[Here you can read (in Catalan) Núria Cadenes’ published letter to Jordi Cuixart, last Christmas Day]
Soto del Real, January 30th, 2018
My dearest Núria,
Thank you so much for being there. I am very aware of how lucky I am to receive more love than I deserve.
You know very well that in prison memories are thawed very easily, as recommended by my admired Pepe Beunza in one of his last letters: ‘concentrate on resisting, hanging on, eliminating toxic thoughts that weaken us’, and revive moments of life comforts me tremendously.
April 1992. A new edition of Santiga Tree Festival, a bucolic village, between Santa Perpètua de Mogoda and Sabadell. With a thousand year old hermitage and a black Virgin. My uncle Navarro and my aunt Tere lived several years in the rectory, doing maintenance and, above all, a civic-cultural activism that is very typical of our society. Both Spanish speakers were passionate about the country. The star activity of the day was (in fact, it still is) a tribute to a Catalan writer with the placement of a plaque in the ‘sentiment wall.’
The year of Garzón’s raid was Martí i Pol’s turn. They were friends with my uncle. The party was splendid. As always, Paco Candel was there with Maruja, Soriano, Altaió, and I think Isabel-Clara Simó also.
From an early age, I was always near my uncle and my aunt (Tere was the most catalanist of all). I had already decided that I was not going to do military service; the Olympics didn’t care about anything that was not official and the Catalan oasis endured unshakeable.
At the end of the party, Martí i Pol dedicated a poster of the tribute to me: ‘For Jordi Cuixart, with the hope of sharing, forever more, in the same homeland’.
In 2015, just after assuming the presidency of Òmnium Cultural, I remember when in a meeting of reflection on how we could help normalize the collective imaginary of country, the word appeared once and for all: share.
Marina Llansana and Marcel Mauri, always so lucid, clinched de argument: ‘Lluites Compartides’ (Shared Struggles).
And here is where we are, as you say: ‘This country continues to be where we were, and a little bit more’. Or as David Fernàndez will say (my god, how I miss you!): they wanted to bury us and didn’t know that we were the seed.
Thank you for your poem. In return, I have one that you know and I want to tell you that has kept me company in the darkness of the cell, and has allowed me to assume, from hope and tenderness, the moments we have to live (I quote from memory):
And when we are free,
there will be neither oppressors nor oppressed
We will not have to justify ourselves to anybody
and young children will grow up without lies
I love you, Núria. I love you all and I’ll always have you in my heart.
As Llach told you in the Avui newspaper letter that I’ve read so many times: ‘I speak from the heart’. Now I’m also speaking from the bottom of my heart.
We will never weaken,
President d’Òmnium Cultural