It was almost pitiful.
If it weren't for the damage he has caused to the country, as the president appointed by the Castro elite since 2018…
If it weren't for the abusive energy that issued the disastrous "combat order" for the armed people to strike against the defenseless people on that July 11, 2021…
If it weren't for the fact that he has ratified and defended with his own hand every new repressive measure, every new ploy of power in Cuba to continue humiliating the poor in an environment without the slightest democratic guarantee…
If it weren't for all that, of course, the Miguel Díaz-Canel of this March 13, 2026, would have been pitiful.
Haggard. Thin. Wavering. With his typical unsteady gait. The shirt swaying, as if it had been borrowed from Prime Minister Manuel Marrero, as some jokingly remarked on social media. Forgetting the last name of his "friend," the President of Mexico. Calling "Landy" to Randy, one of his most diligent aides. Stammering, with sunken eyes set above pronounced cheekbones. And a scalp showing signs of neglect.
Almost on the verge of tears, like children when they feel they can’t cope with something. Thus, unarmed, he appeared at the "appearance" (which was not a real dialogue, with real press, because neither of those things existed).
And in what he said, in the tone in which he said it, and above all, in what he could not even articulate, there was a sense of helplessness that occasionally urged one to calm him down. Don't worry, Canelito, nothing is wrong, everything will be fine, grandpa Raúl will help you get out of this mess before uncle Sam gets upset, that is, uncle Trump.
On the other side, in the audience, many seemed to share the same heaviness. Arleen, without the flattery-laden jokes she usually tells, hurriedly announcing each new "question" and praying they wouldn’t see on their watches that the "live" meeting was being recorded. Legañoa, in a quiet and condescending tone, inquiring about the conversations with the United States government that he himself had defined just days earlier on national television as non-existent, as “malicious schemes” of the enemy. The silent majority, taciturn, showing little “creative resistance” or “revolutionary energy” in the choreography of the president who claims to be dialoguing while they prepare topic questions for the last-minute power point he was given.
But there was someone, almost at the back, whose gaze, with its arrogant calmness, inspired something else. A different level. Another kind of support.
People in Cuba already know him. In the age of social media, when information spreads quickly, his name and profile are the talk of Liborio, and even public figures make jokes about him.
Body of a bodyguard and a henchman's gaze. Thick profile, yet with defined angles and muscles. The eyes sink into a sinister focus. Sturdy gestures illustrate that even when sharing a secret, clumsiness shines through; but he lives like that, unapologetically, in the "mailof" style, because in the Royal House, dropping a glass or giving a slap isn't considered a serious offense.
There, matonic and expressionless, was The Crab. Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro. The chief of Raúl Castro's bodyguard, but without Raúl. In other words, a bodyguard out of his "bodyguard" element.
The same lieutenant colonel or colonel from Minint, who had also “mysteriously” appeared in reports of Canel's meeting with the top party, state, and ministerial leadership where it was mentioned what everyone was talking about: that there are negotiations with the United States to resolve “bilateral differences.”
That character, who does not belong to any formal structure of power on the Island, but carries the surname and the determination of his grandfather, as well as the ambition and calculation, apparently, of his father, the late General Luis Alberto Rodríguez López-Callejas, head of the military holding GAESA, ruler of the Cuban economy.
That same person who, according to reports from reputable media, has met with part of Marco Rubio's team, the Secretary of State of the United States; who comes in and out of Cuba on private jets for business dealings; and who lives, like the Castro communist elite, without the hardships of the suffocating overpopulation in Cuba.
That reverend young man looked at Canelo with the calm authority of a teacher giving a test. Let's see what you're going to say. Go on, you can do it. But don’t get it wrong; remember, this is evaluative.
And like an image, as the people know and repeat, sometimes it's worth more than a thousand words; from "the appearance," we are left with the vision of both faces, the temperature of both expressions. Even though El Cangrejo has barely appeared for fleeting moments, it has indeed been with total clarity.
Who really holds power in the country? How many more shaky appearances does Canelo have left? Will they continue instructing cameramen to emphasize the lineage of the country's owners in public events? Will the Castro family's script include a more prominent role for the Nietísimo?
How much will the teeth of this empowered crustacean actually cover?
Questions. Questions. Let’s not miss the next episode. The passion is just beginning.
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