| Trembling
with Indignation in the Belly of the Beast
By John R. Hall
If you
tremble with indignation at every injustice, then
you are a comrade of mine.
— Doctor
Ernesto “Che” Guevara
November 27,
2016 "Information
Clearing House"
- "Dissident
Voice"
- - And
now Che’s closest comrade is dead. Rest in peace,
Fidel. You were one of a small handful of national
leaders for which I’ve ever had a shred of respect. You
survived the bullets of Batista’s army. You survived
the C.I.A.’s Bay of Pigs Invasion. You survived an
estimated 638 assassination attempts, and took your last
breath at the age of 90. You showed the world that
it is possible for a tiny band of ill-equipped rag-tag
rebels to overcome the scourge of neo-colonialism,
imperialism, and all the malignant, malicious,
voracious militarism of Empire. You defied all odds,
and were one of the most vilified and hated people whose
face ever graced United States television screens and
newspapers. You showed the world that another way is
possible. Under your guidance, little Cuba became more
than a doormat for Empire, and stood tall in its
shadow, proclaiming freedom and justice for all.
You will be
missed, Fidel. You worked quietly behind the scenes
with John F. Kennedy to defuse The Cuban Missile
Crisis. You helped inspire a civil rights movement
within the corporate barbed wire of Empire. Without
your example, Malcom and Martin might not have defied
the status quo. It was you and Che who convinced a
generation of youth that wars for profit, although good
for business, are a very bad idea. You marched beside
me in the streets of Tempe, Arizona after the Kent State
Massacre. You were there, a few months later, at The
Yippie Pow-wow in Disneyland. I shared a joint with you
on Tom Sawyer’s Island, just before we marched down Main
Street and shut the whole show down. They kicked us,
along with 29,000 others, out of America’s favorite
fantasy land. It still makes me smile.
Fidel, you were
with me when I told the Selective Service to take a
flying fucking leap in 1970, and again in ’71. You were
with me when I Occupied Wall Street in Phoenix, and you
were with me when I marched against Monsanto in the
streets of Kahului, Maui. You were with me, just last
week, when I demonstrated in solidarity with Standing
Rock, in the parking lot of Bank of America in Santa Fe,
New Mexico.
Although we
never met, I miss you already, Fidel. But I know that
you’re busy at Standing Rock. You’re taking all that
abuse, alongside our brothers and sisters. You’re
standing up against the Machine, the Man, Wall Street,
and the Pigs who protect the interests of Empire.
You’re standing tall against the water-cannons,
mace, and rubber bullets. You’ll be arrested,
strip-searched, handcuffed, jailed, and harassed.
You’ll be there at the end of the Standing Rock chapter,
when the full force of Empire comes down on the water
protectors like a ton of fascist bricks, and the
corporate media sweeps the whole thing under a
Kardashian/Christmas/Trump rug. It’s what they do.
It’s what they’ve always done.
You’re still
with us, Fidel. You sleep with the homeless in the
streets of Detroit. You go hungry with the families in
Los Angeles, who’ve opted to pay their rent in lieu of
eating dinner. You suffer and die with those who can’t
afford medical care in Omaha. You go to prison with the
guy from Miami who stole food for his family. You feel
the degradation of the Minneapolis factory worker, whose
job has been shipped to Mexico, where it will be
performed for slave wages. Wherever there is injustice,
you still tremble with indignation.
You won’t soon
fade into history, Fidel. Like Che, you’ll loom larger
in death than you were in life. The legacy you leave us
is one of hope. Hope against all odds. Hasta la
victoria siempre, comrade!
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