Flight to Freedom Read Free

afternoon. There is always some task to perform for the good of the revolution. Anyway, we went to school today, but it was a waste of time because all we did was read Fidel Castro’s speeches. They are so long!
Sunday, 30th of April
    Mami always tells me that if you concentrate on positive thoughts, you can keep yourself happy. It is so difficult to stay positive in this place, though. The onlything I know to do is to remind myself that my situation could be worse. For example, I know there has been talk among people in government about sending students to a country boarding school, where students work and study the entire school year, not just forty-five days. They would only be able to go home on a weekend pass. If the people in power decide to do this, it would be terrible for the children. The parents, too, because I know how my mother and father suffered when Pepito was drafted and when Ileana left for the country school in past years.
Wednesday, 3rd of May
    We had a surprise inspection this afternoon. One of the teachers found you, my sweet friend. She opened you up, glanced through the pages, then threw you back onto my pallet. Phew! My whole body was shaking when this happened, but now I realize she probably could not read my handwriting without her glasses. My letters are tiny, and for good reason. I want to pack as much as I can onto the page.
    I hate being fearful of everybody and everything. It makes me feel helpless.
Friday, 5th of May
    Some of the crueler girls have nicknamed me Concen, short for conceited, and when I first heard it aloud, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. But I bit my lip hard so as not to cry in front of them. Now I do not care. They cannot touch me. They cannot hurt me. Their words are nothing, and I pretend that my heart is like a boulder, too hard and too heavy to turn. It feels like that anyway.
Saturday, 6th of May
    Cannot write much. I have blisters on my hands.
Tuesday, 9th of May
    Going to the bathroom last night to write, I ran into Hilda, the self-appointed spy of my group, Girls of the Vanguard.
    â€œWhy do you spend so much time in the bathroom every night?” she asked me.
    â€œUse your imagination,” I answered.
    â€œWhat do you have in that bag?”
    â€œNone of your business.”
    She tried to grab it from under my arm, but I pinched and scratched her. She complained to Comrade Nilsa, but I explained that I had my menses, and that the bag contained sanitary napkins from home, a precious commodity here. I was not punished, but neither was Hilda. I hope she dies in the Zapata Swamp, attacked by a million mosquitoes and swallowed by quicksand.
Sunday, 14th of May
    Mami came to visit and brought both Ileana and me a bag of canned meat she had bought in Havana’s black market. I was so hungry that I wanted to eat it all at once, but she made us promise that we would pace ourselves for the remaining weeks.
    Mami cried when she saw us. I wanted to, too, but I held back so as not to make her feel worse. She gave Ileana a long speech about being careful with the boys who work the fields and sleep in barracks on the other side of the camp. Usually Ileana rolls her eyes at a lecture, but she did not do that this time. I hear from other girls that there’s a lot of hanky-panky going onamong the older students, that the girls do not keep their curfew, and the teachers do not supervise them properly.
    To be able to make the trip to see us, Mami had to show up for roll call at Havana’s railroad station twice during the week to ensure she would not lose her seat on the Parents’ Train. It left Havana at midnight and arrived early this morning in the nearby town of Ovas. She then had to walk along a sandy road from the station to the camp with the other parents. One of the girls told us that this journey is several kilometers, but Mami insisted it was just a short distance. I think she said that so we wouldn’t worry.
    I hated to see