You Know, Comrade Pachman, I

A Country That Does Not Know How To Read And Write Is Easy To Deceive.

I Am Being Bombed By Questions Of All Kinds. I Will Try To Be Very Concise And Try To Explain To The American People. We Had A Great Number Of Mistakes In The Economic Fleld, Naturally. I Am Not The Critic. It Is Fidel Castro, The One Who Has Criticized Repeatedly The Mistakes We Have Made, And He Explained Why We Have Made Them. We Did Not Have A Previous Preparation. We Made Mistakes In Agriculture. We Made Mistakes In Industry. All These Mistakes Are Being Settled Now.

Justice Remains The Tool Of A Few Powerful Interests; Legal Interpretations Will Continue To Be Made To Suit The Convenience Of The Oppressor Powers.

And Yet Every So Often, The Heart Of America, Shuddering With Indignation, Sends A Nervous Spasm Through The Gentle Back Of The Andes, And Tumultuous Shock Waves Assault The Surface Of The Land. Three Times The Cuppola Of Proud Santo Domingo Has Collapsed From On High To The Rhythm Of Broken Bones And Its Worn Walls Have Opened And Fallen Too. But The Foundations They Rest On Are Unmoved, The Great Blocks Of The Temple Of The Sun Exhibit Their Gray Stone Indifferently; However Colossal The Disaster Befalling Its Oppressor, Not One Of Its Huge Rocks Shifts From Its Place.

What Do We Leave Behind When We Cross Each Frontier? Each Moment Seems Split In Two: Melancholy For What Was Left Behind And The Excitement Of Entering A New Land.