It’s not me

A boy approaches me to ask if I am “Yoani.”  He extends a sweaty and cold hand to me.  I’m afraid that he’s coming to give me the first slap, but he only points, “Hopefully you are real.  Because now we’ve seen everything!”  He makes me want to follow him and show him my navel.  There is no bigger proof that one exists, that one is “real,” than a navel knotted in the abdomen.  He’s leaving and with the full weight his doubt and of his faith in me—this last is what frightens me the most.  He didn’t give me time to warn him that I don’t intend to found any creed, certainly his uncertainties left me more relieved than his possible convictions.

If the boy with the cold hand and the short sentences reads this post, I want to tell you that I can’t save you.  It’s not me whom he should burden with the responsibility that we should take together.  I too have seen everything… people who applaud and then betray; hands that slap on the back and in the end push away; cries of “Viva” that are transformed into whispers of hate… However, I don’t have to know who he is to be sure that we share doubts, dreams and guilt.

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3 thoughts on “It’s not me

  1. Pingback: Där jag blir blödig | Sänd mina rötter regn

  2. Don’t see the hopes of the boy as a burden. He’s a boy, a child, like all of us were once. Full of hopes and dreams and fears. Take his faith in you as a compliment. He doesn’t need saving anymore. You exist and that’s all he needed to know. Maybe it’s enough to push him to take up a keyboard and type, just as you do. I’d rather believe that he will follow in your footsteps then think that he will push you down as you lead the way.

  3. es primera vez que entro en tu sitio, de verdad que estoy impresionado con todo lo que he leido en tus escritos, son impresionantes y considero que tienes un valor extrordinario al proceder de la manera que lo estas haciendo y te felicito de corazon, soy Cubano por nacimiento, por vida y por muerte, recuerdo cuando intente salir por Camarioca y no lo pude lograr y por miedo a lo que me decian mis padres y el SMO, tuve que renunciar “Patrioticamente” a mi salida del pais para poder aspirar a una beca, despues sali del pais como escoria antisocial y estuve mas de 12 anos castigado sin poder visitar la isla y despues hasta los propios funcionarios de aduana me pedian dinero por lo que llevaba a mi familia en Cuba incluyendo a mis hijos que habia dejado atras, hoy todos estan conmigo y todavia me queda familia alla, pienso que esto que haces es un gran paso de avance con respecto a lo que no se podia hacer ni decir hace 20 anos atras, de nuevo te felicito y este correo que te envio lo tienes a tu disposicion para lo que se te ofrezca gracias como Cubano 150% por todo lo que haces por todos nosotros, y sigue, no cejes en tu empeno que futuras generaciones de nuestra isla tendran que hablar muy bien de ti. Jose.

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