A Bronx cheer for lying

José Dos Santos

WHEN trumpeter Alexander Abreu demonstrated his talent during the Peace without Borders Concert in the Plaza de la Revolución, that seemed to many of us the finest confirmation that there are performers in Cuba who are as excellent or better than those who always lie to gain importance in non-musical terms.

Cuban Television reported the reactionary response of certain individuals to the concert, among them one of those who choose to shield themselves behind the imperialist predator and renounce a place of privilege in their native land, by trading the sympathies of their people for the glitter given them by the Miami mafia — as long as they play their reactionary ideological music.

The musical admiration for Arturo Sandoval that existed in Cuba turned into disappointment over the path of desertion he chose almost 20 years ago, and a repudiation of his lies and servility.

The man who complained in front of Miami TV cameras about the "repression" that he suffered in Cuba is really astounding. It has never been concealed, and has been part of the revolutionary rectification process, that during a small lapse of erroneous measures, narrow concepts were applied in certain areas of culture, but the notion that Sandoval was arrested and jailed for his musical inclinations is more than an extemporaneous exaggeration — it is an outright lie.

This musician omits in his professional mourner’s complaints against the international concert that in Cuba, he was an outstanding figure in the Irakere band, that he formed his own group and had his own program at the Karl Marx Theater; that he frequently traveled around the world and was the main organizer of several Jazz Plaza Festivals; that in his comfortable home in the capital, he used to get together with important people from different backgrounds, not just culture; that he was one of the people who, at a time when foreign currency was not authorized to circulate freely in Cuba, used to shop in the large dollar store on Fifth and 42nd Street without anybody bothering him…

I so much lament the distorted, opportunistic memory of this individual, with whom I was associated during my journalist years because of my liking for jazz, that I would like it to be known that that "repressed man" was a member of the Communist Party of Cuba (as was his wife), which nobody joins without voluntary dedication and commitment to society.

This simulation by this individual ran out of gas when he decided to desert during a tour of Italy as part of the United Nations Orchestra led by Dizzy Gillespie, likewise a victim of his deception and manipulation.

He also lent himself to a media campaign around his situation, when elements that have not been well-identified — FBI? CIA? — ensured his arrival in Miami while at the same time bringing his wife and son from London — where they were waiting for his gigs at Ronnie Scott’s Club — and kicked up a shameful, anti-Cuban scandal.

He was the trumpeter who played the national anthems of the United States and Cuba in front of the house where the clan had kidnapped Elián in Miami.

Much more could be said, but he’s not worth it, not even with his four Grammy Awards. Among my treasured photos, there are historic ones that the "repressed man" himself made available to me, given that he witnessed and participated in a long meeting in Havana between Dizzy Gillespie and Fidel Castro. Did he ever mention that episode to the benefactors of his lies?