Martes, 23 de Octubre de 2018
Última actualización: 02:28 CEST

Changing what must be changed

Young people dancing. (CARACOL DE AGUA)

At least in Havana, 2017 passed into history accompanied by the drone of reggaeton and all the banal and soppy sounds that could fit into the music collections of those celebrating the occasion. It was as if they were competing with each other to dominate the happening, resulting in a deafening chaos.

2018 was rung in with the same noise. A week later, the hum of reggaeton and soppy sounds continue to indicate that we are celebrating. Even though there is nothing to celebrate.

The city is repulsive, but who cares? Better off drowning our sorrows before the garbage suffocates us. If in every corner there is some helpless old man, a famished or mistreated animal ... just raise your glass, and shake your body to the beat. Not your problem.

Your business is your home and family. If your house is falling on top of you, and your relationship with your family is hellish, all the more reason to put on some music, because "it makes your blues go away."

And when reality demands to be confronted (salaries are the same, hardships and anguish are subjects of bad taste in public, and do not exist in the official media), put some more music on, and just be happy to be alive.

Well-wishing tinges all the greetings and farewells. "Yes, let's hope that this year is better, and that something finally changes!" Because we live under a geographical, economic and political curse. Any change, necessary or essential, must come through magic.

We are a people besieged from within. Every man or woman, boy or girl, has its limits ingrained on them at birth. The country we live in is not ours. We are just a set of very poorly attended guests.

Let the owners decide what is best (or worse). We only have the air we breathe, the horizon, and the capacity to dream. It is a pity that our most recurrent dream has been one of evasion: dry foot, wet foot.

Did we ever have a dream of our own? Did we have a country? We once believed in it. Or maybe it's a revolving generational dream with the same old ending: false assent, hollow applause. Mimicry or mutism. Exile or "insile."

As time goes by, we discover that we lack the capacity to solve problems. Or to form opinions. Problems, no matter how hard they hit us, fall on deaf ears and are shelved. Practical solutions depend on illicit shortcuts: bribery, deviations and even more reasons not to be aired in public.

Divisions (ideological, conceptual, personal, invented...) sown to confuse and set us against each other, still prove effective.

Those who have consciously broken the circle of hypnosis are very few. They scream for all, and suffer for all, and sometimes they die for all, while the vast majority, which together could make a difference, produce a CHANGE, a true act of magic, either emigrates or numbs itself with thunderous decibels.

Perhaps this national weakness is well known, and exploited to command obedience. Or induced feebleness. Maybe that's why the blackouts of the Special Period were so dangerous, and the effects of hurricanes are: the silence lets one hear his conscience's voice and, even if the outbursts are for banal demands, they are a dangerous sign of autonomy.

Thus, let there be more music for this people with dancing in its veins. And let them laugh and revel, for "life is a carnival"... and, as we have been taught that things are not what they are, and words are even less so, let the new year "change what must be changed," even if it leaves intact precisely everything that is dysfunctional, and condemns the Cuban vessel to remain a shipwreck.

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