Yesterday was an intense day. There was a parade in the morning, a heavy rain shower in the afternoon, and some impertinents banging on our pots at eight-thirty in the evening. The concentration in the Plaza of the Revolution looked the same as every year, the rain was just as humid, and the kitchen chorus banging on pots and pans sounded like the peculiar symphony of a few. I’m posting here a few samples of sound and images, so you can live the first of May as I felt it… with all its intensity and craziness.
From my terrace one heard little reaction to the first bangs on the pot, but we have the joy of knowing they heard us a long way off. Through a quick phone survey I knew that in the city of Pinar del Rio they also noticed the sound of metal, while several neighborhoods in Havana remained silent. The limited drumming arose from the smallness of the individual who dared, and not from the massive automatism of those who paraded in the morning. Such is the difference between a spontaneous tweet-tweet and directed crowing.
Every spark is small, I told someone who asked me about the magnitude of what happened last night and, at its debut, a tool of expression is used timidly. On hearing about the call that was circulating on the internet, I met with several friends who thought the simple gesture of turning off the light would be more feasible. The kitchen chorus involves exposing oneself too much and there are many people who are still afraid of reprisals. Making the house dark is something that can be done without leaving evidence and is the kind of gesture that our citizens are ready to make, not more.
In spite of the few notes heard, I think it changed something in the routine of International Workers’ Day. It was just a slight banging of spoons on tin, that came after the first downpour of May.