Eduard Friesler, a Czech journalist, recalls the horror of witnessing one of the Castro regime’s “acts of repudiation” in today’s Miami Herald:
Haunting scene in Cuba
We’ve all watched the TV images as dictators and autocrats in the Middle East and North Africa sent their thugs to the streets to attack pro-democratic protestors. These images have brought back to my memory a scene I witnessed almost five years ago in Cuba. It still haunts me.
They gathered in front of Yamila Llanes Labrada’s house around noon. A vitriolic crowd dominated by the town’s elders. It was Saturday in the small town of Las Tunas in 2006, and it was very hot, with humidity on the rise. The oppressive weather made the situation even tenser. I had an unclear vision of what was coming.
Yamila and her four kids were, at that time, waiting for her husband, José Luis García Paneque, to come home from prison where he was serving 24 years for dissent. Never giving up, she often looked out the window hoping for his return. José Luis was arrested on March 18, 2003 as part of Fidel Castro’s crackdown on 75 members of the Cuban opposition.
I had talked with Yamila in her home the day before Castro’s people came. Yamila, a member of the anti-government movement Women in White ( Damas de Blanco), told me about the mob actions. When I gave her a puzzled look, she said: “A small crowd of people come to my door to verbally harass me. They call me many names. Bitch, worm, garbage, just to name a few. Come and see it with your own eyes.”
This was all too familiar to me. I came of age under communism in the former Czechoslovakia where the party leaders and their backers used to treat people who opposed the regime with hatred and disgust.
However, the mob scenes in Cuba were a new thing for me. I accepted Yamila’s suggestion to see it for myself. To be sure I could really witness everything, I found a hiding place in the bushes close enough to see the crowd, hoping not to be spotted. If Castro’s thugs were to see me inside the house, they would have “proof” that Yamila was “palling around with Western spies.” So to protect her and her children, I hid as I watched.
Everything started on a calm note, as if the people coming to Yamila’s house were getting together for a picnic. Two men were chatting while smoking cigarettes; an older woman was slowly waving a fan in front of her face. Then, a group of five came to join them. After a while, another six people showed up. Most of the people were well into their 70s. The oldest Cuban generation is the most loyal to Castro because his revolution is their whole life, and they are prepared to defend it.
I counted some 25 villagers gathered outside Yamila’s home. They started to shout nasty slurs almost as one. They called Yamila a slut, a terrorist, dirt. After a while, hysteria took hold. People were urging Yamila to leave the country and threatening her with prison. Some were stomping the ground forcefully. Pretty quickly, the scene got a bit hazy because the stomping mob stirred up the dusty road. Even in the haze, the mood became more intimidating. “This street belongs to Fidel,” a female voice suddenly cut the air sharply with this verbal assault. It was a high-pitched shriek that gave me a chill. I decided to retreat for my own security.
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