Angel Santiesteban, Translator: Regina Anavy
So Orlando Zapata gave himself up with the only weapon he had. Guillermo
Fariñas then went to the edge of the abyss, from where it is assumed
there is no return, but his spiritual energy carried him and brought him
back; besides, the fight is not over, that was only one chapter. Both
Zapata and Farina are examples to follow.
Cuban bloggers have endured intimidation, arrests and kicks. And yet it
seems little to us if we compare it to the infinite pleasure of
communicating, delivering opinions for those who prefer silence out of
the fear of retaliation.
The agents of the political police understood that they're clumsy.
Although they continue to engage in physical aggression, now they walk a
fine line. They have set in motion the machinery of their means of
communication and counterintelligence. Yoani Sánchez was the first, then
the blogger Diana Virgen García.
Just around the celebrations of July 26, 2009, the most important
holiday of the regime, I was arrested. My ex-wife, after four years of
separation and having a relationship with a senior police officer named
Pablo, the superior of the Sector Chiefs of the municipality of Plaza,
went to the police station at Zapata and C, and accused me of rape.
Luckily, at that time I was far from the place that she chose for the
false accusation. I was with friends who served as witnesses in the
presence of my current partner.
The officer who notified me about the case told me that my ex suffered
from a mental disorder, and it was possible she would have to be
admitted to a psychiatric hospital. He said that after making the
complaint, he explained to her that she would have to take it to Legal
Medicine to corroborate that she really had been raped: it was the only
way to present such an atrocity before a trial. She refused. Then she
showed a medical document where she was diagnosed with an injury to her
ear, and a picture of some marks behind it, such as scratches. The
officer let her know that in order for the document to be found valid,
she had to return to the doctor with a policeman he would assign to her.
She also refused to consult the doctor. Regarding the photo, the officer
insisted it would be valid only if it had been taken by police
specialists, but as there were no visible marks, it didn't make sense
that experts would appear.
Then my ex rescinded the above allegations and said that she was
accusing me of stealing some family jewels. The officer began to ask her
for a description, to later corroborate it with her family and friends,
so they could guarantee that the jewels were really hers, and to compare
them with some photo where she was wearing them. She again refused.
She then asked, as if playing a children's game, that they take another
statement, about my stealing money in several currencies, CUCs, dollars
and euros, whose total sum barely surpassed $100.
The officer who assisted me could demonstrate to her, with several
witnesses, where I was at the time declared by my ex, while she couldn't
present any witnesses or evidence that would incriminate me.
The officer said I could go without imposing any injunction on me. A
month later, I passed about sixty meters from my ex. The next day she
tried to accuse me of harassment, but they did not accept the complaint
Fifteen days later, at the place where my ex lived, at dawn, there was a
short-circuit in some wires near a bush of dry leaves, and a fire broke
out. The firemen took more than an hour to arrive. The neighbors had
warned them about the power failure and that an accident could happen.
My ex was not at home, but the next day, when she appeared, it was at
the police station, and she accused me of attempted murder.
However, several caretakers for neighborhood businesses at the residence
saw no one near the place; in fact, it's nearly three meters high and
there are two locked gates that the firefighters had to break down.
Twenty-four hours later I was summoned by the police, and witnesses
showed where I was at the time of the fire. And they agreed to let me
leave. Then, a senior official insisted that I would have to post a bond
of 1,500 pesos. Obviously, it was not by chance that days before I had
received an invitation to the Festival of the Word in Puerto Rico,
signed by the writer Mayra Santos-Febres. With the imposition of the
bond my leaving the country was prevented, along with the possibility of
being able to communicate with the international media.
Days later they changed the police officer on my case. The new one was
announced as Captain Amauri, and in a short time, he was apprised of all
the imaginary complaints for which the prosecutor requested more than
fifty years in prison.
There was an alleged witness. I don't know if it was a matter of one
complaint in particular or all of them, but the fact is that the day
they began the cross-examination, he shouted that they couldn't force
him to testify against me, that he did not know me.
On leaving the police station, the alleged witness presented himself at
my house and before my neighbors explained what actually happened. He
videotaped the confession.
Then, last July 25, I was summoned to the station because the alleged
witness, the only one they could manipulate, had made a complaint
against me of threats: "coercion" to not testify against me. They held
me for 18 hours without food or water. Only when Castro's speech for the
celebration of the assault on the Moncada barracks was finished did they
release me, without the alleged victim having appeared.
I came home and copied 100 CD's of the confession of the "witness" and
delivered it to the police and to whatever media of disclosure exists in
this country, although they don't function. And like the gesture that
quiets the orchestra, there was silence.
Today the authorities don't know what to do with me. They have a totally
manipulated trial where the court rejected my witnesses. They know that
I have the video where the witness points out the manipulation, the
promises and the pressure on him to testify against me.
That's the way things are. I remember a school friend, who loved Cuban
literature, who asked me, days before I started to post on my blog, if I
was prepared to face the devastating machinery of the system. I was
silent for a while. I thought about the urgent need to communicate about
my environment and social problems. I replied that I was not naive, that
I knew how far they could go, and I remembered Martí and Lorca.
I must admit I never thought the Cuban political police were so twisted.
I never imagined I would get involved in such disgraces. Anyway, it's
always one step more to freedom. The desperation of the system is a
symptom of fatigue.
Translated by Regina Anavy
Originally published 9 February 2011 – Re-published 12 August 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment