[NYTr] Cuban 5: The Nobility of Gerardo

[All the News That Doesn't Fit]

Resumen Latinoamericano via Cubanow - Nov 27, 2007
http://www.cubanow.net/global/loader.php?&secc=10&item=3765&c=2

The nobility of Gerardo

By Graciela Ramírez
[Edited by NY Transfer News]

During the first days of October I interviewed Gerardo Hernández
Nordelo at the Victorville prison. Gerardo, as his four brothers in the
cause, was condemned by the US government without a shred of evidence.
The crime of "The Five Cuban Five," as they are known all over the
world, was to try to prevent terrorist attacks against Cuba.

The meeting was our very modest tribute to the nine years resistance
of these men and their families.

US prisons are famous for their coldness, their sophisticated security
systems and the grey color everywhere. Close to the prison there is a
small town, surrounded by a security line. The wooden houses with not a
single inhabitant are surrounded by fences. I ask why there is not a
single soul there. They explain that there were emissions of a toxic
substance and they had to evacuate the town. The substance is
dangerous; the authorities fear it can expand if the houses are
destroyed. The empty houses give a ghost image to the town.

A dusty road in the middle of a kind of desert gets us to the prison
that is surrounded by mountains. Several huge towers with telescopic
sights indicate to us that we are arriving. The complex, with several
units, is a totally grey and compact mass made of cement and steel and
surrounded by thick wires. There are no windows.

The wire fence seems risible in front of the impregnable group of
buildings.

A huge imperial eagle, the US and the Californian flag tell us that
we have arrived at the prison. I go with Alicia Jrapko and Bill
Hackwell, much more than solidarity sister and brother, they are part of
the extended family of the Five, and indispensable people during these
long years of resistance.

The rules of the US penitentiary system do not allow taking anything to
the prisoners, not a sweet, not some cloth, not a small souvenir; I had
my small Cuban flag, and, ingenuously, believed that I could take it to
him. However, people can not take in absolutely anything. Visitors
can’t carry a single pencil, even the bag with personal belongings must
be left outside.

Visitors can only take with them the coins, necessary to extract from a
machine the cookies and sodas that we will share during the visit. It is
Sunday; there are women and children, who are visiting other prisoners,
most of them black or Latino. After the required inspection, in which we
have to take off even our shoes, the officers tell us to go to the
next room.

In this second room we make a small line, in which we are marked, one
by one, a tag placed on us in the forearm with a number that is
seen under the skin with a kind of laser flashlight. To me this is
abusive and unnecessary.

Due to my human rights work I have visited political prisoners
in prison from Latin America and Spain, but this is the first time a
shiver runs through my body; immediately, in an automatic way, the
images of the Nazis marking the Jews in a line of the concentration
camps, is coming to my mind.

I think of everything that the Cuban families, old mothers, women and
children must withstand when they have the luck to get a visa from the
US government to visit their relatives. The injustice of this case
set the skin on edge. Chomsky, with reason, says that "this is such
a scandalous case that it is difficult to refer to it." There is nothing
right about such [contempt].

The US penitentiary system does not allow the prisoners either to
receive their visitors in places with some privacy, much less outside
the buildings. The visit must be in a totally closed and artificially
illuminated common hall. In this hall the sense of time is lost. The
hall has small grey plastic tables and chairs. The visit is, of
course, under the surveillance of several officers, who can even
interrupt the visit if the prisoner is touched. Only a hug is allowed
on arrival and another one when the visit is over. Marital
contact or private visits with the wives are also not permitted.

To deprive the prisoners of affection is one of the pillars of the US
penitentiary system. For Gerardo, this situation goes to the extreme, by
not allowing him a visit from his wife. I wonder where is the respect
for human rights in the country that call itself the champion of
democracy.

We finally move to another room, where we finally meet Gerardo.
Suddenly we see him there with his khaki-colored uniform and all his
dignity on him, big and firm like the palms.

The image that is coming to me now is the one of Marti. Soon that small
island that shines out to the world becomes a giant and the relationship
turns around, all the power deployed by the empire melts in front of the
greatness of the Cuban people represented by Gerardo, and I just don’t
care about the photos, the fingerprints or the stamp in the forearm.

The long way towards Victorville seems now a second. The visitors' room
is full of light when we see him there. Gerardo give us a hug and tells
us, with that Cuban grace that characterises him and that nobody will be
able to take from him, "you finally arrived!"

I swear I promised not to cry, not to feign strength, but not to give
the enemy the evidence of the smallest feeling. But I couldn’t avoid
crying when I started to transmit to him the greetings from so many
Cubans, so many children, old people, so many people and solidarity
friends from all over the world.

It was as if everybody was there, the small ones with their uniforms,
swearing to be like Che, men and women with their faces in so many
demonstrations, the military and retired, whom I have seen crying with
anger over such an unjust imprisonment, members of the armed forces,
proud of the dignity of their Five brothers; artists and intellectuals
who write, sing, dance and paint for them, the solidarity friends who in
every language shout "Free the Five" in front of the US government
buildings. His family, the close family of Gerardo, to whom a visa is
given every year, and the beautiful eyes of Adriana, a girl the most
powerful government of the world denies a visit to her father for 9
years.

That giant we had in front of us, full of nobility and dignity, so
deeply human, was capable of occupying most of the time of the visit
asking for his people and the friends in the world, instead of talking
about himself and of the huge violation that prohibits him from 
receiving a visit from his wife.

I ask about the food and the conditions in prison. Not a single
complaint, it is not much because by this time of year the budget is
small, but everything is OK, he says, he is only worried because his
correspondence is taking too long.

He asks me how is the small child from Las Tunas who has problems in
his hands and always sends his love, asked me to send him a kiss in the
name of the Five. He tells me to thank María Orquídea, a woman from
Cienfuegos, for the complete transcription of every radio program "Una
luz en lo oscuro," by Arleen Rodríguez, that takes every Sunday a little
bit of Cuban warmth in those cold prisons where they are detained.

In the distant place where the prison of Gerardo is located, the
program can not be listened to, only three of the Five can do it,
therefore double thanks to Orquidea.

He wants to read the recently published "Desde la Soledad a la
Esperanza" and see the new stamp just issued in Cuba. He wants me to
tell the Houses of Attention of the Combatants and the Abel Santamarita
Museum the love and admiration of the Five on the 80 anniversary of the
birthdate of Abel.

A special hug to the workers and journalists of the radio, press and
Cuban TV and a deep thank to the alternative media all over the world
that are doing so much are to multiply the truth.

Gerardo is interested in every detail, especially in the daily life of
his people, for the streets of Havana. His eyes shine at every answer as
if he was seeing it.

He asks me not to forget to send his greetings to the actors of
"Jura decir la verdad" and thank them for the letter they sent him. As a
good caricaturist, Gerardo loves humour programs, so that when he calls
Adriana, she puts the receiver in front of the TV so that he can enjoy
a minute.

Wild capitalism is also inside the prisons; the food machines
do not discount the prices for the detainees nor the visitors. A
good margin is taken from the work the two millions people, who live in
US prisons, carry out. Detainees have to work as in any other factory,
but are paid 20 times less than a US worker.

I ask Gerardo what kind of work is done at the factory. He answers that
the prison finishes some parts for the arms industry. He requested to do
anything else, but to help the war. So Gerardo collects the garbage of
the Victorville prison.

Somebody like him, educated at the best Cuban universities, with his
high intellectual level, of his moral height and his huge nobility,
capable of having saved so many lives with his own sacrifice, subject
to such an injustice.

Again the emotion moves us, when he says that with the minimum wage of
his work, he buys envelops to reply to his solidarity friends all over
the world.

Everything about Gerardo surprised me, from the attention he gives to
every store, how he changed from Spanish to English to talk to us, the
deepness of his analysis about international reality, the efforts he
makes so that every letter is received by the addressee with
something special, the constant worry to know about his people and the
huge effective capacity he transmits in the middle of the loneliness he
has.

He also has the gift to transform with a joke the lump we had in our
throats when he said to us, as we left, with his hands in his chest:
"Thank you for everything you are doing for the Five and for our
people ... tell them I’m OK and give everybody a strong hug, a very
strong one."

We couldn’t avoid the sadness when we left the prison, it is not fair
to lock up so much life to defend us from death. Now I can imagine much
better what the mothers, wives and children feel every time they say
goodbye to them.

I thought of Gerardo and his smile of a pure man, of his transparent
soul, totally distant from such a felony, of his children that could be
growing up, if it were not for this unjust jail, of the huge value of
infiltrating the darkest and most perverse of the Miami Cuban-American
mafia to prevent terrorist attacks against his small island, of his
family, his people and his unshakable integrity, of this free Cuba,
sovereign and socialist, that they want to take over, but the one they
will never have.

Gerardo and his four brothers are the expression of the new man Che
dreamed about. For him and for them, we renew our promise to fight
without rest in order that The Five can return to their beloved land.