Image: The Poet and the Gold by Miguel Menassa
Still echoing in the ears are those words from a long and dull discourse that took place in the mid 1960’s.
“…We will create a system of collective vigilance.”
A kind of state security similar to that of the SS Nazis, a system of a collective group in which you kept an eye on your neighbor all the while that same neighbor was in charge of keeping watch of you.
Many remember; both those of us that are here and those in exile. They would come dressed as civilians with the intent of collecting information; like Antonio, a neighbor who would recount what he saw suspicious. One afternoon when he was supposed to be at home and he did not show, his neighbor was on watch. Antonio was detained; later on he found out that the one that would show up to his house, the one he was supposed to inform, was detained also. Antonio had more luck, they did not execute him and 12 years of his life were spent between pain and suffering. Antonio decided to leave; he did not want his children to live through what was nothing other than hate and resentment.
The Committee of the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) made themselves public and it is already known who were there members, and amongst these clans respect was not promoted. Amongst them, fear was unleashed, which transformed a battle hardened country into an amorphous mass in where the simple objective was to save oneself and family, a profit for the devil.
It is with much pain that I must hear that Venezuela and Ecuador are marching down the same path. I cry when I think of the divisions amongst families, the loss of human valor known as friendship, the forced neglect of all the churches, and it seems to me that their governments are perpetuating themselves in power and are only interested in their own interests, elevating their own egos through sweat and tears- not caring from whom. They laugh with them as if it was all a grand comedy and they don’t care, no, that they are amassing their population in front of an execution wall.
Félix Navarro, prisionero de conciencia. Texto dictado por teléfono desde la prisión provincial de Ciego de Ávila, Cuba.
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