Dec. - I believe Rilke was right when he said that the true homeland is childhood. There is, without a doubt, in that magical place of our memory, something unique that defines us as individuals, as members of a family, a community, a generation, a history.
When I was about to write these notes, I wondered if Santa Claus had been an important figure for me in that Pinar del Río of the 1950s. To be completely honest, I must say he was not. The Three Wise Men, on the other hand, were. I remember them fondly and also with a pinch of resentment, because of a kind of debt they left unsettled. I wrote them many letters—who knows how many—to convince them that I was a studious, diligent boy who deserved as a gift the Electric Train that was displayed—dazzling—in the first department store in the city. They brought me other toys; but never that Train.
I saw Santa Claus for the first time in that department store. But I never wrote to him. None of my friends did either. We continued to address our wishes, with greater or lesser success, to the Three Wise Men. We had never quite warmed up to that chubby, smiling man who supposedly came in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, sliding down the supposed chimneys of our houses.
"Let us work tirelessly to foster among ourselves a revolutionary, anti-capitalist, anti-colonial, anti-imperialist perspective that dismantles manipulations and makes an everyday 'Vindication of Cuba.'"
Many years later, I came across Santa again in an unusual place: a small library in an eastern village of Cuba. At the time, I was working at the Ministry of Culture, touring various provinces and municipalities, and I wanted to see firsthand the project "Character of the Month." According to what I was told, that library chose a historical figure each month for children to research, draw, and write about. They had already covered Rafael María de Mendive, Heredia, Finlay, Guiteras, and other memorable figures. But since it was December, the "Character of the Month" was none other than Santa Claus.
For me, it was a difficult moment. Those librarians believed in what they were doing and proudly showed me the drawings and texts by children featuring the chubby boy with a permanent smile, wearing the red-and-white hat and suit. In fact, I was very careful: I encouraged them to keep going; although I allowed myself to insist that they avoid, as much as possible, "imaginary characters," that is what I said, in order to focus on those who have marked the history of Cuba and Our America.
Before leaving the little town, I had one last unforgettable clash. On the facade of a pretentious, glass-covered building (what we called at the time "The Shopping"), Santa Claus himself was shining, with his sleigh, reindeer, bells, laughter, smile, and everything else.
Now, in Havana in December, this symbol of Yankee "modernity" has multiplied to delirium on the facades of restaurants and every imaginable business, in figures, inflatables, in very diverse formats. The cheerful, red-and-white fat man is supposed to attract the public, consumers, money.
Let's not forget Martí's warning: "American laws have given the North a high degree of prosperity, and they have also elevated it to the highest degree of corruption. They have metallicized it to make it prosperous. Damn prosperity at such a cost!"
We must always return to Martí, to his denunciation of the poisoned "prosperity" of the United States. It is a central component of his legacy, of the legacy of Fidel, Raúl, and Díaz-Canel.
Let us work tirelessly to foster among us a revolutionary, anti-capitalist, anti-colonial, anti-imperialist perspective that dismantles manipulations and makes an everyday "Vindication of Cuba."
(Taken from Cubadebate)
