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Saturday, December 3, 2016
#BOOKS #AMAZON #guantanamero, ·#erotismo, #Argentine, #authorities of #cuba, #Baracoa, #beach, #casino Conrad, #centro havana, #Child from #guantanamo, #chinandega,
https://kdp.amazon.com/bookshelf?language=es_ES
VISIT OUR TREE NOVELS IN KINDLE AMAZON
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Orlando+Vicente+Alvarez&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Orlando+Vicente+Alvarez&sort=relevancerank
Pegue la direccion anterior arriba y acceda a la pagina de loskibros
DE PALMAS Y OMBUES- EROTICA-
MÉDICOS CUBANOS EN NICARAGUA.
MEMORIAS DE UN NIÑO GUANTANAMERO
.
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Orlando+Vicente+Alvarez&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Orlando+Vicente+Alvarez&sort=relevancerank
Pegue la direccion anterior arriba y acceda a la pagina de loskibros
DE PALMAS Y OMBUES- EROTICA-
MÉDICOS CUBANOS EN NICARAGUA.
MEMORIAS DE UN NIÑO GUANTANAMERO
Friday, November 18, 2016
COSTUMBRISM: THE LADY IN THE RAIN
The Lady in the rain
In my neighborhood of Guantánamo in the south lived a black woman whose skin was like bitumen, if the sun gave it strong it would seem that it would turn into chapapote. She was always clean and with her poor clothes well washed. It was said that she worked as a washerwoman and one day when a lightning struck her little son went crazy.
The truth is that when the sky was cloudy, she would go out into the streets screaming and get into the first house she saw open. The people screaming closed their doors and the children of the neighborhood, cruel always, shouted: Juanica is going to rain. And she despaired even more.
One day I saw her come and leave the door open. My mother at the bottom of the house did not know anything until she heard the cries of Juanica who threw herself on a sofa sobbing and asking for salt water. My mother came over and put a damp cloth over her forehead as she comforted her.
But Juanica was inconsolable and asked for water with salt to drink. I went to the kitchen and poured a handful of salt into a glass of water to see the effect it made, to see if it was leaving and how cruel it was.
They said that if it started to rain it would get worse and get under the beds which would make things worse. When Juanica drank the glass of salted water, she screamed and ran like a rocket through the door with her usual hymn.
Years went by and Juanica continued with her crazy ride. I saw her on Sundays in the church of La Milagrosa with her poor but clean clothes and just finished bathing. Then he felt more respect for her but remained silent only muttering who knows what.
One morning I learned in the hospital that Juanica the mad had died and that no one from the church had gone to her funeral
DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBAN URUGUAYAN
GENIUS
In my neighborhood of Guantánamo in the south lived a black woman whose skin was like bitumen, if the sun gave it strong it would seem that it would turn into chapapote. She was always clean and with her poor clothes well washed. It was said that she worked as a washerwoman and one day when a lightning struck her little son went crazy.
The truth is that when the sky was cloudy, she would go out into the streets screaming and get into the first house she saw open. The people screaming closed their doors and the children of the neighborhood, cruel always, shouted: Juanica is going to rain. And she despaired even more.
One day I saw her come and leave the door open. My mother at the bottom of the house did not know anything until she heard the cries of Juanica who threw herself on a sofa sobbing and asking for salt water. My mother came over and put a damp cloth over her forehead as she comforted her.
But Juanica was inconsolable and asked for water with salt to drink. I went to the kitchen and poured a handful of salt into a glass of water to see the effect it made, to see if it was leaving and how cruel it was.
They said that if it started to rain it would get worse and get under the beds which would make things worse. When Juanica drank the glass of salted water, she screamed and ran like a rocket through the door with her usual hymn.
Years went by and Juanica continued with her crazy ride. I saw her on Sundays in the church of La Milagrosa with her poor but clean clothes and just finished bathing. Then he felt more respect for her but remained silent only muttering who knows what.
One morning I learned in the hospital that Juanica the mad had died and that no one from the church had gone to her funeral
DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBAN URUGUAYAN
GENIUS
Thursday, November 17, 2016
#cuba JUANICA LA LOCA
JUANICA LA
LOCA
En mi barrio de Guantánamo en la zona sur vivía
una negra cuya piel era como betún, si
el sol le daba fuerte parecería que se convertiría en chapapote. Siempre estaba
limpia y con su ropa pobre bien lavada. Se decia que trabajaba de lavandera y
un día cuando un rayo mato a su pequeño hijo se volvió loca.
Lo cierto es que cuando el cielo se nublaba salía
a las calles gritando y se metía en la primera casa que veía abierta. La gente
a sus gritos cerraba sus puertas y los niños del barrio, crueles siempre, le
gritaban: Juanica va a llover. Y ella se desesperaba más aún.
Un día yo la vi venir y deje la puerta
abierta. Mi madre en el fon do de la casa no supo nada hasta que escucho los
gritos de Juanica que se tiró en un sofá a sollozar y a pedir agua salada. Mi
madre se acercó y le puso un paño húmedo en la frente mientras la consolaba.
Pero Juanica estaba inconsolable y pedía
agua con sal para beber. Yo fui a la cocina y vacié un puñado de sal en un vaso
de agua a ver el efecto que hacía, a ver si se marchaba y
por cruel que era.
Decían que si empezaba a llover se ponía peor
y se metía debajo de las camas lo que empeoraría las cosas. Cuando Juanica
bebió el vaso de agua resalada emitió un grito y salio como un cohete por la
puerta con su cantinela de siempre.
Pasaron los años y Juanica continuó con su
andar de loca. Yo la veía los domingos en la iglesia de la Milagrosa con su
ropa pobre pero limpia y como acabada de bañarse. Entonces sentía más respeto
por ella pero permanecía en silencio solo murmurando quién sabe qué.
Una
mañana me enteré en el hospital que Juanica la loca había muerto y que nadie de
la iglesia había ido a su entierroDR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBANO URUGUAYO
GENIO
Friday, October 14, 2016
I was BORN on the banks of the river Guaso
I was born on the banks of the river Guaso
When I grew up and was a child and we had moved to the area south of Guantanamo. I learned to swim. We went, my brothers and I, to the house of Luisa grandmother whose house oak settled on the banks of the river Guaso.
When that did not exist pollution there today. We bathed near the railway bridge and from an artificial wall of the old bridge we were launching the backwater that the waters had formed head hit the wall. There we spent all afternoon. Grandma brought us sweet potato or some fruit of its immense patio.
Years later we grew and became contaminated river. It was not healthy to dive in its waters and the magic is lost forever.
In 1992 a storm passes through grade 5 Guantanamo and swept all wooden houses guaso the banks of the river. When I brought grandmother Luisa evacuation place we saw that her house was gone. Grandmother began to mourn and regret for their loss.
-'My house is gone like an old trunk!' Said between sobs-but that's not the main thing! The house is made of wood and takes the wind. But the grandfather, the balance where siestaba, mom yhe in the kitchen, my sisters scurrying through the halls, tables, chairs, cabinets, pictures of old, the game of old glasses ledge where we drank cider buried in the yard on Christmas eve. All dead. So I cry, because the river has been my past. Now they are like ghosts in the night. I only need to die so that circle is closed.
-Grandmother. Not everything is over. We have us, your children and your grandchildren. You want until you're old and the river will not take you.
That was the last time I saw the river so close, yet its muddy waters ran outside cause. But now, out of Cuba, as I would go back to its muddy shores and remember, remember.
DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBAN URUGUAYAN,GENIUS
DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBAN URUGUAYAN,GENIUS
Saturday, September 17, 2016
OUR LADY OF CHARITY IN MONTEVIDEO URUGUAY
OUR LADY OF CHARITY IN URUGUAY
It was a bleak morning. It was raining and I went to see the priest. I found him reading in the sacristy. He saw my rueful face.
__ What's wrong son?
__ No father. Today I woke up missing mine family. All they are in Punta del Este but my mind was not for celebrations. Strange especially those who are in Cuba.
__ That happens when you do not look into your heart and see deep down that they are with you.
__ I try Father but my heart is already empty. There is nothing in it.
__ Go to the back of the church, on the right, in a dark corner and you'll see something that belongs to you.
The Church was very old and were repairing. It was located in one of the remotest places of the Old City of Montevideo. Walk among the trees that supported scaffolds. Everything was dark and damp.
And a far corner someone had filed an agreed and Our Lady of Charity. did not have the luxury garments had in Cuba. The goldsmith was meticulous in the details. Her robe covered his feet. I wondered who had devotion to bring and deposit for all Cubans venerate. There were many other saints around, but I did not see another. I knelt down and touch her cloak and pray for all Cubans as the imprisoned loneliness.
And I felt that everything was fine despite my tears.
I stood up and I retire from the place. I am passing through the sacristy Father wanted to say goodbye. He looked at my moist eyes and said nothing, He knew the effect of the Virgin in me.
And I already had a place in Montevideo where I knew someone celestial waiting for me when my mood falter. The Our Lady of Charity stretched his sacred mantle Cubans as I craved comfort.
And I was serene. Raindrops dragged my tears.
It was a bleak morning. It was raining and I went to see the priest. I found him reading in the sacristy. He saw my rueful face.
__ What's wrong son?
__ No father. Today I woke up missing mine family. All they are in Punta del Este but my mind was not for celebrations. Strange especially those who are in Cuba.
__ That happens when you do not look into your heart and see deep down that they are with you.
__ I try Father but my heart is already empty. There is nothing in it.
__ Go to the back of the church, on the right, in a dark corner and you'll see something that belongs to you.
The Church was very old and were repairing. It was located in one of the remotest places of the Old City of Montevideo. Walk among the trees that supported scaffolds. Everything was dark and damp.
And a far corner someone had filed an agreed and Our Lady of Charity. did not have the luxury garments had in Cuba. The goldsmith was meticulous in the details. Her robe covered his feet. I wondered who had devotion to bring and deposit for all Cubans venerate. There were many other saints around, but I did not see another. I knelt down and touch her cloak and pray for all Cubans as the imprisoned loneliness.
And I felt that everything was fine despite my tears.
I stood up and I retire from the place. I am passing through the sacristy Father wanted to say goodbye. He looked at my moist eyes and said nothing, He knew the effect of the Virgin in me.
And I already had a place in Montevideo where I knew someone celestial waiting for me when my mood falter. The Our Lady of Charity stretched his sacred mantle Cubans as I craved comfort.
And I was serene. Raindrops dragged my tears.
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