ad astra

"Americana, muestra las piernas mi sol,
Latina y sana, yo quiero pasar por vos,
bendita pluma que oh, la creación inspiras, pelea mi tierra la canción que alegre al corazón."

So I won’t lie.  I basically have no real knowledge of what’s been going on in the GOP primaries for the past few months.  I’m not even sure if I can name all of the candidates, or if I know who’s still in and who’s still out.  But yesterday I saw a videoclip which really freaked me out.  Not because of something one of the candidates said, but because of the audience’s reaction to it.

“My point is, if another country does to us what we do others, we’re not going to like it very much. So I would say that maybe we ought to consider a golden rule in — in foreign policy.”

That was what Ron Paul said in response to a question about foreign policy.  And before he even finished his sentence, he was booed.  He then continued:

“We endlessly bomb … these countries and then we wonder — wonder why they get upset with us? And — and yet it — it continues on and on.”

The response to that?  More boos.  I was literally sort of stunned, thinking I was hearing things or something.  But I wasn’t.

How is that possible?  Children are taught from the time they are toddlers “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.”  It’s called the “Golden Rule” for a reason - because we supposedly highly esteem it.  But does the rule only go as far as not stealing another kids toy?  How can we expect children, or any human being to act that way, and then boo a politician for daring to apply it to foreign policy?  Isn’t that a double standard?

(I feel like I should mention here that many Christians have a tendency to reject the Golden Rule for another: “Do unto others as Jesus would do unto them.” But I guess that one goes out the window too at an international level.  Either that or some Christians believe that Jesus was a warmonger.)

I’m not endorsing Ron Paul.  I have no real opinion of him, and would probably agree with very few of his policies if I looked into them further.  But he won my respect with this episode.  It’s a refreshing change from the “Terrorists hate us because they hate our freedom” narrative which we were force fed after 9/11, and I look forward to hearing more about what he has to say.

As a side note, if someone wants to explain to me why a Golden Rule policy deserves boos and hisses, I’d be glad to listen.

Oh, and another side note, I do realize that the crowd cheers at the end when he says essentially the same thing, which I don’t entirely understand.  Maybe it’s different people?  Or maybe he just has incredible powers of persuasion and won them over in under a minute.

Travelling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things - air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.
Cesare Pavese, Italian author
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Fernando Milagros,
San Sebastián

My favorite song from 2011.  Sin duda.

Dios está en todas partes, pero convénzanse que está más cerca de los pobres que de los ricos. En eso se parece a los piojos, que están más junto con los pobres que junto con los ricos.
Leonardo Boff, Brazilian Liberation Theologian.  “God is everywhere, but be convinced that he is closer to the poor than to the rich.  In this he resembles lice, which are closer to the poor than to the rich.”

Excerpt from “Memories of Fire” by Eduardo Galeano

1511

Yara

 Hatuey

In these islands, many are those who choose their death, hanging themselves or drinking poison together with their children.  The invaders cannot avoid this revenge, but they know how to explain it: the Indians, so savage that they think everything belongs to all, Oviedo will say, are people who by nature are lazy and depraved, and who work little…Many of them in their free time, kill themselves with poison to escape work, and others hang themselves with their own hands.

     Hautey, Indian chief of the Guahaba region, has not killed himself.  In a canoe he fled from Haiti, together with his people, and sought refuge in the caves and mountains of Eastern Cuba.

     There he pointed to a basket filled with gold and said:

     – This is the god of the Christians.  For him they persecute us.  For him our fathers and brothers have died.  Let us dance for him.  If our dance pleases him, this god will order them to stop abusing us.

     They catch him three months later.

     They tie him to a stake.

     Before lighting the fire which will reduce him to carbon and ash, a priest promises him glory and eternal rest if he accepts baptism.  Hatuey asks:

     – In your heaven, are there Christians?

     – Yes.

     Hatuey chooses hell and the kindling begins to crackle.

“I always hear a lot of hypothetical examples.  But do you think you could give me an example of how the blockade has affected you personally?”

“Easy.  Try to imagine this.  Your daughter gets sick – a thyroid problem.  And it’s serious.  But you live in Cuba, so you go to the doctor and they do the exams for free.  They diagnose her for free.  They operate on her for free.  You’re so relived, and you’re so grateful for what your country has done for you.  And then you hear the doctor say: ‘The surgery was a success.   Your daughter should be fine.  Except that her condition is chronic, which means that she needs to take medicine every day for the rest of her life.  And unfortunately, that medicine is unavailable in Cuba.’”

That’s my life.  And that’s the blockade.”

***

I wish that conversation was fiction, but it’s not.  It’s a conversation I had a few days ago with a Cuban woman.  And it’s a conversation which can probably be replicated in 12 million different ways, because the effects of the blockade are as numerous as the people on the island.

As a result of this conversation, I’ve reached a certain level of frustration regarding US policies towards Cuba which I haven’t felt before.  And not only frustration towards policies, but towards people’s criticisms of Cuba in general.  I’ve said before and firmly believe that criticism from both sides is healthy and necessary, but the more time I spend in Cuba and the more I listen to Cubans, the less I understand certain claims that are made regarding the island.  And I think the most frustrating of all is the discussion of “human rights.”

One of our friends in Cuba said this time around that the term “human rights” is the most abused term there is when it comes to talking about the world.  And I think he’s right.  “Cuba is a violator of human rights.”  That’s what criticism of Cuba always comes back to.  But there is so much wrong with that statement, and there is so much tied up in it, that I can barely even begin to form coherent thoughts.  So this will be my poor attempt.

First of all, when people say that Cuba violates human rights, it seems to me that you have to ask what human rights actually are.  And not only that, but who defines them.  Because different people in different places will most likely have a very different understanding of the term.  Am I wrong, or do people often fail to realize a) that no definitive list of human rights exists, and b) that different societies prioritize some rights over others?

The US press constantly talks about lack of freedom of speech, press, and assembly in Cuba.  But why do they never talk about the right to food, water, health, and education that all Cubans have?  Cubans have chosen to prioritize these things over others like private property, contracts, press, etc.  Is that OK?  Not necessarily.  But it is no different than what the United States has done in prioritizing freedom of speech and freedom of the press over the right of their people to have access to food and water!  What gives the United States the right to declare that their prioritization of rights it the Gold Standard which the rest of the world needs to adopt?  I will never understand it.

On the last night we were in Cuba, someone asked our translator what he thought about the human rights violations in Cuba.  I wish I had had a tape recorder so that I could do justice to what he said, but it went something like this.

“I get so tired of the United States criticizing Cuba for its human rights record.  Who is the bigger violator of human rights?  In Cuba, everyone eats.  In Cuba, everyone has health care.  In Cuba, everyone has access to free education.  Cubans have the right to life.  An example: the last time I was in the United States I was shocked to discover that woman are usually given four weeks of maternity leave.  In Cuba, they receive a year with full pay.  Because what is a more basic right than the right of an infant to have its mother!?  In the United States, mothers are ripped back to work before their children even have the slightest sense of what it means to be alive!”

I agree with him that in the grand scheme of things, the United States violates more human rights every day (not only at home but abroad) than Cuba could ever dream of doing.  But instead we punish and criticize the Cubans for choosing a prioritization different from our own.  Should people be jailed for speaking out against the government?  Of course not.  But neither should a person be forced to live under a bridge because they can’t afford a house.  Neither should a person be forced to starve because they can’t afford food.  And neither should a person be forced to die because they can’t afford health care.  Please, by all means, criticize human rights violations.  But don’t forget the way that our country also violates human rights.  And don’t for an instant think you’re superior because you have different priorities.

I am sorry if this is coming off as angry, but it stems with my frustration with seeing people in Cuba suffering because they made a decision which we didn’t like.

We had the chance to visit an elementary school during the trip, which was something I hadn’t done before.  The talk with the director was enjoyable, but he caught me off guard with his response to his question about what he wishes his school had:

“Computers.  We would love computers.”

I had to leave the room because his response made me cry.  Why?  Because as soon as he said that, the image of the Texas Border Patrol taking seven computers from our caravan last summer as we tried to cross the border filled me head, and I couldn’t get it out.

“You can’t take these,” they said.  “It’s high technology which can be used by the Cuban government to foster terrorism.”

Foster terrorism?  Or help a six year old learn to read?

I could go on, and I think that I probably will at some point.  But this is probably enough for now.  So, if anyone reads this, I would really love to hear what you think, whether you agree with me or whether you think I’m insane and unpatriotic.  Really, I want to know.  Gracias.

Viva Cuba Libre.

A few pictures from Cuba (you can click through them).

Too much.

I heard this song a few months ago, and it’s been stuck in my head ever since.  There’s something about it that I really like…it’s like strangely sad or something…I don’t know.  Anyways here’s my attempt at a translation of the lyrics.

Fernando Milagros - Carnaval

You left with the Carnaval
That arrived with the summer
To me it looked like a hurricane
That tore you to pieces

Pieces of you incrusted in me
Pieces of me, thrown out along the road

You wanted to stay and play
You had sand in your hands
Building castles of salt
You used to call me your vassal

You left with the hurricane
And left for the Kingdom of Maggots
If you’d like I’ll stop by and pick you up
I live on the street over there