Translator: Unstated, Yoani Sánchez
The balustrades are shaped like naked women and the wrought iron gate is
topped with stone slabs. The garden barely has room for a couple of feet
of grass from which a diminutive Pekinese barks all day. From the front
door you can see the line of the bar that divides the living room from
the kitchen, with bottles filled with colored liquids. A plastic tank
overlooks the roof, storing enough water for days of scarcity. The iron
and glass windows reveal the figures moving within the house and at
night also reflect the brightness of the TV. The entire lowercase
"mansion" has been painted the vermillion color that today is a sign of
prosperity. With this tone preferred by those who make their way
economically despite privations and bureaucratic absurdities.
Even on unpaved streets, these homes stand out, retouched by their own
efforts and convertible pesos. Minuscule palaces with pretensions of
grandeur suddenly popping into view. They leave us caught between
surprise and optimism, on encountering them amid the twists and turns of
La Platanito, La Timbre, Zamora, el Romerillo, and other rundown
neighborhoods. Hard up against overflowing dumpsters or sewer ditches
the ooze down the road, but within themselves these "doll houses" are
like bubbles of well-being. They have these pretensions expressed in
fanciful details such as columns shaped like tree branches, or plaster
dwarfs guarding the gates. Extravagantly decorated tons of times,
architecturally ridiculous many others, these imitation castles speak of
a strong desire to live in a beautiful, personalized space. They are
like the baroque walls of some mausoleum in a Havana cemetery, but this
time for the enjoyment of life.
I love to stumble across these facades and see their occupants looking
out from the small balconies. There is something in them, in the paint
chosen to cover the walls and in the bell hanging over the door that
gives me hope. I am comforted to know that the desire to progress
materially was not erased by so many years of false egalitarianism and
faked modesty. Some eagerness for prosperity remains within us and now
this greed has a color, vermillion, that is impossible to hide.
12 April 2012
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