In a shop in Kilo 12, a carton now costs 3,400 pesos, putting it even further out of reach for many households.
14ymedio, Mercedes García, Sancti Spíritus, November 27, 2025 — For months, in Sancti Spíritus, they said – with a mixture of resignation and hope – that the price of eggs “could not go any higher”. When a carton of 30 eggs climbed to 3,000 pesos, many Sancti Spíritus residents claimed that the product had reached its ceiling. “It won’t go any higher,” they repeated in farmers’ markets, improvised queues and WhatsApp groups. But this week, in a small private shop in the Kilo 12 neighbourhood, a handwritten sign shattered that illusion of a limit being reached: 3,400 pesos.
The scene in front of the shop seems routine, but something in the atmosphere suggests that it is not. Three people wait in line—a young woman in flip-flops, a woman in very short shorts, and a heavyset man carrying a bag slung across his back—none of them speaking. The stillness has a visible weight. Even the black and white cat prowling near the peeling wall moves with a certain caution, as if it understands that an invisible barrier has been crossed in that corner.
The rough granite counter holds several cartons of 30 eggs each. Each one is an expensive promise, a small privilege for those who can still afford it. In a country where the average monthly wage is less than 6,500 pesos, buying one of these cartons means spending more than half of one’s monthly income. A luxury for some, an urgent necessity for others.
Workers leaving their homes complain loudly, pensioners stop to stare incredulously at the sign, and motorcyclists drive slowly past.
>The seller, safely inside the shop, spends the day repeating the same phrase to those who approach: “Yes, they’re now 3,400.” In the neighbourhood, news of the new price spreads quickly: workers leaving their homes complain loudly, pensioners stop to stare incredulously at the sign, and motorcyclists drive by slowly, as if weighing up whether it is worth stopping. Some even clean their glasses for fear that dust has distorted the price.
In Cuba, eggs have always been a barometer of the crisis. Their price rose with inflation, with the lack of feed for poultry, with the decline in domestic production and with speculation by those who fill the gaps left by the state. But this jump of 400 pesos in a few weeks has another flavour: that of absolute vulnerability. “My pension is 3,000 pesos, which isn’t even enough for a carton,” says a man watching the scene from a safe distance.
In the city, residents make complex calculations, given that many shops only sell whole cartons, not individual eggs. “Do you want to buy half?” one neighbour shouts to another on the opposite pavement. Inflation forces people to resort to increasingly distressing arithmetic.
Translated by GH
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