You know how it goes. Usually when the foreign media interviews a Cuban “man-on-the-street” about conditions, they always add: “Fulano didn’t want to give his name?” Or “Mengano didn’t want to give his real name or his full name?”
Well, here’s one Cuban “man on the street” who proudly gave even his middle name. Just maybe what he said for publication by NPR had something to do with his lack of fear of retribution by the Stalinist regime? To wit:
Every morning, Manuel Landin Rodriguez walks past the luxurious state-owned Xanadu Mansion hotel and crosses its neatly trimmed golf course all the way to its edge. He camps out on the cliff overlooking the turquoise Caribbean waters that make the resort town of Varadero on Cuba’s northern coast so famous.
Landin, a retired physical education teacher, comes to the spot to fish. When we meet him on the cliffs, he’s trying to catch mojarras — small silver fish that hang out in the shallow waters to avoid sharks — which he will use to feed his family of five.
“I was born in 1947, under capitalism,” Landin says. “(Cuba) used to be a pot of crickets. It was the saddest place on earth.”
He wants to be sure we understand how Cuba was before the revolution.
“Have you been to Haiti? That’s what Cuba used to look like. A few people were rich, and everyone else was starving.“
From NPR’s intro page:
“Great storytelling and rigorous reporting. These are the passions that fuel us (here at NPR)…But always we dig, question, examine and explore. We never settle for obvious answers and predictable stereotypes. We look to connect history and culture to breaking news.”
Exactly how much “digging” would have been required by the NPR reporter to correct this “rigorous” bit of “reporting?” Exactly how much “questioning” and “examination” would have been required to obliterate one of the most grotesque lies of the century?