There are many people who lose their first or last name because of what they do or because of who they are. August is for women. You can do a relevant interview, but behind that face or those hands, there are many others. The work of the Federation of Cuban Women (FMC) is like that, of the women of Las Tunas and Cuba, of course.

We started, then, to talk about shocking tasks, mobilizations..., of going everywhere looking for leaders or volunteers to form delegations and blocks. And I forgot the specific questions and there was no interview itself! I looked at her gray hair. I enjoyed her steaming coffee and I rode for her memories. She didn't want me to focus on her at all, but to write about everyone's love and commitment.

I insisted. I tried to persuade her with those years of the '80s when, just starting in the profession, I attended the organization and we shared meetings and tours, successes and challenges. I achieved nothing. Her tall stature and strength of character are still intact. She is them. And that's it. She wants me to say that.

Here I am, then, weaving words to illustrate the entire lives of the founders of the FMC. The nervousness that flooded them when Vilma Espín, the legendary president, asked them for those primordial missions of raising their worth and making them see how important they were for the first years of the Revolution and winning the battle against ignorance and underestimation. And the classrooms, the cane fields, the coffee plantation, the militias were filled!

Or painting her smile when she remembers that they were all at the creation of the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) and barely slept through the rounds of surveillance and being on the alert for Fidel or Vilma in the neighborhoods or regions. The friends and accomplices they all became. They were weavers, seamstresses, teachers, cooks... And in their gesture is the trace of satisfaction for the effort and the duty fulfilled.

It is time for this woman to rest a little in her siesta, a luxury for those who have slept little in more than half a century. Outside the sun is an untamed fire. Many like that bathed our clothes in sweat and we didn't even feel it, she says. And in that courage that sanely springs from his slitty eyes, I think it's true, many people lose their last name.

She kept her name. But her joy is not there, in that she is remembered as the secretary of the Federation for several years in Las Tunas. It makes her happy every August. Knowing it from them, feminine, with more energy and the gift of getting up and adapting to the times as always.

Here I am, then, trying to find ways for her to understand how difficult it is not to personalize her rather monologue/dialogue. It is clear. "Write... I was and I am a little bit all... I still am, and look if it was years ago! It's the FMC's birthday, that's my name." And from her real perspective, I promised to do her will. "In the end, without my women, we would never have gotten where we did. The FMC is a team from top to bottom... from the base to the nation That's what Vilma taught us." And her hand, as in that decade, gave me another gentle goodbye.