Darío Hernández – Page 2 – Translating Cuba

A Liter of Gasoline Reaches 750 Pesos in Havana and Up to 1,200 in Holguín

The oil tanker Mia Grace, which was heading to Cuba from Africa, will instead go to the Dominican Republic
Pots and pans bang in Havana in protest against blackouts of up to 13 hours

A family cooking with kerosene on a Havana street. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Darío Hernández, January 23, 2026 – Havana experienced a totally dark day this Thursday, Diana, a second-year veterinary student went the entire day without eating. There is no gas left in her home, where she lives with her elderly grandparents, she tells 14ymedio. “They say pots were banging. I didn’t have the strength to listen or to bang a pot myself though I certainly felt like it,” the young woman says. “To make matters worse, I had an exam today and was hungry, because there comes a point when bread doesn’t fill you up, and it’s not that cheap either. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m exhausted.”

Irma, a 40-year-old Facebook advertising promoter, recounts her ordeal: “The power goes out and the connection disappears. I caught a cold going out onto the balcony looking for a signal and hanging laundry at night, because the clothes pile up, and when the electricity comes back, it’s rush, wash, make rice, iron the kid’s uniform.” The woman says her sister, a seamstress, is pulling her hair out because she doesn’t have light to work. “They give her power for one hour during the whole day. If this keeps up, she’ll have to sleep during the day and work at night. And the worst part is that it seems like you-know-who doesn’t care.”

“Here people live however they can. Many skip meals and baths; they resign themselves,” says a resident of Guanabacoa. “Yesterday the pots were banging in several areas here, and really loud. We’ll see what happens when the heat arrives, and on top of all this is the lack of sleep.”

“Here people live however they can. Many skip meals and baths; they resign themselves.”

On the streets at night, cooking in doorways lit by candles or by the glow of a cigarette, there are neighbors who take it with as much humor as they can. “I have no electricity, I have no soap,” sings a young woman almost melodically, to the tune of Juan Gabriel, continuing: “I have no money and nothing to give.” continue reading

Several municipalities in the capital reported more than nine hours in the dark, such as Marianao, where the power was cut at 3:00 pm and by midnight they were still without electricity. In the La Güinera neighborhood of Arroyo Naranjo, residents reported up to 13 hours without power, and in La Lisa there were protests with pots and pans. “I just confirmed by a video call that they restored electricity a few minutes after the demonstration. So, a word to the wise is enough,” said journalist Mario Pentón.

Mercedes and Antonio, two retirees who live alone, couldn’t cook their peas on Tuesday until 11:00 pm, when the power finally came back after 14 hours. “It was enough to drive you crazy,” says the man, an accountant when he was working; his wife was a doctor. However, “on Wednesday the blackout was even worse.”

The fuel shortage is also evident at gas stations. Since January 10, the Ticket system has not provided the list of the 24 gas stations open in eastern Havana, which could indicate that they are all closed. The list for the western sector is still being issued; this Thursday, 5 of the 14 stations there remained open.

Several municipalities of the capital reported more than nine hours in the dark, such as Marianao, where power was cut at 3:00 pm and by midnight they were still without electricity. / 14ymedio

Meanwhile, on the informal market fuel prices are rising at a dizzying pace. In Holguín, local sources report that a liter of gasoline has reached 1,200 pesos and a can of kerosene up to 15,000. In Havana, some users say they can find gasoline on the black market for 1,000 pesos per liter, although in most places prices range between 700 and 750. In Sancti Spíritus, the product is cheaper: five liters of “kerosene for the stove,” a resident explains, cost between 1,850 and 1,900 pesos; that is, between 370 and 380 per liter.

The situation is not easing, and the ship on the horizon fades away. In a strange twist of events, the Mia Grace, the tanker that was heading to Cuba from Togo to deliver some 314,500 barrels of diesel or 280,500 of fuel oil, according to University of Texas expert Jorge Piñón, has changed course. Geolocation data that this week indicated its departure from the port of Lomé with an expected arrival in Havana on February 4 have been modified.

The vessel, flying the flag of the Marshall Islands, now appears off the coast of Guinea after having departed on January 13 from Takoradi (Ghana), with destination Río Haina (Dominican Republic), where it is due to arrive on February 2. It is unknown why the route detected last Monday by Piñón has changed. He was alerted to the tanker’s destination and told 14ymedio that it could be a “spot purchase” by the state company Cubametales, sanctioned by the United States, “through a European intermediary.”

The expert noted that “Togo does not refine oil, but it exports refined petroleum products and has extensive logistics and maritime transit infrastructure.” Now the origin points to a port in Ghana, located about 500 kilometers from Lomé.

Most significant is that as of this week the UNE has stopped reporting the deficit by type of energy.

Ghana’s oil industry has consolidated in recent years as one of the most flourishing, along with gold, although it is still a mid-level African crude power, especially compared to Libya, Nigeria, or Algeria. The latter country, which maintains excellent relations with Cuba, has contributed a small amount of oil to the Island, but only around two million barrels annually, the equivalent of 18 days of national consumption.

After nearly reaching a 2,000-megawatt (MW) deficit during peak hours on Thursday—well above the announced 1,775 MW—a similar shortfall is expected this Friday. Officially, the Electric Utility (UNE) has forecast 1,970 MW, but even during average hours the figures are staggering, with 1,200 MW affected. This is almost unheard of in a context where solar parks are operating correctly. This Thursday the 49 parks generated 3,186 MWh, with a maximum output of 711 MW. These figures are enough to imagine what would happen if they were not contributing at all.

The thermoelectric plants are constantly going in and out, as if they spent the day revolving through a turnstile. This Thursday, the electric company’s posts announcing shutdowns were so numerous that users could take no more. “All those shutdowns are aimed directly at the people. Thank you very much for your efficiency,” one responded bitterly. Announcements of “offline” and “back on the system” multiplied, prompting some darkly humorous comments amid the desperation. “Whoever runs the UNE’s profile must enjoy their job; they work more than anyone else at the company. Incredible incompetence,” someone remarked.

Most significant is that as of this week the UNE has stopped reporting the deficit by type of energy. This Friday’s breakdown indicates breakdowns at units 5 and 8 of the Mariel thermoelectric plant (CTE), unit 3 of the Carlos Manuel de Céspedes CTE, units 5 and 6 of Nuevitas, and unit 2 of the Felton CTE. Under maintenance are unit 2 of the Santa Cruz del Norte CTE and unit 4 of the Carlos Manuel de Céspedes CTE, totaling 466 MW out of service in thermal generation. But there is a complete absence of data on the shortfall due to fuel, a figure that has been reported for months and generally exceeds 1,000 MW.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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In Cuba the Dollar Reaches 500 Pesos on the Informal Market in Holguín and Sancti Spíritus

Economist Pedro Monreal points to the failure of the floating exchange rate created by the government a month ago in its latest attempt to revalue the national currency

At the La Cuevita market in San Miguel del Padrón (Havana), the dollar was being bought at 480 CUP. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Holguín/Sancti Spíritus, Havana, Miguel García, Mercedes García, and Darío Hernández, January 22, 2026 – Just over a month after the official floating exchange rate went into effect, promising to revalue the national currency, the dollar has soared to 500 pesos in some parts of Cuba, such as Holguín. That is 10 CUP more per USD than the rate reported this Thursday by the independent platform El Toque (490) in its daily tracking of informal-market currency trading.

This was confirmed by a resident of Holguín who owns the electric tricycle he uses for work, whose electronic control box burned out. When he asked about prices, a private seller told him it cost $190. “I asked him what that was in pesos, because I didn’t have USD and had no way to get them, and after insisting that he preferred dollars, he told me the dollar was at 500 pesos.”

At the same time, mipymes [‘MSMEs’ — micro, small and medium-sized private enterprises] in the eastern city have raised prices for basic goods such as cooking oil, spaghetti, and chicken. “Starting this week, it’s going to be huge,” a Holguín resident laments ironically. Some merchants argue that inflation is precisely due to the new price of the dollar. “Due to the rise of the USD, there may be some price changes in certain products, but it’s nothing serious; we’re making an effort to keep prices as fair as possible,” they promise in a WhatsApp group.

“It’s not at all fair. They say they made the last purchase at one price for the dollar, but the next one will more expensive, so they’ll have to raise prices”

“Can you imagine? It’s not at all fair. They say they made the last purchase at one price for the dollar, but the next one will be more expensive, so they’ll have to raise prices,” the same woman says. continue reading

In Sancti Spíritus, most informal stalls are offering the dollar at the rate reported by El Toque, 490 CUP, but according to a source in the city, “there’s a mipyme that’s taking it at 500.” Meanwhile, in Havana, in most neighborhoods the dollar can be found at 490 pesos, but two days ago, at the La Cuevita market in San Miguel del Padrón, it was being bought at 480.

That same Tuesday, Cuban economist Pedro Monreal documented the failure of the most recent exchange-rate measures, comparing them to preparations for the “war of the whole people,” announced after the capture of Nicolás Maduro by the U. S. in Caracas and the death of 32 Cuban soldiers in the operation. “Exactly one month passed between the announcement of a new official floating exchange rate and the notification of the analysis and approval of plans and measures for the ‘transition to a State of War’ in Cuba,” tweeted the specialist, who lives in Spain. “So far, the floating rate is fighting a losing battle.”

For now, Monreal continued, the peso “has depreciated 3.9% against the USD under the floating rate, failing to meet the government’s expectation that the ‘new official foreign-exchange market’ would help restore the purchasing power of the national currency.”

In effect, when the Central Bank of Cuba (BCC) launched without prior notice an official floating exchange rate on December 18, to be added to the other two operating in the country: one at 1×24 for centralized state allocations for goods and services deemed essential, and another at 1×120 for certain “entities with the capacity to generate foreign currency,” such as tourism. The government presented it as the start of a transformation of the foreign-exchange market aimed at “bringing order” to the economy and moving toward future monetary unification.

In practice, however, the Island entered an even more complex stage of exchange-rate segmentation amid the worst economic crisis in decades. It quickly became evident that the population was ignoring the official rate, which was paradoxically very close to El Toque’s, against which the government had waged a harsh propaganda campaign months earlier, and they continued exchanging dollars on the informal market.

The peso “has depreciated 3.9% against the USD under the floating rate, failing to meet the government’s expectations”

In the following weeks, it could be seen that at state-run currency exchange offices (Cadeca), where dollars are virtually nonexistent and where the dollar was theoretically selling this Thursday at 457.92 pesos, only elderly people came to collect their pensions.

On January 9, yet another policy was added to the already convoluted exchange-rate market. The BCC opened a banking channel allowing private mipymes to legally purchase foreign currency through banks, but under very strict rules.

Thus, purchases by these private entrepreneurs can only be made based on the new floating rate, only once a month, and without being able to choose the amount. The amount is calculated by the bank by taking the average of what the mipyme deposited into its tax account over the previous three months, using only half of that money and converting it at the floating exchange rate in effect at the time.

In practice, this means that if a mipyme has had low or irregular income, it will be able to buy very few dollars, even if it urgently needs them to import raw materials, pay for services, or fulfill contracts. And if the business is just starting and does not yet have an income history, it could simply be left out altogether.

The BCC also made it clear that the entire process would be “bankarized.” Cuban pesos must be debited from the tax account, and the purchased foreign currency can only be deposited into the economic actor’s own foreign-currency account. No cash, no informal transfers, and no room for maneuver. Before approving the transaction, the bank will review the client’s identity, accounts, and the origin of the funds, as part of the controls that currently weigh on any economic activity on the Island.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Hundreds Line Up for Chikungunya Aftermath Consultations in Cuba

After long waits, patients are given appointments more than ten days later

Most of those waiting outside Havana’s Institute of Neurology and Neurosurgery were over 60. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Juan Diego Rodríguez / Darío Hernández, January 15, 2026 — Berta has just managed to get an appointment, after trying for almost a month, at Havana’s Institute of Neurology and Neurosurgery, one of the places where the government has launched a specialized clinic for people recovering from the chikungunya virus. She will be seen in ten days.

Infected in early October, the woman, a resident of Centro Habana, spent several weeks bedridden, immobilized by pain. When the fever subsided, she still couldn’t go outside and had to borrow a wheelchair. More than three months later she is better, but she continues to suffer many aftereffects. “I can’t sleep; I spend my nights awake with pain in my hands and knees,” she told 14ymedio.

Since the Ministry of Public Health announced on December 22 the start of care for patients with chikungunya sequelae at the Neurological Institute, Berta’s husband had been trying to get her a spot, but he only succeeded two days ago.

“The first time the doctor sees you in the clinic, they give you medication, but if you then need physical therapy, they send you somewhere else”

Every day, hundreds of people relentlessly form a line to request appointments at the institution, located in El Vedado on 29th Street between F and D. This Wednesday, 14ymedio witnessed two lines: one to request an appointment and another for consultations. The first moved along fairly well; the second barely budged. “I’ve been here since 7:00, and from 8:00 when they opened until noon only four people had gone through,” said an elderly woman who was waiting. “This is far too slow.”

Appointments are being scheduled for roughly 15 days out. “The first time the doctor sees you in the clinic, they give you medication, but then, if you need physical therapy, they refer you elsewhere,” explained another woman, younger than the first. Most of the doctors observed were young and foreign. By contrast, most of those waiting were over 60. continue reading

“I’m hopeful they can help me, even though my husband doesn’t believe it,” Berta says. “At least on the news they say this actually works.”

Indeed, the information disseminated by official media could not be more optimistic. They promise the design of “personalized physical therapy programs to promote rehabilitation and a rapid return to daily and work activities.” The service, the Ministry of Health explained, is intended “for the management of neuropathic pain, joint disorders, and paresthesias,” some of the consequences suffered by chikungunya patients, in some cases chronically.

A crowd outside the doors of Havana’s Neurological Institute. / 14ymedio

“Our objective is to evaluate and treat each case individually, facilitating a path toward functional recovery and an improvement in quality of life,” promised Orestes López Piloto, director of the Institute of Neurology. The project is being carried out by a multidisciplinary team made up of neurologists, neurosurgeons, anesthesiologists, and physical therapists, the Ministry also assured.

In addition, health authorities painted a picture that included sophisticated studies such as CT scans, ultrasounds, and even “specialized anesthetic interventions” to relieve aftereffects. Asked about this, López Piloto said they could not know the exact number of people who would seek care, but that the Institute had the necessary resources. “The strength of our health system allows us to organize this kind of response,” he asserted.

The long wait outside the facility seems to contradict that claim.

“At least they have a clinic,” objects Amauri, a resident of Ciego de Ávila. “Here, those of us who had the virus are left with nothing but patience.” He, his partner, and his mother contracted the disease in November and still suffer its consequences. “In the mornings I wake up with numb hands; I have to move them a lot just to function halfway decently,” he confesses.

“In the mornings I wake up with numb hands; I have to move them a lot just to function halfway decently”

According to the Pan American Health Organization, based on official Cuban statistics, a total of 65 people have died from chikungunya and dengue. However, statistical calculations by the Cuban Observatory of Citizen Auditing and Cuba Siglo 21 place the figure at 8,700 people.

Most of the deaths in the official registry are minors. Within this age group, the most vulnerable are newborns, whose lives are at risk if they fall ill.

In 2025, 51,217 cases of chikungunya and 30,692 of dengue were recorded. The epidemic, as happened with covid-19, has exposed the fragility of the health system, once an emblem of the Revolution. In addition to the lack of medications and the deterioration of health facilities, there has been a 27% decrease in the number of doctors in just five years, from 103,835 in 2020 to 75,364 in 2024.

The challenge, wrote Periódico 26 this Thursday, is to find “the keys through a sound line of research in order to impact the recovery of patients experiencing aftereffects” of arboviral disease. Authorities still do not see things clearly. One of the measures has been to promote trials with Jusvinza, also known as Cigb-258, a drug created more than a decade ago by the Center for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology (CIGB) as an immune system modulator, originally intended for autoimmune diseases such as rheumatoid arthritis, and which has not yet proven effective for those recovering from chikungunya.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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In Havana, Most Gas Stations Are No Longer Dispensing Fuel

Even refilling a lighter has become a difficult task in Cuba due to the fuel shortage

“Maduro abandoned us,” a Cupet worker tells a customer. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana/Holguín, Darío Hernández and Miguel García, January 11, 2026 — Under the uneven shade of a tree in a park in Holguín, Genaro waits for someone to approach with a lighter. The scene has repeated itself for more than a decade: a folding table, several gas sprays, screwdrivers, and pliers. For years, that small family business, refilling disposable lighters, allowed them to put food on the table. Today, however, the lack of fuel threatens to extinguish even that minimal flame. “Now it’s cheaper to buy a new one than to repair it because gas has become incredibly expensive,” he says, arranging his tools with a mechanical gesture.

Genaro charges 100 pesos for each lighter he refills and 50 more if the flint has to be replaced. Until recently, that fee guaranteed a steady trickle of customers. Today, the flow has dropped sharply. “This is no longer profitable, and if things get worse,” he warns, “I’ll have to find something else.” His occupation—salvaging what in other countries is thrown away—becomes unviable in a context where even the gas used to refill lighters has turned into a luxury.

The problem is not limited to his improvised table. At home, he explains, they cook with firewood and with liquefied gas “when it shows up.” The balita—the small gas cylinder that sustains the domestic life of thousands of families—now costs 50,000 Cuban pesos on the informal market in Holguín. “You almost never find it, and when someone does offer it to you, they can sit back and demand continue reading

whatever they want, because people are desperate.” At state-run sales points, the supply was suspended weeks ago, with no date for resumption.

The cutoff of Venezuelan oil supplies, following the capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. troops, has further strained a daily life already marked by shortages. What happens in Caracas translates almost immediately into extinguished stoves, paralyzed businesses, and reduced transportation in Cuba. The Island’s energy dependence turns any shock in the South American country into a domestic tremor.

In Havana, the situation is reflected in empty gas stations and in the conversations repeated under the roofs of the state company Cupet. In Telegram groups where virtual lines are organized, discouragement is palpable. This Saturday, in East Havana only 11 gas stations were offering service; another 10 were completely out of fuel. In the west of the capital, seven service stations had closed on Friday. No one dares to predict an improvement in the short term.

The mechanism for buying gasoline has become a digital maze. To even aspire to a turn, one must register in the Ticket app, enter an ID number, vehicle registration details, and the license plate. With luck, confirmation arrives in two or three months. But even then, the result can be frustrating: on the scheduled day, there may only be motor or regular gasoline of lower octane, unusable for many vehicles.

A tour of several Havana service stations confirms the picture. The central station at G and 25, in El Vedado, opened without fuel. The same scene repeats at its neighbor on La Rampa. Only at the nearby Tángana station was there still some supply for those waiting with a Ticket appointment, and in the entire central area only the station at L and 17 continued dispensing with some regularity.

The majority of gas stations in Havana are not operating.

Under the red sign reading “Your friend 24 hours a day” at G and 25, three men talk. They begin by discussing gasoline, but the conversation soon drifts toward Caracas, Washington’s warnings, and Marco Rubio’s statements urging Havana to choose between “change and collapse.” International politics seep into their words as yet another explanation for the empty tank.

“The situation is tight; I’ve never seen it this bad,” says a motorcyclist who came to Cupet just to confirm the obvious. He has a generator at home and urgently needs fuel. “My mother is bedridden with a relapse of chikungunya,” he explains. “At home we’re preparing for the worst, because this is just the beginning.”

At the Cupet stations on Vía Blanca and La Coubre, dispensing was limited to state vehicles, as it was at the station at the La Shell roundabout in Guanabacoa. Rafael, a Spanish businessman temporarily based in Cuba, described his fruitless tour of several stations in the Playa municipality. “They have no idea when fuel will come in again. They look lost,” he said.

One worker was more direct and, in a mocking tone, summed it up in four words: “Maduro abandoned us.” A tremor in Caracas is an earthquake in Havana.

“With what happened in Venezuela, I don’t think this will be fixed quickly,” / 14ymedio

In El Cerro, two brothers in the moving business have halted all operations. Their truck sits immobile while requests pile up unanswered. “With what happened in Venezuela, I don’t think this will be fixed quickly,” they say.

Early Sunday, many woke up glued to their phones after Donald Trump posted a message urging the Cuban regime to reach “an agreement, before it’s too late,” warning: “There will be no more oil or money for Cuba: zero!” For many, that message sealed the certainty that the severe fuel shortage will not be temporary.

On Havana’s Malecón, some look out to sea hoping for the silhouette of a tanker. For a young man singing boleros and guarachas to tourists, the definitive collapse will come “when El Morro goes dark.” Perhaps it will not require a mass exodus—only the absence of fuel and a wait that stretches on, like Genaro’s under the tree, with an empty lighter in his hand.

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Cubans Are Worried About the Cut-off in Oil Supply Caused By the Fall of Maduro

Nervous and hoarse, Díaz-Canel addressed an indifferent audience at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune

Miguel Díaz-Canel, during his speech this Saturday at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune in Havana. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Darío Hernández, Havana, January 3, 2026 – The morning dawned somewhat cold in Havana, with clear skies that failed to conceal the power outages in several municipalities and the water supply problems that continue to affect daily life in large areas of the city. Added to this everyday scene, early in the morning, was a last-minute official announcement: a rally at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune, next to the Malecón, to “denounce US attacks against Venezuela,” following the capture of President Nicolás Maduro by US troops.

While the Electric Union warned that the generation deficit for the day would exceed 1,600 MW, at bus stops and doorways people were talking less about the energy report than about what had happened in Caracas. The topic spread quickly throughout the city. At the popular market in La Cuevita, in San Miguel del Padrón, the pulse of the conversation seemed more intense than at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune itself.

Among the stalls selling jewelry, clothing, and household items, the comment was almost unanimous: “Did you see what happened to Maduro?” Some people were boasting: “That wouldn’t happen here, because they’d shoot down at least one or two helicopters,” said a man while offering sneakers and T-shirts for sale. Others preferred sarcasm and emphasized “how easy” it had been for U.S. special forces to capture the Venezuelan president and his wife, Cilia Flores. “It was like a movie,” said a young man, cell phone in hand, scanning the headlines.

Cubans are concerned about the oil supply being cut off due to Maduro’s fall.

There was no shortage of conspiracy theories. One woman claimed that “it was all planned” and that without Havana’s complicity, it would not have been possible for the Venezuelan leader to fall into Washington’s hands. “But we can rest easy because there’s nothing in Cuba that interests the Americans,” she said, as she chose a scouring pad. A few meters away, a household goods vendor told 14ymedio that “there’s sure to be a cut in oil supplies now, and everything here is going to get even more heated,” a concern that resonated more strongly than any slogan.

That restless murmur contrasted with the scene unfolding at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune, in front of the US Embassy in Havana. There, by mid-morning, hundreds of people had gathered with little enthusiasm. Many arrived in groups organized by their workplaces and tried to protect themselves from the sea breeze, which this January is not only laden with salt spray but also with a cold that seeps through coats.

One of the attendees at the rally at the Anti-Imperialist Tribune captured by this newspaper. / 14ymedio

The event began with predictable speeches, laden with references to “imperialism” and the defense of regional sovereignty. Miguel Díaz-Canel took the floor with a tone that sounded nervous. His hoarse voice, attempts to raise his volume, and forced gestures conveyed more tension than firmness. Some in the audience listened in silence; others took the opportunity to check their cell phones or talk quietly. The solemnity of the leaders contrasted with the evident fatigue among those gathered.

A few minutes after Díaz-Canel finished his speech, the stampede began. / 14ymedio

Unlike La Cuevita, where the debate was spontaneous and at times heated, the atmosphere at the Tribune seemed encapsulated, detached from people’s immediate concerns. A few minutes after Díaz-Canel concluded his speech, the stampede began. Entire groups left almost in unison, seeking shelter from the wind, looking for a bus, or simply thinking about getting home before the next power outage.

On the way back, the city was still talking about Venezuela. In a line to buy bread, someone asked if “Venezuelan oil is now really gone.” In a park, two retirees discussed how Maduro would behave before the US judges. “Change is coming,” summed up a bicycle taxi driver who, wearing long sleeves and sunglasses, was trying to convince a couple of tourists to get into his vehicle.

Translated by GH
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Cuba’s Telecommunications Company Etecsa Restarts Mobile Line Sales, Generating Long Lines in Havana

The shortage of SIM cards has further complicated Cubans’ access to telecommunications

For months, the shortage of SIM cards left numerous users without service. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Dario Hernandez, Havana, December 23, 2025 – This Monday, the offices of the State telecommunications company Etecsa in various parts of Havana were packed after the start of sales for new mobile lines and replacement SIM cards, a service that had been unavailable for months. The prolonged shortage made losing a phone a secondary problem compared to the impossibility of recovering the number, essential for communication, internet access, or carrying out basic tasks. The reopening of the service led to long lines, tension, and uneven organization in a context marked by the precariousness of telecommunications

Early on, 14ymedio visited several of these branches and confirmed how quickly the news had spread among customers. At the office located beneath the Focsa building in El Vedado, they attempted to maintain some control by issuing 100 tickets daily. The wait was long and the atmosphere tense, but relatively orderly. Similar stories were repeated among those waiting: stolen or lost phones and months of fruitless visits to Etecsa. “What hurts the most is losing the line,” several commented while they waited.

“What hurts the most is losing the line.”

In Regla, the lack of a clear queuing system led to constant arguments. Some, despite arriving late, tried to cut in line, an attitude that fueled the discontent among those who had arrived at the office early. The shouting and recriminations increased as rumors spread that supplies could run out at any moment, a possibility many considered certain after previous experiences of shortages and sudden sales suspensions.

For months, the shortage of SIM cards left many users without service. Some reported that the only alternative offered was to manage the line from abroad or pay in foreign currency, options beyond the reach of a large part of the population. This situation was compounded by frequent power outages and mobile service interruptions, which affected the quality of the connection.

This crisis is part of a broader scenario marked by Etecsa’s so-called “tarifazo” — a huge rate hike — which last May raised the cost of data and telephone services relative to salaries in pesos. The price increase, coupled with a shortage of lines and dependence on top-ups from abroad, has deepened inequality in access to communication. The lines this Monday reflect the cumulative impact of a commercial policy that has made connectivity an increasingly difficult commodity to obtain.

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Cuban Bank Employees Are Still Awaiting ‘Guidance’ on Buying and Selling Dollars

“We ourselves have doubts. The banks are collecting foreign currency only; they haven’t given us the order yet to sell”

In private businesses, it’s common for employees to accept US currency at the informal exchange rate and even purchase it. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Darío Hernández, December 23, 2025 — Nearly a week after the Central Bank of Cuba (BCC) announced the implementation of a floating rate for the foreign exchange market, in addition to other official exchange rates, the measure has yet to materialize for most Cubans. In Havana, the banks are not selling dollars to the population, despite the regulation being presented as a step to “organize” the exchange market and bring the official rate closer to the country’s economic reality.

In practice, the only thing that has begun to function is the purchase of foreign currency, and even that operation is surrounded by improvisation, administrative silence and confusion among bank employees themselves, as 14ymedio was able to confirm during visits to several bank branches in the Cuban capital.

“So far, I have no news that dollars are being sold to the population under the new rate; what they are doing is buying,” a Banco Metropolitano branch employee in El Vedado, who prefers to remain anonymous, explained to this newspaper on Monday. According to his account, US currency was being received that day at 401 pesos.

“If the customer hands over a large amount of dollars and the bank doesn’t have enough cash in national currency, part of the payment is made through electronic transfer. If the disbursement is made completely in cash, a 3% discount is applied as a tax,” the state worker specifies.

The new rate was announced by monetary authorities as a flexible mechanism, subject to adjustments based on supply and demand. The stated objective was to compete with the informal market and capture dollars currently circulating outside the state financial system. However, what is happening at the branches is very different from the official narrative. There are no clear protocols, and staff continue reading

are working without precise instructions on how to proceed.

There are no clear protocols and staff are working without instructions

This scheme, far from conveying confidence, feeds the perception of improvisation. “This entire process of the new floating dollar exchange rate has been implemented without notice or prior preparation of the bank staff,” the worker summarizes. “We haven’t received any guidance on how to sell the dollars, whether we’ll give it to them in cash or through electronic transfer. Even yesterday we had a meeting at our bank, and the topic of selling dollars didn’t even come up.”

The uncertainty repeats itself at other branches in the capital. At the bank located on the ground floor of the Focsa building, also in El Vedado, an employee confirms that the order for now is to buy only foreign currency. “We ourselves have doubts. Now all the banks are doing is collecting, buying dollars,” she explains. Although she says that selling will happen “at some point,” she recognizes that there still isn’t an official instruction allowing them to offer dollars to the public.

The worker also confirms that the rate of 401 pesos is already being used in other financial operations. “Those who have MLC [freely convertible currency] cards, now when you do a transfer from Transfermóvil to national currency, the exchange rate used is that one, and you gain cash that way.” If this detail is confirmed, then it would be a signal that the BCC is trying to consolidate the freely convertible currency again, as seems to be indicated by the rapid rise of that virtual financial instrument on the informal market exchange board published daily by the site El Toque. At the end of October; a dollar was worth barely 200 pesos and is now at 350.

The design of the sales mechanism, when finally activated, also raises questions. According to banking sources, MSMEs (micro, small and medium-sized enterprises) will receive dollars exclusively through electronic transfers, not in cash, which is in line with the chronic shortage of bills in state coffers. For individual customers, a combination of cash and transfers is expected, “when they approve it,” clarifies the Focsa employee. For now, the outlook is an asymmetric scheme: the bank buys dollars from the population but doesn’t sell them.

The BCC announced a new banking channel for the non-state sector to purchase foreign currency in the official market. “Requests will be made from commercial banks and through the fiscal account, without handling cash,” the brief informative note clarifies. “The limit will be up to 50% of the average gross income of the fiscal account in the last quarter,” the text adds.

For now, the outlook is an asymmetric scheme: the bank buys dollars from the population but doesn’t sell them. / 14ymedio

Regarding individuals, this note clarifies that the limit of 100 dollars per person will continue and that the cumbersome and ineffective system of turns through the Ticket app at the 41 sales offices will be maintained.

Outside the Focsa bank branch on Monday, however, the urgent concerns were different. The long line to collect pensions or attempt to withdraw cash from ATMs monopolized customers’ anxiety. Each time an employee poked their head out the main door, a shower of questions rained down on them. Doubts ranged from the establishment’s operating hours during the upcoming holidays to questions about when they will start selling dollars.

Informal currency exchangers, meanwhile, seem to be starting to react after days of paralysis and uncertainty following the official announcement. “The guy who buys dollars in my neighborhood went a week without accepting them but has started again and has set them at 420 pesos,” a young resident of the Guanabacoa municipality explains to this newspaper. In private businesses, it is common for employees to accept US currency at the informal exchange rate and even to purchase it.

El Toque reports that the dollar this Tuesday is at 440 pesos on the informal market, where the greenback continues to circulate with greater agility and without taxes or cumbersome procedures. For many Cubans, handing over their foreign currency to the bank and having to register personal data with no certainty of being able to buy it back doesn’t seem like an attractive option at the moment.

“I had 100 dollars saved for Christmas and I preferred to change them with an individual who has a cafeteria on my block,” recounts a neighbor from Cotorro. “He gave me 425 pesos for them and I came out better than I would have with the bank and didn’t have to show my ID card,” she adds. However, she will avoid selling the remaining US currency she has saved “until things settle down.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Vargas Llosa According to Padura: A Literary Conversation in a Packed Room at the Ateneo de La Habana

The Cuban author acknowledged he is an admirer of Vargas Llosa’s work, especially ‘Conversation in the Cathedral’.

The dialogue also addressed Vargas Llosa’s relationship with the Cuban Revolution. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Dario Hernandez, Havana, 20 December 2025 — For just over an hour, Havana experienced one of those rare moments when literature manages to triumph over blackouts and hardship.

The Ateneo de La Habana was packed to overflowing to hear Leonardo Padura speak about Mario Vargas Llosa, in a conversation moderated by Rafael Grillo and organized by La Tertulia. The sustained attention and the diversity of the audience confirmed that literature continues to draw people in Cuba, despite the crisis, censorship, and fears surrounding certain topics.

The room, with its peeling walls and fans that barely offered any relief from the tropical winter chill, was packed long before it began. Readers of all ages filled every available chair; others sat on the floor, leaned against the walls, or remained standing throughout the entire event. Among the attendees were writers, editors, artists, university professors, and regular readers, all mingling without any apparent protocol or hierarchy.

The hall was packed long before it started. / 14ymedio

Rafael Grillo led the discussion with sobriety and precision, avoiding a laudatory tone and opting for questions that placed Vargas Llosa at the center of the literary debate, not in the realm of superficial political polemics. From the outset, it was clear that this was not an uncritical tribute, but rather a reasoned reading of a pivotal work of Spanish-language narrative. Padura knows that speaking about Vargas Llosa on the island entails acknowledging contradictions, areas of conflict, and an intellectual trajectory that cannot be reduced to slogans.

The Cuban author acknowledged his admiration for Vargas Llosa’s work, especially Conversation in the Cathedral, a novel he defined as one of the undisputed masterpieces of the 20th century. He detailed the Peruvian writer’s obsession with power, the mechanisms of domination, and the moral degradation produced by authoritarian structures. He also continue reading

emphasized the tension between Vargas Llosa’s liberal thought and a literature that, in many passages, seems written from a leftist perspective.

One of the most talked-about moments was when Padura recalled personal anecdotes from his first encounter with Vargas Llosa. The first time he approached him, as they were getting off a plane, he told him he was a close friend of Ambrosio Fornet, with whom the Peruvian had studied in Madrid during his youth. Then he confessed: “Maestro, I just wanted to tell you one thing so as not to bother you: every time I start writing a novel, I read Conversation in the Cathedral .”

Among those present were writers, editors, artists, university professors, and regular readers. / 14ymedio

The dialogue also addressed Vargas Llosa’s relationship with the Cuban Revolution. Padura recalled that the Peruvian writer’s initial enthusiasm was shared by much of the Latin American intelligentsia of the 1960s and that the break was not immediate. The definitive rupture came in 1971, after the Padilla case, when Vargas Llosa spearheaded the letter of protest against the Cuban poet’s arrest and forced self-criticism. From that moment on, he noted, the distance was irreversible, and the writer understood that the revolutionary project had betrayed basic principles of intellectual freedom.

The audience listened in silence, without interruptions or signs of impatience. The final questions confirmed the level of attention and the need for these spaces. They discussed literature and politics, censorship and the market, in a country where the price of a book in Europe is equivalent to two months’ salary for the average Cuban. There were also references to Donald Trump and the current regional context, where old stories that “Cubans heard in fourth grade” are resurfacing, such as the Monroe Doctrine and gunboats.

Padura insisted that his relationship with Vargas Llosa has always remained on the literary plane, without demands for alignment or concessions, as if literature were the last territory where it is still possible to converse without preconditions.

Leonardo Padura speaks about Mario Vargas Llosa in a packed Ateneo de La Habana.

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‘Right Now Nobody Is Exchanging Dollars; Cubans Are Waiting To See What’s Going To Happen’

In the provinces, the official floating rate has been ignored and only the informal market is operating, with a rate of 440.

The official discourse itself acknowledges—though in a much more sugar-coated tone—the limitations of the measure. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana/Holguín, Darío Hernández and Miguel García, December 20, 2025 — “Do you want to change two bucks?” asks a customer in a MSME in Alamar. “Nah,” replies the person behind the counter. “It’s pointless; the dollar is going down.” The scene, unremarkable, has been repeated in recent days at several points around the Island. It’s the immediate reaction to the uncertainty created by the official floating rate, which this Saturday fell to 408 pesos per dollar on the third day of its implementation (its launch rate was 410 on Thursday, December 18).

This Saturday it fell to 408 pesos per dollar on the third day of its implementation. / Cubadebate

In its crusade against the informal market—and particularly against the daily publication of rates by the independent outlet El Toque—the Government seems determined to curb inflation the way Cuban mothers bring down a fever: with cold showers and “horse cures.” The paradox is that the rate announced by the Central Bank looks far too similar to the one that, until now, set the street thermometer—well above the official rate of 120 CUP supposedly in force at banks, where it had become impossible to obtain dollars or any other foreign currency.

The official gamble has generated a tense silence in the market. “Right now nobody is exchanging dollars—at least not those who usually do it. I myself am having trouble exchanging. Some say they don’t have cash; others say they’re going to wait,” a self-employed worker in Havana tells 14ymedio. Another source confirms the same atmosphere: “I have a colleague who wants to exchange dollars and says that in Havana nobody wants them. He’s been all over.” The response is almost unanimous: “Now is the time to lie low and wait.”

However, the effect threatens to be short-lived. The official discourse itself acknowledges—albeit in a much more sugar-coated tone—the limitations of the measure. In a lengthy analysis published by Cubadebate, it is admitted that implementing a floating-rate foreign-exchange market does not occur “at an ideal moment” for the Cuban economy. Low levels of production, falling exports, severe restrictions on external financing and a still-high fiscal deficit conspire against any attempt at rapid stabilization. According to the text, the Central Bank of Cuba enters the market as “just another competitor,” but with the administrative capacity to publish the rate daily, which will float according to supply and demand. The same official note acknowledges that, at the outset, the rate will have to remain “close to what currently prevails in the informal market” in order to avoid a greater inflationary shock.

Nobody wants to get stuck holding greenbacks in a market that is uncertain. / 14ymedio

On the street, that admission translates into pragmatism and, in many cases, resignation. At an MSME [Micro, Small, Medium Enterprise] near the Santa Fe bridge in Guanabacoa, a woman tried to exchange 40 dollars. “But at 408,” the clerk told her. “That’s fine by me,” the customer replied, “I don’t have money even to continue reading

take a pedicab.” The scene illustrates well the dilemma between selling now—even at a rate that could change tomorrow—or holding on to dollars that few people want to buy today.

“In general, I think few people are selling their dollars at 408, but there are some, because right now it’s the only option,” explains another interviewee. In Old Havana, an MSME where foreign currency had previously been accepted decided to slam that door shut: “Yesterday I went to buy a couple of things and they weren’t accepting dollars—only national currency.” Nobody wants to get stuck with greenbacks in a market that is uncertain due to the official measure and the proximity of the Christmas festivities.

In Holguín, the scene is different. Far from Havana—where, predictably, most of the dollars available for the Central Bank’s operations are concentrated—the official floating rate has stirred more apathy than expectation. A self-employed worker who moves around the city daily tells 14ymedio that in the province “the measure has been ignored; here the dollar is still at 440.” Geographic distance once again translates into economic distance.

The Cuban peso will continue to be a weak currency, no matter how much a new official price is published every morning. / 14ymedio

The official narrative insists that this new system will allow greater fiscal control, a gradual reduction of inflation and more resources for sectors such as health, education and culture. It also promises to stimulate exports, offer a “safe” channel for exchanging remittances and combat the distortions created by informality. All of that sounds good on paper. The problem is that Cuba has already experienced too many reforms that, in their initial phase, promised order and ended up multiplying the chaos.

The key lies in what is not said with sufficient clarity: the market will sell only what it buys. In other words, there is no foreign-currency backing that guarantees sufficient liquidity. The availability to buy dollars—and thus the credibility of the system—will depend on a “gradual process” of strengthening that, in an exhausted economy, may take too long or never arrive. In the meantime, informality retreats, watches and waits.

The floating rate may have caused a tactical pause in foreign-currency trading, but it has not resolved the structural causes of the problem, according to most economists—both from the opposition and from a critical sector close to the regime—who have spoken out about the new measures. Without a real increase in production, without sustained exports and without access to external financing, the Cuban peso will continue to be a weak currency, no matter how much a new official price is published every morning. The market, inside or outside the institutions, will ultimately adjust the figure in its own way.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Despite Epidemics and the Economic Crisis, Cuban Devotees of Saint Lazarus Flock to El Rincón.

From the sanctuary and dressed in purple, the head of the US Embassy, Mike Hammer, calls for the freedom of Cubans.

Residents of the La Jata neighborhood in Guanabacoa celebrated Saint Lazarus early on the eve of his feast day. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Dario Hernandez, Havana, December 17 2025 — As they have done every year since 2001, residents of the La Jata neighborhood in Guanabacoa celebrated Saint Lazarus early on the eve of his feast day. On Tuesday afternoon, neighbors gathered in the streets and walked, tapping their hands, until they reached the home of the legendary Enriquito, a renowned babalao (priest) who founded the Cuban Association of the Sons of Saint Lazarus in 1957 and led this tradition until his health failed him in 2016, shortly before his death.

Some of the faithful walked barefoot, and many others on their knees. / 14ymedio

A few hours later, at dawn on Wednesday, people of all ages began arriving at the El Rincón sanctuary. Some residents told 14ymedio that in previous years the pilgrimage was much larger. Despite the lack of public transportation, people were able to travel in shared taxis from Fraternity Park to the Cupet gas station in Santiago de las Vegas, from where a five-kilometer procession with hundreds of pilgrims began. Some of the faithful walked barefoot, and many others on their knees.

As always, and despite the deep crisis gripping the country, the road was lined with vendors selling religious images, flowers, and candles. Candle prices varied depending on size, ranging from 100 to 200 pesos, while flowers started at 500 pesos. As in previous years, the police presence was noticeable, with at least one officer on every corner. People were also seen drinking alcohol.

Thousands of Cubans flocked to the National Shrine of Saint Lazarus in El Rincón this Wednesday / 14ymedio

Once at the sanctuary, the Mass officiated by the Archbishop of Havana, Juan de la Caridad García, was considerably delayed. Every five minutes, people crawled in, mainly women, most of them barefoot mothers accompanied by dogs. Lighting candles was not permitted until the Mass had concluded.

“Every devotee of Saint Lazarus knows that promises must be kept,” Osmara told this newspaper, while, dressed in purple, she begged for coins from everyone who passed by.

After the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Charity of El Cobre, El Rincón is the second most important pilgrimage site in Cuba. Its church is dedicated to Saint Lazarus, a Catholic figure syncretized with Babalú Ayé, an orisha of the Yoruba pantheon to whom the healing of illnesses, particularly skin diseases, is attributed. This devotion has developed over time within Cuban popular religiosity.

The temple was founded over a spring of water considered to have healing properties. Even today, many worshippers bathe in this water or take away small blessed bottles as part of their vows. A few meters away is the former Royal Hospital of San Lázaro, which began as a leper colony and still functions today as a hospital specializing in dermatology.

After the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Charity of El Cobre, El Rincón is the second most important pilgrimage center in Cuba. / 14ymedio

The celebration of Saint Lazarus is undoubtedly part of Cuba’s deepest cultural and spiritual fabric, where Catholicism, Afro-Cuban religious practices, and expressions of popular faith coexist. For this reason, the head of mission of the United States Embassy, Mike Hammer, was present, never missing an opportunity to connect with Cubans on the street and share videos expressing his support for freedom: “On this significant day, I wanted to reiterate my call for freedom and respect for the fundamental rights of all Cubans.”

Beyond the island, among the diaspora, the tradition has also taken root. On the other side of the Gulf, in Hialeah, the large Cuban community has built its own shrine inspired by El Rincón. Every December, hundreds of emigrants flock there to give thanks for favors received and fulfill promises to the saint, replicating a tradition that, even far from Cuba, continues to define Cuban faith and identity.

In Miami, 66-year-old Lourdes sent candles and purple clothing in advance so her family, who live in San Miguel del Padrón, could make the pilgrimage to El Rincón. The migrant, who has been in the United States for three years, having arrived across the border, asked her relatives to pray for her before the image of Saint Lazarus. Her plea to the saint was brief and direct: “that they don’t deport me and that they finally grant me residency.”

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For Their Daily Fight Against Garbage, Havana’s Street Sweepers Earn About Ten Dollars a Month

“Regla is one of the cleanest municipalities,” boasts a municipal employee, broom and dustpan in hand.

The wages are uncompetitive with any informal alternative, the physical strain is enormous, and the lack of resources is humiliating. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Dario Hernandez, Havana, December 12, 2025 – On the streets of Havana, the filth no longer surprises anyone. What is truly shocking is looking closely at those who, despite everything, continue sweeping. This newspaper approached two street sweepers who, with broom and dustpan in hand, are keeping afloat—as best they can—a public service in ruins. Both are vulnerable men, physically worn down, for whom garbage has become a destiny, not a choice.

One of them, a worker from Regla, explains that he’s been in the job for “a little over a year,” working six days a week. His job consists of “keeping his area clean,” as he describes it. In practice, it’s a daily and unequal struggle against the accumulation of waste, the shortage of trucks, and institutional apathy. Despite everything, he maintains a certain pride in his town: “Regla is one of the cleanest municipalities,” he states. But his statement immediately crumbles: “People don’t want to work in the garbage.”

According to authorities, the worst-performing municipalities in Havana are Marianao, Centro Habana, and Plaza de la Revolución. Prime Minister Manuel Marrero Cruz recently complained that garbage trucks weren’t making enough trips to the rubbish dumps and threatened to inspect them “truck by truck.” The head of government also “expressed interest,” according to the official newspaper Granma, in the salaries of “frontline workers,” some 900 street sweepers, but no raise was agreed upon at the meeting, although there were calls for greater demands.

The basic wage is 2,500 pesos, but it can go up “if you do extra jobs.” /14ymedio

The street sweeper in Regla bluntly details his salary to 14ymedio. The base pay is 2,500 pesos, but it can go up “if you do extra jobs.” However, he had hip surgery and can barely walk, even with the support of his broom. “I earn 4,000 a month (about nine dollars at the informal exchange rate),” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “You know how Cubans are; they make do with continue reading

very little. It’s not that it’s enough, it’s not enough for anything.”

According to reports, some workers received between 7,000 and 10,000 pesos in the last payment, amounts that—given the country’s rampant inflation—don’t cover basic needs. Truck drivers earn slightly more, but collection vehicles are even scarcer than the personnel.

A second street sweeper, this time from Guanabacoa, is deaf and mute and uses signs and gestures to communicate. He has been sweeping for twelve years because “he has no other choice.” When asked about his salary, he makes a face of disgust and lowers his thumb, an unmistakable sign that the pay is meager. His face, weathered by the sun and exhaustion, speaks volumes.

Both cases involve people with physical or social difficulties, trapped in jobs no one else wants. “And who are the ones who work in the garbage? People like me, who are getting on in years,” acknowledges the street sweeper from Regla. His testimony paints a picture of the country’s decline, with aging, sick workers, lacking job alternatives, and employed by an essential service that is falling apart.

In Regla, the worker explains, residents have to bring their waste “in a box or a sack” due to the lack of containers and trucks. In other areas of eastern Havana, small illegal dumpsites are growing at an accelerated rate.

The bureaucracy, gathered in pristine offices, says that Havana “is not giving up on comprehensive solutions to improve its services and cleanliness.” / 14ymedio

In stark contrast to this reality, the bureaucracy, gathered in pristine offices, claims that Havana “is not giving up on comprehensive solutions to improve its services and cleanliness.” This phrase, repeated periodically, comes with promises of repairs, reorganization, “gradual” implementations, and “intersectoral” strategies.

The data shows extremely poor results. Of an identified need for 126 rolling garbage containers the industry planned for 32 with “available resources,” and only 31 have been completed. As for the street sweeper carts , there is a plan to manufacture 1,000 units, but to date only 40 have been produced.

The gap between rhetoric and reality widens even further given the epidemiological risk posed by garbage accumulation. These reports acknowledge, between the lines, that the problem is not temporary but chronic. The deterioration of sanitation services in Havana is not solely due to a lack of equipment or funding. There is a decisive human factor at play, as no one wants to do the work. The wages are uncompetitive with any informal alternative, the physical strain is immense, and the lack of resources is humiliating. “There’s a shortage of personnel,” the street sweeper in Regla repeats, as he walks slowly and with difficulty, leaning on his work tool.

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Another Enigmatic 25-Storey Hotel Rises on Havana’s Malecón

It is being built by the French company Bouygues and will have 520 luxury rooms.

“This is incredible, man,” says a passer-by, faced with the paradox of seeing another hotel spring up while the rest of Havana crumbles. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Darío Hernández, Havana, November 29, 2025 — After more than three years of construction, the tower rising at 1st and B in Havana’s Vedado neighbourhood continues to grow like a foreign body in the middle of a neighbourhood that is falling apart. The 25-storey building is visible from several blocks away and already dominates the coastal strip near the Malecón. The structure appears to be practically finished on the outside, but its interior is still under construction.

A technician at the site assured 14ymedio that “the foreign part is French,” and that Indians are also working on the project, although, according to him, “more as labourers.” “They are leaving in December because their work is done,” added the expert. The project’s architectural dossier confirms that the French construction company Bouygues – the same company that has built most of the luxury hotels in Cuba – is listed as the main developer of the building. This explains the presence of French and Indian workers on the site, as well as the high standard of the finishes.

The structure seems to be practically finished on the outside, but is still in progress on the inside. / 14ymedio

The French company Bouygues Bâtiment International, a discreet player in Cuba’s hotel boom, has a history of controversy. The most recent episode was documented by this newspaper after Hurricane Melissa struck. While more than 76,000 homes remain damaged and thousands of families are still without assistance, the Antilla Modular Plant, operated by Bouygues, continues to operate at full capacity to manufacture complete room modules for luxury hotels. This was compounded by official censorship, when even state media were warned to “forget” about the plant after attempting to investigate its activities. continue reading

Unlike other hotels openly promoted by the Gaesa military conglomerate, this tower has no advertisements, billboards or any public indication identifying its investor, builder or future operator. The architectural project, disclosed a few years ago by the studio that designed it, describes a four-star hotel with some 520 rooms, common areas distributed over a three-level base, and high-standard services, including a swimming pool and panoramic terrace.

The technician interviewed by 14ymedio estimates that the work still has “a year or so” to go. Workers are now in the process of tiling bathrooms and floors, although “all the technology, electricity and lifts are still to be installed”. If there was one thing he repeated several times, it was that the building will have “state-of-the-art technology, like the Torre K“, one of the flagship projects of state investment. In terms of “modernity”, he assures us, “there is the Torre K and then this one”.

The French company Bouygues, a discreet player in Cuba’s hotel boom, has a history of controversy. / 14ymedio

When asked what the hotel would be called, the answer was as predictable as it was disturbing: “The name is not yet known; it will be revealed when it is finished.” It is striking that, despite its size and visual impact on the area, no official media outlet has published any updates, deadlines or details about the property.

Aware of the contrast, a neighbour passing by the building commented with a laugh: “This is incredible, man.” The man, who gave no further details, was referring to the paradox of seeing a luxury hotel spring up while the rest of Havana is falling apart. The tower at 1st and B is being built with cranes, foreign labour and no shortage of materials, but the houses surrounding it have crumbling facades and shored-up balconies. A few metres from the building, the structures have noticeable leaks and cracks. In a nearby garden, two men slept on the dry grass. The stark, everyday scene reflects the gulf between the official reference to the “blockade*,” supposedly responsible for the destruction of the national economy, and the unstoppable rush to build luxury tourist projects, precisely when the hotel occupancy rate is barely 20%.

The skyscraper at 1st and B rises up in front of a neighbourhood that is unable to maintain its basic infrastructure. A construction project that brings in Indian and French workers, while many Cubans are looking around for ways to survive. Modernity is coming, but not for everyone.

Translated by GH

Note: There is, in fact, no US ‘blockade’ on Cuba, but this continues to be the term the Cuban government prefers to apply to the ongoing US embargo. During the Cuban Missile Crisis the US ordered a Naval blockade (which it called a ‘quarantine’) on Cuba in 1962, between 22 October and 20 November of that year. The blockade was lifted when Russia agreed to remove its nuclear missiles from the Island. The embargo had been imposed earlier in February of the same year, and although modified from time to time, it is still in force.

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Havana Is No Longer Spared From Eight-Hour Power Cuts

“From 6:00 pm onwards, the most central area of Regla seems like a pitch black hole.”

“Perhaps a few lights here and there, from a café with plants, but the rest of us have to go out onto the pavement.” / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Darío Hernández, Havana, 22 November 2025 — “Chico, here in the neighbourhood we’re used to darkness at this time of day,” says Rodolfo, a 64-year-old man sitting at the door of his house on Martí Street, the main avenue in Regla. “By 6:00 pm, the most central area looks like a pitch black hole. Maybe there’s a light here and there, from a café with a generator, but the rest of us have to go out onto the pavement with chairs or sit on the walls and wait for the power to come back on.”

Yaima has already become accustomed to power cuts disrupting the schedule. “You more or less go by what the company says,” she says, although lately they have been lasting up to 20 or 30 minutes longer than announced. “I’m used to it now, but this week, as has happened on other occasions, the schedules have been completely off.”

Havana residents are the least affected by the Electric Union, while the rest of Cubans protest, but the energy crisis is already hitting so hard that no one is spared. “With the utmost calm, they send the message that certain blocks have had to be affected due to a generation deficit, and they ruin your plans,” he protests. On Wednesday, my children went to bed with a piece of bread because at 10 p.m., when the power came back on, they weren’t going to eat.”

Power cuts during the early hours of the morning last more than three to four hours. / 14ymedio

On that day, several units at the Felton, Santa Cruz del Norte, Renté and Cienfuegos thermoelectric power stations were out of service or undergoing maintenance, and 91 distributed generation plants were out of service due continue reading

to a lack of fuel. The drop in supply from the main partners, Mexico and Venezuela, is – so far this year – 35% compared to 2024, a year in which there had also been a sharp cut in oil imports. The scale of this crisis has reached an unsustainable point and has simultaneously affected the six “blackout blocks” several times. Power cuts during the early hours of the morning are more than 3 or 4 hours.

The endless explanations from the authorities about the state of the national energy system and how it will be fixed – announcements that have been made for at least five years, during which time it has only gotten worse – fill minutes on TV’s Round Tables and prime-time news programmes that will not reach those who might be interested. “Here, for more than a week, it has not been possible to watch television from approximately four to eight or nine o’clock. This is bloody awful. Oh, and that’s not to mention the water, which arrives here every other day at that time. When the power comes on, all that’s left is a trickle of water,” Rodolfo continues in a very alarming complaint given the current health context on the island.

“Imagine, with these blackouts I can only work three or four hours a day” / 14ymedio

To make matters worse, the telephone and internet signals are lost when the power is cut. “On other occasions, the power went out here and there was no connection, but you could go out onto the roof and more or less access WhatsApp or Facebook during the four hours of the power cut,” says Yaima, whose work as a sales manager for a micro-SME [small business] is also affected. “Now it goes out, and the next second you lose the signal completely. You can’t call your mother, you can’t entertain yourself or, worse, as in my case, you can’t work. I get paid on commission, per customer I serve. Imagine, with these power cuts I can only work three or four hours a day,” she complains.

To top it off, the telephone signal and internet are lost with the blackouts. “There were times when the power went out and there was no connection, but you could go to the roof and more or less get on WhatsApp or Facebook during the four hours of blackout,” says Yaima, whose work as sales manager for a small group of people is also affected. “Now the power goes out, and the next second you lose the signal completely. You can’t call your mother, you can’t entertain yourself, or worse, as is my case, you can’t work. I charge a commission for each customer, and imagine, with these blackouts I can only work three or four hours a day,” she laments.

The winter chill is also absent from the island this year, and after a few days of milder temperatures at the beginning of the month, the heat is keeping demand for fans and air conditioning high. This Friday, authorities estimate that 3,200 megawatts will be needed during peak hours, but the system can only generate 1,494, much less than half. Meanwhile, the authorities will continue to be embroiled in their war against El Toque and in the new “programme to correct distortions and boost the economy”, which will be discussed today at a round table that neither Rodolfo nor hundreds of thousands of Cubans will be able to see.

Translated by GH

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The Havana Marathon, Another Victim of the Viruses That Plague Cuba

Laura, Reynier and other fans who are convalescing, even those with symptoms, have chosen to run the middle distance of 10 kilometers since the 5000 meter [5k] race is only for foreigners

This year only 200 foreign runners have registered, fewer than the 300 of the 2024 edition. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Darío Hernández, November 15, 2025 — Many runners will not participate in the 39th edition of the Havana Marathon (Marabana) due to the consequences of dengue and chikungunya, viruses that according to official figures have affected 30% of the Cuban population. Cancelations, changes of distance and disorganization marked the first day of number pick-up at the hotel Habana Libre for registered athletes.

“I’m here because I want to see if I can change the distance. I had planned to run the marathon, the 42 kilometers, but this year I won’t be able to.” Laura has been running for 10 years, and it’s been nine since she missed an edition of the most popular race in Cuba. The first time, she remembers, she ran the 5 kilometer competition and then it increased, first to 10 kilometers and then to the half marathon (21 kilometers), until five years ago when she managed to run the full marathon.

“This time it will be impossible for me. I got the virus a month ago. I spent two weeks without going out, and only now have I been able to stretch my legs a little. The pains are still there, in the wrists, ankles, the soles of my feet. I recently ran 5 kilometers as a test and spent the next three days unable to walk. And just the next day, on the Round Table program, Dr. Durán said that the pains can last from three months to a year.” Laura prefers not to take risks and to rest a bit, so she wants to cut the distance in half. “If they don’t change my participation to 21 kilometers, I won’t run this year.”

Reyner, on the other hand, says that the virus hit him very hard, and he constantly relapses. “I’m still convalescing, but this would be my first race, and I don’t want to miss it. I was going to run the 10 kilometers, and I want to lower it to 5, but it’s difficult because this distance is only for foreigners. It’s the most popular, and surely more people would come and spice it up. Cubans can only run 10 kilometers. No one runs a 10; that takes preparation. That’s why the Marabana is becoming less popular.” continue reading

About 2,800 runners will participate this year. / 14ymedio

According to data provided to the official press by Carlos Gatorno, director of the Marabana Maracuba National Running and Walking Commission, this year about 2,800 runners will participate, more than the 2,400 from last year, but only 200 will be foreigners, fewer than the 300 of the 2024 edition. They can opt for any distance and the possibility of running only 5 kilometers. To do this, they must pay $150 for registration.

Daniel is Mexican and has a two-year employment contract in Cuba. He says that the cost seems excessive and that he will wait until the day of the race, because he has been told that there are almost always extra spots at the last minute. “This year it should be much easier to buy a number. I have a friend who got in that way. An acquaintance gave him his permit to get a number, because he is in bed with the virus.”

However, on the morning of Thursday, the first day to pick up the number and the runner’s bag, which includes a T-shirt, a package of detergent and wet towels, many complained that the organizers did not let anyone else pick up the numbers of those who were sick. They had to go in person. “These people are inflexible. With the number of people convalescing how can you be so strict? They have to limp in line to enroll,” says Luis, who had to come personally on crutches to pick up his number — despite not being able to participate because he is sick — in order to give it to his brother.

“My brother came the day before to ask and they told him no, that if he was sick he could not run, and that they could not be giving out T-shirts like this, because those were used for prizes in other competitions. My brother was in shock, because nothing they told him made sense. They are very intolerant about giving the T-shirt and number to someone else.”

Foreigners must pay $150 for registration. / 14ymedio

The hours passed and the line did not advance. Above, in the registration area, members of the Armed Forces, the Ministry of the Interior and other official institutions had priority when receiving their numbers and carried the T-shirts for their members in suitcases, even though it was reported that the time for these institutions was Wednesday, the day before.

This Sunday, November 16, when the Marabana begins on Independence Avenue, hundreds of registered Cubans will not participate in the race, due to the aftermath of the viruses that have been plaguing the island for months, and for which there is still no response.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Faced With the Increase in Deaths, Cuba’s State Telecommunications Company Etecsa Is Converting Its Vehicles Into Hearses

All the conversations in both Havana cemeteries revolved around “that virus” that “everyone is sick” with.

In Colón, an Etecssa van waited outside the chapel until the service ended. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Dario Hernandez, Havana, November 12, 2025 — “There’s more funeral activity these days.” The statement, made by a worker at the Colón Cemetery in Havana, once again contradicts the government’s reassuring messages about the arboviral epidemic plaguing the country . A simple stroll through several of the island’s cemeteries confirms the situation.

At ten o’clock on Monday morning, the chapel located inside the island’s main cemetery in El Vedado was packed with people, and the parking lot was full of cars. Numerous burials were also taking place within the cemetery itself. The same scene was observed in Regla. All this activity is consistent with what can be seen at funeral homes in the capital, which have also seen increased activity in recent days.

The most striking thing, however, is the unusual transport being used to carry the coffins: vans from the Telecommunications Company (Etecsa). In Colón, one of them waited outside the chapel until the service was over. In Regla, a car from the telephone monopoly slowly led a funeral procession. The sight of the mourners weeping behind the state-owned vehicle was jarring.

Numerous burials could be seen throughout the Colón cemetery. / 14ymedio

One of them, however, was relieved: “Thank goodness at least these Etecsa vans are here, because I don’t know what happened to the hearses.” The man recounts that five years ago, when his mother died, even with the availability of proper vehicles, “it was already complicated.” “I don’t know if they’re sending these vans because so many people are dying and the hearses can’t keep up, or because the municipal services department simply doesn’t have them anymore,” this Havana resident ventures, wondering if the “diversion” of Etecsa vans might be affecting telecommunications service.

Although they did not mention the cause of death of the deceased about to be buried, all the conversations in both Havana cemeteries revolved around “that virus” that “everyone is sick” with.

This is the second consecutive week that the number of infections of what the Government now calls “non-specific febrile syndrome” has decreased, according to the Ministry of Public Health at a government meeting this Tuesday, but the cumulative total is starting to be alarming. continue reading

There are eight provinces where the number of cases is beginning to decrease—Havana, Matanzas, Villa Clara, Cienfuegos, Ciego de Ávila, Granma, Santiago de Cuba, and Guantánamo—suggesting that in the rest of the country, the number is at least stable, if not increasing. The province with the highest rate remains Sancti Spíritus, according to an article published Wednesday in the Escambray newspaper. However, the data on dengue fever, the most dangerous of the arboviruses circulating on the island this year, were very vague.

The sight of the mourners weeping behind the state vehicle in Regla was shocking. / 14ymedio

Authorities have been reluctant to give an absolute figure, but data from the Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) shows that a total of 9,602 people have now been infected, compared to 6,519 on October 23. This means the incidence rate has risen to 87.79 cases per 100,000 inhabitants, up from 59.6 per 100,000 three weeks ago. These numbers represent only a small part of the true situation, as the population is hesitant to go to health centers.

Chikungunya cases are also on the rise. As of Tuesday, the cumulative total was 21,681, compared to just over 20,000 last week. Regarding oropouche, experts stated that there have been no confirmed or suspected cases since September 26.

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