03 · People
WORKING DRAFT · not sent · not a ballot box
Letter to Cubans
Cubans:
There is a table that is waiting. It is not made of marble. It is made of wood, the same as always, the one that still knows the weight of an elbow and the weight of an absence. On the island there are people who set an extra place out of habit. In exile there are people who keep a seat that no one takes. This letter does not come looking for someone to blame. It comes with love. It comes to say what we want to organize together so that the empty chair has a body again.
Cubans of the island. Cubans who left. Cubans who never left in their hearts. No one is surplus at this table. No one has to choose between their brother and their dignity. Unity is not all of us thinking the same. Unity is recognizing one another.
This framework is called ORGANIZAR CUBA. Put the house in order. Bring the family together. Hand over power. It takes office in 2027. It hands over in 2031. Four years to put in order what can be lived in, and give it back. The clock stays with no one. Whoever organizes, hands over. That is the cleanest promise that can be made to a people: we are not coming to stay. We are coming to leave a path.
Cubanos Unidos is not this government. It is the courtyard. It is a square, not a ballot box. There, the Cuban from here and the Cuban from there look at each other without a party card. There, no government is elected. There, people look together to see whether a fact exists —light or rice, with a place and a date— that a neighbor can go and check. The square is the embrace that becomes a craft.
We want simple things. The things of life. The things that touch the chest before they reach a speech.
We want light at home. Hours a mother can count on. The first light that matters is the one in the bedroom, the one in the kitchen, the one for the child doing homework.
We want food you can see on the table. Rice, root vegetables, a plate that is not an advertisement. For producing in Cuba to mean something again.
We want water in the tap. To cook, to bathe, so that the day does not begin at the water tank.
We want a roof that does not leak and a block where the tenement is not a threat. For home to be home again.
We want a doctor who can stay. Supplies, a shift, a hospital that opens. Cuban medicine switched on for the people, with pride.
We want to get there. To work. To the doctor. To see our own. A bus that keeps its word. A day that is not spent entirely waiting.
We want a wage that buys food. For whoever works to be paid in something that is worth something at the market. For effort to carry weight.
We want our brothers and sisters at home. Whoever left, able to come back. Whoever stayed, able to stay with joy. The embrace at the airport lasting longer than the paperwork. The recipe back in the kitchen. The dead named with love, not as a tally.
We want a clean neighborhood. A street where children play without fear of dengue. Dignity on every block. A name and a fact.
We want a trade that can be practiced in Cuba. For a young person to shine with a dream that does not begin at an airport. To be able to study, work, invent, love, fail and start again in their own land. For Cuban intelligence not to leave disguised as a farewell.
And we want an elderly person —the one who kept the house, the one who waited, the one who still knows everyone’s name— to be able to look at a grandchild and say: there is a path. I am not leaving you a fight. I am leaving you a country you can live in.
That is prosperity. It is not a slogan. It is brothers and sisters at home. Young people who shine without leaving. Old people proud to see a future.
We are not looking for blame. We are looking for company. A country is rebuilt when the living recognize one another and the absent fit at the table. Continuity is the continuity of families. The thread that is not cut. The surname spoken again in the same room.
Rebuilding with love is not softness. It is craft. Love without organization evaporates. Organization without love grows cold. That is why there is a clock, a deed, tables, a board and a handover. Vision is knowing what gets done first —light or rice, with a place and a date— and to whom power is returned at the end.
Cubans: this is the path. Put the house in order. Come together. Hand over. If there is an embrace, a craft and a clock that keeps its word, Cuba can once again be the place where brothers and sisters are at home.
We will all have the same guide. A board every Monday: light, food basket, medicine, payroll. We are not going to blame anyone. We are going to rebuild. How we will do it together →
Organize. Unite. Hand over power.
2027 takes office · 2031 hands over · single mandate
The mobile version is 9:16, large type, readable without pinching. The A4 is for a printer. The PDFs are in Spanish, which governs. Draft. Not sent.