Mario J. Penton
Los comunicadores independientes en la Isla son víctimas de una escalada represiva, según una denuncia presentada este lunes por el Observatorio Cubano de Derechos Humanos (OCDH), con sede en Madrid. La voz de alarma dada por el organismo coincide con un aumento de las denuncias de periodistas de la Isla debido a las persecuciones y trabas que sufren por parte del Gobierno a la hora de ejercer su profesión.
"El pasado 20 de junio Henry Constantín y Sol García, periodistas de La Hora de Cuba y colaboradores de 14ymedio, no pudieron participar en un evento en Miami porque sobre ellos pesa una acusación por el presunto delito de 'usurpación de la capacidad legal', que según las leyes cubanas les impide viajar fuera del país", denunció el OCDH.
Según la organización no gubernamental, el Gobierno cubano había mantenido una especie de "moratoria" en la represión contra los periodistas independientes, pero la estrategia parece haber cambiado en las últimas semanas con acciones como las ejecutadas contra Henry Constantin, Sol García Basulto y Manuel Alejandro León Velázquez.
Tanto a Constantín como a García Basulto las autoridades les prohibieron expresamente el ejercicio del periodismo en la Isla y les abrieron un proceso judicial criticado desde diversos foros internacionales, entre ellos la Sociedad Interamericana de Prensa (SIP).[[QUOTE:La abogada y activista por los Derechos Humanos, Laritza Diversent, explicó a '14ymedio' que existen más de 300 figuras dentro del Código Penal para reprimir a la disidencia y el periodismo en la Isla]]El OCDH también denunció la detención del periodista Manuel Alejandro León Velázquez, colaborador de Radio Martí y Diario de Cuba. León regresaba de un viaje a España y ha sido acusado de "usurpación de la capacidad legal, asociación para delinquir y difusión de noticias falsas", según la organización.
Las acusaciones contra los tres comunicadores se apoyan en el artículo 149 del Código Penal cubano, que castiga a quien realice "actos propios de una profesión para cuyo ejercicio no está debidamente habilitado". De ser juzgados por ese delito podrían hacer frente a una condena de hasta un año de privación de libertad.
En Cuba todos los medios de comunicación pertenecen al Estado, según la Constitución de 1976. Sin embargo, la ausencia de una Ley de Medios ha permitido el florecimiento de la prensa independiente con portales como El Estornudo, El Toque, Cubanet, CiberCuba, Diario de Cuba, Periodismo de Barrio, On Cuba, entre otros.[[QUOTE:En Cuba todos los medios de comunicación pertenecen al Estado, según la Constitución de 1976. Sin embargo, la ausencia de una Ley de Medios ha permitido el florecimiento de la prensa independiente]]La abogada y activista por los Derechos Humanos Laritza Diversent, recientemente refugiada en Estados Unidos, explicó vía telefónica a 14ymedio que existen más de 300 figuras dentro del Código Penal para reprimir a la disidencia y el periodismo en la Isla.
"La Seguridad del Estado está buscando diferentes estrategias para encausar penalmente todo tipo de disidencia o crítica en Cuba", explicó Diversent, presidenta del grupo legal Cubalex, que salió al exilio tras un operativo de la policía y de la Seguridad del Estado en su contra.
"Tanto la actividad económica ilícita como la usurpación de la capacidad legal no son más que recursos para castigar cualquier tipo de activismo dentro de la Isla. La inseguridad jurídica es muy alta porque tanto la ley penal como la ley de procedimiento penal se han diseñado como herramientas de represión", dijo Diversent.
El periodista independiente Maykel González Vivero, quien fue detenido el pasado octubre en Guantánamo y sufrió la confiscación de sus medios de trabajo cuando cubría la recuperación en Baracoa tras el paso del huracán Matthew, confirmó las dificultades para ejercer la profesión en la Isla.[[QUOTE:El año pasado la SIP destacó la tímida rebelión de algunos periodistas oficiales contra la política informativa dirigida desde el Partido Comunista]]"No tenemos una ley que nos respalde y proteja el ejercicio del periodismo, estamos a merced de la arbitrariedad de las autoridades", denunció. En aquella ocasión un equipo de corresponsales de Periodismo de Barrio corrió la misma suerte que González Vivero.
Otras publicaciones independientes, como la revista Convivencia, han sido hostigadas durante el último año con la detención de miembros de su equipo editorial y amenazas por parte de las autoridades a sus colaboradores. El corresponsal extranjero Fernando Ravsberg ha sido amenazado con la expulsión del país e incluso con "romperle los dientes" por las entradas críticas que publica en su blog personal Cartas desde Cuba.
El año pasado la SIP destacó, sin embargo, la tímida rebelión de algunos periodistas oficiales contra la política informativa dirigida desde el Partido Comunista. Entre los ejemplos citados por la SIP estaba una carta firmada por jóvenes periodistas publicada por el diario Vanguardia de Villa Clara, en la que reclamaban su derecho a colaborar con otros medios.
La SIP también recordó el caso del periodista de Radio Holguín expulsado del medio durante cinco años por hacer público el contenido de una conferencia en la que Karina Marrón, subdirectora del diario Granma, comparaba la situación del país a la de los años 90, cuando ocurrieron protestas masivas en La Habana conocidas como el maleconazo.
Continue readingEl coordinador nacional del Movimiento Cristiano Liberación (MCL), Eduardo Cardet, permanece recluido en la prisión provisional de Holguín, "sin ser trasladado a un centro abierto", según denunció su esposa Yaimaris Vecino a este diario.
Continue reading"Me tienen castigada en una silla desde las 10:00 de la mañana, desde hace casi seis horas. Quiero ver a mi hijo y no me dejan. Temo por su vida. No sé cuál es el motivo, pero no me dejan pasar a verlo", lamentó Alba Verdecia García, de 78 años, madre del activista Jorge Cervantes.
Continue readingLa boy band cubana Ángeles lanzó este viernes su primer sencillo en EEUU, "Me mata tu amor".
Continue reading14ymedio, Mario Penton, David (Panama), 23 June 2017 — The green seems
to fill everything in Chiriquí, in the western Panamanian province where
the government hosts 126 undocumented Cubans in a camp in the region of
Gualaca. The stillness of the morning in the middle of the huge pines
that grow in the foothills of the mountains is only interrupted by the
bites of insects, a true torture at dawn and dusk.
"This place is beautiful, but everything gets tiring, being in limbo is
exhausting," says Yosvani López, a 30-year-old Cuban who arrived in
Gualaca in April after spending three months in the hostel set up by
Caritas for Cuban migrants in Panama City.
"Sometimes we sit down and talk about what we would do if we could get
out of here and get to another country. Some relatives tell us that they
are preparing a camp in Canada to welcome us, others tell us that they
have everything prepared to deport us. Illusions and fears," he laments.
The camp that houses the Cubans was built by the Swiss brigades which,
in the 1970's, built the La Fortuna dam. It is 104 acres, occupied
mostly by forests and a stream. One hour from the nearest city, the
humidity is such that mushrooms and plants establish themselves even in
the fibrocement roof tiles.
Along with the wooden buildings, deteriorated by the passage of time,
there are still satellite antennas, electric heaters and, according to
the migrants, from time to time they find foreign currencies buried in
the vacant land.
López was born in Caibarién, a city on the north coast of Cuba. Although
he had the opportunity to emigrate using a speed boat to cross the
Florida Straits, he preferred the jungle route to avoid the seven years
moratorium on being able to return to Cuba that the government imposes
on those who leave Cuba illegally.
"I wanted to go back before 7 years was up. I have my mother and my
sisters in Cuba," he explains.
He worked as a chef specializing in seafood at the Meliá hotel in the
cays north of Villa Clara, earning the equivalent of $25 US a
month. With the money from the sale of his mother's house he traveled
via Guyana and in Panama he was taken by surprise by the end of the wet
foot/dry foot policy that allowed Cubans who reached American soil to stay.
"Here we pass the hours between chats with our relatives in Cuba and the
United States, and searching the news for clues that will tell us what
is going to happen to us," he says.
The migrants in Gualaca not only do not have permission to work, but
they can only leave the camp one day a week to go to Western Union, with
prior notice and accompanied by presidential police officers, who are
guarding the site.
Some, however, have improvised coffee sales and even a barbershop. The
locals also set up a small shop to supply the undocumented immigrants
with the personal care products and treats, which they pay for with
remittances sent by relatives from the United States.
The authorities gave themselves 90 days to decide what they would do
with the 126 Cubans who accepted the proposal to go to Gualaca. Two
months later, the patience of the migrants is beginning to wear thin. At
least six escapes have been reported since they were moved there. The
last one, on Monday, was led by four Cubans, two of whom have already
returned to the camp while two crossed the border into Costa Rica.
Since dawn, Alejandro Larrinaga, 13, and his parents have been waiting
for some news about their fate. Surrounded by adults, Alejandro has only
one other child to play in the hostel, Christian Estrada, 11. Neither
has attended school for a year and a half, when they left Havana.
Alejandro spent more than 50 days in the jungle and, as a result of
severe dehydration, he suffered epilepsy and convulsed several
times. "It was difficult to go through it. It's not easy to explain: it
is one thing to tell it and another to live it," he says with an
intonation that makes him seem much more adult.
"We had to see dead people, lots of skulls. I was afraid of losing my
mom and dad," he recalls. But, although tears appear in the eyes of his
mother while he recalls those moments, now he says he feels safe in
Gualaca and spends his days playing chess.
"I want to be a chess master, which is more than a champion. Someday I
will achieve it," he says.
His mother, Addis Torres, does not want to return to the Island where
she has nothing left because she sold their few belongings to be able to
reunite with Alejandro's grandfather, who lives in the United
States. Although they have a process of family reunification pending at
the US Embassy in Havana, the family does not want to hear about
returning to Cuba.
They eat three times a day and even have a health program financed by
the Panamanian government, but for Torres "that's not life."
"Detained, without a future, afraid to return to Cuba. We need someone
to feel sorry for us and, in the worst case, to let us stay here," she says.
Liuber Pérez Expósito is a guajiro from Velasco, a town in Holguín where
he grew garlic and corn. After the legalization of self-employment by
the Cuban government, Pérez began to engage in trade and intended to
improve things by going to the US.
In Gualaca he feels "desperate" to return to his homeland, but he has
faith that, at least, he will get the help promised by the Panamanian
Deputy Minister of Security, and leave a door open to engage in trade.
"I am here against what my family's thinking. There (in Cuba) I have my
wife, my nine-year-old son and my parents, they want me to come back and
pressure me but I am waiting for the opportunity to at least recover
some of the 5,000 dollars I spent," he says.
His mother-in-law, an ophthalmologist who worked in Venezuela, lent him
part of the money for the trip. Indebted, without money and without
hope, he only thinks of the moment he can return.
"During the day we have nothing to do. Sometimes we play a little
dominoes, we walk or we go to the stream, but we have 24 hours to think
about how difficult this situation is and the failure we are
experiencing," he says.
Liuber communicates with his family through Imo, a popular videochat
application for smartphones. "They recently installed Wi-Fi in Velasco
and they call me whenever they can," he adds.
"Hopefully, this nightmare we are living will end soon. Whatever
happens, just let it end," he says bitterly.
——
This article is a part of the series "A New Era in Cuban Migration"
produced by this newspaper, 14ymedio, el Nuevo Herald and Radio
Ambulante under the auspices of the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.
Source: "We Exist Between Illusions And Fears" – Translating Cuba -
http://translatingcuba.com/we-exist-between-illusions-and-fears/ Continue reading
From Regina Coyula's blog, 9 June 2017 (Ed. note: These interview
fragments are being translated out of order by TranslatingCuba.com
volunteers. When they are all done we will assemble them in order into
one post.)
The country was falling to pieces, there were people drowning in the sea
and on land, there was something called the Diaspora, but we bourgeois
teenagers of Havana's Vedado neighborhood knew nothing. Our lives
revolved around a company and Japanese console. In my SuperNintendo
years, Miguel was already a legend. Coyula was a gamer before gaming.
His name passed like a password between initials. You don't know how to
kill a boss on one of the levels of the game? Ask Coyula. You don't know
how to activate this or that power? Go see Coyula.
We were playing Street Fighter II Turbo and Coyula already had Super
Street Fighter II. We went to see him so he could show us the four new
fighters and the recent versions of others. I remember that he revealed
on the screen the improved attacks of Vega, the Spanish ninja that was
my favorite fighther. Afterwards he started to clarify for us some
technical doubts about The Lion King. And I remember that, while he was
leading Simba over some cliffs, I looked at his hyperconcentrated face
and had a revelation, "This guy is alienated, bordering on autism, he's
going to melt, he probably does nothing else in his life," I said to
myself. "I have to give up video games, because if I don't, I'll end up
like Coyula."
Unfortunately, I quit videogames. Then time passed and I saw [Coyula's]
movie Memories of Overdevelopment. I saw it, by the way, before I saw
Memories of Underdevelopment, which now seems to me like a regular
prequel and a little drawn out. Sergio, the protagonist of Memories of
Overdevelopment, ends up in a desert landscape that looks like another
planet. He's carrying a Barbie doll and his brother's ashes, which are
the ashes of the Mariel boatlift and, after that, of the Revolution. To
summarize. In 2010, Miguel Coyula scattered the ashes of Cuba in the
desert in Utah; he dispersed these ashes in a psychotronic dust, between
mutant and Martian. Seven years later, there are many people who still
haven't noticed.
I like that there is a guy like him in Cuban cinema.
Source: From Joystick to Canon / Regina Coyula – Translating Cuba -
http://translatingcuba.com/from-joystick-to-canon-regina-coyula/ Continue reading
El Observatorio Cubano de Derechos Humanos (OCDH) condenó este lunes la "escalada represiva contra los periodistas independientes" en la Isla.
Continue readingEl periodista de DIARIO DE CUBA Manuel Alejandro León Velázquez, liberado el sábado en Guantánamo tras dos días de arresto, se enfrentó este lunes a las 9:00am (hora local) a otra "cita" con la Seguridad del Estado, en la que "intentaron que firmara un acta de advertencia".
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