HAVANA, Cuba.- Bárbaro de Céspedes is a Cuban opposition activist who has participated in anti-regime protests in the city of Camagüey. He is also known as “El Patriota” (The Patriot) and has held demonstrations in front of the municipal government headquarters and the Cuban Communist Party in that city.
During these protests, Bárbaro has used signs with slogans such as “Patria y Vida” and phrases from José Martí. In addition, he has made a pilgrimage with a cross through the city of Agramonte.
In 2022, Bárbaro was sentenced to two years of imprisonment for the alleged crime of attack. However, in February of this year, he obtained his freedom. He decided to emigrate and made the journey through Nicaragua, but unfortunately, the Daniel Ortega regime prohibited him from entering the country.
—Tell us about yourself, where you are from, what you have worked on, what your childhood and family were like.
—I grew up in a fairly functional family. My father worked at the electric company and was retired due to an accident when he was very young. When he was very young, he fell from a pole and was immediately retired. So, my mother, who was my guide, raised the five of us, we are five siblings. We all studied and completed our university degrees. That was my life during my childhood and youth.
I attended primary school at the Enrique José Varona school, located on Padre Valencia Street. I did my secondary and pre-university studies at the Ana Josefa Betancourt school, which is located in La Vigía. Since the year I studied was when the transition from tenth grade to pre-university was made, I had to do tenth grade in secondary school, since I only had two years of pre-university. After finishing twelfth grade, I started as a mathematics teacher. I took my preparatory course and began my higher education at the José Martí Pedagogical Institute, here in Camagüey, where I graduated with a degree in Mathematics.
I worked for nine years in the profession until I was dishonorably discharged from the organization in 1988 for my anti-system statements. At that time, they called it “ideological diversionism.” For that reason, I was expelled from the ministry and my degree was invalidated. By that time, I had already started a family, I was married and had two daughters. The situation in the country was getting worse because it was at the end of 1988 that the fall of the socialist camp occurred. In 1989, the problem worsened here in Cuba and I found myself in the need to improvise on the street.
I have worked in five different trades. I know several trades: I am a carpenter, bricklayer, welder, boilermaker, electrician and plumber. I lived like that for many years. Later, I worked as a butcher in a market until it closed in 2004 and I was left on the streets again. There I went back to working as a bricklayer, which included electrical and plumbing work, until 2016 when I suffered a thrombosis in my left leg, which made me quit that job. The doctor told me that I could not continue with that trade. From then on, I started working in whatever came up. I did small bricklaying jobs, but not like before, and that is more or less how I have been supporting my family.
—You have always been someone who stood up to the government: When did you do so for the first time and why? What are your motivations for doing so today?
—The fact of having the surname Céspedes is a gene that I have in my blood. While I was in prison, my mother was interviewed by Juan Manuel Cao, from AmericaTeveand she asked him exactly that question. At that moment, my mother replied as follows: “I believe that my son has been anti-communist since he was a child.”
For her, honestly, it was a problem at school that I wore a headscarf, that I took the oath of “we will be like Che,” and she was almost always called to complain. If you ask me, I can tell you that since I was a child I felt apathy towards the dictatorship. I didn’t see it as a progressive government, I saw the government as stagnant.
I can tell you that my confrontation, or let’s say my decision to fight communism, began in 1988. Although I was young, I never belonged to any organization or participated in political activities that took place in the center. I renounced the process of the Union of Young Communists (UJC) many times. I was an outstanding student, both academically and in sports.
They almost always wanted to give me positions, either in the FEEM or in the FEU, but I always resigned because I did not want any links with the communist system.
—What forms of protest have you used in your demonstrations?
—Basically, I am a street warrior. When I first went out on the streets, I felt a tremendous tremor all over my body. It is normal, I have been a person who has studied our heroes a lot and Maceo said it: “fear gives courage.” Mainly, I like to express myself on the street, I also like to express my ideas on social networks.
—What message do you want to convey to Cubans with your actions?
—Life has given me the opportunity to generate ideas. I have tried to express them in my own phrases, such as one that says: “I fight to inspire, not to impress; I give myself to a purpose, not for recognition.” In other words, my fundamental objective is to inspire the future generation and have a purpose of overthrowing the dictatorship.
—What has been your experience facing repression and detention by the Cuban authorities?
—I can tell you from 2018 to 2021. During that period, I had 33 arrests, in which I have often been detained and taken away in patrol cars. I can tell you one thing for sure: the repression has been by the National Revolutionary Police, that is, by the force that is on the street, I have treated the security unit with respect. However, that has not exonerated me from being a victim of the psychological punishments they inflict when they have you detained, such as waking you up at an unknown time or keeping you in a dark room where you don’t know if it is day or night. As for physical harm, that is, blows and similar things, I have not experienced that. But I have been pushed and hit with flower pots several times by the police, and they have placed handcuffs on me quite hard, leaving marks on my wrists.
—Have people supported you or have most left you alone in your protests?
—The most regrettable thing about all this is that I have not received any support from this people to whom I have given myself with all my will. On the contrary, when I go out on the street, the only thing I receive are insults and insults. They call me crazy, a mercenary and on many occasions they even wish me death. I especially remember my arrest on October 10, 2021, where a woman, reflecting absolute hatred on her face, referred to me saying that the police should hang me. It is quite frustrating that, in exchange for my total dedication to the freedom of Cuba, I only receive insults and insults from this people that I love and for whom I am willing to give my life.
I’ve never had anyone join me on the occasions I’ve demonstrated. I’ve had people who have supported my cause and expressed their support for what I’m doing, but I’ve never had anyone really support me on those demonstrations, let alone join me on them.
—How has your activism affected your family and his personal life?
—Well, I think that many people like me dedicated themselves entirely to fighting the dictatorship. There are many things in the social, personal and family spheres. My youngest daughter, who was my support in my struggle, left the country to go to the Dominican Republic in 2019. She graduated in English and was offered a job with the government, which was far below her knowledge. She was offered to teach at an elementary school, but she refused this proposal. My daughter’s job is closely related to her father’s bond. She began to work on her own in a hair salon. She told me: “Daddy, I have my daughter, I have my family, I have to find a way to get out of the country.” So she left the country for the Dominican Republic and lived there until this year. She came to Cuba in October 2021 to visit me, they barely gave us 10 minutes.
My granddaughter was psychologically affected by this. I felt very bad because they brought me in handcuffs and that had a big impact on her. At that moment, she said to me: “Daddy, why are they taking you in handcuffs?” The little girl was very affected.
Then, two State Security agents summoned her to the immigration office. She went there thinking it was an immigration problem. Officers Ramón and Mario were waiting for her there to warn her about the complaints she was making on social media. They told her that if she continued making them, they would not let her enter the country anymore. On December 31, 2021, my daughter decided to emigrate through Nicaragua. When she arrived at the airport, she was faced with the unpleasant news that the Nicaraguan government was prohibiting her from entering the country. In other words, the dictatorship’s tentacles reach many parts of the world and, fundamentally, one of its main allies: the Nicaraguan dictatorship. Then, just three months ago, she traveled to the United States thanks to a humanitarian parole.
—On the other hand, the other families that remained here in Cuba
—My wife had to leave work. My oldest daughter, who is a psychologist, works at a center for children with Down syndrome and other illnesses. She was slated to take over as director of that center immediately after the process was started. However, the Communist Party members at the center clearly eliminated her name because she had the surname De Céspedes. On the family level, I have been greatly affected by who I am.
I am denied any kind of help, not that I need it from the government, because I don’t need anything from the government. But above all, since I got out of prison, I have tried to find work with private individuals. I was lucky enough to find a job, and three days later, that owner kicked me out and fired me. It wasn’t because of a problem of work indiscipline, much less, according to what he told me, “Look, Barbaro, I’m going to have to do without your job.” I asked him why, he shrugged his shoulders, and then I knew that behind all of this is the hand of the political police here in Cuba, trying to surround my life here, turning my life into a prison on the street, that is, into this big prison.
—What was your experience like in political prison?
—I am a person, as I said, who respects everyone a lot: child, youth, adult, elderly. Life is an echo, life gives you back what you are capable of giving. If you are disrespectful, you are disrespected; but if you are a person who respects other people, life should give you back respect. I was a normal prisoner, I suffered what any prisoner may have suffered in terms of the inhumane conditions in prison. There were beds with bedbugs, bad mattresses, poor food, lack of medicines, in other words, normal, like any prisoner. I was never beaten, I was never mistreated because I was always treated with a lot of respect and I received respect in return. I was treated with a lot of respect.
The inmates gave me a pseudonym, they gave me the pseudonym “Patria” and when they spoke to me, except for the unit chiefs, any other member who sent for me for some situation, they would say “Call me at Patria.” I was a very respected prisoner by the prison population and by the security organs there in the prison. The inmates also spoke to me with respect. There was not a concern that I had that did not get a response. In fact, I did not stop being an activist in prison, activism that led me to a punishment cell for 15 days for taking an audio recording from there in the prison.
I helped a lot of the prisoners I could help, whether it was with material things or even with things that I suggested to them. For example, in December 2021, while I was in prison, they said they would make a dinner for the 31st. However, they said that they would only have dinner and the prisoners began to wonder why there was not even a sip of coffee or a cigar or a box of cigarettes. I called the head of the unit, Joel, and told him, “Look, if you really want to make a humanitarian gesture with the prisoners, I think that in addition to the little bit of food, the opportunity should be given to the relatives to give them their cigarettes, their coffee, so that they feel better.”
They immediately said that it was possible. On another occasion, as we were in preventive detention, they ordered us to take away all our civilian clothes. I refused, or rather, I didn’t refuse. I told them: “Well, I’m going to hand over my civilian clothes, but from now on I’m going to live here in what you’ve given me, just the uniform. When I go to the dining room I’m going to wear the uniform, but I’m not going to wear shoes and my bed won’t be able to be made, I won’t be able to bathe because I don’t have a towel.”
It seems that they, anticipating that something would happen in the prison, immediately said that we could keep the uniforms.
Already in minimum security at the camp, the sun was only on Monday to Friday, not Saturday or Sunday. It so happened that July 26, a holiday, fell on a Wednesday and there was no sun. Faced with this situation, I also went to the unit and said: “What is the problem, there is no sun, we are elderly people.” The conditions were very bad, the detachment where we were was leaking, there was a lot of water, a lot of humidity. And I asked why, if it was a holiday and the regulations said that the sun was on Monday to Friday, this was not respected. I cannot say that I was privileged because there were no concessions with me, but I did feel a lot of respect for my person, which I tell you, you earn.
That was my policy until February of this year, when I was able to leave prison. I was given the normal rights of everyone. Once, it happened that a pass that was due to me coincided with a visit from Díaz-Canel. Hours passed, they passed in the sun, but they did not give the pass. The prison regulations say that the pass has to be before 12 noon, but at that time we had not yet received the release. I called the officer on duty and they had not said anything about the pass. So I called the head of jails and prisons, Colonel Ochoa, and I told him: “Colonel, it’s me, we are very worried because it is 12 noon here and they have not given us a pass. If it is a determination or an order that you received at a national level, we have no choice, but if it is a decision of yours in particular, I am going to bring this to the attention of General Abelardo so that he can see how you are violating the regulations.” Immediately afterward they were already leaving, that is, they always felt that the person who was imprisoned had to be respected, had to be listened to.
—Describe what happened on the day you were not allowed to fly to Nicaragua. What was your reaction when you were denied entry?
—The decision to leave this country has been the most difficult decision of my life, the most difficult. I am a person who devotes myself body and soul to what I do, which is to fight against the dictatorship in favor of my people. I love my people and my country more than anything in this world.
I can tell you that if there is a scale where you put family and here you put country, that scale is balanced. In other words, I cannot tell you if I love my family more than my country. I made the decision because of what we had previously discussed, the situation my family is living, the situation I am living, where I am subject to continuous threats, persecution, and I felt the need to leave the country, because otherwise I will return to prison.
My prison, from a family point of view, was not a good prison. My family suffered a lot and I do not want that to happen again. On the 13th of this month I was supposed to fly to Nicaragua.
I left for Havana on the 12th at night and while I was on the bus that was going to take me to Havana, my travel agent gave me a PDF document informing me that the Nicaraguan government did not authorize my entry. Perhaps now analyzing it from another point of view, what had happened to my daughter in 2021 and what is happening to me now, it may be that the Céspedes family is sanctioned by the dictatorship to live in confinement.
But there is one factor that I believe was decisive for the dictatorship in complicity with the Nicaraguan government to make that decision. And that is that on the 11th, the day before I left, the journalist Mario Pentón let me know that the prosecutor Rosabel Roca Sampedro, who had been the one who had worked on my trials, was in Mexico requesting entry into the United States. He told me: “I am telling you this in case you think it is correct or if not and you want to file a complaint.” I told him: “My brother, any complaint that is to unmask the Cuban dictatorship, there is the Patriot.” So I did not hesitate for a moment, I had a ticket to leave the country, and at that moment I made the complaint, a complaint that was made public through their social networks and I think that was a determining factor for the Nicaraguan government, in complicity with the Cuban dictatorship, to deny me entry.
One thing is clear: I believe that this woman who is still in Mexico wants to come to the United States with one goal: to work for the Cuban dictatorship, because she was the prosecutor who was working directly with State Security, and if she works for the government and they let her out, it is with that goal in mind. Otherwise, she is a traitor, and then how do you explain that you let a traitor leave the country and that you decide to lock up an opponent of your system?
That’s how they denied me entry into Nicaragua and here right now I am suffering the same consequences that I suffered before, now they have intensified a little more, as if to say, “your complaint prevented us from entering an agent in the United States, so we are going to punish you here and we are going to make your life much more impossible.” It is a punishment, a reprisal that they have taken against me for that complaint.
—What changes would you like to see in Cuba’s political and social system?
—I am a follower of Martí, I would like to see a country like Martí dreamed of, with everyone and for the good of everyone. A country where every citizen is respected, where every citizen has at least the minimum to live: a house, food, medicine and education, good medical care. That is the future I would like for Cuba. Not social equality as such, because that social equality that scientific communism proposes is impossible for the country to develop.
In all political systems there must be class differences, but those who are below the social classes must be able to live as human beings. Unfortunately, in this country that is not the future I see. I would like my country to bring a smile to people’s faces again, because it is painful to go out into the street and see everyone with a closed face, not to see a child playing in the street, not to see a child with a toy in his hand, a lady or a gentleman drinking a glass of milk. I would like a happy world or a country, a free country where the rights of all citizens are respected, where the opinion of each citizen counts in a government decision. That is the Cuba that I would like.
—What is your vision for the future of Cuba and what would you like to do in that dream Cuba?
—From my point of view, I see the future as quite dark. I cannot tell you whether the people have become complacent, accepting the chains that have been imposed on them. I cannot tell you whether they have allowed their values, their ethical principles, their morals, their dignity, their honesty, their courage to be taken away from them. Because what is clear is that until the people of Cuba decide to fight for their freedom, the people of Cuba will continue to be submissive to the Castro-Canel dictatorship. We will continue to be slaves of a dictatorship until we decide to obtain freedom. This requires sacrifice, and if the sacrifice has to be made with blood, it must be paid for with blood. Until the people of Cuba decide that, I do not foresee a happy future for them.
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2024-07-06 08:14:35
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