For the skewer, the important thing was not only to subsist, but to have access to some of the comforts that the money of foreigners visited by Havana could provide.
And, for this, it was necessary to be able to get his attention. Highlight, somehow, among the usual figures occupied by the preferential places of the capital: the Plaza de la Cathedral or the corner of the medium winery.
And it was not a simple task to compete with the mulatto of tobacco in the mouth and the flower in the hair. Nor with the inevitable street musicians, capable of staying interpreting the song of the chewing ché from the beginning of the day to the sunset.
He started with a skewer. And he continued with many more. From the forehead to the chin, the face of needles and hoops were filled. And, in that way, he got what he intended: to attract attention and collect the coins of the visitors.
And it went from being a complete stranger to being a bit known. He liked. And he set out to overcome his own record. He told, one by one, all the skewers that could still find a hole in his face. And, one by one, he stuck them.
And, from the astonishment and disbelief of tourists, he continued to collect coins in the city center.
But things were complicated. It was hard for him to sleep because he didn't know how to support his face on the pillow without suffering great pain. In his neighborhood there was almost never running water to wash. And, daily, the infections that, inevitably, appeared in one of the holes or in many of them at the same time.
I asked him if it was worth so much suffering. He replied that yes. In this world of hunger anonymous, told me, I have managed to make a name and eat.
I asked him to let me photograph him in the courtyard of his building. Told me: Of course, you don't know how many ask me ... and I do all tell them. And added: Although not everyone gives me money ... fuck! If everyone gave me, I would already be a millionaire!
