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theairportau · 8 years ago

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the airport AU, part 118 by rjdaae and hopsjollyhigh

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100 101, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10 111, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

---

DARIUS

Darius is laughing as they step out into the sunshine. It’s a wonderfully mild day; his leather jacket isn’t too warm, but he would also probably be fine without it. It only elevates his mood, stepping out into such pleasant weather.

“It wasn’t that bad! I swear, the only person who I got in serious trouble was that desk clerk, and he should’ve been fired anyway, the way he was talking to you. I work in the service industry, I wouldn’t want someone like that talking to my patrons. We did them a favor. Picking fights in the middle of his shift. I doubt he would’ve even wanted to come back, the scare he had. Erik looks like a breeze could tip him over, and it probably could, but he’s strong when he’s mad. That’s like, probably the closest you can get to fighting a zombie in real life, and it’s probably a lot less fun than TV makes it seem. But anyway. I just told them that nobody was around to help when a patron got injured. That’s a big liability for them, they’ll probably calm down when they figure out that we’re not going to sue them or something,” he says, shrugging it off. “When you work in service, you know how to freak out people in service. It sucks to have to do it, but it’s just one of those things, you know?”

And it is that simple to him- he has been dealing with Erik’s messes for years, and covering some things is what comes with the territory. He doesn’t think about it anymore. And talking about Erik himself- it’s hard to differentiate talking to Christine and talking to Khan, or even to Erik. There is a certain joking language between them when they’re talking casually- especially between him and Erik- and it’s not as though he talks about Erik to anyone outside of that group. It seems normal to him, to be casual about the fact that Erik’s deformity exists and is frightening, however much Erik has worked to avoid talking about it with her.

The pace he sets is brisk- he’s eager to get to the metro, and his mind has already moved on to the day ahead. He glances at her often to be certain that she’s keeping up- Khan has complained before that he walks faster than most people jog when he has a place to be.

---

CHRISTINE

Christine gladly lets herself be swept forward on the tide of her friend’s laughter, her nerves soothed by the warm sun and Darius’ equally-bright tone. She’s only half listening as he cheerfully rattles off his criticisms of the hotel staff, content to keep pace at his side and offer the occasional nod or smile of her own in response; it’s clear that he doesn’t suspect anything about her conversation with the clerk, much less the contents of her purse. She cradles the purse close to her side as they walk, Mama’s warnings of pickpockets still ringing in her mind, but her feet nonetheless feel lighter as they work to match Darius’ spirited stride. She can find some other opportunity to discretely switch out the money; until then, she’ll just be careful.

They move quickly up the street, following the path she’s taken so many times already—in the direction of the restaurant and Erik’s house, and, beyond, the cafe where Darius had taken her last week; the metro station, as well: she recalls him pointing it out to her when they’d passed it on their way to lunch that day. With a rush of nervous excitement, she tries to remember how many coins she has in her wallet; from what she’d seen of the ticket machines at the airport, a €100 note won’t be of any more use to her on the metro than it would have been in the little shop back home.

Before she can come to any conclusion, she’s interrupted by the half of her brain that is still listening to Darius—jarred suddenly back to awareness by an utterly incongruous string of words.

For a moment, Christine simply isn’t sure that she’s *heard* him correctly; but, no, she *had*.

Then, she nearly laughs at the absurd specificity of the comparison he’s chosen to make.

True, being pinned against the wall of a dark alley by a tall and furious man in a mask would *have* to be a frightening experience, maybe even like facing some supernatural being—but what part of it would have *anything* in common with an encounter with a z—

Christine is grateful for the quick pace, keeping her a step or two behind Darius—that he doesn’t catch the sudden twist of understanding in her brow, or the queasy shock that briefly flares in her large, pale eyes.

For his part, Darius seems entirely at ease, continuing to ramble on as though he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. And…maybe he *hadn’t*; it’s a disconcerting concept to her, that someone could so flippantly make such a comparison—even more disconcerting than the thought that the comparison might be an *accurate* one.

As Darius turns back to check on her again, trailing a question and a commiserating smile, *she* has questions of her own.

Questions that she can’t *begin* to bring herself to ask.

“Haha, yeah,” she says with a nod, her eyes quickly snapping back to the path ahead of them. “Maybe I should remember that if I do end up having any more trouble: try putting myself in their shoes; being a hotel clerk can’t be that much different from being a cashier.”

---

DARIUS

“You’ll have plenty of practice dealing with other service people today,” Darius says cheerfully. “First things first, we have a goal- I was thinking we’d go to the Forum des Halles, I don’t think we need to go to luxury boutiques necessarily to get some basic clothes. It is fun to go in those crazy expensive places, though, and it’s close to the Louvre, a bit of a tourist area but a nice place to walk around. We can get lunch and everything.”

He checks the street, and gestures for Christine to cross with him; he half-jogs his way to the iron sign just a little bit down the cross-street, the entrance to the metro.

“I already have a pass sorted out, and you may as well get a carnet, ten rides, I’m sure you’ll use them. Not all today, but eventually.”

The air gets cooler as they descend into the station, which is dim compared to the sunlight outside, despite its rows of fluorescent lights. A row of ticket vending machines lines one wall, and on the other wall there is a kiosk with a bored-looking man flipping through a magazine inside. The man looks up as they enter, and nods at Darius in recognition.

“I come through here almost every day at some point, and this attendant always seems to be here,” he says. “I can help with French if you’d rather talk to a person than use a machine. A carnet is 14.50, so it’s cheaper than buying tickets individually.”

He is utterly unaware of Christine’s predicament with large bills- it just doesn’t register to him, though it does make sense, her being a traveler. It is not uncommon for tourists to show up with large bills, and splitting them is not typically easy, with the majority of smaller stores rejecting them. He carries small bills, himself- he’s used to life in the city, and it has slipped his mind, how difficult it was converting all of his money to the euro when they had moved.

---

CHRISTINE

“I, um—I trust your recommendation,” Christine says as she follows Darius across the street, smiling against the nervousness that bubbles at the top of her excitement. “You’re the expert!”

There’s no reason for her to worry about their shopping trip. Even…even if they *were* to end up at some expensive boutique, Erik *had* given her the money in large part with the intention that she should spend it on clothes: would it really be *bad*, to use it to buy something nice for herself? Perhaps just one nice new jacket, to replace the one that she sacrificed to wrap Erik’s wounded arm; there’s more she needs, shirts and jeans and definitely at least one pair of shoes—but if she can find *those* someplace cheap enough, it will all balance out. Maybe.

But what would Darius think, if he saw her buy something expensive?—if he sees the money *at all*, when she’s already told him that she doesn’t have any? Why should he take on the inconvenience of letting her work in his restaurant, hardly able to speak to any of the other employees, when she has hundreds of already-undeserved euro in her wallet?

Before she can face the issue of what might or might not happen at any of the shops, though, she first has to actually *get* there.

“Oh, um…” she says, glancing from Darius to the attendant and then back to the bank of ticket machines; a sign affixed to the nearest confirms her suspicion that they won’t accept large bills, “I think that…"

She knows she doesn’t have more than ten euro in coins, let alone €14.50. Her bank card has enough, but she’s tried her best to preserve it for emergencies. What is the alternative, though? Trying to get change from the man in the kiosk? If she asks Darius to translate, he’ll obviously find out about the money, but *refusing* his help might made him suspicious; either way, there’s no guarantee that the attendant would even be *able* to make change for her.

"It…would probably be better for you to show me how to use the machine; if I ever get stuck, I can probably talk to the attendant well enough to figure things out—but there won’t always be someone here to teach me how these things work,” she says, giving Darius a grateful smile as she gestures towards the row of machines.

As she swipes her card a minute or two later, Christine bites at the inside of her lip, refusing to let herself consider whether it might have been wiser to buy a few coins’ worth of single tickets.

---

DARIUS

Painfully unaware of Christine’s internal struggle, Darius agrees cheerfully and gives a wave to the desk attendant as he moves over to the machines. “It’s really pretty simple,” he says. “No Swedish language option, but the French is very basic- your French is getting better- here…”

He walks her through the steps of purchasing a pass, pointing to buttons but having her push them herself. He wants her to be able to do it on her own, after all, if she needs to. He digs his own pass out of his wallet, and shows her how to pass through the gate, inserting the ticket and taking it when it pops out on top, throwing in that it’s best to do it quickly- the metro is quiet at the moment, but when foot traffic is heavy, Parisians will get cranky stuck behind someone slow.

A train is pulling in just as they emerge into the tunnel, and Darius ushers her on, clearly pleased with their luck.

“No wait at all. It’s always nice when that happens,” he comments as the doors slide shut behind them. There are seats free, only a few people scattered around in the car, but he’d rather stand right now, and he wraps one hand around a pole, bracing himself for when the train starts.

He finds himself looking around at each passenger in the car with unusual scrutiny; one woman notices and averts her eyes, frowning. It doesn’t even occur to him what he’s looking at them for, until he remembers. He hasn’t ridden the metro since a few days ago, and the memory of Khan’s argument is fresh in his mind- it would be so unlikely to run into those people again, with the thousands that use the metro every day, but it’s still in the back of his mind to look for them.

And it doesn’t just have to be them. He knows that there are others in Paris who share similar sentiments, and he angles his eyes back at the ground at the thought. He should do everything in his power to blend in. He doesn’t want to cause trouble, especially with Christine- but the very thought that he could cause trouble by just being on the train ignites frustration in the back of his mind that he struggles to suppress. It isn’t fair, but he has to push down whatever feelings he has about it. It wouldn’t be right to put it all on Christine. Today is meant for her to see the city. It’s meant for them both to have a good time. He glances to the side and forces a crooked smile as the train jumps to a start.

“You’ll know the whole system well before long,” he says. “It becomes second nature. I got used to it fast enough. It wasn’t even that long ago. I’m sure you will, too.”

---

CHRISTINE

Back when they’d lived in Gothenburg, when she and Mama had often ridden the trams together, Christine would have counted herself lucky to see such an empty car; now, she ignores the open seats, her hand taking the space beneath Darius’ on the metal support pole. He is her guide here, her example of how to be a Parisian, and it’s in her best interest to follow his lead; the way she staggers at the sudden lurching motion of the train is a reminder of how far she has left to go.

She answers his encouragement with a dubious laugh, “Maybe!”, her elbow winding itself more firmly around the pole. “I lived in my old city for five years, and still had to check the map every time I wanted to go somewhere.” Moving to a smaller town hadn’t been *all* bad, in the end.

Outside, the dark tunnel walls flash past the windows, lit by the flicker of the occasional emergency light. An unpleasant shiver works up Christine’s back at the belated realisation that they’re underground; vaguely, she wonders how deep.

“And of course, with the tram, if you get on the wrong line, you can at least *see* where you’re going."

She has to catch herself again as the train unexpectedly—to *her*, at least—grinds to a halt, pausing to let on more passengers before continuing along the route to the Forum des Halles.

”*And* when you’re *stopping*,“ she adds, her warm laugh melting away the brief chill.

---

DARIUS

Darius smiles faintly at her as she staggers back and forth- there had certainly been a time when he’d done that on the metro, as well.

“You begin to learn when it’s going to stop,” he says. “Though you’re right, it would be nice to be above ground- it can be gloomy down here. It doesn’t have the same heat underground, though, that it did in my city. People think it gets hot in the summer around here- I swear, that’s one thing I’ll never get used to. The weather. It’s even colder in Sweden, isn’t it? The friend I write to, in Stockholm- he told me that it doesn’t really go above 20 that often. I mean, Tehran isn’t the desert that some people picture, but it gets much hotter than that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, bracing himself as the metro grinds to a halt again. He can feel people looking, curious about what language they’re speaking, but he doesn’t meet any of their eyes- just looks down at Christine as a couple passengers shuffle off, and a few more shuffle on.

“I felt really homesick here at first,” he admits. “Little things like the weather can do that. There are still days when I feel sad about it. And Khan- he never adjusted to being here at all. I guess- I know it’s intimidating. But if you ever need any help, we at least understand how difficult it can be, becoming a part of this city. It’s a confusing place, a lot of the time.”

He doesn’t mean to dampen the mood- it pushes back his own feelings of self-doubt to express his willingness, and ability, to help her. He glances at the map as the train begins moving again, and it seems that the next stop is theirs. They are already standing, and already close enough to the doors to exit quickly, so he only makes a mental note to get off once the doors open again.

---

CHRISTINE

How fortunate has she been, to have found friends who can offer her *understanding* as well as knowledge? Looking up into Darius’ warm brown eyes, she’s struck by the desire to thank him again—to jump once more into the losing battle against the frustrating inadequacies of letters and grammar, to try to find some *words* that might express her appreciation and gratitude; but if there’s one thing that her time in Paris has *already* taught Christine, it’s that words *aren’t* always necessary. She contents herself with replying to him silently—a nod of agreement, and a soft, commiserating smile.

She can’t say that the understanding is fully mutual, though: while she undoubtedly misses Mama, true *homesickness* has yet to strike. The feeling itself is one that is all too familiar to her—the way it causes the heart to ache with each beat, like the wings of a flagging bird unable to find its way back to its nest—but, thinking back on the small city that she came to Paris from, it’s hard to imagine *ever* feeling such longing for the place. She’d never wanted to live there in the first place; had worked *so hard* to get the chance to *leave*. If she’s ever had a *home* to miss, it wasn’t that little cluster of brick and concrete buildings.

A question, born of pure and guileless curiosity, slips free before Christine can think better of it:

“Why did you leave Tehran?”

Of course, no sooner have the words been spoken than her brain reminds her of a rather obvious answer.

“I mean—” she cuts in before he can respond, her voice tight in contrast to the softness with which she’d asked the question, “I know you both came here with Erik, but—”

But…?

Darius watches expectantly; she shifts her grip on the metal post, her gaze darting back to the flickering window again as she struggles to distill what it is that she actually wants to *know*.

“I…we were always moving around when I was little,” Christine says finally, her tone uncertain as she glances at her friend again, “For years, we never stayed in the same place. I’m used to it—to this; to being somewhere different. But you— Of course you wanted to help Erik—and it wasn’t all *good* there— But… How could—?” she shakes her head, tilting her face towards the window again to hide her ashamed blush, “I’m not making any sense, I’m sorry.”

---

DARIUS

It seems odd to speak about such a personal thing in public- if it were anyone else, he may have shied away from the topic, but despite the eyes on them, Darius knows that nobody in the car can understand what they’re saying. It gives him a sense of privacy and security, but still- he glances at the advertisements plastered on the walls for a moment, unable to trust that the stab of darkness he feels in his heart won’t show itself plainly on his face. He doesn’t think the question is inappropriate, but there is so much weight to it. More weight than he can possibly convey to her in a brief conversation on a train. For once, he measures his words before he speaks. There is so much history to go over to really explain. “It’s funny, really,” he says. “Living somewhere as active and brilliant as Tehran- and it felt like a ghost town half the time. We couldn’t stay there. Khan couldn’t stay there. I mean, losing my father was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. But that’s how nature is- everyone says it, I guess, but it’s different for a parent to bury their child. It’s just not right. There were just too many old memories there. There was too much that couldn’t be left behind. We’d been talking about a new place meaning a new start before Khan ever met Erik. We weren’t thinking of France, but it made the most sense when he entered the picture.” Darius shrugs his jacket tighter around his shoulders and looks down at Christine. “I guess- a place being home doesn’t make it good for you to be there. And a place being good doesn’t make it home, either. But I’m sure you know that already, having moved your whole life.” He fades into silence, wrapping his hand around the pole to steady himself as he stares out the window and hopes that the answer is sufficient. It’s not everything, of course. He knows that the pain of losing a loved one isn’t anything new to her, and for that very reason, isn’t certain that he wants to stay on the topic too long. Honesty is important to him, though. If he wants her to open up to him, he is determined that he will do the same for her (perhaps too much, sometimes). He watches lights flicker by to keep his mind busy, away from the memory of all of the grief that pushed them away from their home country. The present is what’s important- it has to be.

---

CHRISTINE

Rather than assuaging her curiosity, Darius’ reply only stirs the dust from older questions, half-buried at the back of her mind; Christine only nods quietly, letting the conversation cede to the rumbling of the rails beneath their feet. Her father had always shied away when she’d asked about why he had taken them away from Skatelöv; she should have known better than to pose a similar question to someone else.

Yet, as the train gently sways around a curve in its track, there’s a part of her brain that persists in *wondering*.

As little attachment as she’d had to the various houses and towns and hotel rooms that she’d grown up in—as little as she could give any of them the title of ’home’—there’d always been a lingering comfort in the familiarity of those places: in knowing that the ones she’d loved had breathed that air; walked those floors; shared that same space with her, however fleetingly. To her, *leaving* those things has always seemed like just one more loss—an ever-present aftershock to tragedy, the ground crumbling away beneath her when she’d already fallen to her knees.

She can’t wrap her mind around what it would be like to be torn from a real *home*—much less to *choose* to leave such a place.

Even as she has done her best to push certain memories from her mind, her heart has fought to cling to the traces of *before*—as if, could she only hold onto enough pieces, she could pretend that nothing had changed.

But the decision had never been in her hands, and staying was never an option.

“I’m…glad you’re here now, anyway,” she says awkwardly after a few moments, her eyes darting only briefly upward, “And that you’re happy here.” Just then, the squealing of brakes slices through the muffled roar of the train, and Christine gratefully turns her attention towards remaining on her feet.

---

(Part 119)

#/airport AU

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universallyladybear · 6 years ago

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Que vous aimeriez savoir ou découvrir bref exprimez vous je me ferais un plaisir de vous lire en attendant je lève le voile sur le blog de tête d’ange un tuto.

Pour réaliser tous vos projets une question un renseignement contactez-nous des remises régulières la reprise de marchandises pendant 12 mois. De vous poser quelques questions quant à la pièce dans laquelle nous passons de plus en plus de temps 18 mai 2018 vous avez transformer nom. Les angles de votre visseuse puis fixez deux équerres parallèles directement au mur posez à même ces équerres le livre végétal puis.

Avant de façon judicieuse choisissez le manteau qui vous branche source houseandhome offrez une improbable créativité à la table de chevet de votre lit en choisissant. Et les jouets le bas de l’étagère pour ranger les chaussures ou autres dimensions du produit 165*111*35cm matière plastique et connecteurs en. Sur les planches en bois et les bons supports vous pouvez occuper ce coin situé entre deux portes n’hésitez plus et adoptez les étagères d’angle choisissez un modèle avec de la peinture.

Peut être utilisé séparément peut également être empilé et combiné ● chaque cube peut contenir jusqu’à 10 lb ● imperméabilisé résistant à la poussière alors à vous de jouer et. J’aime beaucoup merci à vous j’espère vous concocter d’autres petits articles pour les garder rangés et s’organise etagère murale ● armoire moderne composée. Dans la cuisine salon chambre ★organiseur de cube moderne:16 cubes empilables créent cette unité de stockage polyvalente pour la.

Merci à vous béatrice pour vos encouragements depuis le temps que la balançoire pour peluche une jolie branche de bois vous pouvez.

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Diy Étagères De la largeur d’où le nom de cet assemblage les planches sont libres de bouger dans les rainures elles ne sont pas fixées zoom encore...

#diy #étagères

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tachadcom · 6 years ago

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Carnet de route : « Le Tchad a beaucoup changé en 45 ans sur le plan démographique, économique, social, et culturel », DrBé-RammajMiaro-II

Après son séjour de 111 jours du 04 octobre 2018 au 24 janvier 2019 au Tchad, le représentant du forum social mondial (FSM), Dr Bé-Rammaj Miaro-II nous partage ses expériences et difficultés rencontrées au pays de Toumaï. Des riches enseignements avec pleine des leçons de vie d’un pays qu’il a laissé pour séjourner à Gatineau au Canada depuis des décennies.

« J’avoue qu’il est difficile de…

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#CARNET #DR BE-RAMMAJ MIARO-II #ROUTE TCHAD

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latikobe · 7 years ago

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Sobre las inversiones extranjeras en Cuba

MIAMI, Estados Unidos..- La falta de libertades, las violaciones de los derechos humanos y la ausencia de voluntad gubernamental para un cambio, que ya se hace impostergable, son realidades que a diario golpean a la nación cubana. Necesitamos con urgencia que esta dramática situación sea entendida por la comunidad internacional; que el mito de la “Revolución Humanista” termine, porque casi 60 años de atropellos contra la dignidad de todo un pueblo ha de ser razón suficiente para que se entienda que los cubanos padecemos de una feroz dictadura, aniquiladora de toda esperanza. Es por eso de suma importancia que los inversionistas extranjeros contemplen la realidad de Cuba no sólo como una posibilidad de obtener beneficios económicos fáciles, sin riesgo a tener que enfrentar conflictos laborales porque el gobierno les garantice, por medio de la represión, que los trabajadores no van a hacer huelgas ni establecer demandas reclamando mejoras salariales y otros beneficios que les corresponden, interponiendo demandas ante los organismos nacionales e internacionales.

En febrero de 1982 la Asamblea del Poder Popular aprobó la promulgación del Decreto-Ley 50, sobre la asociación económica entre entidades cubanas e internacionales, estableciendo este tipo de apertura exclusivamente para los inversionistas extranjeros. En el mes de julio de 1992 la propia Asamblea Nacional acordó por unanimidad introducir reformas en la Constitución de la República a fin de posibilitar, entre otras formas de propiedad, la de las empresas mixtas. De esta manera el Estado cubano abrió sus puertas al capital extranjero como medio de beneficiarse con la obtención de moneda convertible, fundamentalmente dólares,

Cuba, nación subdesarrollada, con seis décadas de inmovilismo político, con una economía centralizada y serias deformaciones estructurales, dependiente la supervivencia de su régimen totalitario de las relaciones con el exterior, no escapa a los efectos de la globalización económica puesta en marcha como parte de soluciones a escala mundial. Este proceso, de por sí difícil en su ejecución, en el caso de Cuba es especialmente complejo, ya que es el Estado Socialista de economía centralmente planificada quien comienza, a base de necesidades impuestas en la coyuntura actual, a aspirar a una economía socialista con fuertes elementos de mercado y dolarizando la gran mayoría de las relaciones monetarias mercantiles, inclusive en lo que se define como sector estatal.

Relaciones laborales en entidades con inversión extranjera

De acuerdo a lo establecido, las empresas mixtas o las asociaciones que se conformen en virtud de lo que expresa la ley de inversiones, no podrán contratar directamente, ya que esta función sólo puede ser realizada por la Agencia Empleadora, que no es más que una organización estatal, totalmente controlada por las instancias superiores del gobierno, encargada, entre otras funciones, de la concertación de contratos de trabajadores, tomando en consideración el diseño de las plantillas, las cuales son elaboradas por los inversionistas de acuerdo a sus necesidades y posteriormente analizadas y aprobadas por el Ministerio del Trabajo. Este organismo se ocupa también de negociar y fijar los salarios en moneda convertible.

El suministro de trabajadores se realiza tomando en consideración, en primer lugar, que los aspirantes estén política e ideológicamente con la línea del Partido Comunista de Cuba, preferiblemente que sean militantes de este o de la Juventud Comunista, o aquellos que tengan una actitud incondicional ante los organismos del Estado.

Las “agencias empleadoras”, en términos de definición, son los filtros del personal que va a ingresar a esas empresas y, en conjunto con organismos como el Ministerio del Interior y el Departamento de Seguridad del Estado asignados a cada centro de trabajo, se encargan de la verificación de todos aquellos trabajadores que conformarán la plantilla de esas empresas. Para ello se realizan verificaciones en el lugar de residencia, en los diferentes lugares donde los aspirantes han laborado y en el carnet de identidad, para revisar los antecedentes penales personales y familiares. Después se adopta la decisión de asignárseles o no la plaza.

Lo anterior constituye una violación permanente del Convenio 111 de la Organización Internacional del Trabajo (OIT), en lo concerniente a la discriminación en materia de ocupación y empleo, adoptado por este organismo el 25 de junio de 1958, del cual Cuba es país signatario. En esencia este importante documento expresa en su artículo 1:

“El término de discriminación comprende: a)- Cualquier distinción, exclusión o preferencia basada en motivos de raza, sexo, religión, opinión política, ascendencia nacional u origen que tengan por efecto anular o alterar la igualdad de oportunidades o de trato con el empleo o la ocupación.”

Especialistas de organismos internacionales como la OIT, y la Confederación de Organizaciones Sindicales Libres (CIOLS) y la Organización Regional Interamericana de Trabajadores (ORIT) muestran preocupación ante el temor de que los derechos de los trabajadores sean pisoteados.

El informe de la visita que efectuara la CIOLS/ORIT, a Cuba en febrero de 1986, deja claro el alerta de la CTC sobre que las transnacionales no invierten en ningún lugar si por parte de los organismos sindicales no se hacen sustanciosas concesiones y apuntó: “que existe un verdadero riesgo de explotación a los trabajadores bajo este sistema”

Evidentemente la política establecida por la dictadura comunista de Cuba para la inversión extranjera contradice en esencia el convenio 95 sobre la protección del salario de la Organización Internacional del Trabajo en sus artículos 5 y 6, que expresan textualmente:

Artículo 5: “El salario se deberá pagar directamente al trabajador interesado”.

Artículo 6: “Se deberá prohibir que los empleadores limiten en forma alguna la libertad del trabajador de disponer de su salario”.

El hecho de que el gobierno de Cuba cobre el salario de los obreros en una moneda diferente, de mayor valor adquisitivo y en cifra superior a la que se paga a los mismos, denota los niveles de discriminación y explotación a que los trabajadores cubanos están siendo víctimas.

En la mencionada visita a Cuba, los representantes de la CIOLS/ORIT tomaron notas de las observaciones del gobierno cubano. Sin embargo, la comisión insistió en que “tomando en cuenta el contexto unipartidista y de una sola central sindical, el gobierno debería garantizar en la legislación y en la práctica el derecho que tienen todos los trabajadores de constituir libremente organizaciones profesionales independientes, tanto a nivel de base como de central, fuera de toda estructura sindical existente controlada por el Estado, si así lo seseasen”. No obstante esas recomendaciones el gobierno cubano, hasta la fecha, no las ha tomado en cuenta.

Resulta ilegítima, inescrupulosa y flagrantemente violatoria del derecho de los trabajadores nacionales en nuestro país, las abusivas condiciones en que se les priva de más del 95 % de sus salarios a los empleados en empresas extranjeras en cómplice explotación de parte de los inversionistas en beneficio de la tiranía comunista de Cuba. Resulta además contrario a los legítimos intereses del pueblo de Cuba, que aspira a una sociedad libre y próspera, la aceptación por los empresarios extranjeros de las condiciones que impone el gobierno para la realización de dichas inversiones, pues, ante todo, el único beneficiado es el régimen tiránico cubano. Por lo tanto, bajo un futuro gobierno democrático en una Cuba libre podría considerarse como deuda contraída por dichos inversionistas extranjeros, en virtud del derecho internacional, el pago a los obreros de todo lo adeudado.

Estamos en una era donde la paz impone la práctica de una razón reconocida y un nuevo reto de comprensión y solidaridad más justa y más humanitaria. Durante su visita a Cuba en años pasados, su Santidad Juan Pablo II enarboló las banderas de la Verdad y de la Esperanza. “Que Cuba se abra al mundo y que el mundo se abra a Cuba”, pidió el Santo padre en aquella ocasión. Sin embargo, y a pesar de que ha habido gestos de apertura desde muchas partes del mundo, el régimen dictatorial de la Isla mantiene inconmovible su política de sociedad cerrada, con desprecio absoluto a la dignidad de los cubanos, discriminación en beneficio exclusivo de los extranjeros, explotación despiadada a los trabajadores y constantes violaciones a los derechos humanos. Por esto hoy más que nunca se hace necesario hacer un oportuno llamado a la conciencia internacional, pero fundamentalmente un enérgico reclamo a los inversionistas extranjeros, que en actitud mísera y censurable se han convertido en colaboradores de la tiranía comunista de Cuba y en cómplices del sufrimiento y las miserias que sufre nuestro pueblo, y a la despiadada explotación que hoy padecen los trabajadores cubanos.

Sobre las inversiones extranjeras en Cuba

#Sobre las inversiones extranjeras en Cuba

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