A poet says that one should not return to the place where one has been happy; then, we already know what to do with the good times, and how to save them from all harm, by not putting them at risk of some disappointment. However... what path do we take with the bad ones; how do we relieve ourselves, let them go, or think of them as they are for the most part: "things of the past", even if like stones they are revealed to us in the present?
We, people from Las Tunas, are on these lofty missions these days, because yes, we cannot say it any other way: 2024, for Cuba, has not been a good year. Between shortages of all kinds, shrinking workers' salaries, the basic food basket becoming more and more basic, prices fiddling with the clouds, external blockades that persecute even the route of the oil tankers, internal blockades that make us inefficient and insensitive, horse-riding emigration, energy collapses, hurricanes, earthquakes...
The inventory could go on and on; however, illusions should rescue us from such an exercise, to realize that we always knew what to do with the bad times because that is exactly what it is: to green our capacity to dream, to get even for so many setbacks, trusting that good fortune, gentle winds, and opportunities for new optimism will come. No blizzard should rob us of such wonder. But..., here we go again..., how do you do that?
Everyone will have his or her own answer. The answer of this newspaper does not come from calls for survival or requests for the impossible; it is written and sculpted with the luminous integrity that, in 365 days of journalistic work, so many people from Las Tunas have transmitted to us, and that is so real that we almost touch it.
It is built, not without effort, of course, with the ingenuity of the innovator who saved the harvest, the lawyer that everyone wants for her case because of her cleanliness and gallantry, the teacher who cannot find a way to say goodbye to his students after five decades, chalk in hand, the school principal who has ended up calling her mummy as if she were a grandmother...
She palpitates and expresses her certainty with the guajiro who does not rest until the milk from his cows reaches the children of the neighborhood, or the president of the cooperative who defends her members tooth and nail and no longer accepts non-payment to her people. She looks at us, exquisitely, with that doctor who, without ignoring the material scarcity that surrounds him, does not give up on saving those who "were almost already in the hands of the Lord."
He expresses his possible height with the topographer who knows about the land and the urgency of preparing the relief, or the hospital cook who knows how to give the food the flavor of garlic and her dedication, or the business owner who arrived one day at a certain clinical laboratory and decided to join forces among his colleagues in micro and small businesses so that that place, so necessary, would not run the risk of receiving anyone else with the most painful sign anyone could imagine: "Closed until further notice."
We met all of them and more; and each of them, with their struggles, their persistence, their inability to remain immobile or not accept what has gone wrong, gave us the hope that we can do better as a society, that among ourselves shine the virtues that make any happier tomorrow possible.
We will have to keep at bay the insensitive, the corrupt, the lazy, the violent, the satraps, the incapable..., that plague that makes everything sterile, that contaminates and cuts off our breath. To confront them we are the decent, the creative, the hard-working, the early risers of dreams, the lovers, the poets, the tireless...
And if you are not convinced, dear reader, or if you find it hard to find your answer, don't worry, just think about your kingdom, your family, and about how much you have given of yourself in the almanac in flight and how you want to do it in the one that is about to open its hours. That small, simple, intimate, individual promise, multiplied by thousands, speaks to us of a country that can be saved.
May we do well in 2025, and may each one of us and that beloved mother called Cuba deserve it.
A hug, Newspaper 26