Japi berrsdei tu yu
Fifty-Four Years in a Hitchcock Film, Ten Years of Struggling for a Good Ending.
I can’t remember exactly when I stumbled onto this blog, or how. But I do remember exchanging a few emails some years ago with Val about the cult of San Lazaro, the mythical saint who was turned into an avatar of the Yoruba god Babalú Ayé by African slaves in Cuba.
But it doesn’t really matter when or how the electronic Babalú crossed my path. What matters is that it has kept me from going insane time and time again.
Being a Cuban exile is a lot like being the main character in most of Alfred Hitchcock’s classic films. The world around you refuses to recognize your true situation. Quite often, in Hitchcock films like North by Northwest, Rear Window, and Frenzy, the protagonist has to continually struggle against falsehoods and misapprehensions, and desperately tries to convince those around him that he is not insane or a pathological liar.
In my profession, especially, it is nearly impossible to convince anyone that the so-called Revolution has ruined Cuba and that the Castro brothers belong in the same hellish pantheon as Hitler, Stalin, and Mao.
The same is true of the mainstream news media, which is run by individuals who consider themselves members of the intellectual elite. As for the Cuba “experts” or “analysts”.... forget it, they are the most important functionaries of the Castronoid Ministry of Truth.
The insiduous racism and neocolonialism of the liberal thinking class –who gleefully insist that the inferior folk of the third world are much better off under strong totalitarian rulers – clouds their thinking. As many of them see it, human rights are a culturally-conditioned abstraction that apply solely to Western Europeans, North Americans, Australians, and New Zealanders.
The Castronoid propaganda ministry is always cranking out lies that these folk accept as gospel truth.
Babalu is here to counter the lies, and to expose the hypocrisy of those who enjoy a life of freedom but praise the totalitarian nightmare of Castrogonia. It is also here to broadcast news about the brave Cuban men and women who struggle against their oppressors.
Babalu is an oasis of sanity in a scorching desert of lies. To switch metaphors: It is the protagonist in a Hitchcock film, struggling to bring the truth to light, like the wheelchair-bound Jimmy Stewart behind the telephoto lens in Rear Window, piecing together the murder committed by his neighbor Raymond Burr.
More important, Babalu is a family. A great family. For this exile, who only has a handful of relatives scattered over North America – and none close to home – it is his Cuban family. I am so glad and proud to belong to it. I love you all.
Happy birthday. And may we celebrate the next one in a free Cuba.
A cortar el keik ! Y a romper la piñata!