Being Catholic in Cuba, part 2

My cousin Yinet and I were selected to represent Joseph and Mary for a Christmas show at church. All we had to was carry a ceramic baby Jesus to the makeshift manger and stand there. The baby Jesus doll didn't look heavy, but when my underweight and malnourished hands got a hold of it, I almost dropped it. I didn't know much theology then, I was only 7 or 8, but I figured that dropping baby Jesus wasn't the best way to make a good impression.

All along while this was going on, many of the opposition leaders were meeting in the church. Cuba's opposition to the totalitarian communist regime has grown in the past couple of years, but back then, in the early 90s, it was nearly unheard of. Regardless, they were at the church, many of the important leaders sat at the front. Meanwhile, in the middle of the procession, about seven or eight guys came in through the church doors and just stood at the back. Although they weren't dressed as police officers, everyone at church knew who they were. The way the stood, their posture, and even their intense gaze spoke more than an uniform.

For whatever revolutionary reason they gave, the confetti was prohibited. I don't know in what way confetti can be harmful to the Cuban Revolution, but apparently those festive pieces of paper had some subversive value.

After my exhausted and trembling hands were relaxed and the event was over, I witnessed as those same government thugs pushed those opposition leaders into cars. The members of the opposition had done nothing wrong. There was no violence from their part. All they did was shout "Freedom!" as they were taken away in cars to be imprisoned for the simple crime of speaking their minds. At that moment, I remember wishing that baby Jesus would be with them.