For Donald Trump -although he does not believe it himself- we are still terrorists.
With the stroke of a pen he has overturned what (now I am wondering, even more, with what intention) had been decided by his predecessor in the imperial chair: Mr. Joseph Robinette Biden.
The truth is that the joy with which the world -note that I do not say the whole world- welcomed the removal of Cuba from the humiliating list of countries that, according to the White House, sponsor terrorism, lasted less in the ether than a cake at the entrance of a school.
Personally, the fact that Trump overruled Joe Biden's decision does not surprise me in the least. It was, practically, to be expected. Perhaps sooner than some (even) imagined, but there it is, consummated, a kind of affront or mockery that reflects the tug-of-war of politics in a country that stands as a world paradigm of ethics, values, good manners, culture, human rights, respect for freedom, and a lover of progress.
The 47th U.S. President must base his announced, disrespectful and dangerous madness of taking over Greenland by any means (by agreement, tariffs, pressure, force), "recovering" the Panama Canal -which, as humanity knows, belongs to the Panamanians-; changing, at his whim, the name of the Gulf of Mexico to Gulf of America, among other aberrations fruit of an imagination that he intends to land, moor and space, with the power of his power.
But returning to the subject, according to him, we are and must continue to be terrorists.
I think I even understand him. He knows that -whether he is part of his "famous list" or not- he will continue to be terrified that Cuba has in its warm bosom a Latin American School of Medicine, where young people from the poorest parts of the planet are trained; that we send doctors to every nation in need of our help, that we continue to share in solidarity what even for ourselves is not enough, that our vaccines and medicines continue to have worldwide acceptance based on their proven scientific value and not on mechanisms of propaganda and communicational fanfare?
If terror is telling the truth to the empire, looking directly into its eagle eye; if terror is preferring to continue facing hardships in skin and stomach rather than submissively supporting the knees; if terror is generating on a global scale a sympathy, a recognition that is not only expressed in demonstrations at street level and public squares to demand the end of the blockade imposed by the United States against Cuba (whose maximum expression reaches its peak at the UN ballot boxes, year after year), then, obviously, this man cannot see us differently or from another point of view. He cannot.
Of course, we would have liked to have gone on without the status that his whim hung over us, and that he is now coining again, after rewinding the tape. But such a decision does not disturb our sleep. By the way, I remember a fragment of a song that says: "I don't remember it and if I don't remember it, it didn't happen". That one, as we heard a thousand times in the narration of the ball, forget it!
Our destiny is cast... only not by someone else's hand, but by our own: the one that wielded the mambí machete yesterday, the one that will cut the cane later, and the rifle that we will use only to defend ourselves against some new and never-ending imperial absurdity toward us, like the one that wants to take over the icy lands of Greenland.
