Preparing for freedom

We offer you a translation of the article of Cuban journalist Ricardo González Alfonso, who spent the last 7 years in prison in Cuba. According to the agreement between the Cuban government and the Catholic Church, last week, Alphonse, along with 50 other political prisoners and their home, was released and taken to Spain. Published in today's edition of the International Herald Tribune English-language translation of the article Alfonso, who was originally written in Spanish, is titled "Schooled for freedom".

I never thought that narazhusya at the age of 60 years at an altitude of several thousand feet above the Atlantic. It's not nonsense: just so I felt like when I was released from prison in Cuba and the last Monday deported to Spain, along with other Cuban dissidents.

My debut as a prisoner of conscience occurred in the first half of 2003, during the time that the world press has called the "Black Spring". I was just one of 75 Cubans, who was jailed for our belief that freedom — is a miracle that it does happen, and that it is not a crime against the state.

It is said that the prison — a school. This is true. I did my best to be a good student, and I tried not to cry. I have been so successful that my friends think I'm more courageous person.

After several months in prison, I have found a very good way to

It is said that the prison — a school. This is true.

labyrinths shower, crash victims in the living sea. I learned the secrets and legends of assassins, assassins able afektu, traders illegal powdered substances, carried out by immigrants, whose elopement were no secret to the state, and even thieves, who shared a spoon of sugar in the hungry days.

Zoology lessons we had daily. I have learned to live with rats and came to the point that in some nights of our tropical winter (tropical, but still winter), I looked at them with a sense very similar to the one people call hunt to eat. I was lonely friends nimble spiders that sometimes freed me from the painful and bloody bite buzz satellites my insomnia. I learned well the loneliness and silence of space. I recall no more than the length of the cubby outstretched hand in hand. I am also familiar stench of overcrowded cell and a non-stop pandemonium in it. Months of endless darkness, months of eternal light.

In some lessons I was just a listener and observer, to which some prisoners were practicing samakalechanni so rude way his despair seeking a way out. I saw the mutilated hands and other injuries, deaths and minor as a sin. A man cut off his penis and testicles in a desperate attempt to become a woman. Other, more radical and exhausted existential romp, addressed to various methods of suicide, all of which were extremely effective.

Plenty of space in the curriculum given to protect their rights. There was no theoretical choices, and could only practice a radical Cuban hunger strike.

I learned well the loneliness and silence of space.

I kept one for 16 days until my part will not feel the satisfaction of victory. That long and voluntary post rehabilitated forced to sign the daily post. Me too abused as much on each other a prisoner of conscience, but not anymore when I secretly wrote a collection of poems under the title wayward "People without faces."

As a school, we have also had periods of rest. We laid on a pack of cigarettes, arguing about the result of a game of chess, card games or football tournament. I knew the buyers and sellers of recreational drug use is a very well managed to deceive the vigilance of prison guards and informers or bribe them.

There was no lack of experts in the subject of armed aggression. Zhalyugodnyya rusted knives are sharpened and given a deft hand, signified his way with blood and fury of the wounded. (I, however, never dropped in on this subject.)

I've always had a talent for dreaming, and I caressed his wife and children in dreams is so incendiary that they are, I'm sure it felt during my sleep.

I was almost a model student and

I do not feel hatred.

received a failing grade in one subject: hatred. Despite some of my memories, I do not feel hatred towards those who have panyavoliv.

And now, thereafter his old birthday, I look to the future with hope newfound rights. As an optimist old, I even Mroyu to return to Cuba, for which freedom is not an empty dream. I I know that through the next 60 years, I do not need a new birth.

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