In an episode worthy of "revolutionary science fiction," the governor of Holguín, Manuel Francisco Hernández Aguilera, appeared this Friday on the Mesa Redonda to confirm that in Cuba, reality is not measured in numbers or facts, but in propaganda, slogans, and voluntarist enthusiasm.
The hallucinogenic moment of the night began when the official journalist Randy Alonso Falcón —with that "sober professionalism" that has become his trademark, and which leads him to nod like the doggies on car dashboards— posed a question that he likely already had an answer for.
“What are the major challenges facing Holguín?”, asked the program director after the tedious interview with the governor. Without blinking (or breaking out of his patriotic trance), Hernández Aguilera revealed his secret weapon: a small jar that had been on the table all along, labeled with a propaganda slogan that showcased the “honor of Holguín.”
“Look, we even have the… the little jar… ‘honor holguinero’… ‘for a 26 in 25’… That's not a slogan, it's a conviction”, explained Hernández Aguilera to a stunned Alonso Falcón, whose usual nodding formed an unusual arc in response to the creativity of the government publicists from Holguín.
"The final product is... our people, that is to say, us. From this campaign, we have set goals and purposes, and it is not to constantly emulate other provinces. It is not for a singular act along the way; it is so that we can take on challenging tasks in the economic realm and advance the development of the province," declared the governor, losing all semblance of sanity in his rambling, nonsensical discourse.
In Holguín, propaganda, the calendar, and revolutionary arithmetic have their own laws. First comes May 1st, then July 26th... but in 2025, the local authorities are calling to "double the efforts to ensure that the territory hosts the central activities for July 26th."
Or something like that… who knows! The point is that, amidst little jars and epic phrases, the governor made it clear that the real end product isn't rice, electricity, or functioning hospitals, but "us," the people themselves, turned into the most refined raw material of revolutionary rhetoric. National pride, even in the absence of bread!
Not content with his brilliant theoretical presentation, Hernández Aguilera proudly highlighted the full capacity of the Calixto García Stadium at a "pre-event" for May Day. "There was tremendous enthusiasm today at the stadium. More than 10,000... committed to that Holguin honor," he celebrated, without anyone daring to ask how many were volunteers and how many were compelled to attend.
“More than 10,000… committed, revolutionaries… And we are going to fill the square on the first [of May]. Not the Plaza de la Revolución, but the rest of the squares,” the leader added, with increasingly dilated pupils.
The contents of Hernández Aguilera's "jarrita" had just begun to exude its most delirious aromas. In a new rush of excitement, the governor proudly announced a series of celebrations for the 99th birthday of the dictator Fidel Castro, whom he nostalgically referred to as "the leader."
"The second stage: August 13... 99 years of the commander and the call for the centenary... And this generation of this centenary, what better gift can we offer the leader?... We have made a commitment of 100 tasks for the 100th birthday of the leader... committed to the revolution, to continue advancing for the good that we all desire,” said Hernández Aguilera as Alonso Falcón reached an arithmetical-contemplative ecstasy.
Did the interviewer ask about the content of the tasks? Well, that doesn't matter much; what’s essential is the spirit: to do a lot, even if nothing gets resolved.
“And we feel a majority support from the people of Holguín. Majority amidst limitations, amidst calls, amidst issues, many of which we have not been able to resolve yet, and there are some where we’ve had that ‘Hey, this isn’t for now, now it’s this one!’”, the leader explained in a paroxysm provoked by his “revolutionary” governmental action.
The appearance ended as it began: in a flurry of empty phrases, vague promises, and blind faith in a future that always seems two political acts ahead. “These are the challenges we face in Holguín, and that is the dream of each one of us, every day: to go out and fight in order to preserve the achievements of our revolution,” concluded Hernández Aguilera
By then, Randy was already imagining pink elephants swirling in the studio, hunted with a jamón by none other than Castro and roasted on a spit by Manuel Marrero Cruz, while Miguel Díaz-Canel tuned his lyre to sing the epic of "continuity."
Indeed: the "Holguin honor" was preserved, inside a cup that, if not for gravity, would have flown away to flood the heart in "scrubby mode" of Lis Cuesta Peraza, that master of rhetoric in round tables and Swedish ones.
Meanwhile, the reality in Holguín —and throughout Cuba— remains stubbornly present, bare and without comfort, waiting to see if one day, among plenaries, slogans, and parades, someone remembers that there are also stomachs to fill, hospitals to repair, and lives to improve.
But hey, don't panic: as long as there is enthusiasm, little jars, and collective dreams, Cuba is saved. Or so they say on the Mesa Redonda. Or so they imagine.
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