By Lien Estrada

HAVANA TIMES – On one occasion, I went to Banes, one of the municipalities farthest from the city of Holguín, where I live. Among the friends I had planned to see was a poet. I’ve had the good fortune to count many poets among my many friends. I always find them intelligent, kind, funny, friendly… They have those qualities that, whenever I encounter them in other people, make me feel grateful.

I don’t consider this municipality one of the poorest. There are others that are far more unfortunate: with less water, less electricity, less food, more heat, fewer opportunities, a greater desire to flee… But like most towns in eastern Cuba, life there is challenging. The poet and I met and, to my delight, greeted each other with the same joy as always. We asked each other how we were doing, what we were reading, and what we wanted to write about…

That was when he gave me one of those images that only poets can offer so effortlessly, without even thinking: “Remember, I have to draw water from a dry well (in order to write).” That thought hit me like a knockout punch in a boxing match. No count to get back into the fight. It took me out completely. I still don’t understand why it struck me so hard. Draw water from a dry well? I asked myself almost immediately. Can you draw water from where there is none? Can anyone do that?

My friend moved with his entire family to Havana. I know that he did indeed experience the miracle of drawing water from where there was none, many times. It’s easy to see where there is water and where there isn’t. But before leaving his hometown, he had the joy of receiving recognition from the AHS (Hermanos Saíz Association, of which he had been president for several years). He left behind an honest body of work worthy of being explored, a city poetry prize, and more than one literary project in his backpack. All of which fills me with pride and satisfaction.

I will always be indebted to him for the special moments we shared, for what he taught me about literature, for the books he recommended, for inviting me to the literary workshop he organized, and for his insightful views on art, politics, life…

And on those days when I wake up feeling like dust because of such adverse circumstances, when I want to create and ask myself: How can I do it? When I perceive everything in those brutal ways that reality can present itself on this experimental island: the lack of any prospect of finding a path toward a dignified future; the struggle to obtain even the basics; the double and triple mistreatment you have to endure to accomplish anything; those bureaucratic mechanisms of the State that seem designed to prevent you from achieving anything; the days that pass as you feel everything growing more tense…

Then I remember the saying: “You have to draw water from the dry well.” And I’m certain that many women and men on the island are performing this same miracle. Against all odds. Until the transformations that are possible finally take place. Because at some point, they have to. For better or worse, change is part of nature. Whether we believe it or not.

Read more from the diary of Lien Estrada here on Havana Times.