The Cuban Five and the Tricks Ahead - español
By Edmundo García
I’d like to begin this article by making something perfectly clear: If the Government of Cuba agrees to allow Alan Gross to travel to the United States, for whatever period of time or reason, I believe that not even the bones of the anti-terrorist fighter Gerardo Hernández Nordelo, who is currently serving a double life sentence plus fifteen years, will ever see the sun of Cuba again. That’s what I think, and now I’ll explain. Continue reading
Posted in Cuban Five, English translations, gerardo hernandez, Puerto Rico
Tagged Alan Gross, bill richardson, gerardo hernández nordelo, gesture for gesture, jimmy carter, Judy Gross, Lolita Lebrón, macheteros, Peter Kahn, rené gonzález sehrwerert
In “honor” of yesterday’s U.S. Democratic primary in Puerto Rico, which made about as much sense as holding one in Cuba (although that is certainly what the U.S. is shooting for) Machetera brings you the following translation of an interview with the Puerto Rican national hero, Rafael Cancel Miranda, which appeared in Juventud Rebelde some years ago.
They Never Caged My Mind
On passing through Havana, Rafael Cancel Miranda, the legendary man who challenged injustice and carries the solitary star of the Puerto Rican flag in his breast, unleashed his memories. One of the four courageous people who launched an assault on the United States Congress in 1954 in order to call attention to the colonial tragedy on his island, he said that he has always been a free man, never imprisoned.
– JOSÉ ALEJANDRO RODRÍGUEZ, La Habana, Cuba
I’ve always been a free man. Look at me here as a little kid in a photo from the police archives in Puerto Rico. That was in a nationalist demonstration in 1935. Look at me, with my huge shirt, next to my sister. I’m the kid closest to Don Pedro Albizu Campos. My father was nearby but didn’t show up in the photo. My father and Don Pedro were best friends. I grew up accompanying my father at the marches and demonstrations against the gringo oppressor.
But the massacre at Ponce, in 1937, that’s what really hit me. My father and my stepmother had gone to that march, to free Albizu, Corretjer, and other nationalists; my sister and I stayed home with our grandmother because we had the measles. That day, my stepmother left the house dressed in white and returned in red because she had to crawl through all the dead bodies in order to escape.
In school we were obliged to pledge allegiance to the gringa flag. That was my first rebellion. I refused, because whoever wanted to kill my father and Don Pedro, under that other flag, could never be my friend. It was the first time I was kicked out of class. I’ve never pledged allegiance to that flag.