Former Cuban political prisoner Ariel Sigler Amaya will fly to Miami on Wednesday, July 28, to receive needed medical care, according to Radio Martí, citing an AFP report.

Reports Juan O. Tamayo on the Lexington [Kentucky] Herald Leader:

By JUAN O. TAMAYO - McClatchy Newspapers


MIAMI -- Statements by two top Cuban and Spanish officials Wednesday that Havana will free all its political prisoners - not just the 52 already promised their freedom - have raised the question of just how many political prisoners the island has.

Spanish Foreign Minister Miguel Angel Moratinos told the lower chamber of the Spanish parliament that the Raul Castro government has taken "the decision to free all, all political prisoners.

The AFP news agency quoted the president of Cuba's National Assembly, Ricardo Alarcon, as saying in an interview that "the desire of the Cuban government is to free all ... who do not bear responsibility for the deaths of other persons."

The additional releases have not been confirmed by the Cuban Catholic Church, which announced July 7 that Havana had promised to free 52 prisoners as a result of talks with Castro and Moratinos. Orlando Marquez, spokesman for the Havana archbishop's office, could not immediately be reached for comment on the Moratinos and Alarcon statements.

Havana's leading human rights activist, Elizardo Sanchez, said the "stature of these two politicians is so high that one could believe that it's true."

But he cautioned: "This presumes that the Cuban government has a minimum of political will to do this."

Just as uncertain is how many prisoners would benefit from the broader release, because exactly who is a political prisoner in Cuba varies greatly depending on who's counting.

London-based Amnesty International, which has strict guidelines for designating "prisoners of conscience," reported earlier this year that Cuba held 53, accused of crimes such as "enemy propaganda" or collaborating with foreign governments and groups.

But Human Rights Watch, based in New York City, says many dissidents are jailed on charges that are not technically political. Dissident Darsi Ferrer, for example, was arrested last year for possession of two sacks of cement allegedly bought on the black market.

Sanchez's Cuban Human Rights and National Reconciliation Commission counted 167 political prisoners just days before the church announced the planned release of the 52 - the last still jailed among 75 dissidents rounded up in 2003 and sentenced to long prison terms.

Of those on Sanchez's list, 10 are free because of ill health, but he still counts them because they could be sent back to prison any time. Another four were released in recent weeks after completing their sentences, leaving a total of 101.

Ninety-nine of those were not accused of violent crimes, Sanchez said in a telephone interview from Havana, and therefore should be released under Alarcon's criterion.

By Carlos Alberto Montaner
http://www.firmaspress.com/


MADRID Unexpectedly, the guard, in a voice less harsh than usual, said to him: "Paneque, leave your cell to take a phone call."

José Luis García Paneque, 44, is a doctor, a plastic surgeon specializing in burn injuries, a family man with several young children, talkative and intelligent like a good imp. In March 2003, during the so-called "Black Spring in Havana," he was arrested and summarily sentenced to 15 years in prison.

His crime? Like the rest of the 75 detainees during that repressive orgy, he wrote chronicles about the Cuban reality in foreign newspapers (because he wasn't allowed to do so in the government-fettered press), lent forbidden books, wanted and asked for democracy for his country and was a devout Catholic. In other words, the living portrait of a dangerous enemy of the people and an agent of Yankee imperialism.

The call came from Cardinal Jaime Ortega. Amiably, the prelate asked him if he wished to be released and sent to Spain. There were no humiliating conditions. Neither would Paneque have accepted them nor would Ortega have proposed them. Paneque answered Yes. Somehow, the democratic opposition had won the game, and the dictatorship was beginning to get rid of the prisoners of conscience.

Besides, Paneque trusted his church. The priests and bishops had not abandoned him when he was arrested. They helped his family and looked after him when they discovered that he was dying of the infectious diseases contracted in the filthy cells.

His immunological system no longer fought off the intestinal parasites, the medicines had lost their effectiveness and he gradually became malnourished. He looked like one of the prisoners in the Nazi concentration camps. Besides him, two other captives, Normando Hernández González and Ariel Sigler Amaya, suffered variations of the same chronic and incurable illness.

Of the three, Sigler, who was the strongest when they walked into prison, an almost-200-pound athlete, is in the worst condition: invalid, thin as a rail, in a wheelchair and incapable of even holding his head up without a neck brace. He's still in Havana because the Cuban government cruelly denies him an exit permit, even though he has a U.S. visa.

I went over to embrace the prisoners, who had just arrived in Spain. It was a very emotional moment. It is impossible to hold back the tears. One hides them, because of that awful curse that "men don't cry.'' But the eyes usually do their own thing.

Normando's mother, Blanca González, who had just arrived from Miami, hugged her son with the intense love of someone who had given birth to him for the second time. Andrés Ely Blanco, the great popular Venezuelan poet, perceptively stated it many decades ago: There is no happier day than the day the prisoners are freed.

I had seen Blanca shout at a hundred demonstrations, invoking Normando's name and waving his picture. To see him alive again was her wish when she went to bed and when she rose every single day. His cause encouraged her to continue breathing amid so much pain and so many sad reports that flew from the prison cells, like ravens, to warn her that Normando would die soon if he was not rescued.

The prisoners were housed in a modest hostel in Vallecas, an industrial neighborhood near Madrid. That's understandable. Spain, which has extended a generous hand amid a crisis, does not have funds to dispense charity profusely. The prisoners have arrived with their relatives, and the final bill could be high for any of the underbudgeted state institutions. Maybe there was also the objective of isolating them so the media hoopla could be kept down. The Zapatero government does not want this operation to become a broadside against the dictatorship.

But it won't accomplish that. These men -- for now, Paneque and Normando, Léster González, Antonio Villarreal, Pablo Pacheco, Julio César Gálvez, Omar Ruiz, Ricardo González -- are willing to die to defend their right to say what they think.

If they weren't silenced by the blows, the hunger and the caging in terrible prisons, who can even think of muzzling them now that they've gained freedom? They came to exercise their throats and will not keep quiet.

By Michael C. Moynihan

The sinister dictators of Cuba, Fidel and Raul Castro, are getting a fair amount of good press for releasing a handful of political prisoners that committed no crime. A few things to keep in mind, for those celebrating the great “humanitarian gesture”—the one designed to head off Western criticism following the death of hunger strikers. The prisoners, all jailed for "political offenses," were allowed to leave prison provided they left Cuba—the cause for which they have risked their lives—and relocated to Spain. 11 prisoners were released to Spanish authorities, though many others refused to surrender their citizenship in exchange for their freedom. At a press conference in Spain, a small group of recently arrived dissidents urged the European Union to keep pressure on Cuba, noting that “their release was not a gesture of good faith but ‘a desperate action’ by the Cuban government.”

So how were conditions in Cuban prisons? According to this [expletive] at Harvard Law School's Criminal Justice Institute, the Cuban prison system is "far more humane than Western propaganda would have the uninformed public believe," nor do those lucky enough to be incarcerated "have to pay for their education, medical, dental or hospital care, or any other activities they experience." Imagine not having to fork over your $18 monthly salary for "activities" like beatings and the bi-weekly rotten food buffet!

In an interview with Bloomberg, recently-released prisoner Normando Hernandez Gonzalez explained what was wrong with all of this "Western propaganda" about prison conditions:

“The first month I spent in jail, I only ate eight times because the food they gave us was subhuman and so rotten that if you offered it to a dog, he’d turn away. For refusing to wear prison overalls, I was sent to a dark cell for 101 days without seeing the light of day. There wasn’t a single inch of my skin that wasn’t covered in septic mosquito bites. I was forced to sleep on the concrete floor with rats and cockroaches crawling over me.”

Incidentally, Gonzalez was sentenced to 25 years in prison for his association with the Camagüey College of Independent Journalists.

Miami Herald columnist Andreas Oppenheimer pooh-poohs talk of a “new era” from Cubans held hostage by the Castro brothers:

…[M]ost important, the Cuban regime is not even talking about modifying articles 72 and 73 of its criminal code, an Orwellian legislation that allows it to put people behind bars before they committed a crime on the mere suspicion that they may commit one in the future.

Nor is the regime ready to consider changing its law 88, which allows it to imprison people for writing anything that can be interpreted as critical of the government, or its various laws banning freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom to travel within the country or abroad, independent unions, and political parties.

When I asked José Miguel Vivanco, head of the Human Rights Watch advocacy group's Americas department, whether Cuba's latest announcement amounts to a "new phase" in Cuba, he said: "We are obviously very happy for the prisoners and their families, but I am not going to congratulate a government for imprisoning people that shouldn't have been imprisoned in the first place."

Radio Marti informs [in Spanish] that after yesterday's assault, and subsequent phone call from Cuban Cardinal and La Habana's Archbishop Jaime Ortega, the regime has finally given Ariel Sigler Amaya the Permit needed to leave Cuba for the US so that he can receive medical attention. Ariel's wife, Noelia, explained to Radio Martí that Ortega had called to tell her that he had personally interceded with the authorities for Ariel, and that they would be contacting her soon to confirm. They called her today. She stated that despite the outcome, she was not happy given "the high price that must be paid in Cuba to be able to leave the country."

More with audio [in Spanish] at the link.

AP informs from La Habana:

HAVANA — U.S. diplomats in Havana have told relatives of jailed Cuban dissidents that it will be more difficult for them to apply for asylum in America if they first accept a Church-brokered deal to trade jail for exile in Spain.

The meetings, confirmed by the family members of six imprisoned dissidents, come at a delicate time and could complicate releases of some 52 activists, journalists and opposition leaders arrested in a 2003 crackdown.

Under a deal brokered by Havana Cardinal Jaime Ortega earlier this month, Cuba has already freed 11 political prisoners and flown them to Madrid. Nine others have accepted the offer and are expected to arrive in coming days.

The rest of the jailed dissidents have either refused to go, or have not yet been contacted by Roman Catholic church officials. The church has said exile in Spain is an "option," but has not specified what will happen to those who refuse to leave the country.

The family members of several dissidents who have not yet accepted Spanish asylum met Tuesday with officials at the U.S. Interests Section, which Washington maintains in Havana instead of an embassy. Other family members are expected to visit the Interests Section in coming days.

After the meetings, the relatives told The Associated Press they were informed they would not be allowed to apply for asylum in the United States from Spain, but could petition for residence like any other would-be immigrant.

"We came here thinking they would give us some option (of applying for asylum from Spain), but they won't," said Sofia Garcia, whose husband, Jose Miguel Martinez, has been serving a 13-year sentence for treason.

She said she was told that if the family goes to Spain they would have to apply for residence in the United States through regular channels, a process that can take years and usually requires a sponsor.

Teresita Galvan, whose brother Miguel Galvan is serving a 26-year term, said she left the meeting under the impression that by accepting the deal to go to Spain, her family would give up its right to later claim asylum in the United States.

It means a stark choice for some of the dissidents, many of whom have family in the United States: Stay in Cuba and try to win U.S. asylum, or leave immediately for Spain and take themselves out of consideration.

Gloria Berbena, a spokeswoman at the Interests Section, confirmed that individual meetings were taking place to answer questions the family members might have about seeking asylum.

Berbena said the Cubans were being informed that any asylum applications from Spain would be handled differently from those made inside Cuba.

"The process is different depending on where you apply from," she said.

Cubans applying for asylum in the United States can claim that they face persecution or danger if they remain in the country, something that would be harder to do if they have already fled to a friendly country.

When asked if American diplomats were advising the prisoners not to accept Spanish asylum, Berbena said only: "We believe that Cubans should be free to make their own decisions."

Cuban political prisoner Efrén Fernández Fernández started a hunger strike late last week to protest his transfer from a medical facility back to prison, according to Oswaldo Payá, head of the Christian Liberation Movement (MCL)[in Spanish].

Fernández, an MCL activist imprisoned since the "black spring" crackdown of 2003, had been receiving treatment for skin and intestinal problems no doubt brought on by and/or aggravated by his more than seven years in the Castro gulag. He is demanding that he be given the care he needs.

Fernández is serving a 12-year sentence, but the Catholic Church in Cuba has said he is one of 52 prisoners set to be released under a deal negotiated by the church, the Spanish government and the Castro dictatorship.

Today, we have surpassed the 52, 000 signatures in support of our Declaration for the Freedom of All Cuban Political Prisoners. Their official delivery will begin this Thursday at Cuban embassies and consulates around the world.

Among the most recent signatories are Uruguayan journalist Julia Rodríguez Larreta, Cuban plastic artists Omar Santana and Arturo Cuenca, Italian filmmaker Pierantonio Maria Micciarelli, Cuban actors Orlando Casín and Roberto San Martín and academician Beatriz Bernal Gómez, Venezuelan writers Freddy Siso Rivas and Joaquín Marta Sosa, Mexican journalist and author Martha Robles, French painter Rémi Champseit, Cuban-American author Pablo Medina, Colombian poet Sergio Esteban Vélez, Cuban writer Juan Abreu, writers and politicians Percival Puggina from Brazil and Miguel Angel Llauger from Spain. To all of them, and to all of you who have signed, thank you.

Radio Netherlands reports:

Cuba is prepared to set free more political prisoners than the 52 whose release was announced earlier this month. Those who are freed may, if they wish, remain in the country. The announcement was made by Ricardo Alarcón, the President of the Cuban parliament, on Tuesday.

The Cuban regime decided, earlier in July and after mediation by the Roman Catholic Church, to release 52 opponents of the country’s government. The 52 belonged to a group of 75 individuals sentenced in 2003 to terms in jail of between six and 28 years. According to figures from Cuban dissidents, there would still be 115 political prisoners in Cuba following the release of the 52.

At least 11 dissidents have already emigrated to Spain. Nine others will depart later this week. Those who agreed to go into exile in Spain were the first to be set free. Church officials have stressed that emigrating from Cuba was an offer, not a condition for the release

It is part of the biggest release of political prisoners since 1998, when 300 dissidents were spared jail time following a visit by then-pope John Paul II.

Radio Martí informs [in Spanish] that Ariel Sigler Amaya has been beaten and detained at the Immigration and Naturalization Offices in the city of Matanzas. He had staged a protest, as he had promised, because the regime refuses to give him the exit permit needed to receive medical attention in the U.S.

Other sources inform through Twitter from Cuba that he is still being held in the municipality of Pedro Betancourt

Agence France Press reports:

HAVANA — The US diplomatic mission in Cuba has convened a meeting here with relatives of political prisoners who are refusing an offer to leave and emigrate to Spain, wives of the jailed dissidents told AFP.

Representatives of the Roman Catholic church and the Spanish embassy were also to attend the 1:00 pm (1700 GMT) meeting with officials from US consular services and the mission's refugee section, they said.

"All we know is that they have invited a representative of each prisoner who has not been contacted by the church or who have refused to travel to Spain," said Laura Pollan, the head of the Ladies in White, a group of wives of political prisoners.

So far, 11 political prisoners have emigrated to Spain and another nine were expected to arrive in Madrid this week as part of Cuba's biggest release of political prisoners in over a decade.

By RICARDO GONZÁLEZ ALFONSO
Madrid

I NEVER imagined I would be born at the age of 60, at an altitude of several thousand feet above the Atlantic. That isn’t gibberish; it’s what I felt when I was released from jail in Cuba and exiled to Spain last Monday.

My debut as a prisoner of conscience came early in 2003, a period subsequently characterized by the world’s press as the Black Spring. I was just one of 75 Cubans imprisoned for our belief that freedom is an achievable miracle and not a crime against the state.

They say prison is a school, and it’s true. I did my best to be a good student and kept back my tears. I succeeded so well that my prison companions still think me a brave man.

Within a few months I could find my way pretty well around the labyrinths of shipwrecked souls. I learned the secrets and legends of killers for hire, crimes of passion, traffickers in illicit powdery substances, would-be emigrants whose clandestine departures had been no secret to the state — even thieves who’d share their teaspoon of sugar on days of hunger.

Zoology was one class we had every day. I learned to live with rats, and even came, on certain nights of our tropical winter (which is winter, nevertheless) to stare at them with an urgency not unlike what people call appetite. I was a solitary friend to the deft spiders that sometimes freed me from the torturous buzzings and blood-shedding bites that accompanied my insomnia.

I became well versed in cosmic solitude and silence. I remember being in a cell no wider than a man with outstretched arms. I also grew familiar with fetid overcrowding and unceasing clamor. Months of unending darkness, months of eternal light.

I was only an auditor in certain courses, in which I learned that some prisoners were specializing in self-injury as a crude solution to their despair. I was witness to mutilated hands and other wounds as mortal or venial as sins. A man cut off his own penis and testicles in a desperate attempt to become a woman. Others, more radical and exhausted by perpetual existential tumult, turned to various methods of suicide, all of them extremely effective.

A large part of the program of study consisted in the defense of one’s rights. There was no theoretical option, only the very Cuban practice of the hunger strike. I carried one out for 16 days, until part of my will felt satisfied with my victory. That long and voluntary fast vindicated the enforced daily fast of imprisonment.

As in any school, there were periods of leisure. Packs of cigarettes were wagered on the outcome of chess matches, card games or soccer contests. I knew sellers and buyers of recreational drugs who were very good at evading or bribing both prison guards and informer inmates.

There was no lack of expertise in armed aggression. Pitiful, decaying knives that were nevertheless sharp-edged and skillfully wielded left trails of blood and rage behind them. (But I never signed up for that class.)

I’ve always had an aptitude for subjects that have to do with dreams, and I dreamed of my wife and children with such fervor that I know they felt my caresses as they lay asleep.

I was almost an exemplary student, and received only one failing grade: in hatred. Despite certain zones of memory, I bear no rancor against my jailers.

And now, after this senescent birth of mine, I’m contemplating the future with all the hope of the newly unveiled. Ever the optimist, I even dream of returning to a Cuba where freedom is not an impossible illusion. I know that, in the next 60 years, I won’t have to be reborn again.


Ricardo González Alfonso is a journalist. This article was translated by Esther Allen from the Spanish.

By María Elena Salinas

For those of us who live in a free society, it’s difficult to imagine what it’s like to survive in a place where expressing your views and asking that your rights as a human being be respected could land you in jail. But that’s what life is like in Cuba. Throughout the years, the communist regime of the Castro brothers has put hundreds of dissidents behind bars.

In a twist of fate, or political maneuvering, 52 prisoners of conscience are being set free, allowed to leave the country with their family members if they so choose. Many of them accepted the offer to begin their exile in Spain.

Among the first nine to arrive in Madrid was Normando Hernandez. He traveled there with his wife and young daughter and was greeted by his mother, Blanca Gonzalez, who traveled to Spain from her own exile in Miami to greet him. I spoke to Normando by phone shortly after. “I feel a lot of sadness and nostalgia,” he told me. “It broke my heart to see my mother crying when she saw the frail condition I am in.”

It was for him a bittersweet moment. Although happy to be a free man and once again reunited with his mother after eight years, it pains him to think of what he left behind. “I left not only family members behind, but also my people, my brothers in the cause who are living their life in slow motion in Cuban jails in deplorable conditions and with the uncertainty of what will become of them.”

When they arrived in Spain, the freed prisoners were taken to a modest hotel in an industrial area in the outskirts of Madrid, where conditions were not quite what one might expect to find in a First World country. No TV sets, the rooms have metal lockers to store clothes, and guests have to share a bathroom. Yet, they could not complain. This was heaven compared with the conditions in a Cuban jail.

Hernandez worked as a writer and independent journalist in Cuba. He was sentenced to 25 years behind bars for reporting on the conditions of state-run services and criticizing the government. According to PEN American Center, a literary and human-rights organization, during his time behind bars he was transferred several times from one prison to another, held in solitary confinement with only four hours of sunlight a week. He was forced to share a tiny cell with insects, rodents and mentally unstable prisoners. He was given polluted water and inadequate food, and was offered only basic medical services. While in captivity, he contracted several illnesses.

The release of the 52 prisoners from Cuban jails is officially the result of the Catholic Church on the island and the government of Spain negotiating with Cuban authorities, but almost certainly was influenced by the bravery of ordinary Cubans who decided to go from oppressed observers to silent protesters, a silence so strong it reverberated in the highest levels of the Cuban hierarchy.

The pressure was on when international public opinion began to shift against the Castro regime as images of the “Ladies in White,” mothers and wives of political prisoners, being harassed by pro-government mobs during their Sunday vigils were broadcast around the world. The death of Cuban dissident Orlando Zapata in February, following an 85-day hunger strike, motivated independent journalist Guillermo Farinas to start his own hunger strike until prisoners who were gravely ill were allowed back home with their families and given proper medical attention. Shortly after the announcement of the release of the political prisoners in Cuba, Farinas, virtually on his deathbed, ended his 130-day hunger strike.

The release of these men is one of the most significant signs coming from the communist island of what could be the appearance of loosening up its tight reign. Critics of the Cuban regime think it’s just a public-relations stunt. The Cuban government has never admitted that there are political prisoners in Cuba, but according to human-rights groups, there are still dozens of prisoners of conscience behind bars.

For his part, Normando Hernandez will begin a new life in Spain, hoping eventually to live his exile in Miami. But his struggle to free Cuba will remain the same: “Whatever it takes to free my people, I will do, as a journalist, as a defender of human rights, in any capacity, but I will do it in a peaceful way.”

From AP:

GENEVA — The U.N. secretary-general says Cuba should build on its release of at least 20 dissidents by doing more to improve human rights.

Ban Ki-moon welcomed last week's transfer of 11 Cuban prisoners to Spain. Nine more are expected to arrive Tuesday, along with around 50 of their relatives.

Speaking in Geneva, Ban said Monday that he has closely followed the developments. He called them "encouraging."

But he said the U.N. still expects "more reconciliatory measures taken by Cuban authorities, establishing the rule of law and respecting human rights."

Cuba is committed to releasing 52 imprisoned dissidents under a deal with the Spanish government and Catholic Church.

MADRID — Spain's Foreign Minister says nine more Cuban political prisoners will fly to freedom in Madrid this week along with around 50 of their relatives.
Miguel Angel Moratinos says the freed dissidents would arrive Tuesday to join 11 others recently released and now in Spain.

The liberation of 20 Cuban dissidents to Spain is part of a commitment made by the Castro regime to release 52 opponents imprisoned since 2003 under an agreement reached with the Spanish government and Catholic Church. Moratinos did not identify the prisoners but said all were traveling of their own free will. He asked that Spaniards and Cubans show understanding.

Moratinos was speaking during a visit to Kazakhstan in an interview broadcast on Cadena Ser's website Sunday.

The Miami Herald publishes today an extensive report by Fabiola Santiago on the Cuban political prisoners exiled to Spain:

11 Cuban prisoners, expatriated to Spain, are weary, ailing, defiant and free
After years in windowless cells, they find themselves reunited with family but deprived of their homeland.

BY FABIOLA SANTIAGO
FSANTIAGO@MIAMIHERALD.COM

MADRID -- Packed into a hostel named Welcome that advertises lodging for about $18 a night -- the same as a cab ride to this industrial hub 10 miles away from the city center -- the 11 freed Cuban prisoners who arrived this week with their families face an uncertain future in a country reeling from economic woes.

The ex-prisoners are not euphoric, as one might expect newly freed men to be, and despite the crisp white shirt, dress slacks, leather shoes and striped tie with which the Cuban government put them on a plane to the Spanish capital, the men look weathered by their whirlwind transatlantic flight and seven years of incarceration in windowless cells alongside common prisoners.

"I can't enjoy anything. I can't feel free as long as there is a political prisoner in Cuba. How can I be happy with all I left behind?'' asks Mijail Barzaga Lugo, 43, who served time in four different prisons for filing news reports about life in Cuba to CubaNet and Radio Martí.

Barzaga and the others are part of a group of 75 independent journalists and peaceful dissidents jailed in the massive crackdown of 2003 known as the Black Spring. These 11 freed prisoners are the first of 52 scheduled to be released and expatriated to Spain in the next four months under an agreement negotiated by the Spanish government and the island's highest-ranking Catholic, Cardinal Jaime Ortega. Two others from the group of 75 -- the poet and columnist Raul Rivero, released in 2005, and Alejandro Gonzalez Raga, released in 2008 -- also were resettled here.

Besides Barzaga, those who arrived between Tuesday and Thursday were Ricardo Gonzalez Alfonso, Lester Gonzalez, Omar Ruiz, Antonio Villareal, Julio Cesar Galvez, Jose Luis Garcia Paneque, Pablo Pacheco, Omar Rodriguez Saludes, Normando Hernandez Gonzalez, and Luis Milan. All were accompanied by family members, some of them members of the support group Ladies in White, who marched every Sunday in Havana to demand the prisoners' freedom.