Julio César Contreras – Page 4

“At the Meliá San Carlos Hotel in Cienfuegos, a Week Can Go By Without a Single Tourist Showing Up”

In January, during the high season, the establishment had an occupancy rate of less than 15%.

“Here, the biggest tips are always given by the guests, but right now there are very few.” / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 4 February 2025 — In the midst of the darkness that fell on Cienfuegos this Sunday, where the blackout lasted more than 20 hours, a bright building stood out at dusk. “I have only managed to collect 250 pesos all day from some Cubans who came into the bar to have a few beers,” says Gabriel, an employee of the Meliá San Carlos hotel. “There are people who come to take refuge here, to have a drink and to be able to at least see their hands,” he explains. Quite a triumph if one takes into account that the fall in tourism has emptied its facilities more than ever.

“There is very little service to external clients. The biggest tips here are always given by the guests, but right now there are very few of them,” the employee adds. During the month of January, the high tourist season in Cuba, the hotel has had an occupancy rate of less than 15%, according to an employee of the administrative area who prefers to remain anonymous. With rooms ranging from 115 to 160 dollars per night, if booked on the company’s official website, the establishment spends its days with a “small number of clients who also come for one or two nights, if that.”

The hotel, originally called just “San Carlos” opened in 1925, was owned by businessman Antonio Mata until, after the triumph of the Revolution, it passed into the hands of the State until its closure in the 1990s. After several years of renovation, the establishment reopened in 2018 with the name of its management company, “Meliá”, inserted. “It’s nice and comfortable, but in the city of Cienfuegos there is not much to do, so few tourists come here, and the ones who do, is because they are making a short stop between the West and the East”, says the employee.

The establishment spends its days with a “small number of clients who also come for one or two nights if that.” / 14ymedio

“These days, there is not much difference between working here or in a tourist center in the Islazul chain”, he added, referring to one of the worst-rated state-owned companies dedicated to tourism.

The hotel “is struggling with the number of guests,” he continues. “We have kept almost all the staff, but people are not very enthusiastic about coming to work because what really motivates us here is tips, not wages, and without guests there are no tips in foreign currency.” continue reading

At the door of the San Carlos, a security guard looks out into the darkness that stretches beyond the lights on the façade. It is nighttime, he has already completed his shift and has taken off his work uniform to await his replacement, but the employee who is to guard the entrance to the accommodation for the next few hours is late.

The lack of tourists does not help to maintain work discipline, something that is reflected in the details. Several ashtrays with numerous cigarette butts show that no one has been to clean them for hours, or perhaps days, and two employees sitting on a sofa check their mobile phones while waiting for their shift to end.

Two employees sitting on a sofa check their phones while waiting for their shift to end. / 14ymedio

“We’re like in the Coronavirus era, but without face masks,” says another bar worker. “I’ve counted up to a week without seeing even a single tourist. The staff reduction could come at any time,” explains the man, who is about 50 years old and has worked in the tourism sector for two decades. “I got a second job in a private restaurant and, if this keeps getting worse, I’m going full-time for that business.”

“It’s also difficult to answer questions from customers who want to go out and experience the city’s nightlife. You have to explain to them that there’s a general blackout, and that it’s better not to go out.” Among the latest guests she has served at the bar, she has often heard the phrase that they don’t plan to return to Cuba. “‘The country looks destroyed, I’m going to wait a while to return,’ said a German woman who told me she had come several times since the 1990s.”

According to Meliá’s third-quarter data, its hotels in Cuba had an average occupancy of 39%, well below its facilities in Asia, which is in second to last position, with 52%. The San Carlos is also one of the properties that led the Spanish hotel chain to litigation after the activation of Title III of the Helms-Burton Act. In 2019, Antonio Mata’s heirs sued the company for profiting from the property, as well as several hotel and tourism search platforms, including Expedia, Hotels.com, Orbitz, Travelocity.com, Trivago and Booking.com. The Florida judge who handled the case, however, removed Meliá and all intermediaries from the case.

Despite the lack of work, employees do have a motivation to go to The San Carlos: “electricity, water and food.” / 14ymedio

Despite the lack of work, employees do have one motivation to come to San Carlos: “electricity, water and food.” Every day they charge their phones at the hotel, knowing that when they return home there will most likely be no electricity. However, the difficulties that extend from the front door outwards also creep into the accommodation managed by Meliá. “Right now, we have the internet connection down because it seems there are problems with the server,” one of the receptionists tells a guest.

And not all that glitters is gold. Part of the hotel has its lights off in the interior areas. “We have an energy saving plan that we must strictly follow. All the rooms that are not in use are turned off or out of service, including the elevators,” explains the employee. “The management has asked us to remain calm and trust that we will get out of this situation”, stresses the woman, as if repeating a mantra that dissuades her and the other workers from being pessimistic.

Translated by Norma Whiting

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Shortages, Inflation and Bureaucracy Bring Private Cafeterias to the Brink of Bankruptcy in Cienfuegos

Some entrepreneurs are experiencing “the most difficult times in business”

“I try by all means to keep prices accessible to most people, but if the suppliers’ charges increase, I have no choice but to charge a little more myself” / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 27 January 2025 — With bruises and problems, which he prefers to describe as “challenges for 2025,” Abelardo has decided that his cafeteria will remain open against all odds. With 57 years behind him, he has no doubt that he is living “the most difficult times of the business,” which he opened in 2019 on Santa Cruz Street, in Cienfuegos.

Like other self-employed people in Cuba, the rise in prices and the product shortage are two realities that are threatening the neck of his business. The instability in his price list has been inevitable and the customers, he tells 14ymedio, are not the only ones who suffer from the disarray of the national economy. “I started with two employees who were in charge of preparing food and serving customers, while I guaranteed the supply of the cafeteria,” he explains. “I paid them 500 pesos a day, and it worked for me, even with the taxes to the Onat (National Tax Administration Office) and hiring a manager who kept the business’s accounts.”

The turning point – as for thousands of business owners on the Island – was the Coronavirus pandemic and the implementation of the Ordering Task in January 2021. He had to fire one of his employees. continue reading

“I paid them 500 pesos a day, and it worked for me, even with the taxes to the Onat”

The cafeteria began its decline, fueled by the economic measures that the Government has implemented in recent years. According to the merchant himself, multiple factors have influenced the decline of his establishment, among which inflation, lack of merchandise and the low purchasing power of the population stand out.

“I try by all means to keep prices accessible for most people, but if the suppliers charges increase, I have no choice but to charge a little more myself. A cup of coffee that I used to sell for 20 pesos, I have had to increase it by an additional 30 pesos. If I don’t do it like this, I go straight to bankruptcy,” says Abelardo.

The situation is even more complicated for those owners who have to pay rent for the premises. It is increasingly common to find a small shop or a cell phone workshop, where until some time ago there was a bar that offered light products. Those who once opted to sell food are now evaluating the possibility of an exodus.

“My cafeteria’s location is privileged,” admits Rafael, who, like Abelardo, has decided to keep it open because it is across from the national bus terminal.

The flow of customers to his premises is “acceptable” during the day. Consumption is based mainly on products that do not exceed 150 pesos. “When you calculate the cost and the payments that must be made, the profit is so little that in some cases I have had to withdraw some offerings because they cause losses.”

Like Abelardo, Rafael also had to fire an employee: she even earned more money than he did.

“Many people are losing their jobs, because we business owners are being hindered from all sides. From government inspectors who fine us for anything, to the huge shortages that prevent us from moving forward. My wife and I are trying to continue in this area of gastronomy, but the fight is tough”, explains Rafael.

In addition to the economic problems, there is the sluggishness with which the Ministry of Labor manages licenses to practice self-employment, and this hinders hiring.

“It is inconceivable that the documentation to employ a person takes up to six months,” laments Eladio, who also runs a cafeteria. “I needed a saleswoman. Taking a risk, I put her to work while they processed her license. After five months, the papers were still not there, and she did not want to continue. I had to start the process again with someone else.”

In Cienfuegos, more and more establishments are closing their doors in the early afternoon. There is no money to pay the employees for the full day and, besides, it does not make sense if there are no customers. “I open when I can and how I can,” is Eladio’s mantra, “I don’t have partners in the MSMEs or godfathers in the Government.”

Translated by Norma Whiting

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In the Absence of Buses and Fuel, Horse-Drawn Carriages Provide Transportation in Cienfuegos, Cuba

Much cheaper than tricycles and scooters, cart drivers do not enjoy the sympathy of the authorities

When the law leans on them, carriage drivers find a way to survive. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 19 January 2025 – “State-run busses are no competition for us, because they are virtually non-existent,” gibes a driver waiting to load his horse-drawn carriage precisely where La Calzada de Dolores in Cienfuegos begins. Although the area designated by the government for pick-up, far from the downtown, has become a dumpsite of animal urine and feces, people are not dissuaded from climbing on board the rickety carriages to go anywhere in the city.

“We would welcome a better location. People in El Prado, for example, who’re going to Tulipán need to walk at least ten blocks to get here through El Parque Villuendas,” explains Jorge, who’s been driving his carriage for eighteen years.

These drivers report that, far from providing the opportunities they seek, the local authorities have been “on the verge of wiping out the carriages entirely.” Jorge is grateful that each time those measures have been about to take effect, the fuel crisis and the scarcity of buses have tipped the balance in favor of the carriage drivers. Nonetheless, the government’s stance remains hostile.

“The only thing left for Party leaders to do is blame us for causing an epidemic. Together with Community Services and the Ministry of Labor, they have changed our routes, raised our taxes, controlled our prices—all with the goal of making us gradually disappear,” he stated.

When the law leans on them, says the man, the horse-carriage drivers find a way to survive. What’s most common, he affirms as he turns the queue over to a colleague who had just arrived at La Calzada, is renting the vehicle. “Whenever we can, we have to rent out the carriage; it’s the only way we can afford to pay the tax authorities, maintain the carriage, and take care of the horse,” he affirms. But since so many are doing the same thing, it’s not easy to get more than three or four rentals per week. continue reading

Jorge also bemoans the fact that the horse-carriage routes are not as flexible as those of the three-wheelers and motorcycles.

Jorge also bemoans the fact that the horse-carriage routes are not as flexible as those of the three-wheelers and motorcycles, which also offer trips downtown. But the driver knows that compared to motorized vehicles, his trade has an advantage: the prices. “Not everyone can rent a scooter to La Juanita or Junco Sur, because they can easily be charged 1,000 pesos for the trip,” he estimates.

Osmani, the young driver to whom Jorge gave the last one, almost completely agrees with the man who has become a kind of mentor in the trade to him. “Lots of people complain that our routes are limited, but we know we aren’t the ones to blame.”

It’s been seven months since the young man began the process of finally putting his carriage in circulation. “Instead of making things easier, they put up bureaucratic roadblocks that would discourage anyone. And after overcoming the initial hurdles, then the daily struggle begins with the inspectors who are ready to issue fines even for the animal’s excrement,” he complained.

At the pick-up spot, time is money. That’s why the drivers try to fill the carriages quickly, and when they can’t, the clients become impatient. “When they say they’re going to the stop at the Provincial Hospital or the bus terminal, they really stop two or three blocks before. It’s not the drivers’ fault they can’t go all the way there, but we are paying for a trip that is never completed,” bemoans Idania from the seat of one of the carriages waiting to be filled. “When I get off, I still have to take another means of transportation to get to my house in the Reina neighborhood.”

At the pick-up spot, time is money. That’s why the drivers try to fill the carriages quickly. 14ymedio

With 20 pesos for the trip in hand, Idania attempts a brief analysis of the problem with transportation in the city. Her conclusions aren’t good: There are no buses; alternative forms of transportation are expensive; and the cheapest, like the horse-drawn carriages, don’t cover all the routes they could.

The woman also dislikes the idea that hundreds of Cienfuegos’s residents rely on animal-drawn transport daily. “Obviously, I am in favor of protecting animals, but in our country, you can’t dispense with this form of transportation.” With the carriage now full and ready to leave, Idania winds up the conversation with a truism with which the rest of the passengers concur: “If it weren’t for the horses, we’d have to cover the entire city on foot.”

Translated by Cristina Saavedra

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Emigration Procedures in the Civil Registry of Cienfuegos, Cuba, Take Forever and Provoke Anxiety

“Three months ago I requested the registrations I need to process my Spanish citizenship. Since then, I have come six times”

Cienfuegos Civil Registry Office, in the historic center of the city / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 12 January 2024 / The sun has barely risen and the line already extends to the outskirts of the Cienfuegos Civil Registry, in the historic center of the city. Some stand in front of the large entrance gate; others look for accommodation on the sidewalk or under the overhang of a nearby facade. Among the eyes that remain fixed on the number 2309 of Santa Cruz Street are those of Natalia, who must request the birth registrations of her parents. “I am completing my file to apply for Spanish nationality,” she explains.

She is another face of the Cubans who escape, not only on the rafts that are launched into the sea, crossing the Darién jungle or opting for the route to the south, but also in every Civil Registry office. Most of those who apply for a birth, marriage or death certificate in Cienfuegos have the same goal: to get out and leave behind the crisis, the long blackouts and the hopelessness.

Each person waiting in line has a story in which boredom and illusion are mixed. There is the retiree who has has come four times to correct an error in his mother’s death certificate. “If I don’t make the transfer and have her house in my name, I can’t sell it.” The reason for his rush is similar to Natalia’s: “I want to meet my son who is in Miami and take part of the money from the sale.”

“You get here and think it’s going to be easy but then go from frustration to disgust,” laments Natalia

The office receives an avalanche of applications. According to the Provincial Directorate of Justice in Cienfuegos, in January 2023 almost 20,100 certifications were issued, about 11,600 more than in the same period last year. The entry into force, in 2022, of the Democratic Memory Law in Spain has led thousands of Cubans to dust off their origins to obtain a European continue reading

passport. During 2024, the trend was maintained, also egged on by the Humanitarian Parole Program implemented in 2023 by the United States.

“You get here and think it’s going to be easy but then go from frustration to disgust,” laments Natalia. An employee has opened the main door of the Civil Registry and begins to shout directions to those waiting in line. In a few minutes, the line is restructured according to each type of procedure, and some go to the central courtyard to line up. Others occupy positions in the access corridor in front of the office of a bored-looking receptionist.

“Three months ago I requested the registration I need to process Spanish citizenship. Since then, I have come six times, and the unthinkable has happened to me. My dad supposedly did not appear registered until the end of the working day due to lack of electricity,” Natalia tells this newspaper. Each new visit is “a bitter drink” and a test of her nerves.

“The employees of this place now know me and even treat me kindly, but I don’t end up with the documents.” Like the office furniture, Natalia feels that she has become one more object between those walls without solving her problem. “All I need is a couple of pieces of paper; that’s what separates me right now from my new life.”

Although announcements of digitization of archives and records are frequent in the official press, in the place on Santa Cruz Street nothing seems to have changed in two centuries with respect to the way in which certifications are written and issued. “An employee made a mistake when transcribing my divorce certificate. He changed one letter in my last name and now I have to start the whole process again,” says a young man who arrived at dawn to “be one of the first to enter.”

“Right now we are just a little busy; two of the five employees we had last year have left. We are also emigrating, all day we have to be in contact with people who leave. It’s like working at an airport; all the time you are thinking about a trip,” says an employee who prefers anonymity. “Everything falls on us, the requests that are made here and also those that are made on the internet, through digital platforms.”

“One of the biggest problems we have is that with this ’law of grandchildren’ many people are requesting documents that are a century or more old and that are not digitized,” she adds. “You have to immerse yourself in a lot of very old books, full of dust, fragile and sometimes with a level of deterioration that it is difficult to read a name or surname clearly.” The woman has had several health problems related to her work.

“Allergies, skin problems are very common, and a few years ago I got a staphylococcus infection that I caught here and was on sick leave for three months,” she explains. Salaries don’t help either. Normally, employees don’t earn more than 10,000 pesos a month, a little more than 30 dollars at the informal exchange rate. “That’s why what happens happens: many people survive by taking orders from special customers,” she adds.

“Right now we are just a little busy; two of the five employees we had last year have left”

The “special clients” that the employee talks about are people who, unlike Natalia, have enough resources to skip the line outside the Civil Registry. They are those who slip a certain amount of money into the right hands to speed up the time to obtain a birth certificate, an old record of their grandparents’ marriage or proof that a brother died in that city almost half a century ago.

In the intricate networks of the Cuban black market, notary services, bureaucratic procedures and access to the oldest archives also have their price. “I manage powers of attorney, bachelorhood, criminal records, death registrations, marriage and birth certificates, titles and notes, in addition to legalizations in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” reads an advertisement on a digital classifieds site.

“The prices vary according to the trouble you have and the complexity of the procedure,” clarifies the solicitous seller after a query from this newspaper. “For 20,000 pesos we get the certification of his two grandparents and he has them in his hands in less than a month, with all the data verified and without errors, nothing to be corrected because all the work is done impeccably, without typos, each surname with its correct spelling and the accents where they go.” For a higher price, you can reconstruct and even falsify from scratch a family tree that adapts to any requirement abroad. “If Galician, Galician; if you prefer Basque, then Basque,” he adds with ease when entering into confidence.

The digital path through the page of the Ministry of Justice is “wasted time,” according to Luis Ángel, another Cienfuegan who believed the official propaganda. “I went online, I made the request with all the data they asked me for, and six months later I had to come in person because they did not have the certificate ready or an answer for the delay.” In this case, as in so many with the Cuban bureaucracy, the 47-year-old man advises going personally to the records: “Seeing is believing,” he concludes.

A painting on the wall of the Santa Cruz Street registry shows an image of Raúl Castro. Under his gaze, people waiting to complete a procedure also weave relationships. “I want to go to Seville, I’m going to leave you my email in case we can meet there,” says a woman to a young woman with a small child who reaches out to take the small piece of paper with the data.

“Don’t stay in Madrid, rents are very expensive,” recommends a man to another who only needs to correct an error in his grandmother’s name to complete the file that will turn him into a Cuban Spaniard. The conversation is interrupted by the scream of the receptionist. “There are only two computers working, and we will attend to a few cases, remember that after noon we will have a blackout, so do not give the last place in line to anyone.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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In Cuba’s Cienfuegos Bus Terminal You Don’t Travel If You Don’t Pay Extra ‘On the Left’

“We have been waiting for eight days for a bus that would at least take us to Las Tunas, so that we could continue on our way as best we could.”

The waiting rooms these days are full of people who come to sign up or check their numbers. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 29 December 2025 – On December 28, Maritza is not surprised that the waiting list to travel from Cienfuegos to Guantanamo has advanced only four numbers in a week. “I warned my husband at the end of October to come and reserve the tickets, because everyone knows that after the second half of December it is almost impossible to travel to any province in the country.” Reinaldo, on the other hand, finding excuses so that his wife would not reprimand him, did not help much. In the end, both ended up sitting, luggage in hand, at the entrance to the national bus terminal waiting for a miracle to happen.

The couple had never had such a hard time leaving Cienfuegos. “When I came on November 20, there were no more seats for any city in the East. However, the same employee who gave me that information had saved three spots for a woman who was behind me in the line,” explains the husband, who then noticed the reason for the incessant calls and notes from the official.

“I don’t know how much money was being sought for each ticket, but I’m convinced that for those of us who weren’t in direct contact with him, the reservations were sold out before we asked the question,” he reflects.

The waiting room on the second floor of the terminal is currently full of people who come to sign up, check their numbers or stay for many hours until a bus arrives with an empty seat, which, at this time of year, almost continue reading

never happens.

At the entrance, travelers pile up, waiting, loaded with suitcases, for a bus with capacity to arrive. / 14ymedio

“We have been waiting for eight days for a bus that would at least take us to Las Tunas, so that we could continue on our way as best we could. Luckily, we live close by, but there are people who have spent several nights here and won’t leave until they get a ticket,” explains Maritza.

The woman, who in the long days of ’bus-hunting’ has become familiar with the atmosphere of the terminal, says that the workers who have access to the passenger lists rule the lounges. “If someone decides to protest, the employee at the ticket office says that they are waiting for extra buses to be put on, but he says that to calm things down,” she says.

The couple has also learned in recent days how to play their cards well, to look for tricks to buy tickets and to get the employees to recognize them. “The shift manager always guarantees at least three seats for those who can pay 2,000 pesos more than the original ticket price,” says Maritza, who blames the “tricks” for the fact that the waiting list does not advance.

“My wife and I would have to pay 4,000 pesos, plus the tickets, if we wanted to leave quickly. I wish we had that money, but for now we can only be patient and pray that the New Year doesn’t catch us here,” says Reinaldo.

The hygiene and services at the terminal “are not such that people would spend days here,” relying on the facilities. “The women’s bathroom is closed, there is no area to store luggage, some benches are broken and the cafeteria has no services. Added to this is the indifference of the workers. Their job is to solve the problem only for those who can pay,” adds Maritza, who admits that she feels as if she were stranded on the road and “not in a terminal.”

The noise from the street that sneaks into the premises brings the voices of private boatmen who offer trips to the capital. / 14ymedio

The noise from the street that filters into the station brings the voices of private drivers offering trips to the capital. “Two days ago, a trip to Havana was charging 6,000 pesos, but today there are taxi drivers talking about 10,000 pesos per person. They also raised the prices to 5,000 and 7,000 pesos for trips to Matanzas and Varadero,” says Maritza, attentive to the bustle of drivers and the prices in case she ever needs to go west.

“This is the time of year when everyone who has a car takes advantage of the opportunity to earn a little more, although it is also true that fuel is impossible and repairs cost an arm and a leg. Many of the drivers are as shocked as we are, but they prefer to wait rather than lower the price,” says Reinaldo.

A quick movement of people towards the waiting list ticket office immediately attracts the attention of all the travelers. Reinaldo’s wife remains seated watching over the luggage, while the Reinaldo walks with a firm step towards the interior of the terminal. After a few minutes, the group of people gathered together dissolves and the information arrives first-hand. “A bus came in that is going to Holguín. At first they said there were four seats, but, in the end, there is only one,” he says, and adds resignedly: “That’s not ours either.”

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‘The Government Must Understand That Only We Can Provide Food to the People’

Faced with the new restrictive measures, many Cienfuegos merchants have closed their businesses

The caution of private entrepreneurs is noticeable even on their product boards / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 31 December 2024 — The before and after that marks the arrival of a new year raises a universal question: what will 2025 bring? Cienfuegos, immersed in a deep crisis like so many places in Cuba, is no exception. Doubts are greater among entrepreneurs, a sector that in recent months has changed from initial euphoria to fear of the new official measures that regulate wholesale trade.

On Dolores road, in stores with wide portals on both sides, the caution of private business owners is noticeable even on their product boards. Where before there was a long list of sweets, soft drinks, alcoholic beverages and all kinds of imported food, now you can barely find anything.

Norberto avoids making predictions for the new year. “They have shaken up the board,” he explains to 14ymedio about the new regulations that force micro, small and medium-sized enterprises (MSMEs) to sell wholesale with the mediation of the State and the explicit prohibition of doing so for self-employed workers. His small private store was fed, precisely, by a private business that imported large volumes from Mexico.

“In our establishment, the stable sale of oil, chicken, picadillo and other products highly demanded by our customers was guaranteed,” Norberto points out. This end of the year, however, in fridges and on shelves, the frozen chicken drumsticks have disappeared, along with the wide variety of beans that until recently were offered and the decreased options for pasta and tomato sauce. continue reading

Entrepreneurs avoid making predictions for 2025 and are careful with the products they exhibit / 14ymedio

Norberto’s store is a distillate of the effort of several generations of his family. The large family estate, on the outskirts of the city, was for decades the productive epicenter of his grandparents and parents. But a few years ago, when the purchase and sale of houses and land was finally allowed, his relatives decided to finish planting the farm with crops, fruit trees and add a pigsty. The resulting money went to a house on the Dolores road and a small grocery store.

Now, the Cienfuegos man has many questions about the future of his business: “Will state-owned companies be able to maintain a permanent assortment of the merchandise we need? Will there be new measures with more restrictions and prohibitions? Will they include more products on the list of capped prices that they now impose on us?” His doubts are not exaggerated, because since he opened the doors of his store less than two years ago “there has been only bad news.”

However, Norberto is not going to give up for the moment. “Our MSME will renew the license, but we are also preparing in case we finally have to close,” he admits. “The problem is that you can’t have it both ways: either I stay open or I close. There comes a time when you have to choose.”

Gonzalo is one of many entrepreneurs who, this Christmas, instead of garlands and red hats, has dressed in the costume of uncertainty. In a space on San Carlos Street, near Martí Park, the owner of another shop repeats similar questions. “I bought directly from a private person in Punta Gorda, but they are already liquidating the products they have left because they don’t want to do business with the Government. Who am I going to buy from in January?” he asks.

Many merchants maintain the illusion that “something will happen” that forces the authorities to implement greater economic openness

At the moment, he is not considering liquidating his business. Hope is the last thing that is lost when there is so much money at stake. Many merchants maintain the illusion that “something will happen” that will force the Cuban authorities to implement greater economic openness and eliminate the restrictive measures recently adopted. “We can see that it will be very difficult next year, and it is possible that this will make the Government understand that only we can provide food to the people.”

For Gonzalo, there is an inversely proportional relationship between what happens in the stores of the rationed market and the role that private shops are playing. “To the same extent that the supply of rationing is smaller and more unstable, MSMEs have been growing in offers and variety, and we also have places that make you want to enter – beautiful, well-decorated with good attention to the customer. Buying right now at a state ration store is depressing.”

The entrepreneur, however, recognizes that many Cubans cannot pay the high prices of the MSMEs: a liter of vegetable oil, 800 pesos this last week of December in Cienfuegos; a pound of chicken around 310, and a 500-gram package of spaghetti for 300 pesos. For retirees and state employees who do not receive remittances from abroad or have any informal sources of money, the private shops are prohibitive.

“We do not set prices on a whim. Our business has many expenses to cover, and the lack of fuel has made the transfer of goods, the payment of employees and the investment to turn the main room and the door of the house into a pleasant little shop are expenses that prevent us from selling cheaper.” Christmas offers and year-end sales are not the order of the day because the bills keep coming.

Christmas offers and year-end sales are not the order of the day because the bills keep coming. /

Other merchants got ahead of events. Liuba, 48 years old, sensed what was coming. Resident in the Junco Sur neighborhood, the businesswoman liquidated her small business earlier this year, a tiny store where customers could find everything from sweet cookies, malts and beer to packages of minced turkey, a food very helpful for those who cannot pay for other animal proteins. “I knew all this was coming because I have a relative who works in the Ministry of Foreign Trade and he warned me of what was being cooked up.”

Liuba didn’t lose too much money. “I finished selling the merchandise I had in stock and told the owner of the house, who was renting me the space, that I was no longer going to continue and handed over my license.” Now, Liuba offers some products through WhatsApp groups. “We have food combos that are paid for from abroad by Zelle. My husband, my eldest son and I deliver them to your home.” The new modality, absolutely informal, has given her a break: “I got rid of the inspectors, the prices and the maintenance of the premises.” Now, I put together the packages by buying goods from agricultural producers and other MSMEs. “I sell less, but I’m calmer.”

On the wide road of Dolores, the offer boards have very few products at the end of the year, but the new official restrictions have not affected the combos that Liuba has prepared for Christmas. “If next year they remove all these absurd laws, I will reopen my little grocery store,” she says, but for the moment she prefers to stay “under the radar” and sell outside the law.

Translated by Regina Anavy

See here for one report on average incomes in Cuba for 2024.

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Cristina, a Life of Work as a Teacher and, at 78 Years Old, Sleeping on the Streets of Cienfuegos, Cuba

On the broken benches of El Prado lie old people, beggars and drunks who have no other place to spend the night.

When they see a patrol, the beggars hide so they don’t get kicked out of the park. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 22 December 2024 — Night falls with low temperatures in El Prado de Cienfuegos this December. Only a few people walk through the streets, dark due to power outages or the lack of public lighting. State bars and restaurants close before 11:00 but Cristina, a retired teacher, could not alleviate her hunger even if the establishments were open.

Cristina says she has been abandoned to her fate by the Social Security system, without even being able to enter an old-age home. “My nephew, despite having raised him, threw me out of my own house and the social workers ignored my problem; that is the reality. My only bed is the floor of the doorway where I find a place to rest and my only clothes are the ones I am wearing,” she laments.

“I belong to El Prado just as the statue of El Benny belongs,” says Gustavo.

Cristina’s tragic situation is not an isolated case. On the broken benches of El Prado lie old people, beggars and drunks who have no other place to spend the night. Some carry sacks or bags where they keep their few belongings. Others go empty-handed, tired of wandering and begging so that, if luck and charity help them, they can eat once a day.

“On the Paseo de El Prado is my little shop and my house at the same time. I go through all the garbage bins collecting cans and bottles to sell as raw material. That’s how I survive. I go to sleep wherever I feel sleepy first, whether it’s in the library porches or outside the Baptist church. I belong to continue reading

El Prado just like the statue of El Benny belongs,” says Gustavo, another of the park’s occasional residents.

According to what he told 14ymedio, he dedicated his best years to the sugar industry, until a work accident prevented him from continuing. “I don’t have a home and sometimes I go months without being able to shower, but I am an industrial engineer, graduated in 1971, and I lived through the dismantling of the sugar mills in the 90s. After so much sacrifice, the debacle also came for me,” confesses the Cienfuegos native, leaning on his crutch.

Many beggars are dedicated to collecting garbage to sell as raw material. / 14ymedio

“My accident happened in the middle of the harvest and after that I didn’t hear anything more from the union or the management of the 14 de Julio sugar mill in the municipality of Rodas, where I worked. They always accused me of being ’conflictive’ for clearly saying what I thought and, at the first opportunity they had, they took me to the medical commission to get rid of me. Then I lost my house in a fire. Eight years later, I’m still waiting for the government to address my case,” Gustavo complains.

Cristina and Gustavo are not alone. Protected by the quiet of the night and without a better option, other beggars rest their heads every night on the marble steps or the hard wood of the benches. When a patrol car approaches, they press themselves to the stones and do not move until dawn. Despite everything, they do not want the police to take them away.

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Lacking Tasty Food and Electricity, Dinos Pizza in Cienfuegos Puts Tables Outside To Attract Customers

Every weekend, tables block the passage on the sidewalk in front of the establishment. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 7 December 2024 — The strategy of some state-run businesses in the city of Cienfuegos, which, in the absence of appetizing dishes, seek to attract customers by extending service beyond their walls, is similar to the joke repeated decades ago by Cuban comedian Chaflán. When a wife suggests to her husband that they go out to eat, he answers: “Let’s move the table to the patio.”

With red tablecloths, small plates and even an ashtray, several tables at the Dinos Pizza restaurant block the way on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant every weekend. Passersby have to make their way around the obstacles, although they never see anyone sitting on the stools, enjoying an aperitif or paying the bill. “It takes a lot more than putting all these things out for people to want to eat here,” says a nearby resident who mocks the initiative.

Inspired by the terraces of restaurants and cafes very common in Europe, employees have moved the service outdoors because if diners do not come inside looking for a tasty meal, then they have to go out to catch them even if it means interrupting their path and causing them the occasional start if they walk distractedly along the sidewalk.

“Only a tourist falls into that trap,” said a young man near the tables, which were arranged as if part of a stage set. The state-owned Dinos Pizza chain, run by the Palmares SA Extrahotel Company, sells mainly fast food. At its peak, at the beginning of this century, when the Venezuelan oil subsidy encouraged large investments in public services, the franchise was very popular. continue reading

The supply crisis and competition from private businesses have hit Dinos Pizza and other state-owned businesses hard. / 14ymedio

However, the lack of budget, the supply crisis and competition from private businesses have hit Dinos Pizza hard, turning it into little-visited, filthy establishments with a limited menu. “The workers are trying to keep it from closing, but now with all the adjustments that have taken place in the gastronomy sector, they demand profitability and a certain volume of income which they have a hard time obtaining,” says Julia, a retiree from Palmares who is aware of the difficulties that the company is going through, speaking to 14ymedio.

“Now, all the managers and officials are talking about the so-called productive linkage with the new economic actors, but here in the city of Cienfuegos there are few state-owned businesses that have achieved this.” The Dinos, which displays some of its chairs and tables on the sidewalk, “does not receive any payment in foreign currency, so it has very limited ability to purchase products that require freely convertible currency (MLC). For example, if they want to offer customers a mojito, they cannot close a deal to buy bottles of Havana Club in a store in that sells only MLC.”

“Several premises that were previously managed by Palmares have been handed over to private MSMEs, but some are still under state management, although it is clear that they are suffering losses and, sooner or later, they will have to close,” adds the woman. “The employees themselves try to delay the inevitable because they know that, when it passes into private hands, the State will offer them a position in a worse location. Most do not accept the new position and end up going home.”

“I think this is more about presenting a certain image of commercial dynamism and that this is a normal city,” warned a customer outside a central store, a few meters from El Prado, who came across a table, also on the sidewalk, where bottles of sweet wine, vinegar and a rum “so bad that it doesn’t even have a label” were on offer.

On a table, also on the sidewalk, bottles of sweet wine, vinegar and rum were offered. / 14ymedio

The man points to another reason for the increase in sales “outside the door.” “Here we spend almost the entire working day without electricity, in those interior spaces there is no one, neither the workers nor the customers who can stand it,” he explains, and behind him the interior of the shop is practically dark due to the blackout. “Taking the products out onto the street is the only way to be able to sell them, because nobody wants to go into that wolf’s mouth.”

The goods, tablecloths and forks left out in the open are faced with another serious problem: the lack of hygiene. “In Paris or Madrid these tables will look very nice, almost on the street, but here there is a lot of accumulated dirt, a lot of people wandering around and asking for money, a lot of abandoned animals that approach you to ask you to give them some food,” laments another customer who barely read the menu at Dinos Pizza and immediately turned around.

Although the name bears the traditional Italian dish, the disappointed customer did not find on the menu board those five letters that are universal and understood everywhere on the planet: pizza. “There is a lot of apathy, the employees move as if in slow motion,” the woman concluded. A tourist passing by the restaurant ended up sitting in one of the seats in front of the small plate and the glass ashtray.

For a few minutes, before the traveler read the menu, that red tablecloth, with its cutlery, looked like any other in a distant city, where terraces are part of the local gastronomy and are customers’ favorites. That impression only lasted a few minutes, until the man noticed that he was in the middle of a set, got up and left.

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Only One Doctor Works at Night in the Emergency Room of the Pediatric Hospital in Cienfuegos

“I knocked on the doors of several clinics, but no one answered,” says Ivis, who came to the center to get care for her daughter.

Image of the waiting room at the Paquito González Cueto Pediatric Hospital. / 14ymedio

Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 23 November 2024 — The night Ivis arrived at the Cienfuegos Pediatric Hospital with her daughter in her arms, she could not have imagined that institutional neglect and the rest of the crises affecting Cuban Public Health would have had such a profound effect on the center. Because the care is specialized for children and adolescents, the hospital had always had better conditions than others in the province, but the day her daughter suffered an epileptic episode, “there was not even a doctor in the waiting room.”

The bad times for Ivis began, however, before arriving at the Paquito González Cueto Pediatric Hospital. “At seven in the evening the girl began to have strong convulsions and I immediately called the hospital to send me an ambulance, but no one answered the phone,” the mother told 14ymedio. “In my desperation I went out into the street and found a máquina [shared taxi]. Although it may seem unbelievable, the driver charged us 1,000 pesos from our house in the Pastorita neighborhood to the hospital.”

Paying the price for the transport was the least of it, laments the Cienfuegos native, who after entering the Paquito González Cueto did not see “a soul.” “I knocked on the doors of several clinics, but no one answered. Then the security guard appeared, who told me that the doctor on duty was eating and that we had to wait for him,” she explains, pointing out that the memory of that night still bothers her.

Ivis waited for about half an hour until the health worker returned to the office.

Ivis waited for about half an hour until the paramedic returned to the office. During the time she was waiting, she points out, she did not see any medical personnel, whether nurses, laboratory technicians or cleaning assistants, pass by. “They had already told me that this was bad, but I never imagined that at 8:00 at night in the corridors of the Pediatric Hospital there would be no one to help the patients. In my nervousness I asked a woman if she had already been seen, and she told me that she was there to charge her phone, because there was no electricity at home,” she says. continue reading

After going to the doctor’s office, the mother stressed that the doctor’s care was good, but in the current conditions of the health system, with a chronic lack of supplies and medicines, there was little that the health worker could do. “He prescribed a course of clonazepam, but he himself told me that there was none in the hospital pharmacy. Luckily, since the girl is epileptic, I always have these medicines on hand, even if they cost me dearly on the informal market,” says Ivis.

The cienfueguera gave the medicine to her daughter and sat in the waiting room to give it time to take effect. “I started talking to a woman who was there with her grandson. It turned out that she had been waiting since 4:00 in the afternoon for a vehicle to take her to Cruces. The child has respiratory problems and an ambulance or one of the taxis that work with the hospitals was supposed to take him home,” she recalls.

The elderly woman assured Ivis that “she had a hard time even giving her grandson a spray”

The elderly woman, desperate from fatigue and the approach of night, told Ivis that, despite having brought her grandson to the provincial capital seeking specialized care, “she had a hard time even giving him a spray.”

Outside, sitting on the hospital porch under the dim lights of the ceiling, some young people were talking and laughing. According to Ivis, “they are from nearby neighborhoods who, instead of going to the malecón where there is no electricity due to the blackouts and they are exposed to being assaulted, they come here to take advantage of the electricity a little.”

The woman says that after seeing them, an idea came to her mind: “In this country everything is backwards. Parents would like not to have to bring their sick children to those dirty and dark hospitals, but healthy children come on their own for a few hours of electricity and cool night air.”

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‘I Have Spent Almost a Thousand Pesos and I Don’t Have Enough Food for a Week,’ Laments a Retired Woman From Cienfuegos, Cuba

At the Calzada de Dolores fair, which is held on Saturdays, it is becoming more and more expensive to pay for the few products that there are.

A positive attribute of the fair is having the concentration of products in one place, residents believe. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 11 November 2024 — On Calzada de Dolores two parallel fairs coexist every Saturday. One is for those who have the required licenses to sell. The other is for those who, without a license, have all kinds of food, toiletries or even jewelry. Both have one thing in common: the prices scare off the people of Cienfuegos who come looking for affordable variety and acceptable quality. It is normal to have to turn around.

“I wanted to be here at 7:00 in the morning, but the lack of public transport prevented me,” says Fermin, a resident who came looking for a good deal and is about to leave disappointed. “There is only a little bit of junk left, corn flour and some jams that the MSMEs bring to sell. There is more soda and beer than is really necessary to feed a household. Anyone who sees so many people would think that there is a wide range of products, but most of the town leaves empty-handed, or carrying a small bag with only two or three things,” he says.

The trucks parked in the middle of the street give the impression of an abundance that exists only in official propaganda, which punctually announces the Saturday event. Fermín notes that nothing is further from the truth, but the little that there is is not enough for pockets like his. With a monthly salary of 3,200 pesos, the Cienfuegos resident must juggle to get food every day.

Trucks parked in the middle of the street give the impression of an abundance that exists only in official propaganda. / 14ymedio

“The positive thing about this fair is the concentration of products in one place, because, with rare exceptions, the cost of purchases is the same as in other places. I’m craving a bean stew and I’ll have to wait a while, because there isn’t any. The most I can do is buy a small pot of chili peppers for 60 pesos, until the rest appears,” the man admits.

If it is difficult for him, it is worse for Carmen, a 69-year-old retiree whose pension has only covered two cucumbers, a handful of bananas, a pound of malangas and three pounds of rice. “I have spent almost a thousand pesos and I can categorically say that I am not guaranteed food for even a week. To top it off, you have to be very attentive to the weighing because, at the slightest carelessness, they steal without mercy. It is an abuse they have with the population, especially with those of us who have dedicated ourselves for decades to working for this system, which has ended up being a total debacle,” she admits.

Among the stalls you can find a pound of pork for 700 pesos, or a liter of oil for the same amount. Both are highly sought-after products, but at these prices it is almost impossible for many to buy them. “They can put whatever they want on sale, but if everything continues to be so expensive we will not solve anything. I have been here since dawn, waiting for some sales to spend less overall, but if I don’t hurry I will go home the same way I came,” laments Carmen.

The vendors display their merchandise in plastic boxes, wooden shelves, tents or on the ground itself, but they never take their eyes off the inspectors, who wait for the opportunity to fine anyone who fails to comply with the price limits decreed by municipal governments, a measure that can be as strict as it is avoidable, depending on how willing the official is to be corrupted.

“They make money at the expense of others’ sacrifices. They impose fines of up to 10,000 pesos for anything they can think of, supposedly in compliance with the law. They demand a lot of documentation, a lot of hygiene, a lot of legality. However, I see them turning a blind eye to some individuals who have bought them. That is the truth,” says Arquímedes, a small farmer living in the municipality of Abreus, who is calling for the sector to be liberalized.

“They should remove all bureaucratic obstacles, which are only useful for wasting time and resources. There is no need for Acopio [the State Procurement and Distribution Agency] or any other entity. If they sold us everything we need to work the land, if they allowed us to sell first-hand and stopped treating us as if we were thieves, the supply would increase rapidly,” the farmer believes.

If you wait too long for offers, you risk returning home with nothing. / 14ymedio

The price caps in agricultural markets, a provincial jurisdiction according to decree 30/2021, are, together with the cap imposed on MSMEs for six basic products since July, the two mechanisms that, according to economists, producers and private individuals, are limiting supply. The Vice Minister of Finance and Prices, Lourdes Rodríguez Ruiz, said this Saturday that since July the Government has collected more than 600 million pesos nationwide under these regulations.

“Any act in which the price of a product sold to the population is violated, agreed upon by the State, affects the people. Our job is to maintain the established price and quality,” he argued. The result, however, is not the desired one, even though the law regulating agricultural markets has been in place for more than three years. The recipe, together with other government decisions and the general crisis affecting the country, has only resulted in the reduction of supply.

“The situation is getting tighter for ordinary people every day. Before, you could buy at least the essentials, but things are so tough that even children are going without food. This government is playing with fire,” concludes a young man at the fair while offering his to light his companion’s cigarette.

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Eyeglasses, Another Problem Cubans ‘Resolve’ Thanks to ‘Families in the Exterior’

In Cienfuegos you can only find material of dubious quality or at impossible prices in the private shops

In the optical shop on the boulevard the shelves are empty / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 7 November 2024 — In Cienfuegos, optometrists are as scarce as the eyeglasses themselves. Plastic frames of poor quality from a dollar store in Miami is the most that those who are condemned to solve their vision problems within the Island can aspire to. For those who have relatives abroad, the answer is easier. A doctor is found to test the eyes, and the prescription travels to the United States or Europe, where relatives will assume the payment.

The shortage of specialists is not the only thing that affects ophthalmology in Cuba. It is a challenge to find eye drops for vision tests, and the measuring devices often don’t work. Therefore, it is not uncommon that in the Pediatric Hospital of the city, where the equipment is more or less better preserved than in other centers and some supplies still arrive, there are several adults waiting to be treated – alleging friendship or offering “gifts” – by an optometrist.

Maritza is one of them. She managed, through the friend of a friend, to have the doctor see her after months of suffering from headaches because her glasses no longer worked for her. With prescription in hand, the Cienfueguera prepared to go to the optician, but on the rickety shelves there was not a single frame that she could wear. continue reading

It is not uncommon that in the Pediatric Hospital, where the equipment is more or less better preserved, there are several adults waiting to be treated

“The first thing that surprised me was to see that the optical shop itself has rented a space to private cell phone repairers. I immediately knew that the other people and I were not there for the same thing,” the woman tells 14ymedio. Maritza approached the counter and handed the prescription to the clerk. “The lady, almost of retirement age, said that they only had small graduations available, and that I should return in a week to see if there was anything new.”

According to Maritza, for years she has seen that the shelves of the optical shop, located on the boulevard, are practically empty, with a few dull frames that don’t please the tastes of the needy. But she always thought that at least there would be some options, even if they weren’t better quality or in good taste.

On other occasions, Maritza also found it difficult to get glasses, but now she has no choice but to go to the informal market. “It’s a lot of work because I have different prescriptions for each eye. Sometimes it has taken more than six months for the manufacturing. For me it’s a very big economic sacrifice to pay for the service, but I have no choice but to do it,” she laments.

The premises of Ópticas Miramar is located two blocks from the store. Except that the payment must be made in hard currency, the attention to the public and the offers do not differ that much from the establishments that sell frames in pesos. “Supposedly the work will be finished in one or two days, but, in practice, it takes weeks to be able to pick up the glasses. Nor is there a variety of frames to choose from, so not even by paying dearly can you buy what you want,” says Idalmis, a retiree who left the shop disappointed.

At Ópticas Miramar there are more options, but the payment is in hard currency / 14ymedio

The client hoped to order some progressive lenses, but Ópticas Miramar has not been manufacturing them for months. “Street vendors often go around offering all kinds of stuff, but since I don’t know where they come from, I prefer to go to places where I can have a minimum of guarantees. In addition, they are usually poor quality and break easily, and the lenses look like plastic,” she says.

Finally, Idalmis found the glasses she was looking for in the home of some private sellers who are dedicated exclusively to eye products. “The glasses cost me 6 MLC [freely convertible currency] and can cost up to 20, depending on the type. It’s not that I have plenty of money, but since this is a necessity for me, I try to find something of quality because, undoubtedly, cheap becomes expensive,” she explains.

Some private businesses have also emerged in the city that manufacture graduated prescription glasses. “I went to a private optician in front of the Provincial Hospital. If I bring the frames, it costs me 5,000 pesos, and if I buy them there, it costs twice as much. With those prices it’s better to continue with my old frames, which are now missing an arm,” complains Tomás, who, for more irony, worked years ago in an optics store in Cienfuegos.

When I worked there, most of the frames and lenses didn’t reach the people”

“When I worked there, most of the frames and lenses didn’t reach the people, because the technicians kept the raw materials themselves for their private jobs,” confesses Tomás.

In the small stalls and houses that serve as improvised stores, graduated lenses cost between 800 and 1,200 pesos. Those specialized for serious vision problems, different measurements in each eye or other particularities cannot even be found or are extremely expensive. “If I calculate based on my salary, my wife and I would have to devote three entire monthly salaries to buying the glasses we need,” Tomás reflects. “Seeing or eating? That is the question.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuba’s State Employees Are Given Orders to Address Any ‘Situation’ Arising from the Blackouts

Several employees in Cienfuegos disagree with these orders and fear an unstoppable reaction from the public

State employees have been ordered to warn police if things become tense due to recent blackouts. / 5deSeptiembre

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 21 October 2024 — As the hours-long blackouts take their toll on the people of Cienfuegos, state workers can be seen standing guard at offices and public institutions on Sunday. Boards of directors have been explicitly ordered to deal with any “situation” that might arise, specifically bu discouraging demonstrations by an exhausted citizenry after three days with hardly any electricity.

“The truth is that, if there were a protest, I wouldn’t know what to do because I too have a lot of complaints and am dissatisfied with everything that’s happening in this country,” said Humberto, a state employee who has chosen to obey orders despite any doubts he might have. “I don’t want to lose my job because it guarantees at least part of my family’s livelihood. I’m worried that this could all lead to violence that would be put down by force. Something like that would be very hard for people who are clearly tired,” he added, standing at the doorway of his workplace.

The 52-year-old Cienfuegos resident explains what his Sundays were like before he started his job and the daily challenges people like him faced beyond the lack of electricity. “Before coming here, I would go to the Pastorita buildings to look for rice so my children could eat. My wife was cooking with charcoal because we ran out of liquefied gas and we can’t afford to buy it on the open market. When they told me I should take this shift, I agreed, but I wonder what I’m defending,” he admits. continue reading

” When they told me I should take this shift, I agreed, but I wonder what I’m defending”

Mayra lives on Argüelles Street, where many companies and government offices are located. Unlike Humberto, she is not willing to participate in overnight guard duties at her workplace. “I understand that they’re afraid of what could happen but I didn’t create this crisis situation. Nor are the offices my property. If a protest does take place, I won’t do anything to stop it because [the protestors] would be defending many of the same positions that I have. I know that taking a stance like this could cost me dearly at work but I won’t do anything that goes against my principles,” she says.

Mayra explains that guard duty has been organized into 24-hour shifts. In order to prevent crowds of people from gathering, employees have been ordered to immediately contact the police if they notice anything suspicious. “I could never forgive myself for turning in innocent people. First, they would be beaten, then they would go to jail merely for openly expressing themselves. Of course, when the orders came down , there were many opportunists here who were happy to oblige, as though it were a heroic act. I’m not braver than anyone else but I have my dignity,” says Mayra. Though she declined to reveal exactly what she does professionally, she has said that her job has something to do with the provincial People’s Power Assembly.

Workers are being called upon to guard both open and closed spaces. For example, on the Paseo and El Prado soldiers and dozens of individuals from the Communist Party and other government agencies have been tasked with ensuring public order. Meanwhile, residents of the surrounding neighborhoods sit in doorways and on sidewalks trying to escape the heat, the mosquitoes and the hours of tension.

“This country is like a huge minefield that is about to explode”

“No one really knows how long it will take to restore power so I’m on call for awhile. Other employees here have offered to pay me 200 pesos per person to cover for them,” says a man standing behind a desk in his company’s reception area. “It’s true that I have to sacrifice myself day and night but I need the money to feed my mother, who is very sick. I hope that everything will be calm and that this situation will be resolved. What I really don’t want is confrontation between Cubans, much less unjust arrests like those on 11J*. I’m afraid this will get worse than it already is,” he admits.

Two police patrol cars parked in Martí Park provide a clue as to what their role would be in the event of a public demonstration. Though seemingly calm for now, the city is under heavy guard by people who, in many instances, have been threatened with sanctions and fear losing their jobs if they do not comply. “I know that the methods to convince those of us who refuse or who are undecided are harsh. There’s a lot of fear that anything could trigger an uncontrollable reaction by the public, who have been overwhelmed by all these difficulties for many years. This country is like a huge minefield that is about to explode,” concludes Mayra, putting her hands on her head.

*Translator’s note: 11 July 2021, when mass protests broke out across the island, which led to a government crackdown.

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“Anyone Who Depends on the ‘Basic Family Basket’ in Cienfuegos Cannot Bathe”

Deodorant, toothpaste and other basic necessities are available only in private stores and shops that take foreign currency

Sellers increase their prices and “take advantage of the problem” with toiletries / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 19 October 2024 — Anyone who wishes to purchase personal hygiene products in Cienfuegos at a reasonable price will have to travel the whole city without the guarantee of obtaining what they are looking for. Deodorant, toothpaste and other basic necessities have disappeared from state establishments. When they are found, they are displayed on private business tables and shelves at prices unattainable for the majority of the population. Wearing perfume, therefore, has become a luxury that few allow themselves.

“Buying a deodorant in a store in MLC (freely convertible currency) is simply impossible,” complains Irene, a Cienfueguera in her 40s. “The few times they put it out, it’s quickly monopolized by merchants who then resell it at a minimum price of 800 pesos.” This Monday morning, she says, she walked all over the Paseo del Prado and saw them priced at up to 2,500 pesos. “In my house there are four people, and between my husband and me we earn only 7,000 pesos per month. I get like the Cockroach Martina,* with the difference that with that money we can’t buy anything,” she adds.

According to this mother – she has two sons – the shortage of this type of article is more pressing in rural areas. There, she says, private merchants raise prices more and “take advantage of the problem. While in the city of Cienfuegos a common soap costs 160 pesos, in Palmira it can be worth 200 or 250, depending on the seller. The saddest thing is that this is our only option. Whoever depends on the ’basic family basket’ [from the rationing system] in Cienfuegos cannot bathe.”

Michel, owner of a restaurant, says that he allocates no less than 5,000 pesos a month just for toiletries

For his part, Michel, owner of a restaurant, says that he allocates no less than 5,000 pesos a month just for toiletries. “I’ve always liked to put on cologne after bathing. Touring the points of sale on the boulevard, the cheapest price is around 1,500 pesos, and in the Eureka store, for example, continue reading

the most affordable is 7 MLC,” he says. “I wonder how people who don’t receive financial aid from abroad and those who receive the miserable salary that the Cuban government pays to its workers can buy these things.”

This self-employed person says, however, that some time ago it was relatively easy to buy soap and detergent at private businesses, to name just two products. However, with the most recent government measures, these items have also been lost from these establishments. “Along the Calzada de Dolores you could find what was necessary, and there was even variety. Today it is a tremendous headache to get the essentials to keep the house clean and, in my case, also the business,” emphasizes Michel.

In the private shops on San Carlos Street, toothpaste costs between 1,300 and 2,000 pesos / 14ymedio

In the private shops that are located along San Carlos Street, toothpaste can be found for a price between 1,300 and 2,000 pesos, depending on the brand and the quality of the product. “I don’t buy a tube of toothpaste every month, but the mere purchase is almost a family sacrifice,” says Annia, who just bought the item in a private store. “There is no alternative but to save as much as possible, because it is not an optional product: it directly affects health.”

This Cienfuguera confesses that she must juggle to keep her clothes well washed, and having shampoo and hair conditioner is practically a whim: “We have been plunged into horrifying misery. People, in addition to being hungry, are neglected and dirty, experiencing extreme needs that threaten the quality of life and existence itself. Misery has even crept into our skin, and it will be very difficult to eliminate it.”

*Translator’s note: A story told to children about a cockroach that finds a penny and doesn’t know where to spend it.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Leaving Cuba Is the Only Mission Medical Students in Cienfuegos Want to Go on

Students at the University of Medical Sciences in Cienfuegos / / Facebook/UCMC

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 15 October 2024 — Studying in order to leave the country and leaving the country in order to survive is a theme often discussed among students at the Cienfuegos School of Medical Sciences. Faced with widespread shortages, few reliable ways to get around and hunger, students make huge sacrifices to attend daily classes that will guarantee them a place in some future overseas medical “mission.” If they had other options, they would not be here.

“Getting into this field was complicated because my parents worked for the state, had no money and had no friends with connections,” says Dayana, a first-year medical student. “I am using the same backpack I used in high school. I spend up to three hours a day, every day, hitching rides to class but this is what I have to do to guarantee my future.”

Dayana lives in Rodas, one of the communities that border Cienfuegos, the provincial capital. She says that conditions in which on-campus students must live have dissuaded her from rooming in the dorms. Nevertheless, her class schedule has forced her to experience, at least somewhat, the realities of campus life. “The food at the school is awful. For lunch they give you some badly cooked soup with rice and occasionally a hard-boiled egg. To be honest, I’d rather commute every day from Rodas than live in a dorm without basic amenities.”

Living conditions and bad cafeteria food dissuade many students from rooming in the dorms. / 14ymedio

Dayana’s decision was influenced by the experiences of her friend Indira, a third-year student who does live in a dorm. “Hygiene is an ongoing issue at this school even though they are supposed to be training doctors,” she says.

What particularly bothers Indira is the training. “My classmates and I have been affected by any number of disruptions that have limited how much we can learn. They range from a teacher shortage and outdated medical literature to inadequate practical experience and primitive healthcare facilities. What we are taught is actually a bit outdated. Most people have to continue reading

learn things on their own or through a relative who is a doctor,” she confesses.

Worst of all, as she has warned Dayana many times, are the hospital internships. “The first big challenge is that most patients and their families don’t believe we can care for them properly. Then there’s the lack of specialists to guide us through the training process. The other thing, which everyone knows about, is the shortage of supplies. We don’t even have syringes to learn how to draw blood,” she complains.

For those who live in outlying areas, commuting to the provincial capital is not easy. / 14ymedio

Freddy, Indira’s boyfriend and a fifth-year medical student, has already become cynical. He has seen half his classmates leave in the last six years. Some because they realized they were wasting time “burning the midnight oil” only to become poorly paid professionals; others because they decided to leave the country. “There are those who study just to join a medical mission and emigrate. Others continue their studies because they want to get a degree but not work for Public Health because they plan to use their degrees elsewhere,” he explains.

He points out that things are just as bad for foreign students. One of Freddy’s classmates, a young woman from Namibia, had been renting an apartment in the Juanita neighborhood with a friend for over six years. “It had no water. Everything was dirty and dark. It was impossible to go on like that,” she says. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m in the right place. When I left my country I had high expectations but now I understand the old saying, ’You get what you pay for.’”

“I thought things would be different because Cuba is famous for its health care system. But, when got here, we found a school with unpainted walls, classrooms in poor condition, teachers with no desire to teach, textbooks that are over 30 years old and used, laboratories with old, broken equipment and cafeterias without food,” she says. “I can understand why Cubans drop out of school. Like them, I came to study, not to starve.”

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If Books Are a Reflection of its Cultural Health, Cienfuegos is a Graveyard

The only things that are left in the bookshop are shelves containing repeated copies of the same book to fill up the empty space / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 13 October 2024 – Every day, numerous people come into the Dionisio San Román bookshop in Calle 54, Ciénfuegos, just at the top of the main avenue. Anyone witnessing this flow of people would think that in the city there was not only a thirst for reading material but also a lot of interesting books to acquire. In reality, these people are only going there in search of a snack in the shop’s cafeteria. If the cultural health of a city and its citizens is measured by its bookshops, then Ciénfuegos has much to be worried about.

The floor above the shop, initially planned as a conference/meeting room, has ended up sharing rented space with the independent cafeteria. Depending on the style of coffee you purchase there they can cost between 70 and 200 pesos. They’re nothing special but they still attract more attention from passers by than the “sparse and limited variety of books on offer” at the Dionisio San Román bookshop – says Jesús, to 14ymedio.

The man from Ciénfuegos has “a literary curiosity” that can very seldom be satisfied in the local state run bookshop. “Most of their books are about politics, Marxism, economics or similar themes. They also have locally written poetry, but anyone looking for quality fiction or texts which explore areas beyond the provincial will have to look elsewhere”, he explains. Even so, Jesús visits Dionisio San Román at least once a month on the off chance that some “little gem” might somehow appear. continue reading

Depending on the style of coffee you purchase there they can cost between 70 and 200 pesos. / 14ymedio

“When there is no paper you can’t publish, so logically there are no books to sell. The result: employees on minimum wage sitting around waiting the whole day for home time to arrive”, he says. According to Jesús the state bookshop never had a “golden age”, but at least, a few years ago, there were still some quality books around, and authors who were interested in publishing with Ciénfuegos publishers Mecenas and Reina del Mar.

The shop itself can’t escape the general crisis either. Inside the building the workers have to live with power cuts and suffocating heat, not being being able to switch on the air conditioning because of “company policy”. What often happens, explains Jesús, is that they have to go outside into the doorway with a table and a few sample books, to escape from the high temperatures.

Any attempts at promotion don’t guarantee sales either. With the poor level of enthusiasm shown by the sales staff, “you don’t feel the desire to buy anything”, Jesús adds. The Cienfuegero has a theory about the workers’ weariness: “because it’s an entity subsidised by the Cuban state, everyone earns the same, even when they don’t sell so much as a postcard”.

Any attempts at promotion don’t guarantee sales either. / 14ymedio

“I remember when they used to have clubs and literary get-togethers, or they put on conferences. Now the only thing left in the bookshop is metal shelving with the same repeated book copies to fill up the empty space. I don’t think they have even fifty titles on display and the majority haven’t changed since the last Book Fair. And as for the prices, they’re too high, given the low quality of the books and the low buying power of customers. In the Calle San Carlos bookshop any old book can cost up to a thousand pesos”, he says.

In that shop, administrated also by the Provincial Centre for Books and Literature in Ciénfuegos, they sell used books. However, here there is a repeat, on a smaller scale, of the same problems of the other shop. “A few days ago I was surprised to see a long queue in front of that bookshop, but then I realised they were actually queuing for the nearby Cadeca (currency exchange)”. Although some university students and local writers go into the shop, it’s usually the case that whoever goes in there comes out empty-handed.

Translated by Ricardo Recluso

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