Rosa María Payá

“We began seeing the differences in two aspects especially. On the one hand it was connected to how people behave in public. When I am in Cuba, I realise every day - I had noticed it before as well, when my dad was alive or when I was studying at university - that many Cubans think the same way as us. Most Cubans. I don’t think I know anyone who was not convinced that things in Cuba have to change, that there should be freedom. Actually, I don’t know anyone who agrees with the government. But most people don’t dare to say anything because they’re afraid they might meet the same fate as my family.”

“In our family we were fortunate that we did not have to keep the rule of double morals, as the majority of Cubans were forced to. I was lucky that our parents taught us to live in harmony with what we believed. And that is really hard in a totalitarian country. When we were older, my friends from secondary school and university started noticing it, and they told almost with admiration or even with a certain amount of jealousy: ‘Lucky you, you can say in public what you hear at home. We’re not allowed to say what we hear at home, nor what we think.’ They were afraid of the consequences, that they’d be expelled from university, that their parents would lost their jobs. I remember how Dad told us: ‘You can say whatever you want. We’ll cope with it somehow.’ My friends weren’t that fortunate. They would come home and their parents would tell them: ‘Please, whatever you do, don’t say what you think. Don’t criticise the regime, so we don’t get into trouble.’ I was fortunate to have been allowed to grow up free in a country that is one big prison.”