“There is a high security prison called Agüica, where I was held, where I was imprisoned for trying to leave Cuba illegally. And that high security prison has a small prison inside it with even higher security, which they call La Polaca. It is a name that all Cubans know. That is where they put the people who are going to be shot, or people who are extremely dangerous. They only put very special cases there. Nobody can enter, even military people, nobody. Only one officer has the key and access to that prison. So there, in that prison, they put me with those two young boys [who were convicted murderers – ed.]. And God put the right words in my mouth. I say it that way because that’s how it happened, it’s not that I have any merit. So those two young men could communicate with me correctly and I could win them for a cause that for them could be salvation. I am speaking in the spiritual field, so that their soul could be saved. Then every day, the dawns, days, afternoons, nights, they chanted slogans against the revolution, banging on the door. So much yelling, and they did not allow the criminal population to get away with screams and noise like that. But they did nothing to me. Two weeks passed with no change at all, so they decided to take the two youngsters out and leave me alone again.”
“That was at the Ministry of the Interior. I did military service in 1975 to 1978, for three years. Military service is mandatory for young people. And I was chosen for the Ministry of the Interior based on my capacities, based on my participation, and on all the things that they said that I had by that time. Out of 6,000 people, they chose 30. And I was one of those thirty. When I met the people who were members of the group, they were the sons of leaders, they were people who were approved, super-approved by the government. And that gave me access to privileged information. Even within that group of thirty people, we were all in what is called the Personal Security Directorate. Those are the people the regime uses to care for its leaders, starting with Fidel Castro who has already died. And I could see the difference... That scenario, that situation that I had in the military service, allowed me to have access to the truth behind everything that was happening in Cuba in those years of 1975 to 1978, and to be able to compare everything that was being said outside with everything that was said inside of Cuba, and to be able to have a little clearer idea of what my situation was, the one of my family, and the one of the people of Cuba and of those leaders who with force and violence came to power and were never elected by the people.”
“They [my parents] raised me in the district of East Havana. And in those years, I attended an elementary school called José María Reposo, and there I started... we are talking about the sixties... I started as a Pioneer in Cuban society. They had me wear a scarf like all the children, and every morning we chanted ‘Pioneers for Communism, we will be like Che.’ Except we didn’t know who Che was. And even today that phrase is repeated by the children of Cuba – I am talking about 2018.”
“I planned with a friend to leave Cuba on rafts. As another rafter. I was a rafter too. And I was actually one of the first rafters. We did it secretly... There were three of us, two of my friends and I, and one of them was my godfather. And what we did was we left one night in March 1987, we went to sea. And when we were in the [Florida] Cays, a very strong storm came, and a Russian cargo ship picked us up. I disagreed... That’s why there’s truth to that phrase that there can be no democracy at sea, that there must be a captain. I told them not to do it, not to accept, not to go on board. But in the end, in the end all three of us agreed to get on the ship. Just because of the flag, because we knew it was Russian. And the captain of the Russian ship... we spoke to him in very poor English and in Spanish. And we told him we were from Florida, and we had the American flag. We tried to find a way to deceive them so they would not return us to Cuba. But that’s what they did.”
“I was constantly being watched, meaning I always had agents surveilling me wherever I went. No matter where I went, they were there. But I had to take an elevator and get off on a floor they didn’t expect, and then… carry out certain maneuvers so that those following me could no longer track me. Since there was no advanced tracking technology at the time, it was still possible. We're talking about years when this kind of evasion was feasible. Today, it’s much more difficult. Technology has advanced so much that escaping them is nearly impossible. They keep you under very tight surveillance. Back then, I had to act in a way that—let’s not say intelligent, but cunning. I had to be very cunning in order to report violations and fulfill my work within the Committee for Human Rights. One of the things that bothered them the most was precisely that, because during one of my interrogations, an officer told me: ‘We have a room full of all the complaints you have made.’ It was packed with all the recordings and newspapers they had collected—‘all that garbage you’ve been saying.’ In other words, they were clearly upset with the sheer volume of reports I had managed to make regarding human rights violations in Cuba. And that gave me such great satisfaction that day. While I was in the cell, I was having a spiritual celebration.”
“There is always a way within Cuba to find a way to slip past the harshest repression in order to survive. So, in my opinion, it’s a mistake… Maybe others will say, ‘You’re a coward,’ or whatever label they want to use, but to confront a regime head-on—one that can crush you with a single step—when you know they will do it at that moment… For example, if I am going to report a human rights violation in Cuba, and in order to do so, I have to tell the officer next to me that I won’t report it, I will say, ‘No, I’m not going to report it, let me pass,’ and he lets me pass. Once I’m past him, I go ahead and report it. Why? Because if I tell him, ‘Yes, I’m going to report it,’ then he won’t let me pass, and I won’t be able to do it. There are certain things that, from a practical standpoint, are necessary.”
“In the food they served you… or in some other way… they would put substances that were harming you. And psychologically as well. If you were showering… or sleeping, they would take you out for an interrogation. There were mechanisms in place to prevent you from sleeping. They would put you in front of a bright white fluorescent light, extremely intense, for 24 hours. If you turned your back to the light to try to sleep, they would wake you up—‘You can’t sleep in this position, you have to turn this way.’ In other words, you were exposed to that light 24 hours a day, whether half-asleep or not. It was a form of punishment. Other methods targeted your stomach, your mind, the constant threats of taking you to where the ‘crazy people’ are—to Mazorra, as they call the psychiatric hospital. Because, in their view, you must be crazy. A human being who stands against them has to be insane. They cannot conceive that, being so ‘good,’ anyone could contradict them.”
Rodolfo González González was born in 1958 in Havana. When he was little, he was part of the Pioneer movement. He always had very good grades at school, which resulted in his appointment in 1974 as president of the Student Federation. There, his first clashes with the authorities took place. From very early on, he had access to privileged information about the true situation of Cuba and was able to verify the vast differences between the lives of people with high positions in the regime and those of ordinary Cubans. During his military service in 1975-1978, he refused to sign a collaboration agreement with State Security. That saw the start of his problems with the regime, and he was expelled from the Union of Young Communists. He managed to participate in the Mutual Economic Assistance program with the intention of escaping to a capitalist country. That was not possible, and so he spent some time in Czechoslovakia. Once he returned to Cuba in 1981, he was employed at the National Bank and then at the Cuban Institute of Radio and Television. Together with two friends he tried to flee from Cuba over the sea. However, their raft entered a heavy storm and was rescued by a Russian cargo ship, which returned them to the island, where he was imprisoned. After spending a year in prison, he began working as a spokesman for the Cuban Committee for Human Rights. Constantly persecuted by the authorities, he managed to denounce countless violations of Human Rights in Cuba. That resulted in further incarceration, this time in Agüica Prison. He went into exile in 1995.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
