Under the Blazing Sun

I lived in Cuba for five weeks. I walked and sang the first eight words of Fito Páez’s song Ámbar violeta without remembering anything more than those eight first words and the melody.
Rayos de sol a la hora del sol.
I live in Cuba and I feel bad.
The sun’s rays!
I didn’t hide, not from the sun, there was no way, it always found my head.
It’s so hot!

I walk from one end to the other of the Malecón, from Vedado to La Habana Vieja, from La Habana Vieja to Vedado, every day, twice a day.
Every day.
I look at the water, the sea, one line.
The horizon.
A constant five-week march,
I walk on the island.

I lived in La Habana for four weeks and one week in Sancti Spíritus, a city located in the middle of the island. In the middle.
Before five a.m. in the morning, every morning in Sancti Spíritus, , the pigs scream in the house next door. The house that has the city’s only scale. There is no other.
It scares me to death.
It took us four days to get the bycicles ready.
Four days and all of them with tires. All with air.
Wind in my face.
Advance at night where victory is possible.
All the victories in all the houses with all the doors, open doors.
The same channel.
Wind in my face.
I return to La Habana.
I read five books. Twice. I also read Granma. The World Cup is underway. We watch television. The same games, over and over. A speech by Fidel. Over and over.
I don’t slow down. I walk. I march. I don’t advance.
Wind in my face.
I read signs on the street.
Victory was, is and will always be ours. Loyal to your ideas and your courage He who deserves to be immortal will be. Loyal to our history. United we shall overcome. I will be faithful to you. Ideas will vanquish [all]. Here I am. We shall overcome. Ever more efficient. To serve is the best way for me to talk. Ever onward to victory. Revolution in every neighborhood. Vigilant and combative. The hand executes what the heart commands. It will be easier to stop breathing than not to cease being faithful to your trust. Seeing afterwards doesn’t count, what counts is seeing beforehand and being prepared. There are no works that are impossible, only men who are incapable. Homeland or death. We´re doing fine. Down with tyranny. STUDY WORK RIFLE. If there is food for the people, the risks don’t matter. A world is possible. History will absolve us. Always one step further. We will continue in combat. When an energetic, virile people cry, injustice trembles. Condemned to dignity. The Party is the historic continuation of the revolution. Revolution on every block. Men die, the Party is immortal. Multiplied among us. Triumph pertains to youth. Revolution is solidarity and heroism. Always vigilant. Let us not disappoint the Chief Commandante. United in one same cause under one same flag.
And the heat!
On that island, it is so hot!
I walked and read walls, cars, doors, buildings, signs, floors and flags.
Palm trees.
If a coconut falls on your head you die. There are tons of palm trees.
The sun’s rays.
A book a day keeps reality away!
White letters on a black t-shirt. The t-shirt on a guy in a bar in Havana. I’m still in Cuba.

– You know, it’s a struggle.
– Hi, how are you?
– You know, it’s a struggle.

A party, a plane. Rum and blazing sun.