• Submitted by: admin
• Society
• Politics and Government
• 03 / 05 / 2019

---

There is no oil in Cuba and the news really does not surprise because scarcity has been a constant on the island for a long time. A few months ago it was wheat flour and a few years ago the deodorant; but worse is the lack of precise information that must be offered by the relevant authorities so that the people know what is happening in the country that, fortunately or unfortunately, they inhabit.

It turns out that the lack of shift is always accompanied by a mantle of silence and mystery that covers everything. No minister or official makes use of the media, which belong to the State, to really inform. In the best of cases it will be to deny categorically that the country is going through the vaunted crisis. It will throw the blame on the independent or foreign media, which hyperbolize every event in Cuba, and of course the blockade will take its dose in the speech.

That is when the local party and government authorities deploy a network of reporters to inform the four winds that the territory has the necessary resources to give an accurate response to the demands of the population. It does not matter if the store shelves are empty or that the queues are long and long. They will always seek a way to concentrate, in a certain market, what is not lacking in their bureaucratic imaginary.

They will always assemble the same theater. The actors will be chosen to play their part in front of the camera. The script, prepared by the Big Brother, will put in the mouth of each interviewee the words that will appease the masses. A journalist, afraid of not saying more than his censors tell him, will try to tell a story that does not contradict his own ethical thought, but at the same time please those who guarantee transportation, means and personnel to build the (des) information.

Meanwhile, in their offices, without deficiencies and with the resources of all the people at their own disposal, officials and bureaucrats will provide for a victory that intoxicates their ego, without caring at all that they have to go to the stage farce to sustain its power They, from their conditioned desks, will feel that they make for the Homeland the greatest of sacrifices.

In the endless queues the people wonder how they can be subjected to so many disrespect. In the heat and the pressure of the product being sold out, they will not pay attention to the justifications provided by those responsible. The populace will only say that guilt, like Good Faith, does not have anyone.

The woman who is a housewife is only concerned that her refrigerator is empty, that the salary is not enough to buy what the State sells at "reasonable prices" and that even if they try to explain to her that the industry is depressed she is It makes your head water to think about how to put a plate of food on your child's table.

The proletariat does not care that in the morning they explained that the imperialist enemy blocks the foreign accounts of the Cuban trading companies, as long as they can "get" something to take home. The teenager knows that all this becomes nothing when they put the Castro family on the antenna with expensive watches, traveling the world on yachts or riding in a car that they will not have access to even in the most luxurious of their dreams.

It is then when the woman of the lot, the mechanic of the neighborhood or the girl who connects on Facebook every afternoon with her boyfriend from the United States, they wonder what kind of Revolution for the humble is this where, remembering George Orwell, all we are equal, but some are more equal than others. They begin to question why their vote in the last elections was in the YES box when everything is the same, or worse. An internal war begins between what I want and what I must do because the situation is unbearable for any human being who considers himself worthy.

The news of the journalist will then appear on the news. The words come and go in drift from a ship that capsizes in its own storm. People will dedicate a minute of hatred, going back to the British writer, and screen on the screen all the offenses that in this world and the next can imagine. He knows that nothing is resolved with that, but at least he feels free between the four walls that surround his television and in each bone that covers his brain.

However, oil, chicken, milk powder, toilet paper or a bottle of beer will continue to flicker in stores where the destination, or distributor, decides to appear. For there will go in mass all, hoarders, speculators, needy and bored in search of what they need, and when they have their trophy in their hands they will forget the true culprits.

Their brains will release the hormones of happiness reached that will make them leave behind all kinds of hate. The needy, already satisfied, will accept the justifications and shout if necessary in the next popular march.

On the other hand, in the offices where the mantle of mystery that covers the sleeping caiman is woven, ministers and subordinates, presidents and secretaries will turn their faces to the reality that they themselves have built with their inefficiency.

From the top of the revolutionary Olympus they will think about the next plan to give the people the dose of morphine they need, so that they can continue in the immobile and passive lethargy that they, above, allow them to violate day after day on their bureaus. truth as if I were a prostitute found in La Rampa habanera on a hot summer night.

Opinion article: The statements and opinions expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of its author and do not necessarily represent the point of view of CiberCuba.

Automatic translation from cibercuba.com