“I remember having a pair of plastic shoes. I was crazy about having closed plastic shoes, but the ones they had in the clothing store didn't fit me; they were for younger children than me. In a town where my father's family lived, my aunt worked in a clothing store there. They had these plastic shoes there, but not in my size. An uncle of mine who was always very resourceful told my aunt, 'Bring me these plastic shoes, I'll put them on her feet.' How could my uncle put the small shoes on me? I thought he was kidding because he was always joking around. My aunt brought him a pair of yellow shoes, a pair of light blue ones, and a pair of white ones. My uncle put all three pairs of shoes in a pot of water, covered them with pressure, and heated them up. I screamed. After a few minutes of boiling, they took out the shoes, and I remember my uncle and my dad pulling on each end until they fit me. These shoes cooled down and stayed big, but they looked like boats, that's how they were. When you put them on a table, they looked like a boat. However, I could wear my plastic shoes. It was the greatest happiness in the world, and they lasted me for years. I remember that when they stopped fitting me, I would cut the front part so that my toes would come out, and I could keep wearing them.”
“Another act of repudiation that was carried out against Néstor Rodríguez Lobaina in his house... I remember my daughter was already two or three years old [at the time] and it was horrible. I think that of all of my days as a member of the opposition, it was the day I was most afraid. It was a building... he lived on the third or fourth floor, and the stones thrown from below hit the windows and the balcony doors, they even broke them. I remember we moved from the living room to the kitchen, and I sat my daughter on the table. A stone was thrown from the back – I don't know how this stone from below could have possibly reached up there and passed in front of my daughter's face. I didn't have time to react. A few more centimeters and my daughter or I would have been killed by a stone.”
“Something very difficult happened to me with my daughter, who is hearing impaired. She was born without hearing and therefore does not speak. So my daughter needed a cochlear implant from the moment she was born, which was done after years of battling. For six years, her father and I took turns constantly traveling to Havana, asking for her to be operated on. They said we were on a waiting list and that because we were from the countryside, we had less chance of getting my daughter operated on. When she turned six, we couldn't take it anymore. A nurse comes to me and says, 'I've seen you here for years and years, and your case hurts me.' - 'What happened to my case?' - 'Do you know why we're not going to operate on your daughter?' - 'Why?' - 'Because her parents are counter-revolutionaries. Because her parents are counter-revolutionaries, the daughter has no right to surgery.' That shocked me, hurt me, outraged me, bothered me. We went to the hospital... in the next consultation... and I told them that if they didn't operate on my daughter, we were prepared with all the relatives at my house and we would go with posters to the Plaza de la Revolución to stand until they operated on my daughter. Well, I don't know who the doctor called, they gave us a date, we went on this day and they operated on my daughter. It was September 13, 2013. But they operated on her when she was already quite grown up. It means her language was already lagging behind. My daughter doesn't speak because it was already a little too late.”
Yuliesky Sánchez Rodríguez was born on May 12, 1985 in Birán. The town, located halfway between Holguín and Santiago de Cuba, is primarily referenced in history books as the birthplace of the Castro brothers. After the triumph of the Cuban Revolution, it underwent a profound transformation. Contingents of workers and technicians from all over the country came to Birán to build pre-assembled houses, to which peasants later moved. A dam was also built, a post office began operating, etc. All of this resulted in the complete loyalty of the local inhabitants to the Cuban government and especially to the commander-in-chief, Fidel Castro. For Yuliesky, however, Birán is the most miserable town in Cuba – isolated from the cities, affected by a lack of opportunities for young people (who often end up as alcoholics), and full of thieves and diseases that must be treated with herbs due to the lack of medicines and adequate medical attention. After finishing high school, Yuliesky wanted to continue in a military school, but was not accepted. So instead, she ended up in an art school in Holguín, where she specialized in dance. These institutions were dedicated to preparing the people who were to instill the affinity to the Cuban revolution into the population through culture. During her studies, she struggled economically, a problem he attempted to overcome by, for example, selling tamarind candies that she produced from the fruit harvested on the outskirts of the school. She finished school in Santiago de Cuba and despite wanting to work there, she had to return to Birán and work for five years to obtain her degree. That became impossible when she met her boyfriend, Rolando Rodríguez Lobaina. Her relationship with his boyfriend, who was a member of the opposition, led to her dismissal from work. Authorities also launched a defamatory campaign against Rolando that was directed at other members of Yuliesky’s family. She and Rolando had to move to Baracoa. There, Yuliesky was the victim of a series of acts of repudiation, constant harassment, and arrests, along with other members of the Rodríguez family. Her activities in the Cuban opposition also affected her daughter, who was denied surgery to fix her hearing loss. In the end, she was only operated on due to the threat of protests in the streets of Havana. However, to this day, the girl has speech problems. Today, Yuliesky works as an independent journalist, producing reports that capture the social reality and suffering of the Cuban population.
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!
