulares de los periódicos. Pero de todas maneras me mandaron a una escuela de una maestra retirada, de ahí pasé a la escuela anexa a la Normal, que era pública pero con un alto nivel profesional. Cada aula con una profesora de experiencia. Allí estudió también el poeta César López. No estábamos en la misma clase, pero yo lo conocía. En un principio quise estudiar Medicina. Pero ya en primero o segundo año del Instituto se me fue quitando el embullo, ya que disfrutaba mucho leer y escribir composiciones escolares."

"Escuchando la radio una tarde dieron la noticia de que en La Habana había una Escuela de Periodismo cuya matrícula costaba 6 pesos y le dije a mis padres que iba para allá. Hice las pruebas y aprobé, pero nunca fui una alumna eminente. Me gustaba mucho vivir, ver las cosas¼ . Aunque tuviera un examen al otro día, iba a bailar. Hice prácticas en el Canal 4 de la Televisión en Masón y San Miguel. Pero no me gustaba la televisión, sino escribir.

"Cerca de mi casa en Santiago vivía un fotógrafo que se llamaba Panchito Cano, él fungía como corresponsal de Bohemia. Hacía reportajes gráficos y yo me ocupaba de redactarle los pies de grabado en las vacaciones. Ese fue mi primer vínculo con la revista Bohemia, donde estuve desde el 53 hasta el 63, etapa que me hizo ser testigo del asalto al cuartel Moncada y del juicio a los revolucionarios."

"La noche antes del asalto al cuartel Moncada estaba con mis amigos en los carnavales de Santiago donde se esperaba la confrontación de las comparsas de los Hoyos y el Tívoli. Pero se marchan todos por la madrugada y todavía no han ‘chocado’ las dos rivales. Y me quedo con Panchito. Cerca de las cinco de la mañana comienzan a sonar lo que yo creía eran los fuegos artificiales; resultaron disparos. Entonces le dije: ‘Pues, vamos a hacer el reportaje de los tiros’. Otros periodistas nos informan que las descargas venían del Moncada, que se estaban fajando unos soldados con otros, lo cual tenía cierta lógica aparente, pues los revolucionarios estaban vestidos con trajes de soldados. Ya en el Moncada, Panchito, que atesoraba una vasta experiencia, conocía que los guardias podían arrancarles las fotografías que había tirado y me pide los rollos de los carnavales y me entrega los del ataque.

"Al poco rato los militares ordenan a los fotógrafos que arrojen todas las fotos sobre una valija. Pero yo ya guardaba en un bolsillo de la saya aquellas que resultaron gráficas históricas. La tarde se notaba bastante nublada, densa, y el sol apagado, una tarde triste. De ahí fuimos a su estudio, pero antes pasamos por el de Senén Carabia, quien fotografiaba a los soldados del regimiento, y le entregó las fotos de los militares muertos. Y él no pudo identificar a un sargento que resultó ser José Luis Tasende aún con vida.

"Reveló las fotos y me dio los negativos con el dinero para que viajara a La Habana y se los entregara a Miguel Ángel Quevedo, director de Bohemia, o a Enrique de la Osa. Partí en el primer vuelo al día siguiente. Cuando Quevedo vio aquello, cerró rápidamente la puerta de su oficina. Yo me puse a escribir mi reportaje con la emoción de quien tiene en la mano algo muy importante. Luego me indicó que las fotos se van a publicar, pero el reportaje no porque van a enviar una información oficial del ejército. Me mandó a regresar a Santiago de Cuba para que no levantara sospechas.

"Durante varios meses me dediqué a visitar los lugares relacionados con los hechos para ampliar el reportaje y publicarlo en Bohemia cuando se levantara la censura. Yo quería participar en el juicio del Moncada y hablo con el presidente del tribunal. A los pocos días veo mi nombre en la lista de los periodistas como corresponsal de Bohemia, cuando aún no lo era.

"Una noche salí con mis amigos y en la esquina de San Felix había un semáforo. Caminábamos hacia un restaurante que quedaba enfrente para tomarnos un refresco. En eso ponen la luz roja y frena un yipi del ejército, en el que estaba Alberto Río Chaviano, jefe del regimiento.

"¿Tú no eres la muchachita que andaba con Panchito en los carnavales?, me interroga de forma irónica con la mirada fija en mi rostro. Al decirle que sí, me preguntó por mi colega y le respondí que no lo había visto. Si él te llama, me avisas, porque ese hijo de p¼ lo que me hizo fue tremendo.

"El 1ro. de enero Quevedo me llama para darme la alegría de que ya mi reportaje se puede publicar porque Fidel está entrando en Santiago. Posteriormente le cambié el título a mi trabajo sobre el juicio del Moncada. Le había puesto La Generación del Centenario en el juicio del Moncada. Así lo leyó Carpentier. Por ese tiempo él se dedicaba a buscar información para escribir La consagración de la Primavera. Y le faltaba esa época."

¿Fidel? ¿Cómo te encuentras con él? ¿Cómo valoras esa cercanía?

"Yo asistí a todas las sesiones del juicio oral por los sucesos del Moncada, iniciado el 21 de septiembre, e incluso, a la que se celebró en la Sala de Enfermeras del hospital Saturnino Lora, donde Fidel fue juzgado el 16 de octubre, momento en que el pronunció su histórica defensa conocida con el nombre de La Historia me Absolverá. Desde que lo vi entrar a la Sala de Audiencia protestando porque a un acusado no se le podía llevar esposado, me percaté de su dimensión histórica, se convertía, en minutos de acusado en acusador. También intuí su proyección de futuro. Un hombre que imantaba hasta a los soldados que lo custodiaban en el tribunal. A mi me pareció, al verlo a él y a sus compañeros, que estaba viendo a los mambises, y eso le conté a todo el que me preguntaba sobre ese día, empezando por mi familia.

"Recuerdo que en una conferencia de prensa al triunfo de la Revolución unos periodistas norteamericanos le preguntan a Fidel cómo había sido el comportamiento de los moncadistas en el juicio. Él me llama para que les explique ese suceso y me cede el asiento que él ocupaba en aquella comparecencia. De más está decir que es para mí un orgullo ser coetánea de un ser semejante."

"Me encuentro con Alejo en un hotel de Vietnam que ahora se llama Continental, donde se reunían los periodistas que salían al norte a buscar noticias. Allí me preguntó si mi libro sobre el juicio del Moncada no lo iban a publicar de nuevo y al decirle que sí, me prometió que iba a escribir el prólogo y lo hizo, proporcionándome una de las satisfacciones más grandes en la vida profesional."

"Tengo la impresión que se ha perdido un poco el hábito de la búsqueda de la noticia y se ha caído en el facilismo. Algunos periodistas, tanto jóvenes como no tan jóvenes, han perdido la curiosidad de ver las cosas por ellos mismos. La curiosidad es una de las virtudes que más se deben alimentar en el periodismo."

"Me hubiera gustado hacer en África lo que hice en Vietnam. Cuando la guerra en Argelia estuve muy cerca de ir, pero en ese momento me subyugaba más lo que pasaba en Cuba con la Revolución."

"Yo siempre busco aspectos positivos de la vida, hasta en sus peores momentos. Pienso que siempre hay que ser optimista. Esa actitud me ha dado muy buenos resultados¼ "