(Translation of printed material, original text to be added soon)

“To be honest, Capitán, I’m here because I would like to get my bicycle back,” I replied.

“Nothing will prevent that, my dear,” he declared paternally. “But we Cubans have the privilege of being able to offer a qualified political assessment of many matters. I don’t know whether you saw the great speech of our comrade and leader the night before last.”

“I was at my grandmother’s place. She lives out by the power station and doesn’t have a TV,” I said.

He didn’t let himself be put off.

“Fidel spoke of the New Man which this society urgently needs. That means everybody. It doesn’t matter if one has contacts with foreigners or not. This New Man ensures the progress, the survival of all of us.” As I said nothing in response, he slid back in his chair and went on, smiling arrogantly, “Otherwise we’d still believe today that the earth revolves around the sun.”

“But it does!” I said.

He shot forward, grabbed his ballpoint and asked, “Who says that?”

“We learned that in school,” I answered. He scribbled something in the report.

I remembered how, in second grade, we had to play sun, moon and Earth. The fattest kid in my class was always the lazy sun, which just stood there and grinned. Our best girl athlete was the Earth which raced around the sun. I was the smallest. For that reason, I was the unimpressive moon that had to turn around the racing earth. How many times did I collide with the stupid cow! Capitán Alberto dragged me out of my reminiscences. “Name of the school?” he asked loudly.

“Antonio Maceo.”

“The bronze Titan did not deserve that,” he mumbled pityingly. “On the other hand, one doesn’t know what professional and personal problems the woman had in the light of the American blockade.”

“Which woman?” I asked.

“Your teacher!”

“But he was a male teacher!”

“Name?” demanded Capitán Alberto.

“Sorry, I’ve forgotten. It was so long ago,” I answered.