Miami Herald
Posted on Tue, Jun. 05, 2007
Castro talks about past, not Cuba's future
BY NANCY SAN MARTIN
Fidel Castro reminisced about old times in Vietnam but offered no comment on his own country in a televised chat Tuesday -- the first lengthy look at the Cuban leader 10 months after surgery forced him to cede power.
Castro, 80, credited a better diet for his improving health and joked that a 70-year-old Japanese man recently climbed Mt. Everest. But he then added an ominous note: ``There are dangers that threaten the health of a human being. . . . I don't want to disappoint.''
His face seemed more filled out than in recent photographs, and he smiled often but spoke slowly and in short phrases, slurring his words at times and drawing labored breaths. The interview appeared to have taken place in the same room as his April meeting with a Chinese delegation -- a room the Beijing media said was in a hospital.
Castro mentioned twice that he had been in an intensive care unit recently but gave no details and said he had been ''doing what I'm supposed to'' to regain his health.
But he provided no hint on whether he planned to return to power and made no mention of his brother Raúl, who assumed most of Castro's powers July 31 after he underwent surgery for what is now widely believed to be diverticulitis, an intestinal condition that can lead to fatal bleeding.
''This confirms for me that the succession has taken place,'' said Andy Gómez, a senior fellow at University of Miami's Institute for Cuban and Cuban-American Studies. ``This is all part of a strategic plan by the new leadership to show the Cuban people and the international community that Castro is no longer capable of running the country.
''It shows that he is not involved in the day-to-day activities and hasn't been for a while,'' Gómez said. ``He's living in the past, rather than preparing for the future.''
Castro spent most of the 50-minute ''conversation'' with Randy Alonso, host of the nightly news program Round Table, recounting his weekend visit by Vietnamese Communist Party chief Nong Duc Manh. He became animated as he recalled a visit to Vietnam when it was at war with the United States.
He spent about 40 minutes describing the destruction caused by the war and slowly rattling off a string of facts about modern-day Vietnam that ranged from its rice and coffee harvest figures to the number of its modern toilets.
He remained seated throughout the interview, wearing an Adidas track suit in Cuba's red, white and blue colors and black sneakers. The cameras showed close-ups of his head, hands and feet, but no full-body views.
After Alonso commented that Castro did not appear to have difficulty reading from a copy of Granma newspaper, Castro joked that his eyesight was indeed improving. ``I used to wear glasses. I had myopia. But myopia goes away with the passing of years. And the first time [a doctor] told me my myopia was going away, I asked him: Does that mean I'm growing younger?''
And while there has never been any official and detailed version of his illness, Castro claimed the public knows enough. ''They say [my health] is a state secret; what state secret? I said very clearly where things stood,'' he said.
Translator Renato Perez contributed to this report.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Havana: U.S. fugitives are no longer welcome
Havana: U.S. fugitives are no longer welcome
Cuba has said it will stop providing safe haven to U.S. fugitives who arrive on the island.
BY PABLO BACHELET
pbachelet@MiamiHerald.com
WASHINGTON --
A little-noticed passage in two State Department reports says Havana has stated that it will no longer provide safe haven to U.S. fugitives who enter Cuba -- a promise the Castro government has met twice since September.
The promise and deportations amount to a rare sign of cooperation by Havana. Some 70 U.S. fugitives are believed to be living in Cuba, including Joanne Chesimard, convicted in the 1973 murder of a New Jersey state trooper.
Cuba has refused to return them, generally arguing that the U.S. charges against them are ''political.'' The refusals were among the reasons the State Department used for including Cuba in its list of nations that support international terrorism.
But a brief passage in the State Department's voluminous 2005 and 2006 Country Reports on Terrorism -- the 2006 report was released April 30 -- that went largely unnoticed until now said Cuba ``has stated that it will no longer provide safe haven to new U.S. fugitives who may enter Cuba.''
State Department spokesmen declined comment on who made the promise, when or whether it involved any U.S. counter-promise. Havana has long demanded the return of five convicted Cuban spies jailed in Florida.
Such Cuban acts of cooperation have come under more scrutiny since Raúl Castro took the reins of power after his brother Fidel Castro fell ill last summer. However, the 2005 report on terrorism, the first to include the wording on ending the safe haven, was issued before the ailment was announced on July 31.
A NEW DIRECTION?
State Department officials noted Cuba's history of on-and-off collaboration with the United States makes it hard to know if Havana's promise is signaling a new stance.
''We have no way of knowing for sure what the Cuban government is trying to accomplish, if anything,'' said Eric Watnik, a department spokesman.
Cuba has demanded the United States extradite anti-Castro militant Luis Posada Carriles to Venezuela, where he faces charges of masterminding the bombing of a Cuban jetliner in 1976 that killed 73. U.S. immigration fraud charges against Posada were dropped recently by a U.S. judge.
Cuba has returned at least two U.S. fugitives since the promise first appeared in the State Deparment report.
In September, a South Florida man kidnapped his son, stole a plane at a airport in the Florida Keys and flew to Cuba. The son was later returned to his mother in Mexico and the father was put on a plane to Miami, where he faces prosecution. That was the first time Cuba had returned a fugitive from U.S. justice, according to the 2006 U.S. report.
In April, Havana returned to Florida Joseph Adjmi, a fugitive sentenced to 10 years in U.S. prison for mail fraud in 1963.
Earlier this year Cuba also expelled to Bogotá Luis Hernando Gómez-Bustamante, wanted in Colombia as a leader of the Norte del Valle cartel. Colombia then extradited him to the United States.
Washington and Havana have long had tenuous communications on issues such as drug trafficking and migration. In early 2006, the Cubans briefed the Coast Guard officer based at the U.S. diplomatic mission in Havana on their counter-drug trafficking operations. But the Cubans refused to allow Drug Enforcement Administration agents to question Gómez-Bustamante while he was detained there on immigration fraud charges.
BILATERAL CONTACTS
An annual report on drug trafficking issued in March by the State Department said Cuban officials ''profess interest'' in more bilateral contacts with Washington on drug trafficking matters.
The Bush administration suspended biannual talks with Cuba on migration issues in 2004, and has refused any formal contacts with top Havana government officials.
Raúl Castro has on two occasions -- in August and December -- declared he would be willing to sit down and talk with Washington. The Bush administration replied that it was not interested in talks until Cuba takes the path of democracy.
Cuba has said it will stop providing safe haven to U.S. fugitives who arrive on the island.
BY PABLO BACHELET
pbachelet@MiamiHerald.com
WASHINGTON --
A little-noticed passage in two State Department reports says Havana has stated that it will no longer provide safe haven to U.S. fugitives who enter Cuba -- a promise the Castro government has met twice since September.
The promise and deportations amount to a rare sign of cooperation by Havana. Some 70 U.S. fugitives are believed to be living in Cuba, including Joanne Chesimard, convicted in the 1973 murder of a New Jersey state trooper.
Cuba has refused to return them, generally arguing that the U.S. charges against them are ''political.'' The refusals were among the reasons the State Department used for including Cuba in its list of nations that support international terrorism.
But a brief passage in the State Department's voluminous 2005 and 2006 Country Reports on Terrorism -- the 2006 report was released April 30 -- that went largely unnoticed until now said Cuba ``has stated that it will no longer provide safe haven to new U.S. fugitives who may enter Cuba.''
State Department spokesmen declined comment on who made the promise, when or whether it involved any U.S. counter-promise. Havana has long demanded the return of five convicted Cuban spies jailed in Florida.
Such Cuban acts of cooperation have come under more scrutiny since Raúl Castro took the reins of power after his brother Fidel Castro fell ill last summer. However, the 2005 report on terrorism, the first to include the wording on ending the safe haven, was issued before the ailment was announced on July 31.
A NEW DIRECTION?
State Department officials noted Cuba's history of on-and-off collaboration with the United States makes it hard to know if Havana's promise is signaling a new stance.
''We have no way of knowing for sure what the Cuban government is trying to accomplish, if anything,'' said Eric Watnik, a department spokesman.
Cuba has demanded the United States extradite anti-Castro militant Luis Posada Carriles to Venezuela, where he faces charges of masterminding the bombing of a Cuban jetliner in 1976 that killed 73. U.S. immigration fraud charges against Posada were dropped recently by a U.S. judge.
Cuba has returned at least two U.S. fugitives since the promise first appeared in the State Deparment report.
In September, a South Florida man kidnapped his son, stole a plane at a airport in the Florida Keys and flew to Cuba. The son was later returned to his mother in Mexico and the father was put on a plane to Miami, where he faces prosecution. That was the first time Cuba had returned a fugitive from U.S. justice, according to the 2006 U.S. report.
In April, Havana returned to Florida Joseph Adjmi, a fugitive sentenced to 10 years in U.S. prison for mail fraud in 1963.
Earlier this year Cuba also expelled to Bogotá Luis Hernando Gómez-Bustamante, wanted in Colombia as a leader of the Norte del Valle cartel. Colombia then extradited him to the United States.
Washington and Havana have long had tenuous communications on issues such as drug trafficking and migration. In early 2006, the Cubans briefed the Coast Guard officer based at the U.S. diplomatic mission in Havana on their counter-drug trafficking operations. But the Cubans refused to allow Drug Enforcement Administration agents to question Gómez-Bustamante while he was detained there on immigration fraud charges.
BILATERAL CONTACTS
An annual report on drug trafficking issued in March by the State Department said Cuban officials ''profess interest'' in more bilateral contacts with Washington on drug trafficking matters.
The Bush administration suspended biannual talks with Cuba on migration issues in 2004, and has refused any formal contacts with top Havana government officials.
Raúl Castro has on two occasions -- in August and December -- declared he would be willing to sit down and talk with Washington. The Bush administration replied that it was not interested in talks until Cuba takes the path of democracy.
Cuba to buy $118 million in U.S. food
Cuba to buy $118 million in U.S. food
By ANITA SNOW
Associated Press Writer
HAVANA --
Cuba agreed Wednesday to buy $118 million in U.S. food products ranging from pork and corn to soybeans and Spam, and said it was negotiating deals that could bring the total to nearly $150 million.
"The sales this week went beyond all of our expectations," said Jim Sumner of the U.S. Poultry and Egg Export Council, one of more than 200 Americans from 25 states who visited Havana for talks with communist officials. "When the embargo is lifted, which we hope will be very soon, these deals will be much greater."
Although Washington's 45-year-old embargo remains, U.S. food and agricultural products can be sold directly to Cuba under a law passed by Congress in 2000. Since 2001, Havana says it has spent more than $2.2 billion on American farm products and related costs.
A smiling Pedro Alvarez, chairman of the Cuban food import company Alimport, said Americans are "recovering the market" they lost in the 1960s with the imposition of the embargo.
"The active and massive participation of the American business community makes us very happy," said Alvarez, whose company organized the latest round of negotiations with U.S. farm producers.
Cuba expects this year to match the $570 million it spent in 2006 on American food and agricultural products, including shipping and banking costs.
Cuban Commerce Minister Raul de la Nuez said most of the food would be sold at heavily subsidized prices, on the government's food ration and at public schools and workplace dining rooms.
"This will help feed our people," De la Nuez said.
"We have a common goal of normalized relations between the United States and Cuba," Kirby Jones, founder of the U.S.-Cuba Trade Association in Washington, told the gathering. "One day, we hope there will be free and open trade."
By ANITA SNOW
Associated Press Writer
HAVANA --
Cuba agreed Wednesday to buy $118 million in U.S. food products ranging from pork and corn to soybeans and Spam, and said it was negotiating deals that could bring the total to nearly $150 million.
"The sales this week went beyond all of our expectations," said Jim Sumner of the U.S. Poultry and Egg Export Council, one of more than 200 Americans from 25 states who visited Havana for talks with communist officials. "When the embargo is lifted, which we hope will be very soon, these deals will be much greater."
Although Washington's 45-year-old embargo remains, U.S. food and agricultural products can be sold directly to Cuba under a law passed by Congress in 2000. Since 2001, Havana says it has spent more than $2.2 billion on American farm products and related costs.
A smiling Pedro Alvarez, chairman of the Cuban food import company Alimport, said Americans are "recovering the market" they lost in the 1960s with the imposition of the embargo.
"The active and massive participation of the American business community makes us very happy," said Alvarez, whose company organized the latest round of negotiations with U.S. farm producers.
Cuba expects this year to match the $570 million it spent in 2006 on American food and agricultural products, including shipping and banking costs.
Cuban Commerce Minister Raul de la Nuez said most of the food would be sold at heavily subsidized prices, on the government's food ration and at public schools and workplace dining rooms.
"This will help feed our people," De la Nuez said.
"We have a common goal of normalized relations between the United States and Cuba," Kirby Jones, founder of the U.S.-Cuba Trade Association in Washington, told the gathering. "One day, we hope there will be free and open trade."
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Reporter to spend month on Cuban rations
Reporter to spend month on Cuban rations
AP
By ANITA SNOW, Associated Press Writer 20 minutes ago
The ration book that determines most Cuban diets — and that will briefly rule mine — fits in my palm. Thick brown pages list amounts of foodstuffs to be checked, signed and stamped at "la bodega," the local government distribution center.
In my eight years as Havana bureau chief for The Associated Press, I've developed great friendships and deep respect for the Cuban people. But as a foreigner paid in U.S. dollars, I've never lived the way most Cubans do, using their ingenuity to make sure there's enough to eat at month's end.
The foundation of the Cuban diet is the communist government's ration book, or "libreta," and as a foreigner, I'm not entitled to one. Cubans, meanwhile, are barred by law from selling or trading their deeply subsidized rations, which cost 33 Cuban pesos a month, about $1.30. That's roughly 10 percent of the average government salary of 350 Cuban pesos, about $16.
But food is so central to life and culture that I won't fully appreciate the Cuban experience until I eat as they do. So I've decided to spend June eating nothing but the rations and other food that Cubans earning an average salary can buy at farmers' markets using Cuban pesos.
High in carbohydrates, the ration is a safety net for basic food needs, providing just 10 to 15 days of monthly nutritional requirements, depending on eating habits. My plan is to eat only the amounts and kinds of food listed in a friend's "libreta," plus whatever extras most Cubans buy at approved stores and markets.
My project comes amid debate over the 45-year-old universal food ration. Many say it's unfair to give all Cubans the same allotment irrespective of income. Even Fidel Castro has said Cuba is "creating conditions for the libreta to disappear."
To make sure I consume the same products Cubans get as rations, a friend gave me part of his monthly allotment — coffee (4 ounces), vegetable oil (2 cups), rice (6 pounds) and dried legumes (10 ounces), including the black beans Cubans love and the split peas they hate.
My friend won't sell me his rations or trade them for what I could buy elsewhere — technically illegal but relatively common practices that are increasingly criticized in Cuba. For instance, Cubans who don't drink coffee or like fish will often sell or trade their rations for something they need, such as more yogurt for a child or extra rice.
My friend also cannot sacrifice the five pounds of sugar his wife uses for family desserts, or spare his monthly animal protein: 10 eggs, a half-pound of chicken, 10 ounces of fish, and about a pound of other meat including a mix of hot dogs, more chicken, a ham-like product called "jamonada" and "picadillo texturizado" — a bland ground beef-type mixture of mostly soy.
I'll have to buy the most similar products I can find at the "shopping" — an overpriced government supermarket with prices in Cuban convertible pesos — and do my best to make such things as vegetarian chili using only the ingredients average Cubans can get. I'll also need to find substitutes for other rations my friend can't spare — the half-pound of dried pasta, pound of crackers and four pounds of potatoes. (My friend does promise to give me his daily bread rolls — one for each day.)
Because potatoes are almost impossible to get without buying them "por la izquierda," or "under the table," I'll substitute boniato — Cuban sweet potatoes bought with regular pesos at farmers' markets known as agros. I'll also shop at agros for fresh produce, eggs and more dried legumes, spending only what the average Cuban can afford.
Rations aside, Cubans also eat a lot of other government-subsized food, such as sizeable hot lunches at workplace dining rooms for less than 1.20 regular pesos, or 6 U.S. cents. And while most schoolchildren go home for lunch, kids with working parents get a hot meal as well.
During this month of living on the libreta, I'll track my spending and post the results in an AP blog. I hope to develop healthier eating habits out of necessity: cutting down on red meat and dairy products, planning meals ahead, buying fresh produce at the agros.
But come July 1, I'll also be ready for a big, juicy steak.
___
On the Net:
U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization country profile for Cuba:
http://www.fao.org/ag/AGN/nutrition/CUB-e.stm
AP
By ANITA SNOW, Associated Press Writer 20 minutes ago
The ration book that determines most Cuban diets — and that will briefly rule mine — fits in my palm. Thick brown pages list amounts of foodstuffs to be checked, signed and stamped at "la bodega," the local government distribution center.
In my eight years as Havana bureau chief for The Associated Press, I've developed great friendships and deep respect for the Cuban people. But as a foreigner paid in U.S. dollars, I've never lived the way most Cubans do, using their ingenuity to make sure there's enough to eat at month's end.
The foundation of the Cuban diet is the communist government's ration book, or "libreta," and as a foreigner, I'm not entitled to one. Cubans, meanwhile, are barred by law from selling or trading their deeply subsidized rations, which cost 33 Cuban pesos a month, about $1.30. That's roughly 10 percent of the average government salary of 350 Cuban pesos, about $16.
But food is so central to life and culture that I won't fully appreciate the Cuban experience until I eat as they do. So I've decided to spend June eating nothing but the rations and other food that Cubans earning an average salary can buy at farmers' markets using Cuban pesos.
High in carbohydrates, the ration is a safety net for basic food needs, providing just 10 to 15 days of monthly nutritional requirements, depending on eating habits. My plan is to eat only the amounts and kinds of food listed in a friend's "libreta," plus whatever extras most Cubans buy at approved stores and markets.
My project comes amid debate over the 45-year-old universal food ration. Many say it's unfair to give all Cubans the same allotment irrespective of income. Even Fidel Castro has said Cuba is "creating conditions for the libreta to disappear."
To make sure I consume the same products Cubans get as rations, a friend gave me part of his monthly allotment — coffee (4 ounces), vegetable oil (2 cups), rice (6 pounds) and dried legumes (10 ounces), including the black beans Cubans love and the split peas they hate.
My friend won't sell me his rations or trade them for what I could buy elsewhere — technically illegal but relatively common practices that are increasingly criticized in Cuba. For instance, Cubans who don't drink coffee or like fish will often sell or trade their rations for something they need, such as more yogurt for a child or extra rice.
My friend also cannot sacrifice the five pounds of sugar his wife uses for family desserts, or spare his monthly animal protein: 10 eggs, a half-pound of chicken, 10 ounces of fish, and about a pound of other meat including a mix of hot dogs, more chicken, a ham-like product called "jamonada" and "picadillo texturizado" — a bland ground beef-type mixture of mostly soy.
I'll have to buy the most similar products I can find at the "shopping" — an overpriced government supermarket with prices in Cuban convertible pesos — and do my best to make such things as vegetarian chili using only the ingredients average Cubans can get. I'll also need to find substitutes for other rations my friend can't spare — the half-pound of dried pasta, pound of crackers and four pounds of potatoes. (My friend does promise to give me his daily bread rolls — one for each day.)
Because potatoes are almost impossible to get without buying them "por la izquierda," or "under the table," I'll substitute boniato — Cuban sweet potatoes bought with regular pesos at farmers' markets known as agros. I'll also shop at agros for fresh produce, eggs and more dried legumes, spending only what the average Cuban can afford.
Rations aside, Cubans also eat a lot of other government-subsized food, such as sizeable hot lunches at workplace dining rooms for less than 1.20 regular pesos, or 6 U.S. cents. And while most schoolchildren go home for lunch, kids with working parents get a hot meal as well.
During this month of living on the libreta, I'll track my spending and post the results in an AP blog. I hope to develop healthier eating habits out of necessity: cutting down on red meat and dairy products, planning meals ahead, buying fresh produce at the agros.
But come July 1, I'll also be ready for a big, juicy steak.
___
On the Net:
U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization country profile for Cuba:
http://www.fao.org/ag/AGN/nutrition/CUB-e.stm
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Cuba's ban on car parts, video equipment lifted
Miami Herald
Posted on Sat, May. 12, 2007
Cuba's ban on car parts, video equipment lifted
BY WILFREDO CANCIO ISLA
Cuban citizens will soon be able to import a broad range of goods -- including VCR and DVD players and power generators -- for personal use under recent government decisions overturning longtime bans on such imports.
The government has not explained why it changed its mind. Until now, it tightly controlled such imports and sold them only rarely in its own stores at heavily marked up prices.
The new regulations will allow Cuban citizens to import the goods through travelers going to the island or direct shipments from abroad.
The list of products and accessories now allowed includes entire car bodies and engines, motorcycle parts, power-generating plants and ``accessories, parts and pieces of image-reproduction equipment.''
A May 1 decree by the Ministry of Finances and Prices allowed the noncommercial importation of video equipment of all types. Two resolutions approved in April by the General Customs agency, which will take effect June 1, allow the importation of the other goods.
There is one catch for those wishing to import car parts: The importers must submit an application underwritten by some organization; the vehicle being fixed must be officially registered; and each importer will be allowed one transaction every five years.
No such restrictions were placed on the importation of the video equipment.
Posted on Sat, May. 12, 2007
Cuba's ban on car parts, video equipment lifted
BY WILFREDO CANCIO ISLA
Cuban citizens will soon be able to import a broad range of goods -- including VCR and DVD players and power generators -- for personal use under recent government decisions overturning longtime bans on such imports.
The government has not explained why it changed its mind. Until now, it tightly controlled such imports and sold them only rarely in its own stores at heavily marked up prices.
The new regulations will allow Cuban citizens to import the goods through travelers going to the island or direct shipments from abroad.
The list of products and accessories now allowed includes entire car bodies and engines, motorcycle parts, power-generating plants and ``accessories, parts and pieces of image-reproduction equipment.''
A May 1 decree by the Ministry of Finances and Prices allowed the noncommercial importation of video equipment of all types. Two resolutions approved in April by the General Customs agency, which will take effect June 1, allow the importation of the other goods.
There is one catch for those wishing to import car parts: The importers must submit an application underwritten by some organization; the vehicle being fixed must be officially registered; and each importer will be allowed one transaction every five years.
No such restrictions were placed on the importation of the video equipment.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Press Time
more anecdotes:
Miami New Times
Press Time
With Fidel on his death bed, journalist Carlos Otero is more critical than ever
By Our Woman in Havana
Published: January 11, 2007
Carlos Rios Otero is trying to write a note, but his black pen has run out of ink. He shakes it furiously, tries to scribble on a piece of thin white paper, and then tosses it on the table.
He shoots the pen a nasty glare, grabs it again, and flings it high into the air.
Carlos is frustrated. The pen is just one more thing that doesn't work in Cuba.
He is trying to change that, one word at a time. He is the rarest of rare on the island — an independent journalist.
But this writer doesn't work for a state-run communist-mouthpiece rag like Granma or Juventud Rebelde. His articles are penned sometimes by candlelight, always in longhand, on the unused side of printed sheets of paper. When he's finished, Carlos whispers his words across crackling phone lines to Miami, where Cuban exiles make sense of them and put them into magazines read by other exiles around the world. Sometimes he appears on Spanish-language radio stations like Radio Mambí (710-AM).
He hopes he doesn't get caught. "It's a brutal way to live," Carlos says matter-of-factly.
We're sitting around a table in the back yard of Carlos's house, a 100-year-old Mediterranean-revival with an iron gate, peeling paint, and pink roses growing in the courtyard. The dry pen is lodged in an overgrown bush. The table is covered with a threadbare red cloth that is pockmarked with holes.
Carlos's wife, Irene — shy and tired-looking — brings us coffee in delicate floral-patterned demitasse cups. She offers a glance that apologizes for not offering more.
It's a critical time for Carlos and all independent journalists in Cuba. As Fidel Castro's illness becomes more mysterious by the week — it's cancer, it's not cancer, he's got a colostomy bag, he's dead and cryonically frozen — Cuban exiles crave news from the island more than ever before.
Years ago Carlos and Irene were young professionals with a baby girl. They could graciously entertain guests — she was a teacher, he was a specialist in agriculture economics who once worked for the government. Carlos's father was a revolutionary, and Carlos himself fought in Angola.
He was rewarded with a post in the Ministry of Sugar — an important government office because sugar was, and remains, one of Cuba's few commodities. But in 1983, he criticized the regime, saying the communist model didn't work. At first, Castro overlooked Carlos's comments because of his family's revolutionary ties. But then the young man made similar remarks in 1986 and again in 1990. He had waded into the dangerous waters of activism in Cuba — he started and joined several groups calling for change.
The government began to pay attention. He was removed from his job and ostracized by the Cuban bureaucracy. The fallout extended to his wife's job and their daughter, now age 21, who has not been able to enroll in college because of her parents' activism — even though she's a top student.
If Hollywood were to film a movie about Carlos's life, he would be played by Lou Reed. When he dons his sunglasses, Carlos is a dead ringer for the singer (circa 1985 Honda scooter ads); he's cool and calm, and more than a bit paranoid about the world around him.
Carlos began his underground reporting sometime in the 1990s; all media in Cuba is state-run and has been for 48 years, so his dispatches are all on the down-low. He is published regularly on www.nuevaprensa.org, an exile-run Website in Miami. When his phone line isn't too fuzzy with interference, he calls dispatches into Miami radio stations and, on occasion, Radio Martí. This past year he was quoted in a report about the sorry state of Cuban journalism published by the international group Reporters Without Borders.
He achieved rock-star notoriety in Cuba and around the world this past December 10, when he and a dozen other dissidents marched in a Havana park to commemorate International Human Rights Day. A mob attacked the demonstrators, and a Spanish news agency photographed Carlos being restrained by a half-dozen government-supported thugs.
During our visit, Carlos shows me a photocopy of the picture and then pulls out a few dog-eared magazines. They contain his writing, but many of his articles are mere briefs about how conditions are deteriorating on the island. Longer stories just aren't easy to report or write. It's a bit sad and surprising to see that a man is risking his life for this.
"It's hard to have sources in Cuba," admits Nancy Perez Crespo, manager of Nueva Prensa Cubana in Miami. "And sometimes they don't even have paper to write on."
Like many of Cuba's journalists, Carlos doesn't usually see his own work, especially if it runs on a Website. He can't afford to use the Internet (it costs about six dollars per hour, about half of the average Cuban's monthly salary). Besides, the Internet is so tightly controlled on the island it's unlikely that Carlos would be able to get near a computer without harassment.
"He's risking his life every time he gives us information," says Perez Crespo.
Yet he writes. He writes about political prisoners who are slowly dying inside Cuba's jails; he writes about the failed distribution of rice cookers to citizens; he writes about the country's dengue fever crisis. He shows me a piece he is working on; this one is about Castro's health.
"His life is in limbo," Carlos says. Then he laughs, as it hits him. "Castro is in limbo, just like the Cuban people."
Carlos's house, located in Santo Suarez, a quiet and once gorgeous Havana suburb, is alternately grand and decrepit. It's filled with books, empty plastic jugs, and some withered root vegetables. At least one room is devoid of any furniture.
Carlos never knows when things will worsen in Cuba, and his stockpiles just might allow him to survive the next rough patch. Indeed this winter he couldn't afford meat for a traditional New Year's Eve meal, and he fretted about his phone bill. (Those dispatches abroad are costly; calls to the United States, for example, are about $2.80 per minute).
He's trying to amass a reference library for budding journalists and anyone interested in human rights. So far it fills three meager shelves.
After talking for a few hours, we decide to visit another independent journalist, Jaime Leygonier, who lives down the street. Carlos's neighborhood is something of a hotbed of dissident activity, with activist and doctor Darsi Ferrer also living nearby. Before we walk out the door, Carlos looks around outside. He wants to know if anyone is watching.
He continues to peer from side to side as we walk down the street together. When we arrive at Jaime's house — another once-great abode with tired furniture — the new host sums it up in a few words: "We're half-crazy with paranoia here."
Jaime used to be a teacher. That career disappeared when he was arrested for writing about Cuba for foreign publications. His relationship with his daughter was also affected by his anti-government stance; when he and his wife split up, they waged a nasty custody battle that was later published in international human rights journals.
"Due to Leygonier's dissident views, his daughter's elementary school has taken a position in the mother's favor and has refused to acknowledge his parental authority, denying him access to the school premises and the opportunity to speak with his daughter," wrote the Inter American Press Association (IAPA) in 2004.
These days Jaime also writes for publications around the world and receives a few dollars in return.
Jaime and Carlos are among the lucky independent reporters in Havana. They have phones, which means they can call their dispatches to people "outside."
Around the time I met with Carlos just before Christmas, acting Cuban President Raul Castro appeared on state-run television at an event at the University of Havana. He told students they should debate "fearlessly." Raul didn't say anything about freeing the journalists who "fearlessly" tried to report; indeed there are no indications he will encourage a free press.
Just days before my trip, the Cuban government issued new rules for foreign journalists — including an edict that said a reporting visa could be revoked "when [the reporter] carries out improper actions or actions not within his profile and work content; also when he is considered to have violated journalistic ethics and/or he is not guided by objectivity in his reports.''
The situation, of course, is worse for independent reporters in Cuba. The island jails more journalists than any other nation except China. There are 27 journalists currently imprisoned on the island, according to the IAPA. This past December, Raymundo Perdigón Brito was sentenced to four years in prison, convicted of "conduct that is in manifest contravention of the standards of socialist morality." Also that month, 21-year-old Ahmed Rodríguez Albacia was arrested at home in Havana, and according to the IAPA, police confiscated a mini tape recorder, a computer, a fax machine, two radios, a flashlight, cassette tapes, pencils, sheets of paper, CDs, books, and magazines during a raid on the man's house.
Maybe the fact that Carlos doesn't have notebooks, a computer, or a working pen is a good thing.
New Times is not disclosing the name of Our Woman in Havana because she traveled to Cuba without the proper visa required to report there.
Miami New Times
Press Time
With Fidel on his death bed, journalist Carlos Otero is more critical than ever
By Our Woman in Havana
Published: January 11, 2007
Carlos Rios Otero is trying to write a note, but his black pen has run out of ink. He shakes it furiously, tries to scribble on a piece of thin white paper, and then tosses it on the table.
He shoots the pen a nasty glare, grabs it again, and flings it high into the air.
Carlos is frustrated. The pen is just one more thing that doesn't work in Cuba.
He is trying to change that, one word at a time. He is the rarest of rare on the island — an independent journalist.
But this writer doesn't work for a state-run communist-mouthpiece rag like Granma or Juventud Rebelde. His articles are penned sometimes by candlelight, always in longhand, on the unused side of printed sheets of paper. When he's finished, Carlos whispers his words across crackling phone lines to Miami, where Cuban exiles make sense of them and put them into magazines read by other exiles around the world. Sometimes he appears on Spanish-language radio stations like Radio Mambí (710-AM).
He hopes he doesn't get caught. "It's a brutal way to live," Carlos says matter-of-factly.
We're sitting around a table in the back yard of Carlos's house, a 100-year-old Mediterranean-revival with an iron gate, peeling paint, and pink roses growing in the courtyard. The dry pen is lodged in an overgrown bush. The table is covered with a threadbare red cloth that is pockmarked with holes.
Carlos's wife, Irene — shy and tired-looking — brings us coffee in delicate floral-patterned demitasse cups. She offers a glance that apologizes for not offering more.
It's a critical time for Carlos and all independent journalists in Cuba. As Fidel Castro's illness becomes more mysterious by the week — it's cancer, it's not cancer, he's got a colostomy bag, he's dead and cryonically frozen — Cuban exiles crave news from the island more than ever before.
Years ago Carlos and Irene were young professionals with a baby girl. They could graciously entertain guests — she was a teacher, he was a specialist in agriculture economics who once worked for the government. Carlos's father was a revolutionary, and Carlos himself fought in Angola.
He was rewarded with a post in the Ministry of Sugar — an important government office because sugar was, and remains, one of Cuba's few commodities. But in 1983, he criticized the regime, saying the communist model didn't work. At first, Castro overlooked Carlos's comments because of his family's revolutionary ties. But then the young man made similar remarks in 1986 and again in 1990. He had waded into the dangerous waters of activism in Cuba — he started and joined several groups calling for change.
The government began to pay attention. He was removed from his job and ostracized by the Cuban bureaucracy. The fallout extended to his wife's job and their daughter, now age 21, who has not been able to enroll in college because of her parents' activism — even though she's a top student.
If Hollywood were to film a movie about Carlos's life, he would be played by Lou Reed. When he dons his sunglasses, Carlos is a dead ringer for the singer (circa 1985 Honda scooter ads); he's cool and calm, and more than a bit paranoid about the world around him.
Carlos began his underground reporting sometime in the 1990s; all media in Cuba is state-run and has been for 48 years, so his dispatches are all on the down-low. He is published regularly on www.nuevaprensa.org, an exile-run Website in Miami. When his phone line isn't too fuzzy with interference, he calls dispatches into Miami radio stations and, on occasion, Radio Martí. This past year he was quoted in a report about the sorry state of Cuban journalism published by the international group Reporters Without Borders.
He achieved rock-star notoriety in Cuba and around the world this past December 10, when he and a dozen other dissidents marched in a Havana park to commemorate International Human Rights Day. A mob attacked the demonstrators, and a Spanish news agency photographed Carlos being restrained by a half-dozen government-supported thugs.
During our visit, Carlos shows me a photocopy of the picture and then pulls out a few dog-eared magazines. They contain his writing, but many of his articles are mere briefs about how conditions are deteriorating on the island. Longer stories just aren't easy to report or write. It's a bit sad and surprising to see that a man is risking his life for this.
"It's hard to have sources in Cuba," admits Nancy Perez Crespo, manager of Nueva Prensa Cubana in Miami. "And sometimes they don't even have paper to write on."
Like many of Cuba's journalists, Carlos doesn't usually see his own work, especially if it runs on a Website. He can't afford to use the Internet (it costs about six dollars per hour, about half of the average Cuban's monthly salary). Besides, the Internet is so tightly controlled on the island it's unlikely that Carlos would be able to get near a computer without harassment.
"He's risking his life every time he gives us information," says Perez Crespo.
Yet he writes. He writes about political prisoners who are slowly dying inside Cuba's jails; he writes about the failed distribution of rice cookers to citizens; he writes about the country's dengue fever crisis. He shows me a piece he is working on; this one is about Castro's health.
"His life is in limbo," Carlos says. Then he laughs, as it hits him. "Castro is in limbo, just like the Cuban people."
Carlos's house, located in Santo Suarez, a quiet and once gorgeous Havana suburb, is alternately grand and decrepit. It's filled with books, empty plastic jugs, and some withered root vegetables. At least one room is devoid of any furniture.
Carlos never knows when things will worsen in Cuba, and his stockpiles just might allow him to survive the next rough patch. Indeed this winter he couldn't afford meat for a traditional New Year's Eve meal, and he fretted about his phone bill. (Those dispatches abroad are costly; calls to the United States, for example, are about $2.80 per minute).
He's trying to amass a reference library for budding journalists and anyone interested in human rights. So far it fills three meager shelves.
After talking for a few hours, we decide to visit another independent journalist, Jaime Leygonier, who lives down the street. Carlos's neighborhood is something of a hotbed of dissident activity, with activist and doctor Darsi Ferrer also living nearby. Before we walk out the door, Carlos looks around outside. He wants to know if anyone is watching.
He continues to peer from side to side as we walk down the street together. When we arrive at Jaime's house — another once-great abode with tired furniture — the new host sums it up in a few words: "We're half-crazy with paranoia here."
Jaime used to be a teacher. That career disappeared when he was arrested for writing about Cuba for foreign publications. His relationship with his daughter was also affected by his anti-government stance; when he and his wife split up, they waged a nasty custody battle that was later published in international human rights journals.
"Due to Leygonier's dissident views, his daughter's elementary school has taken a position in the mother's favor and has refused to acknowledge his parental authority, denying him access to the school premises and the opportunity to speak with his daughter," wrote the Inter American Press Association (IAPA) in 2004.
These days Jaime also writes for publications around the world and receives a few dollars in return.
Jaime and Carlos are among the lucky independent reporters in Havana. They have phones, which means they can call their dispatches to people "outside."
Around the time I met with Carlos just before Christmas, acting Cuban President Raul Castro appeared on state-run television at an event at the University of Havana. He told students they should debate "fearlessly." Raul didn't say anything about freeing the journalists who "fearlessly" tried to report; indeed there are no indications he will encourage a free press.
Just days before my trip, the Cuban government issued new rules for foreign journalists — including an edict that said a reporting visa could be revoked "when [the reporter] carries out improper actions or actions not within his profile and work content; also when he is considered to have violated journalistic ethics and/or he is not guided by objectivity in his reports.''
The situation, of course, is worse for independent reporters in Cuba. The island jails more journalists than any other nation except China. There are 27 journalists currently imprisoned on the island, according to the IAPA. This past December, Raymundo Perdigón Brito was sentenced to four years in prison, convicted of "conduct that is in manifest contravention of the standards of socialist morality." Also that month, 21-year-old Ahmed Rodríguez Albacia was arrested at home in Havana, and according to the IAPA, police confiscated a mini tape recorder, a computer, a fax machine, two radios, a flashlight, cassette tapes, pencils, sheets of paper, CDs, books, and magazines during a raid on the man's house.
Maybe the fact that Carlos doesn't have notebooks, a computer, or a working pen is a good thing.
New Times is not disclosing the name of Our Woman in Havana because she traveled to Cuba without the proper visa required to report there.
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