Fidel as Alive as the Palm Trees of Cuba
2016-12-10 08:14:23 / email@example.com / JC Caballero Puig
“I do not believe in premonitions. Do not believe in any other thing other than in the painful occasions that are the only ones which begets a good poetry.” Her confession about from some years ago that was told almost in a whisper and a perfumed environment in his house, were constantly remembered by me since some days ago.
I found myself very resolutely and before the huge white door that was at 91 on the local Tirry street where I was welcomed with almost a reproachable look as if I had got late to that appointment.
Carilda, who was wearing a light black dress, watched us from her favorite rocking chair near a photo in which Fidel and Carilda were hugging one another, as old friends, happily.
Carilda who was the girlfriend from Matanzas province, from whom we have learned to interpreter her silence, were hesitating about reading some statements previously written or channeling her feelings.
As it was expected from a soul possessed by the poetry; a soul that was as rooted to her natal soil as the palm tree to the Cuban soil, I concluded using the best of the languages.
“I always saw him almost flying and practically without touching the ground on his magical periods of friendships and tenderness and devotion to Cuba. He was a hero who never knew it, a giant of the poor. He was meek and rough, energetic and polite and worried.”
“He was brave and revolutionary and he was always organizing the poor and encouraging them to fight. He was seventeen years old and he was already Fidel Castro Ruz when I met him and he always was Fidel. We had an unrepeatable communication period that cannot be talked and can never be said because of there is not words to express them.”She sobbed.
“On his most important periods, right when it was necessary to be more serious, he hugged me who was the countryside woman from Matanzas city, as he used to say, while he was an eastern countryman and we laughed together.” She pointed out.
“He created happiness and created a juice that any plant bore. Fidel has not died and we cannot cry for him. That is Fidel and he does not need to reborn due to he has not died.” She said.
“The silence is the best word, as Fidel confessed me on a patriotic occasion.”She said.
“I ask you to forget these interrupted words given the emotion given I will never see Fidel dead because happiness, patriotism, faith, willingness and love, never die.” She concluded.
By José Miguel Solís
Translated by JC Caballero