Saturday, October 31, 2009

Bringing down the Wall

It is a well-known landscape for the world: The Wall of Berlin. In 1990, it made headlines around the world; today, it is a place to remember and make peace with the past; today, it is a place drawn into the past.

In the other side of the Atlantic, in the small island of Cuba, there is another wall less known and as deadliest as that wall of Berlin: it is the wall that Cuba’s authorities lift around their own people to discourage them to travel abroad their country. The story is repeated twice, both as a tragedy.

People who live in democratic countries are use to travel around the world, they get vacations or get a job in another place outside their homeland, or simply they retire and want to live the rest of their life in the Caribbean or Hawaii, looking after a warmer weather and gorgeous landscapes. For them, there is no other official procedure than get a ticket to their destiny and start a new chapter in their life.

So, it is not too understandable for them the mandatory permission to travel that Cubans have to request to achieve every single move outside their country. No matter what, you have to request a permission to go anywhere and it involves money, documents to present under the authorities in charge, and if the move means immigration the vigilant state proceed with an inventory of all your belongings.

This is one of the chapters more insulting and despicable in all the story of the Cuban Revolution: the Castro’s regime took off from our citizens everything. In our own behalf and without any choice, our children are educated with the regime’s agenda in every topic: history, philosophy and believes. Parents are restraint to choose their education, where they want to live, where they want to go, if they want to stay or not, how, where, when.

I remember the last moments when I was through my process to obtain the inevitable piece of paper that represented my ticket to the free world. During those moments, I had to admit an inspector in my mother’s house where I was living to get an inventory of her house, even when she wasn’t immigrating: with or without her permission, it was a mandatory step in order to get the permission.

They go, they check every single piece of furniture, electronic equipments, everything you have in your house and you acknowledge as yours (not anymore). They look, they scribble in a piece of paper, and they leave. And then, you wait, and wait until they decide to fill a simple letter detailing you are controlled in their list.

As citizen, you have been rescinded of all your rights and belongings, and you have to ask an act of magnanimity from the royal family of Cuba in order to leave or travel. That is the Wall of Cuba, while they don’t need actual concrete or bricks or cement to lift a wall (after all, Cuba is an island and the Caribbean Sea acts as a wall of water around us) the government of Cuba built a statutory wall of permissions and violations to the most basic right signed by every single nation signatory of UN treaties: the right to move out abroad on your own behalf without any prohibition or restrain.

The wall of Berlin disappeared in 1990, this is 2009 and in Cuba there is still a wall to contend our citizens from their freedom. We hear about the Berlin’s Wall every day: it is in CNN, in the news in our TV, in any other newspaper you get in your way home, or in the radio.

But about the Wall around Cuba nobody talks. It is a shame for the politicians and reporters of the free world. We need to break down that wall as we did with the eastern European’s. It is a necessity for everyone as citizen of this planet.

Internet: Out of Cuba

The first sight you get when you make a search in Google about Cuba is hundreds and hundreds of web pages written and published from Cuba. There are newspapers, Cuban magazines, web sites dedicated to cultural institutions like “Casa de las Americas”, or pages marketing tourism, Cuba’s airline tickets, even Cuban products and services. And you wonder how is possible the government uses internet and the average Cuban doesn’t have a single connection to the world net.

In any civilized nation, the first internet customers are the locals. How could you manage a local edition of a newspaper where the locals don’t have the opportunity to reach that edition?

Another interesting question: How could you support democracy in a place where locals are not count on any decision making and internet is only a facelift for the outsiders?

But the problem is not only from the side of the access to the information; there is the other side of the story. Nowadays internet is not only a vehicle to get information, but to share it, share opinions and move individuals and groups around social and political issues.

Thanks to internet the world knew the protests against the new Iranian government. Thanks to internet Obama step up the American presidency. Thanks to internet people are interconnected, interchange messages and pictures, date and make a living from their premises at home. Today, internet holds more power than the usual media.

Those who kidnapped the power in Cuba understood the real meaning of the web map, but they don’t want to share that power. They want to reshape Cuba, create an image twisted to their interests and wishes drawing an artificial web face for Cuba.

It remembers me 1984 by George Orwell and his famous epitome: “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.”

In the Cuban present, the government controls all the access, the information and the sites, and never ever is willing to give up any corner to dissidence or parallel opinion. Cubans can’t create blogs in the inexistent inner blogosphere, they have to cross the border and settle their few blogs outside Cuba. They are not welcome to any public event where the topic is discussed or slightly touched. And they have to make miracles to support their web pages around the word.

Cuba is more colourful in tones, opinions and ideology than the official web face the world knows through its sites.

For the Cubans, internet is out not in.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Typing Machine

There is something unquestionable about our life in Cuba: you reach a point when you have no choice.

I was a candidate in the elections for Delegates of my neighbourhood. Honestly, I don't remember how I reached that moment. My recollection about that accident in my life is just a mixture of surprise, consternation and fear.

Surprise, because I wasn't expecting any sort of proposition of that kind.

Consternation, because I didn't have a choice to avoid the unquestionable aceptance. Probably, that choice would have broke any promise of a decent job anywhere.

Fear, because it is just unimaginable what could have happened if I had been elected at that time.

I was suddenly drawn into a nightmare. I just remember that somebody pull me to some place to take a picture, at the same time another one was pulling over my shoulder a wacky huge grey blazer, and the third person took the historic picture.

Meanwhile I Had to write quickly a short list of facts here and there about my life, and in a couple of days, my picture in black and white and my tiny autobiography were hanging around every corner in my neighbourhood (as you can see in the picture).

Fortunately, I didn't win. But I do know for sure what a Candidate turned into Delegate could be done: NOTHING!!!

You are only a person to scribble complaints and send them up there, with no hope for answers and solutions. You don't have any power to change anything, or propose anything, or request anything, or protest for anything. You are just a typing machine for complaints.

You don't tackle any social, political and esential issue in Cuba. You were elected to supply a line with your name, or at least to add one numeral in the official report about elections in Cuba, and that line praise about what it means Socialist's Democracy: You were elected to do NOTHING.

The painful reality in Cuba is that nobody wants to be in the position I was, with my picture around the corner and the orwellian possibility to have my life turned upside down, with the endless line of people asking about whatever, and you hand emptied and desperate to fly to another planet. That is the price for being elected in Cuba.

So, I was glad I lost my bid for Delegate. I was so happy I promised to myself I wouldn't be in that position again, even if I would have to say no and hit my head against the wall.

Luckily, I didn't have to do it.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Juanita Talked

At last, we have the last season of the longest Cuban-American soup-opera at home: Juanita
Castro talked, and talked, and talked.

Apparently, there is nothing more entertain for South Florida than when one of the Castro's family talks. They switch each other in order to keep the audience busy: sometimes, Fidel in Cuba; next day, her daugter in some place. After that, all the Cuban-Amercan radio stations and the rest of the anti-Castro zoo start the real show.

This week our comedy season brought to us Juanita Castro, who for more than 40 years kept a huge secret to be reveal in a grand finale: She, Juanita Castro, was a CIA agent, and nobody knew it. Amazing!!!

It was so secret and well kept that the own CIA officials unknown the fact. So, don't waste your time trying to find in the pages declassified by CIA her secret name: Donna. Don't bother, folks, it is not there.

Poor soul. she may be in need of some money (I remember now she sold her pharmacy because it was in bankruptcy) and the solution was to sell her most valuable secret to somebody. Of course, in Miami, that somebody has a name. OK?

At least, if Juanita could confirm our secret suspicions about the softest side of her brother Raul, we were happy. I mean, to tell us, for instance, that Raul kept a bunch of Chippendales in his time in Sierra Maestra. O. I try another one: Fidel Castro was use to striptease for the guerrilla.

But, there is nothing of the kind. Juanita came back just to sell something that is too old, too known and too silly. The whole story about the Castro's is ridiculous. It is time to move on and say good bye, turn out that page and change the characters, not only in Cuba, even more in Miami.

So, Juanita, please, next time just head up to Alaska to speak with Sara Palin. At least, we can have some entertainment between the two.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


I guess it is one of the most known places in Cuba. Floridita is one of the landmarks of Havana, and a point where many fellows Canadians converge. Known for being one of the most frequently places visited by Ernest Hemingway where he usually drank his famous daiquiri, the small restaurant is in the very entrance of Old Havana: the corner of Egido and Obispo.

Canadians who travel to Cuba known that fact, they don’t forget to take the inevitable picture in front of the tiny place. And I know many Canadians who are fascinated with Cuba, and especially with Old Havana. They love the old flavour that Havana brings to them.

What they don’t know, and actually unknown absolutely, is the face behind that Old Havana. They only see beautiful old restored buildings, the majestic architecture in the old Cathedral, or the vintage splendour of the famous Floridita.

Now, I took this picture in March 2009, a few months ago. It is the famous corner with the famous restaurant, indeed.

But, wait a second, just look up on top of the restaurant and on the left of the sign, and you got it. That is a building where a bunch of Cubans families are living.

You don’t have to be a genius to understand that in those conditions, the building could be barely supporting its walls, but it is supporting its walls and many families inside its crumbling premises.

You don’t need to leave Old Havana, my friends Canadians, to know how our folks are living in my country.

My question is: Did you get that picture?

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Sean Penn in Cuba

I am really a great admirer of Sean Penn. The Sean Penn of movies like “I am Sam”, “The assassination of Richard Nixon”, and lately, “Milk”, for which he won an Academy Award. Besides, He is an outspoken liberal and anti-war activist.

I share his believes about the war in Afghanistan and Iraq and, especially, his remarks about George W. Bush. We are on the same page, Sean, about those issues.

An artist is also a citizen, and I’m truly a supporter of those with own voice and strong will, like Sean Penn. But, what I don’t understand though, it is this fascination that some liberal artists share with tyrannical rulers like Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez.

Today, the media is reporting the presence of Sean Penn in Cuba to interview Fidel Castro for Vanity Fair. It is not the first time that great artists go to Cuba to meet the longest ruler in history. Before him, Oliver Stone, Robert Redford, Francis Ford Coppola, and others line up fascinated with the dictator.

What is it? What is the fascination that some artists, mostly liberals and outspoken, share for the charismatic ruler? Is it kind of Hollywood glamour stirred with liberal narcissism and ignorance?

I remember Sean Penn speech in his Oscar night in March. He said:

“... for those who saw the signs of hatred as our cars drove in tonight, I think that it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if they continue that way of support.”

And I am really lost, Sean Penn.

Do you know that the man you are going to interview is the man who established the concentration camps for gays, lesbians and dissidents in the 60’s?

Do you know that the same man is who threw a very well known expletive for gays against some pranksters in Miami?

Do you know that the same personage is the principal responsible for the division in the Cuban family, which every signs of hatred is known for every Cuban inside and outside Cuba, and which shame we are watching in our own eyes in this very moment when you are there?

I am liberal, and I am proud to be a liberal, and I really admire what you have achieved in your career, Sean Penn, but being a liberal and a Cuban myself, I can’t share the same fascination for the man who had sank our beautiful country in shame.

We are not on the same page, Sean Penn, about Fidel Castro.

That is a shame.

Monday, October 26, 2009

GRANMA and others Dinosaurs...

I had been checking time to time some of the Cuban’s newspapers websites, and an important lesson you can get from the simple comparison with other websites in the world. Of course, this is nothing new, as you can say it. But, sometimes, it is very clever to waste a little bit of time and checks those websites. They give you in a flash the true colors of the Castro’s Information Policy.

For instance, the websites dedicated to the outside world are completely different and more sophisticated, if you compare it with the modest and almost naked made for the “locals”. But the differences don’t stop there, the core of the website: the information and opinions are more complete, and sometimes even more flexible. Very funny!!!

What it means, the regime don’t waste time and effort to accomplish too much for the locals: no big surprise here. Who cares if somebody in Cuba access to GRANMA online: nobody has internet at home there, so no big deal.

Another detail is, in this world where the internet had exploded and the underground internet many times override the big names in news (just recently, IRAN was the center of the turmoil); there is no newspaper who allow itself not to hang in every single article the choice of the reader’s opinion.

Sorry, I should said, all the newspapers, but GRANMA.

There is no blogs, there isn’t at least in the section dedicated to opinions, the choice to express something about the reporter’s opinion, the article, or whatever the reader want to say. But, this is not a surprise, either.

Then, you change to Juventud Rebelde, and here you are, there is room for opinions, but the website is only in Spanish: what a joke!!!

Who is going to read it? There is no internet for Cubans. So, the readers aren’t Cubans, or at least, not the residents in our beautiful island. Moreover, all the opinions (a very few at the end of the day) are extremely positive and with the same approach. Hmmm...

For years, the regime had been bored us with the story about the US Embargo and the consequences of it to access internet and today, the story turns its page: a few weeks ago, Obama freed the cable providers in US in order to let them establish an optical cable to join Cuba and Florida.

The other side of the story: no surprise, Cuba refuse to get that deal, even when is less expensive than the other offer from Venezuela (18 million against 70). But at least something we can get from the authorities of Cuba: the tip of the iceberg.

Carlos del Porto, specialist from the Information Technology Office, had said that the political component of that project can’t be separated from the technical component, which is a bit of the truth.

In fact, it had never been separated.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

One Voice, One Hand?

We were born in a place where gigantic crows clapped unanimously longs and dramatics speeches in the Revolution Square, where almost the entire country votes with one hand to support a system consecrated to one man, and where everybody trusts the destiny of the entire nation to one party, one ideology, and one will: Fidel Castro.

Now, that’s never happened in history. There is nothing unanimous in any political system, religion or believe. There is nothing of the kind in our history: it is a myth and part of the catechism that the Cuban Revolution and the regime’s propaganda spread.

The great lesson that our forefathers brought to us is, ultimately: we are the result of a social process built with the effort and the strength of all political and social forces in the past. But that wasn’t a thrill for Castro. Where there is a democratic society there is no a cult to one personality: there is a group of men pushing to achieve one goal, but there is not one voice, one leader.

Jose Marti, the apostle of our independence as we called him, said in one clever statement: “La Patria es de Todos” (The homeland is for everybody).

There weren’t unanimous our forefathers, but all of them worked together to built our independence. We couldn’t forget that the man who designs our national flag, Narciso Lopez, was an annexationist who wanted our country to join the young North American confederation, and he fought with the rest of our patriots for our independence from Spain.

That’s the lesson behind every unanimous vote to the Socialism: we are all dissidents against the system who establishes one party, one opinion, one leader; against the system who denied our own will and our own believes.

Leaving the same premises where all were addressed by Fidel Castro, every one returned to our adamant opinion as citizen of our own believes.

We are not different than anyone in this world: we are not followers of one voice. The leader was charismatic, smart and sneaky to attract million of followers in the romantic era of the Cuban Revolution, surrounded by the aura of the guerrilla against a dictator: Fulgencio Batista. That's era is over.

Left, we only have its ashes.


I look at the picture and a mixture of feelings comes into my mind. When adults look at them they usually find the flaws, the signs and the cracks that the communist regime scattered through all the education system.

Castro took all the responsibilities that we have as parents and banished all signs of the all school system: no private’s and catholic’ schools, only one system with only one methodology and a unique way to teach. The new regime took from our parents their will and acted in their behalf without any dissention allowed.

But when I look at it, the pictures, I am talking about those pictures, I see myself swearing to my flag, singing our national anthem and listening to our teachers telling the magic stories about our heroes. They were gods for us, and the aura surrounded them was fascinated.

I did remember those years with happiness: I learned, I enjoyed writing stories about every single detail in our national history. My recollection is the one of a little boy in a school room, listening my teacher of the moment talking about Che, Camilo, Abel Santamaria, all those heroes were our pirates and their stories were the fairy tales of my childhood.

There is a huge difference with nowadays school system: our teachers. They were outstanding teachers. I remember my first one, her name was Mirta, with her sweet voice and her gentle way to tell us what to do or not. She knew how to play piano and guitar and a beautiful voice for children’s songs, and the patience of the giant.

Today, I look at the school system and I don’t see her replacement there: they are too young, with too many flaws and a huge lack in attitude and aptitude. Many of them don’t have the proper skill to teach, they even don’t have any artistic and skillful ability that my old school teacher personalize herself.

Moreover, I have the bad feeling that our children are growing up too fast and loosing the fantasy and the beautiful world that childhood brings and I wonder if I am wrong. I had walked close to some schools and I saw children playing adults roles, singing songs appropriate for adults and talking about the our actual issues in a kind of way more near to our world than their age shows.

I don’t recognize myself on them; I never talked on that age about dollars, sex and the world that adults bring to our society. We play, we share our toys, we made jokes and laugh every single day about our own jokes.

I was a pioneer and I was happy to be a pioneer, and every morning in the early meeting in our school yard I sworn and praised what every pioneer says today in Cuba: “Pioneros por el Comunismo, Seremos como el Che” (Pioneers by the Communism, We will be like Che”).

I admit, it sounds absurd and kitsch, and even knowing that Che is an icon for too many people, almost untouchable, in that moment, I will want to be like Che, or any of those heroes.

Today, I just want to be myself, and trust me, I won’t be like Che or any other, but this is my adult world. As a child, I was a pioneer and my fantasy was untouched. Today, the school system and the childhood world are reckless. We don’t have children living in a children world: Cuba had changed the other way around, for worst.

I look at the pictures, and I feel sorry for them: they don’t know how we were.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Fidel Castro: a brand name for disasters

If there is a name that had overshadowed the fate of Cuba, that name is not other than Fidel Castro. You just go abroad and confess you are Cuban, and the first name that comes to people’s mind is the fatidic name.

Then, you go to a convenience store, or a news stand, or a bookstore and in the small section of everyone you would find the same face in front of you: in a book’s hard print, in the frontline of the New York Times of the day, or even in a poster with the inevitable cigar.

Fidel Castro is a brand for the leftists who also grab the first t-shirt win the face of Che Guevara in their first travel to Cuba. But it is also a brand for the others who absolutely hate the personage.

For us, Fidel Castro is more than a brand. He is there, commanding every single step in our life, still ruling in the shadow. In the past, sweeping every single TV show when his majestic felt the incontrollable necessity to speak: what it was a chronic decease in him.

There was, and there is a picture of him in almost every little corner of the island. And every one of his endless speeches was the meticulous object of study and devotion: a Cuban bible, sort of.
Today, seated in a comfortable chaise-longue of “retirement” He continues the old saga, which only feed headlines everywhere, but in the heart of his own people.

He is in the Guinness book for the longest speech in UN, in some old commercials for cigars and in every rule taped in the personal destiny of every Cuban who lives in our homeland.

He is the man behind every up and down in Cuba. More than 5 generations are marked with his stamp in any other way, and in US there are more than 1.2 million of Cubans living in his behalf. Every single statement in the past, in the present, and even we have to say in the near future is commanded by his signature.

He is the longest ruler in history, and he is still there, behind closed doors, overshadowing every step, pointing with his long finger what it is, and what it’s not allowed.

We don’t acknowledge his presence many times in our soul, our mind and even in our opinions. We want to banish him from our lives. He is the divisor’s factor in our equation: north and south, revolution or contra revolution, friend or spy, warrior or coward, socialism or death.

He is our brand for the disasters in our land, a brand that we need to banish forever.

I am Panfilo

The above video shows Juan Carlos González Marcos, better known as “Pánfilo,” interrupting an interview on the streets of Havana, Cuba. His loud comments regarding the tremendous need in Cuba for “jama”—the slang Cuban word for food—stuck with many viewers when the video reached YouTube a few months ago, and the clip spread quickly on that site as well as in Miami newscasts, magazine covers, and several websites that ran his words as a lead story.
González was arrested in August by the Cuban police. He has now been sentenced to two years in prison for “precriminal social endangerment,” an ambiguous charge that has been in use since the 1960s in Cuba.
The man himself is no activist. Pánfilo is one of many who liked to have drinks in the park where the video was shot, and he was drunk in this instance and presumably speaking his mind, like many drunkards do. It is not completely a surprise, even when the man himself is not a dissident, neither a social activist nor a person trying to gain any sort of publicity.
He is just a drunkard, but spoke his mind and in Cuba that is a heresy for the Castro’s regime.
The arrest and two-year sentence are certainly difficult to defend, and now Panfilo is in the National Psychiatric Hospital, in Havana, “trying to cure his addiction to alcohol”.
I hope they only cure his alcoholic addiction and not his honesty to speak loudly what every Cuban think.
Cortesy of the video: Youtube

Friday, October 23, 2009

Two Cuba

There are two Cuba. One, colourful, vintage and picturesque, made for tourists and postcards, vibrant in colors and commodities, crowded with comfy hotels and splashed with gorgeous beaches. The second is dirty, old and scorched, made for the locals, plenty of crumbling buildings, empties stores and tiny little nests where life live in fatigues.

There are two Cuba. The one you can find in Varadero, Cayo Coco, and many, many resorts, included Havana. The other is the rest of the country, with no commodities, with people dreaming to leave the island in their way to heaven, or sort of.

There are two Cuba. The one in the capital city, with a standard of life slightly more high than the rest of the country, with more life and vibrancy, where you can find a better job, or a better product, or a better way to obtain the hard dollar to bring food to your family. The other, scattered with little towns, obscure tiny places with an empty plaza surrounded by the inevitable Catholic Church, the police station and the obscure little movie theatre.

There are two Cuba. The Cuba made for the officials, with new cars, comfortable houses and open doors to any other trip to Mexico or Spain, or even Canada. The other Cuba strolls to get a bus, or an old taxi that we name “almendron” (big almond), or simply walk. This is Cuba made for the average Cuban, sometime with no electricity at home, and an average salary of 15.00 dollars per month. The Cubans who only could travel when leaves their country legally or illegally, in a plane or in a boat, or even in an old ford transformed in a boat thanks to a miracle of their invention to survive.

There are two Cuba. The Cuba you could watch on TV, with the glamour and the flavour of the slogans and the feverish speeches. The other Cuba neither listens nor believes, just wait as time goes by, and pray for a miracle that never happens. A few dissents openly with no few fears; the rest bow their head down, with no hopes, no will, and no voice.

There are two Cuba. The one with dollars in their pockets, and an open ticket to buy whatever they want. The other Cuba starves slowly and quietly age.

There are two Cuba. The one left the island and live everywhere dreaming with his home country every night. The other sleeps in their own country dreaming with the moment when they can also leave their homeland in their way to the world, forever.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Old Vignettes

You can see them every day in the heart of the Old Havana: sitting in a small corner in Mercaderes close to Plaza Vieja, around the walls of the old Cathedral of Havana, or like this one that I caught in the entrance of La Casa de Obispo (The House of Bishop, named after the street), one Sunday morning in early March 2009.

Old vintage pictures in modern times, you can see them coming early in the morning and catch the same corner day after day, dressed in flamboyant colors and with the inseparable cigar in their hands. Everybody knows who they are, what they are doing, what is their meaning. From the police who stroll every corner of the Boulevard with his blue uniform to Eusebio Leal, the famous historian of the Old Havana.

They are part of the touristic picture of the city: you approach them and they assume the postcard`s posture to give you the chance for the flash, and you tip them. It is part of the ritual, and they are there for that. These vintages figurines are part of the flavour brought by the authorities to season the Old Havana in order to keep the waves of tourist coming.

Years ago, the government tried to ban those old faces from the city. Dangerously, they were a pretty close reminiscence of the real face of Cuba: a country with a huge population living in the limit of the poverty, and those old faces were the tip of the iceberg with dollar flavour. But Eusebio Leal, just smelling the real necessity of the vintage touch, brought them back, and here they are: royal beggars in Old Havana for postcard Vignettes.

You can see them everywhere, all of them look alike: old black women, with picturesque dresses in pink, red and white, with crispy voices asking for the conspicuous dollar after the picture.

Only there the picture looks an ideally postcard. Leaving those premises, the postcard turns to another dimension: the real one, the real Cuba.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Seven Planets

Since I was a little boy I was amazed with the story of the little prince written by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The story of the boy jumping through each of seven planets is the story of my own people, and you can say it without any doubt.

From the King who is eternally commanding, to the vain man who never hears anything but praise, or the lamplighter who only request orders, The Little Prince is outstandingly a source of inspiration to look at my country and reflect.

Cuba could be that planet with his King commanding up and down, right and left, staring at the stars to command to obey his orders, no matters if that man is out of sight.

The third planet acknowledge the long and ashamed period of time our people had lived without their own voice, and opinion, and will. We gave up, and now we are drinking to forget we are ashamed of drinking. Or maybe to forget that: “There’s nothing to understand, orders are orders”, as the lamplighter says.

Anyway. You can choose here and there a bit of cleverness behind every story in every planet that my little prince jumps. The question is: From Here, where could we go?

Cuba is still in time. The youngest are jumping here and there, and the king is vanishing with his servants. Meanwhile, a beautiful country is dying, almost quietly in front of everyone, almost unnoticed in front of the whole world. Nobody throw the throne, but runs to salute the second king.

The king is dead, long live the king!!!