The stamp of screaming Long live Cuba Libre! in a corner of the Puerta de Alcalá, the one that overlooks the Retiro, it is, to say the least, impressive and exotic. Thus, and with little Caribbean punctuality, the Platform for Actions for Democracy He had prepared this Saturday a march to reject Silvio Rodríguez’s concert at the Wizink Center in Madrid at 7:00 p.m. They would not be more than thirty, but noisy, and with tow for those who, according to the protesters, the Castro regime is whitewashing from Spain / Europe: Pedro Sánchez and the current Executive, mainly. The concentration was against Silvio Rodríguez, against the presence of the singer-songwriter in Spain, but the memory of the
Cuban repression of July 11 and the “ineffective and lukewarm response from the Spanish Authorities.”
Homeland and life
There are those who, in their thirties, carried a can of diesel oil to power the public address system as if it were a treasure. There were also those who had written the motto “Homeland and life”, with a marker and in a white linen T-shirt that trembled in the heat of the protest. Like Yusil, who came from Ada Colau’s Barcelona, outraged because the mayor “dedicated the Fiestas de la Merced to the Cuban dictatorship.” Or like Saide, a mulatto with curls, who insisted that Spain “You cannot contribute to the whitening of Castroism by giving fuel to a spokesperson like Silvio Rodríguez”. The aforementioned musician is sure that in the run-up to the concert his ears were ringing, that the entourage exhibited banners with photographs where he was seen kneeling – and rapt – in front of Fidel Castro. A protest, not by little seconded in the numerical, loses its oppositional force. It is true that we could resort to the cliché that the protesters that we counted and recounted could fit in a bus, but during the march there was time and courage to call the President of the Government “cheeky” and even for him to jump from a taxi, without knowing what What was the pod going, a ‘Sieg Heil’ shouted, arm raised, which silenced, as anachronistic, the atmosphere of the ‘manifa’.
Further on, the banners and a heterogeneous group of Cubans walking down the street of Alcalá, crossing without crossing against a family that asked to save the Mar Menor, showed that in Madrid it is possible to protest against everything: each according to their possibilities or their priorities. The necessary arrival of democracy on the island is the same as the also necessary recovery of the Murcian coastline.
The organizers of the march called to “pack up”, guarded by five milkmaids from the National Police: three in front and two behind. Meanwhile, they were greeted by the anti-Castro Neighborhood of salamanca, which pointed to the pleasant autumn afternoon in Madrid.
Nor was the uproar of the protest against the Embassy last summer seen, when not a few union freedmen were locked up in the Sovietizing mansion on Paseo de La Habana and there were insults to drums. But it happens that a protest against a musician is not a diplomatic protest, even if the cause is the same. In all fairness, when the banner arrived at the Felipe II Avenue, to the esplanade of the Wizink, boos were heard from those who had their concert ticket. A young man with a St Pauli polo shirt (a sort of Rayo Vallecano German, of ultra-left ideology) would give the anti-Castro a comb, like an Abertzale with beards and a T-shirt that read the same thing: ‘Abertzale’, like this, with all the letters.
That and Saide with the megaphone at the ready and the vein in his neck as if sculpted in marble was the afternoon in which part of the Cuban exiles from Spain protested against Silvio, against Sánchez, cagainst Venezuela and against communism. On the other hand, María del Cobre was waiting with her father, gray-haired and Cuban, for a door to the enclosure to be opened in which those of Silvio were almost mixed with the stragglers from the vaccine.