Graciela Ramirez Cruz told Granma after returning from a visit with Cuban Five member Gerardo Hernandez in the Victorville, California prison

by Deisy Francis Mexidor
Jan. 12, 2008
Reprinted from Daily Granma

"What did I want to do? I wanted to take him by the hand and run out of there with him. He’s not the person to be in that horrible place," Graciela Ramirez Cruz, coordinator of the International Committee to Free the Cuban Five, told Granma.

Ramirez was still visibly moved by the experience of her recent visit to Gerardo Hernandez, one of the five Cubans imprisoned in the US since September 12, 1998 for trying to prevent terrorist attacks against their country.

What was the first thing you said when you saw him?

I was unable to say anything more than his name and give him the only hug you’re allowed when you arrive at the prison.

What was his reaction?

My visit hadn’t been possible to realize at an earlier date and it was something pending. At the same time I felt a great sadness because I felt that Adriana [Gerardo’s wife] should have been there in my place. For eight years she has been cruelly denied permission to see him. Sadness because men like him shouldn’t be in jail, not for nine years or one second.

Gerardo hugged me like a sister he hadn’t seen in a long time but knew she would eventually come to visit him.

I had him in front of me in his khaki colored uniform and full of dignity; tall and firm like a palm tree.

"You finally came!" he said with that Cuban grace that characterizes him and that they could never take away from him.

Can you describe the place where Gerardo is?

US prisons are known for their coldness, their sophisticated security systems and the grey color that prevails everywhere. Victorville doesn’t escape that description.

Near the prison is a small town surrounded by a security cordon. Empty wooden houses are fenced in.

I ask why nobody is around. They explained to me that there were escapes of a toxic substance and the town had to be evacuated. The substance is dangerous and there is fear that it would spread if the houses are destroyed. The empty houses really give a ghostly air to the surroundings.

To reach the penitentiary you have to travel on a dusty road in the middle of a kind of desert, but the prison is surrounded by mountains.

You see several huge towers with telescopic lookouts at a prudent distance, which indicates that the entrance is near. Once there one faces a fortified complex divided into different units, a sort of compact totally grey cement and steel mass surrounded by thick wires. There are no windows, which gives an even greater feeling of enclosure.

Did you give him anything? Did they let you go in with a pencil and paper?

No. The regulations at the US penitentiary system are very strict; they don’t let you take anything to the prisoner. I had to leave my personal handbag at the gate.

After the routine search where you even have to take off your shoes, the officers took us to another area —I speak in plural because accompanying me were Alicia Jrapko and Bill Hackwell, essential in these long years of battle for the Cuban Five.

There, we lined up and they marked us one by one with an identification number on one of our forearms, which was detected by way of a laser lamp.

And the place where the visits take place?

The prisoners are not allowed visits in places with any privacy, much less outside. Everything takes place in a large enclosed room with artificial lighting where you lose a sense of time.

The room has small tables and plastic chairs, also grey. Of course, you are always being watched by several officers that can reprimand or even interrupt the visit if you touch the prisoner. Other regulations impede, for example, conjugal contact or intimacy with their wives.

What did you talk about?

It’s incredible how much he knows about what’s happening in Cuba and the world. He didn’t have one complaint despite knowing how difficult his situation is. He only said "everything is normal" and asked to talk about the letters that are held up and about Adriana.

He also asked me about a boy in Las Tunas with whom he has established a special communication. He asked me to thank Maria Orquidea, a woman from Cienfuegos, for the complete transcription of each program Una luz en la oscuridad (A light in the darkness) from Radio Rebelde.

He is anxious to read the book Desde la Soledad y la Esperanza, recently released by the Captain San Luis publishing house. He asked me several times to transmit his gratitude to all the people who are helping spread the truth and working so that sooner than later justice allows them to return to their country.

What work does he do at the prison?

He told me pieces for the arms industry are given a finish there but that he had asked to be assigned to another job, one that contribute less to war, and he was transferred to the prison garbage collection.

What surprised you about Gerardo?

Everything surprised me: starting from the attention he puts on each story; how he switched from Spanish to English to dialogue with us; the depth of his analysis on the international scene; the effort he makes so that each letter arrives with something special to its destination; the constant concern about his people and the enormous capacity for affection that emanates from him in the middle of such solitude.

Gerardo also has this special ability for the right joke at the right moment, which he used at the end to take the knot out of our throats as we were leaving.

When we departed, he put his hands on his chest and said: "Thanks for everything you are doing for the Five and our people..." "Tell them I am well, and give them all a big, strong hug for me."

Freethefive.org 12-01-2008