Miguel García – Translating Cuba

“I’m Not Going To Parade in Anything Related to Communism”

A tricycle driver’s unexpected response to an inspector writing down names on his attendance list for Cuba’s May Day events

The scene took place at one of the electric tricycle taxi stands that have been authorized in Holguín in recent months to transport passengers. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, April 30, 2026 / A private driver in Holguín thought it was just another inspection. He was at the taxi stand near the surgical hospital when a transportation official approached him, asked for his name, and pulled out a piece of paper. The driver prepared to show his documents, license, or vehicle registration. But it wasn’t a traffic ticket or a routine inspection.

“It turns out the man was handing out a political pamphlet or a call to action for the May Day parade,” recounts a passenger who witnessed the events. According to the passenger, the official was asking if the drivers were going to sign their “willingness” to participate in the demonstration.

The scene unfolded at one of the electric tricycle taxi stands that have been authorized in Holguín in recent months to transport passengers, amidst the collapse of public transportation and the energy crisis. In February, provincial authorities began issuing temporary permits allowing cargo tricycles and mopeds to carry passengers as well, a practice previously punishable by fines and even vehicle impoundment.

“Transport inspectors are going around to the bus stops collecting information on the tricycles with the special cargo and passenger permits that are required to participate in the parade.”

The measure was presented as an emergency solution for a city increasingly paralyzed by fuel and bus shortages. But it also placed these drivers under a system of registration, permits, designated taxi stands, and administrative controls. Now, according to testimony, that same structure is being used to incorporate them into the May 1st political machine. continue reading

“The transport inspectors are going around the established taxi stands in the city, collecting the information on the tricycles that were given special cargo and passenger permits to go to the parade,” the passenger explained to this newspaper.

The driver refused to sign. And he did so with a phrase that, just a few years ago, few Cubans would have dared to utter in public, much less before a state official with the power to inspect or penalize their livelihood: “He told them, ‘I’m not going to parade in anything that has to do with communism.’” The inspectors didn’t press the issue and continued on their way.

“He told them, ‘I’m not going to parade in anything that has to do with communism.’”

The complaint coincides with a moment of intense political mobilization in Cuba. The Cuban Workers’ Federation (CTC), the only authorized union on the island, called for the May Day parade under the slogan “The Homeland Defends Itself,” amidst an official campaign seeking to portray the march as a demonstration of unity against the oil blockade imposed by the US and the alleged threats of a military attack. In Holguín, the provincial CTC announced that it expects to gather around 200,000 workers in the main square.

That figure helps to understand the pressure, since mass demonstrations are never left to spontaneity. Workers and students are coerced with meetings, lists, commitments, assembly points, and attendance checks.

“They knock on the door with a piece of paper and you have to write your name, your surname, your ID number and sign it.”

But the pressure isn’t limited to workplaces, universities, or transportation hubs. Another report received from the Diez de Octubre municipality, in Havana, points to the use of vector control fumigators to collect signatures door-to-door in support of the official campaign “My Signature for the Fatherland.”

“Yes, the mosquito control people came, they got them for that purpose,” a neighbor recounts. “They knock on the door with a piece of paper and you have to write your name, your last name, your ID number, and sign it.” According to her, no one in her household agreed to join the campaign: “Of course, no one in my house signed.”

The scene ended with a conversation among the workers sent to collect signatures. “Another colleague arrived, who seemed to have been with her, and he said to her, ‘Are you finished yet?’ And he replied, ‘No, not at all, three people have already slammed the door in my face. Nobody wants to sign this.’” The tension was summed up in a curt phrase, directed at a bricklayer who refused to sign the official document: “If you’re not going to sign it, don’t mess it up.”

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In Holguín, Cuba, Astonishment Mixes With Certainty That “This Can’t Go on Any Longer”

Gasoline prices exceed 4,000 pesos per liter, driving up reliance on electric tricycles

“You practically don’t see any combustion engine motorcycles or private cars on the street,” says the Holguín resident. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Holguín, Miguel García, March 12, 2026 — In the streets of Holguín, there’s a strange mix of shock, anxiety, and anticipation. Conversations multiply at the bus stops, in the doorways, and on the electric tricycles that now dominate the urban landscape. While public transportation crumbles and fuel prices break records, many repeat a phrase that has become almost a refrain: “This can’t go on any longer.”

A 14ymedio reader who lives in the city describes a tense atmosphere, filled with comments and speculation. “People are in a kind of stupor, but within that stupor they’re very attentive to everything,” he says. According to his account, people on the street are talking about politics, the economic situation, and also what might happen to bring about change on the island. “There’s a lot of hope, a lot of people are paying attention to what Donald Trump is saying.”

The daily scene, however, is marked by much more immediate problems. Gasoline, which had already been rising in price for months, has surpassed 4,000 pesos per liter on the informal market and, according to several local sources, is approaching 4,500. The result is visible on the avenues of the eastern city.

“You practically don’t see any motorcycles or private cars on the street,” the Holguín resident recounts. “Those you do see are almost all state-owned.” Many owners have opted to leave their vehicles parked in garages because fuel has become unaffordable. continue reading

“Appointments are already being sold for more than 3,000 pesos.”

The absence of these means of transport has opened the door to another key player: electric scooters and tricycles, which now serve as the main alternative for getting around the city. In many neighborhoods, they have become the only way to travel.

The surge in these vehicles has, in turn, provoked renewed tensions with the authorities. At several transport hubs, police presence has intensified, according to numerous residents. Officers are checking documents, detaining drivers, and verifying vehicle registration.

“The police are cracking down on the tricycles,” the reader says. “They’re stopping everyone.”

In the face of the current desperation, authorities have begun issuing temporary permits to transport passengers or cargo, even to drivers who don’t meet all the requirements. But even obtaining a license has become a nearly impossible process.

Traffic offices are overwhelmed by the demand from people wanting to register their electric vehicles. Applicants must go through a queuing system that has become fertile ground for corruption.

“It’s a chain of problems that ends up affecting the entire transportation system.”

“There’s a waiting list for the computer-based knowledge test, and another waiting list for the practical test,” he explains. “And they’re selling for over 3,000 pesos.”

Meanwhile, dozens of tricycles and mopeds remain impounded because their owners haven’t been able to complete the necessary paperwork. The result is a paradox: vehicles that could ease transportation congestion sit idle while bus stops fill up with desperate passengers.

“One thing leads to another,” the Holguín native summarizes. “It’s a chain of problems that ends up affecting the entire transportation system.”

In that scenario, political commentary seeps into everyday conversation. Some citizens openly express their frustration with the government. “You hear phrases like, ‘I hope Trump comes and takes these bastards away,’” the Holguín resident told this newspaper.

Beyond those expectations, the most repeated phrase is something much simpler: “This can’t go on any longer.” The reader assures us that he has heard it in all kinds of circles. “You hear it from anyone: workers, ordinary people, even intellectuals.”

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The Holguín Cigar Factory, Another Cuban Company That Has Shut Down Due to Lack of Fuel

“They do not expect a resumption of work activities in the short term,” an employee told ’14ymedio’.

Raw materials are arriving at the Lázaro Peña factory in Holguín, but without fuel, the boilers and machinery aren’t running. / Radio Angulo

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, February 17, 2026 – There is no official statement, but the Lázaro Peña cigar factory in Holguín has been closed for five days. The reasons, two employees of the state-owned company—one of them a manager—told 14ymedio, are the same as those that have put many other operations on hold in Cuba in recent weeks: a lack of fuel. “Raw materials are coming in, but without fuel, the boilers and machines aren’t running,” explains one of the workers, who asked to remain anonymous.

“We closed on the 12th, and it’s an indefinite closure,” reports another employee, who continues: “They’ve talked to us about job relocation, but they haven’t given us any specifics yet.” According to this source, the company is in talks with the Holguín Municipal Labor Directorate. “Because workers are supposed to be paid 100% of their salary for the first month and 60% for the second.” Why are they negotiating this issue with that agency from the beginning? The man answers: “Because it seems they don’t expect work to resume anytime soon.”

Until they decide what to do, the state-owned company’s management will try to reorganize the two shifts working at the factory, he continues. “Let’s see how they manage to give us work on both shifts,” the first employee summarizes skeptically.

The factory, which celebrated its 25th anniversary last year, has not announced the suspension of its activities, although it has continued to post on its social media accounts after the 12th.

The factory, which celebrated its 25th anniversary last year, has not announced the suspension of its activities, although it has continued posting on its social media accounts since the 12th. One of these posts was a reproduction of the statement from Habanos SA, the state-owned cigar monopoly, announcing the cancellation of the Cigar Festival, which had been scheduled for February 24-27.

The cancellation of the event, the major international showcase for Cuban tobacco, represents a considerable loss for the state coffers, which have seen the festival set revenue records year after year. Last year, a commemorative humidor from the Behike Line set a historic record by selling for 4.6 million euros, and the seven pieces auctioned totaled more than 16 million euros, earmarked, according to the regime, for the public health system. continue reading

Far from such luxury, however, the Lázaro Peña Cigar Company has not been known for offering a quality product in recent times. On the contrary. Last January, the newspaper ¡Ahora! reported that the factory was determined to “diversify production and reduce costs,” a statement that, translated into smokers’ terms, means making more cigarettes with less tobacco.

The article explained that, under the umbrella of the “circular economy,” the use of dust and the central vein of the leaf, the waste that the text itself admits was considered as “industrial waste,” would be increased to “add weight and volume”.

With the news of the work stoppage, the production of these “rompepechos” (literally ‘chestbreakers’) has come to a halt. For most smokers on the island, this simply means less product and higher prices. “We’re going to have to quit smoking,” explains a retired woman from Holguín, “because the cigarettes I was buying at a wholesale micro-enterprise, at 4,400 a pack, first went up to 4,600 and now to 5,000, and the employee told us they’re expected to keep going up.”

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Dozens of Young People Gather Outside the Court in Holguín Cuba in Support of the Creators of El4tico

Kamil Zayas Pérez and Ernesto Ricardo Medina face charges of “propaganda against the constitutional order” and “incitement to commit a crime”

People gathered outside the Holguín court this Thursday. / 14ymedio/Courtesy

14ymedio, Holguín, Miguel García, February 12, 2026 – More than 50 people, including relatives, friends, and activists, have gathered since the early hours of Thursday in front of the Provincial People’s Court of Holguín, where a hearing is being held in the case of the young creators of the independent project El4tico. The hearing responds to a habeas corpus petition admitted by the court itself on behalf of Kamil Zayas Pérez and Ernesto Ricardo Medina, who were detained on February 6.

Coinciding with the growing number of people gathered outside the court, internet outages occurred in the area, interrupting the arrival of messages and reports from the scene, while Zayas and Medina remained inside the building.

On its Facebook page, the Holguín Provincial Prosecutor’s Office justified its decision to open criminal proceedings against the platform’s creators. They are accused of “propaganda against the constitutional order” and “incitement to commit a crime” through posts that allegedly encouraged the public and members of the Armed Forces and the Ministry of the Interior to change the constitutional order and that “defamed state institutions.” The statement notes that Medina and Zayas are being held under the precautionary measure of pretrial detention while “investigative procedures continue to obtain evidence.”

The court day was preceded by a new act of harassment

The judicial session was preceded by a new act of harassment. Activist Yanet Rodríguez Sánchez, who filed the habeas corpus petition on February 9 on behalf of the detainees, attempted to leave her home this morning to go to the court, but agents of the political police prevented her from doing so. At least two police patrol cars and a motorcycle were stationed outside her house, and two plainclothes agents blocked her from heading to the court. continue reading

Rodríguez Sánchez has also received intimidating phone calls and messages in recent hours. Since Thursday morning, she has remained cut off from communication and arbitrarily confined to her home, a form of de facto detention that Cuban authorities frequently use to prevent activists from participating in public demonstrations.

The admission of the habeas corpus petition by the First Criminal Chamber of the Holguín Provincial Court constitutes an uncommon event within the Cuban judicial system, where such petitions rarely succeed in cases involving politically motivated detentions. In Cuba, there is no real separation of powers, and the courts, like the rest of the public institutions, operate under the “guidelines” of the Communist Party, the only legal party.

The contrast with other recent cases is evident. In Havana, for example, a habeas corpus petition filed on behalf of Ankeilys Guerra Fis, a 23-year-old detained since January 14, 2026 and held incommunicado at Villa Marista, the headquarters of State Security, was denied. Guerra was violently arrested at his home for alleged critical expressions on social media. The court rejected the petition, citing the lack of information about the alleged crime, case number, or exact place of detention, information that the authorities themselves systematically refuse to provide.

The hearing requires the Prosecutor’s Office to formally present the charges, justify the legality of the detention, and explain the conditions under which the detainees are being held

In Holguín, relatives and close associates of Zayas and Medina have expressed concern both about the lack of official information and about the conditions of detention at the province’s Criminal Investigation Unit, a facility popularly known as “Todo el mundo canta” (“Everybody Sings”) due to the violence reportedly used during interrogations there. During the operation that led to their arrest, State Security agents confiscated computers, mobile phones, cameras, and other work equipment used by the young men to produce audiovisual content critical of the country’s political and social reality.

Thursday’s hearing obliges the Provincial Prosecutor’s Office to formally present the charges—if any—to justify the legality of the detention, and explain the conditions of confinement, as part of the judicial review resulting from the habeas corpus petition. The process has drawn the attention of human rights organizations, independent journalists, and activists inside and outside the Island, who view the case as a direct violation of freedom of expression and due process.

In recent hours, messages of solidarity have multiplied on social media under the hashtag #TodosSomosEl4tico, calling for the immediate release of the young men and denouncing judicial arbitrariness. In contrast, party authorities, including the first secretary of the Communist Party in Holguín, Joel Queipo Ruiz, joined a public smear campaign, calling the young men from El4tico “mercenaries” and “traitors,” among other insults common in official discourse.

Outside the court, the atmosphere remains peaceful, though tense and filled with expectation. Family members, including Doris Santiesteban Batista, Ernesto’s wife, continue to await news from inside the courthouse, hoping the day will mark a turning point in a case that once again highlights the use of Cuba’s judicial system as a tool of political control and punishment of dissent.

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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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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‘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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‘It’s a Matter of Life and Death’: Transport Collapse Affects Haemodialysis Patients in Holguín, Cuba

Patients throughout the province are left without transport to receive treatment, while costs, pain and the risk of fatal complications increase.

Haemodialysis is an invasive, painful and exhausting process. / Facebook / Holguín Surgical Clinical Hospital

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, December 21, 2025 — The suspension of transport for haemodialysis patients in Holguín province has alarmed family members, patients and healthcare personnel, who describe the current situation as “unsustainable” and “cruel”. Several people affected have told 14ymedio that for two weeks, the transport service managed by the Public Health Department has been paralysed due to a lack of fuel. The measure particularly affects those who live outside the provincial capital and must travel long distances to receive treatment that cannot be delayed or interrupted.

Until the suspension was announced, state buses picked up patients in different municipalities and took them to hospitals in Holguín where the sessions are held: the Lucía Íñiguez Landín Surgical Clinic and the Vladimir Ilich Lenin University General Hospital. But with the buses stopped, transport is now left to the patients and their families. The result is devastating: trips that cost thousands of pesos, journeys lasting over two hours in private vehicles and very difficult situations for patients in a delicate condition, some of whom are recovering from dengue or chikungunya.

“For me it’s a matter of life and death, it’s not something I can put off or leave for another day,” a 30-year-old woman who has been receiving haemodialysis for 12 years told this newspaper. On Saturday, she travelled from Rafael Freyre to Holguín, paying for the journey out of her own pocket. “I have to come three times a week. The transport alone is impossible for me to afford,” she says. The journey from her municipality, in a car with minimal conditions for a patient who leaves treatment in pain, costs more than 3,000 pesos per day with a family member. “I have to come accompanied because I leave with practically no strength. It’s crazy,” continue reading

she adds.

An electric tricycle to your doorstep inside the city is from 1,000 to 1,500 pesos a person.

Haemodialysis is an invasive, painful and exhausting process. It involves hours of connection to machines that replace kidney function and leave the patient in a state of extreme exhaustion. What’s more, many have other common conditions: diabetes, high blood pressure, chronic anaemia or infections. For those who live in the city of Holguín, the situation is not easy either.
Although the distances are shorter, an electric tricycle to your house door is from 1,000 to 1,500 pesos a person. If the patient needs three trips a week, the monthly expense is easily over 12,000 pesos for a single person, and more than 20,000 if you are with a companion.

“You feel completely abandoned,” says another patient who attends the Clínico, a centre that is treating fewer and fewer patients due to the deterioration of equipment at Lenin Hospital. “Many machines are broken, and those that work are practically never given a rest. So when there is also no transport, the whole process collapses.” In Holguín, it is estimated that over a hundred people need regular haemodialysis, according to calculations shared by patients’ relatives.

But fuel is not the only problem. The young woman from Rafael Freyre reports that medical supplies are also scarce and that “almost everything has to be bought outside.” “From needles to gauze and solutions, whatever we can’t find here we have to look for on Calle 13,” she says, referring to a street market in the city of Holguín where there are lots of informal medical supplies sellers.

Many machines are broken, and those that work are practically never given a break.

The most alarming detail concerns the use of haemodialysis needles: according to several reports collected by this newspaper, healthcare workers have had to reuse some needles up to five times per patient due to a lack of supplies. “This is dangerous because it can cause infections and is very painful because the needle is no longer in as good condition as it was the first time,” the woman explained. In a process as critical as haemodialysis, where any inadequate disinfection can lead to serious complications, this information is deeply worrying for patients and their families.

The crisis worsened during December, when hundreds of vehicles weren’t running due to a general fuel shortage in the region. People going to the municipal public health authorities are just told “there is no fuel at the moment” and that the service will restart “when possible”. According to patients, there is no specific date for when it will restart.

“Some people have had to suspend sessions because they have no way of travelling, and that can be fatal, it’s very dangerous,” warns a nursing technician who preferred not to give her name for fear of reprisals. Every session missed increases the risk of complications: poisoning of the body, heart failure, brain damage and even death. “This type of treatment cannot be interrupted, not even for a few days,” she explains.

“There are people selling furniture, clothes, phones, anything they can to pay for the car.”

In some municipalities, such as Mayarí and Banes, several family members are organising group trips in rented cars to share costs, but the financial burden remains enormous. “If it was difficult before, now it’s almost impossible,” summed up the son of a 64-year-old patient who requires three weekly sessions at the Lucía Íñiguez hospital. “My father leaves shaking after each haemodialysis session; he can’t go in just any car. It has to be decent transport that drops him off at home. And that costs money we don’t have.”

Although health authorities have not issued an official statement, medical sources confirmed to this newspaper that “alternatives are being sought” to transfer patients, without specifying when they might be available.

Meanwhile, families live in distress and debt. “There are people selling furniture, clothes, phones, anything they can to pay for the car,” says the young patient. “I don’t know how long people will be able to hold out.”

Translated by GH

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In Holguín, Not All Roads Are Equal: The Ones the Government Uses Have Priority

“There are always cars belonging to civil servants who come here every day for meetings; they don’t achieve anything, but they never stop having meetings.”

On the way to the hospital, a series of potholes, puddles reflecting tired-looking buildings, crumbling kerbs. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, December 16 2025 –In the morning progressing along Valle road with an unforgiving rattle. Every pothole forces us to slow down, every puddle – thick, greenish – reminds us that last night’s rain found no drainage and no official concern. Electric tricycles, motorcycles, bicycles and private cars arrive here with the same destination: the Lucía Iñiguez Landín Surgical Hospital. People arrive with fevers, joint pains, and the exhaustion of those who have been waiting for days for their bodies to give way.

“This feels like a test before we even get to the doctor,” says a woman holding her sweaty son as she dodges the accumulated water. Arboviruses have once again put this road at the centre of daily life in Holguín: patients from Velasco, Gibara, Calixto García, Cacocum and the city itself cross this stretch of road, ravaged by neglect and lack of investment, in search of diagnosis and relief.

A few kilometres away, the scene changes in colour and texture. At the end of Frexes Street, opposite the Provincial Assembly of People’s Power, the asphalt looks almost perfect. There are no puddles, the cracks have been sealed, and the kerb has been freshly swept. “There are always cars here with officials who come to meetings every day; they don’t achieve anything, but they never stop having meetings,” complains the driver of an electric tricycle as he compares, without raising continue reading

his voice, the smooth pavement he has just left behind. The illusion hardly lasts 200 metres, from Bim Bom to a sugar-cane juice stall: just the stretch visible from the windows of the official building and the busy part for those entering and leaving the offices of power. Beyond that, the city returns to normal.

The photos show what is seen as normal: opposite the government building, a continuous, clean road surface with smooth traffic flow. / 14ymedio

The contrast is not only aesthetic; it is functional and symbolic. On the road to the hospital, puddles become traps for tyres and ankles; dust rises when the sun beats down and the rain stays away, and when the downpour falls, mud spreads. A cyclist slams on the brakes to avoid falling into a makeshift ditch; the driver of an old Lada calculates where to drive without losing half his suspension in the attempt. “No one comes here to inspect,” sums up a neighbour who sells coffee on the corner and sees the procession of sick people pass by every day. “If they did, this would already be fixed.”

The photos show what is seen as normal: in front of the government building, a smooth, clean road with flowing traffic; but on the way to the hospital, a series of potholes, puddles reflecting tired building façades, crumbling kerbs. On peak days for dengue or chikungunya, the road becomes a funnel for emergencies. The noise of engines mixes with coughing, the rubbing of wet sandals, and the hurried complaining of those who are late for an appointment or for the emergency room.

In Holguín, as in so many parts of the island, the roadway also votes. Where there is power, there is paint and tar; where there is pain, there is waiting and damage. The Valle highway does not ask for speeches or ribbon-cutting ceremonies: it asks for drainage, asphalt, maintenance. Meanwhile, the journey to hospital will continue to be an uncomfortable prelude to illness, and the government’s front line will remain a polished postcard for those looking down from above.

Translated by GH

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In the Absence of Doctors in Cuba, Holguín Residents Self-Diagnose: Joint Pain Is Chikungunya, Dehydration Is Dengue

There is no saline solution in hospitals and surgeries have been suspended because staff have been infected with the virus.

Operating theatre at Lenin University Hospital in Holguín, in a file photo. / Facebook

14ymedio, Miguel García, 14 November 2025 — The health situation in Holguín is critical and shows no signs of improving. Neighbourhood by neighbourhood, arbovirus infections are multiplying, without people being clear whether they are suffering from chikungunya or dengue, the two main diseases that have spread across the island. Only some of the symptoms help you identify them: if the joints hurt, it will be the former; if there is severe vomiting, the latter.

“Almost everyone in my block has been sick already. Just yesterday, they took my cousin to the Clinical Surgical Hospital,” says Sandra, a resident of Holguín. “He’s big and strong, but he fainted from dehydration, and when he got to the hospital, they didn’t even have any IV fluids.” The same thing is happening at the city’s paediatric hospital and at Lenin Hospital. Each bag of saline solution has become a luxury item: it can be found on the informal market on Calle 13 for 3,000 pesos.

Another resident of Holguín says the same thing: “People are becoming dehydrated and nothing is being done about it. Many people go to the doctor and they are sent away, only getting advice to boil cherry leaves. At the hospital, unless they are seriously ill, they are not treated.” Talking about this, he tells us about an acquaintance who, 12 days after contracting “the virus,” experienced worsening symptoms and was becoming dehydrated. “She had to send her son to buy her IV fluids and find a nurse in the neighbourhood to administer them at home. People aren’t going to the hospital because they know there is nothing there.”

“No special favours, there’s no way we can operate under these conditions!”

We are also seeing the beginning a shortage of doctors. At Lenin Hospital, according to a nurse employed there, “they are not performing surgeries because most of the specialists are ill with arbovirosis.” Workers saw the director of the centre, Dr Amalia Pupo Zúñiga, standing at the door of a room and warning: “No favours, there is no way we can do that!” Favours, in Cuban medical slang, are the favours that health workers do on the side: for friendship, family relationships or in exchange for a gift. continue reading

Several Holguin residents also claim to know of people dying, an issue that the government keeps quiet about, despite the fact that funeral homes and cemeteries in the country are clearly busier than usual. The Holguín authorities have admitted, however, that the epidemiological situation, especially after Hurricane Melissa, has worsened in the territory. “Many people are currently suffering from joint pain, feverish symptoms, loss of appetite, restricted mobility and general malaise,” according to a note published on Friday in Ahora!

Each bag of saline solution has become, in fact, a luxury item: it can be found on the informal market on Calle 13 for 3,000 pesos. / 14ymedio

Geanela Cruz Ávila, director of the Provincial Centre for Hygiene and Epidemiology, told the government newspaper that tests confirm the circulation of dengue serotype four and chikungunya in Holguín.

The official didn’t say much about the measures taken by Public Health to control the situation. She merely stated that last week the Provincial Defence Council approved a “strategy” to combat arboviruses following the passage of Melissa, which includes investigations in communities and home medical care, as well as the destruction of “breeding sites that appear in homes and other premises in order to stop the appearance of mosquitoes, mainly in their larval stage”.

The poisons that are normally used, malathion and permethrin, have a very strong and distinctive smell.

The note says nothing about fumigation, but some residents claim that it is “sporadic and isolated”. For example, Sandra says: “They know about the positive cases in the neighbourhood and they haven’t come to fumigate, as they did before with dengue. According to them, it’s because they don’t have any fuel”.

The lady also does not know whether these occasional fumigations are effective. “The poisons that are normally used, malathion and permethrin, have a very strong, characteristic smell, and when you walk past one of these brigades, you don’t smell any of that,” she explains. “I don’t know what they’re actually spraying, or whether it works.”

On Wednesday, the national director of epidemiology, Francisco Durán García, in a special programme on the country’s health situation, stated that at least 30% of the population has been infected at some point with one of the arboviruses that have spread across the island, dengue or chikungunya.

Although the former carries a higher risk of death, people are currently more fearful of chikungunya, as it is a relatively new virus in Cuba, transmitted by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, the same vector that transmits dengue and Zika. María Guadalupe Guzmán Tirado, director of the Research, Diagnosis and Reference Centre at the Pedro Kourí Institute, gave detailed explanations about this disease that is keeping the island in check, as its symptoms can take up to three months to disappear and the joint pains are very severe.

Translated by GH

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Cubans Reinforce Their Homes, Working Against Against the Clock Before the Arrival of Hurricane Melissa

It remains a dangerous category 5 hurricane on the Saffir-Simpson scale, as it heads for the Island
“We know that there will be a lot of damage caused by this hurricane,” warns President Miguel Díaz-Canel

Cubans walk olong the sea this Tuesday in Santiago de Cuba, while Melissa advances toward the Island. / EFE

14ymedio / Havana/ Holguín, Miguel García, October 28, 2025 — “I have spent the day nailing doors and windows,” a resident of Holguín told 14ymedio. He adds that they are preparing the best they can to survive Hurricane Melissa, although they have not had time to follow the details of its trajectory due to a poor internet connection and blackouts. His house has brick walls, but he doesn’t want anything to surprise him and endanger his family.

Melissa made landfall this Tuesday near New Hope, Jamaica, with sustained maximum winds of 185 mph. A probe was able to capture a burst of 252 mph inside the hurricane. Its central pressure dropped to 892 hectoPascal, so it remains a dangerous category 5 hurricane on the Saffir-Simpson scale, as it heads east towards Cuba.

At least 7 people have died so far: 3 in Jamaica, 3 in Haiti and 1 in the Dominican Republic. Authorities fear that the number of casualties may increase as more damage reports come in.

From Jamaica, a Cuban doctor wrote on her social networks: “I tell the people in eastern Cuba: this is too much for Cuba. It is too much for you, my dear people.”

In the municipality of Palma Soriano, province of Santiago de Cuba, Katia, 51 years old, says that no one has slept at home: “We removed the mattresses from the beds and sent them to some neighbors who have a house that is stronger than ours, the same with the refrigerator,” she reports by phone to 14ymedio. The family has set two clear priorities: keeping the children safe and preserving their most valuable assets. continue reading

“We are not going to evacuate because here when people leave their homes, the danger of being robbed is high,” she says. “These walls are strong, our problem is the roof: one part is board and the other has a light cover. We’ve blocked the blinds with boards and tried to keep the water tank above the bathroom full, so it doesn’t blow away in the wind. We’re avoiding wasting the rechargeable batteries for our flashlights and mobile phones.

“Yesterday people stocked up on everything they could. There were lines in front of the MSMEs* that sell food, and trucks and tricycles were carrying boxes and large packages.”/ 14ymedio

Niurka can listen to local FM radio stations with a headphone attached to her cell phone as an antenna. “This has given us luck because we have had many blackouts in recent days and being informed has been difficult. At least we now know that the creature is coming here and has an impressive size,” she says about Melissa.

In the city of Holguín it’s hard to find something to buy this Tuesday. “Yesterday people stocked up on everything they could. There were lines in front of the MSMEs that sell food, and trucks and tricycles were carrying boxes and large packages,” says Rodolfo, driver of an electric vehicle that transports passengers and goods. He decided not to go to work today, preferring to be employed in reinforcing his home’s security.

“Luckily my little house is attached to others and that protects us,” he explains. ” I spent my life complaining about the neighbors who play their music too loud and sometimes even wake up the kid with their screaming, but today that is the greatest security I have to confront the wind.” In the event that the electricity is cut off for several days and food becomes more scarce, neighborhood solidarity will also be important.

“In previous hurricanes we improvised a pot of soup on the block and that saved us,” he recalls. This kind of support will be more important on this occasion. “There are many old people who are alone in this neighborhood. Some have been evacuated to other houses, but others have no one who can help, so we will take turns looking after them.”

Rodolfo’s sister, a newly graduated doctor, is being evacuated to the Vladimir Ilyich Lenin General University Hospital along with other health workers. “She took a couple of changes of clothes because this can last for a long time.” The tricycle with which he earns his living now occupies most of the space in the room. “Usually I keep it in an open carport outside, but this time I cannot risk it. If a tree falls on top, my way to earn a living is lost.”

“Luckily my little house is attached to others and that protects us.” / 14ymedio

His decision coincides with the advice offered on Facebook by an architect in Guatánamo with experience in natural disasters. The expert warns that winds from 155 to 186 mph are strong enough to destroy even houses made of reinforced concrete, so nobody should underestimate their power. He also explains that wood or brick dwellings with thin ceilings are extremely vulnerable, as the wind can tear off roofs and knock down structures, especially in rural areas or isolated buildings. In these cases, the recommendation is to evacuate immediately to someplace safe and not assume that thick or concrete walls will provide protection.

Only concrete dwellings with heavy roofs and in good structural condition could provide some safety if they are away from the shore. In coastal areas or where the sea is at least 656 feet high, even solid houses should be evacuated, as the waves can cause more damage than the wind, says the specialist.

On Tuesday, President Miguel Díaz-Canel, who chairs the National Defense Council, released a statement calling on Cubans to avoid deaths and serious damage in the face of the next powerful impact of hurricane Melissa on the east of the island.

We know that there will be a lot of damage caused by this storm, but we will have the capacity to recover in food production, housing, and also in the the economy,” said the president in a message broadcast on state television.

“No one should venture to swim in the swollen rivers; no one should return home from the places of evacuation when the indications for returning or going to the recovery phase have not yet been given in each of the territories,” advised the first secretary of the Communist Party, who described the preparatory work at all levels as “intensive and responsible.”

Neighborhood residents in Santiago called the Communal Services, but “they responded that the truck can’t come. There is no fuel and the ones that work are going to Guamá. / Facebook / Yaya Panoramix

For his part, José Daniel Ferrer, leader of the Patriotic Union of Cuba (UNPACU) and recently exiled in Miami, shared a video from Santiago de Cuba where you can hear “the hammering of people trying to secure their homes in order to cope with Hurricane Melissa.” Some 168,900 people have been evacuated in this province to 101 centers set up for that purpose.

Actress Dayana Figueroa, known on social networks as Yaya Panoramix, complained on Facebook that the garbage threatens to cause obstructions in the sewage system of her neighborhood in Santiago de Cuba, “a few blocks from Céspedes Park.” She says that the neighbors called the local authorities, but “they replied that the truck can’t come. There is no fuel and those that work are going to Guamá.” Aware that her neighborhood is often flooded, she concluded, “My family is in danger.”

From Yateras, in Guantánamo, official profiles defend the use of caves in the mountains to house vulnerable people. Meanwhile, Melissa is moving north-northeast and has slightly increased its travel speed by 9 mph. It is expected to lose some strength as it crosses Jamaica and arrive with a lesser category on Cuban soil between Tuesday and Wednesday.

Over the next 24 hours, Melissa should tilt its trajectory further to the northeast, gradually increasing its speed. The external bands of this hurricane are already affecting the eastern region of Cuba, generating showers and rain, which will increase in the afternoon from Camagüey to Guantánamo. Rainfall will be strong and intense, mainly in mountainous areas, with accumulations between 7.5 and 17.7 inches over the next 24 hours.

*Micro, Small, Medium Enterprises [mipyme in Spanish], generally privately operated

Translated by Regina Anavy

Between Dirty Water and Garbage a New Market Is Built in Holguín

The market will be occupied mainly by self-employed workers who had to leave the nearby Feria de los Chinos

The polluted Jigüe River passes near the area where the market is built. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Holguín, Miguel García, October 12, 2025 — “A pigsty” is how the neighbors describe the new market for the sale of food and other products that is built a few meters from a polluted stream and surrounded by a huge garbage dump on Cuba street, between Carbó and Mendieta, in Holguín. In recent days, the walls of the kiosks have been rising to the same extent as popular discontent grows for the short distance between beans and sewer water, bread and waste of all kinds.

The city is filling up with this type of candonga [practical joke] complains Heriberto, a resident in the neighborhood of the market that will house, basically, the self-employed workers who had to move from the nearby Feria de los Chinos. “They had tents there, and when the official press complained about the hygienic conditions, they were told that they had to dismantle them and have ended up here, where the filth is even worse.”

The Jigüe River, with its sewage from industrial and residential discharges, spreads its stench throughout the area, near the Vladimir Ilyich Lenin General University Hospital. When the kiosks are finished, they will offer both imported and domestic food. Sacks of rice, sugar in bulk and boxes of frozen chicken quarters will be sold within a short distance from the bags of garbage, the piles of construction waste and the miasmas carried by the swollen stream.

What’s worse is that this is authorized by the local authorities,” warns a neighbor. / 14ymedio

“What’s worse is that this is authorized by the local authorities,” says a neighbor. The women thinks that economic precariousness has given rise to this kind of improvised sale with a poor infrastructure. “It eventually ends with the customer taking home a product that has been in contact with flies and germs in that environment,” she summarizes. To her surprise, some of her acquaintances do not see the contradiction in offering food in such a dirty place. “We are used to living surrounded by crap, that’s what happens.”

In a few weeks, the kiosks will be ready to sell pork loin, wheat flour and malangas. Customers will have to overcome the mud and grime to take that food home.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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A Fake Nurse Is Reported in the Holguín Maternal Hospital in Cuba

Belkis Bauzá was caught posing as medical staff, while mothers face extreme shortages on the island.

Photo of the General University Hospital Vladimir Ilyich Lenin / Facebook

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, August 10, 2025 — In a country where medical resources are scarce and health centers deal with shortages on a daily basis, the case of a woman who pretended to be a nurse at the Lenin Hospital in Holguín has set off alarms. According to the complaint published on the official profile Cazador Cazado, Belkis Bauzá was surprised while pretending to perform medical work without having a diploma, course or official accreditation.

The report says that, in addition to the deception, the fake professional set up her own “business” within the delivery area, combining the use of hospital beds with an improvised sale of health supplies. “It’s more than a hustle; she is playing with peoples’ health,” warns the post on Facebook, which called for sanctions “without anesthesia” for those who “profit from the needs of others.”

“She had been pretending for a while, but everything exploded when she offered a bed, paid of course, to the companion of a patient, who reported her thinking that she was a real nurse,” according to a source in the hospital. ” This case got on the internet and caused a scandal because someone reported it to the management, but that happens every day here: workers have to do their deals to survive.” continue reading

Holguín’s Vladimir Ilyich Lenin University General Hospital does not escape the problems of the network of gynecology and obstetrics centers throughout the Island.

With its dark corridors, dirty bathrooms and fewer staff to care for pregnant women due to the occupational and migratory exodus, the Vladimir Ilyich Lenin General University Hospital in Holguín is no exception to the problems of the network of gynecology and obstetrics centers throughout the country. “There are people who try to do their job with dignity, but that is increasingly difficult,” acknowledges the same source.

“We lack security staff, stretcher-bearers, anesthetists and even pantry staff,” she says. ” So it is a miracle that we continue to bring children into the world here because it is increasingly difficult.”

The episode with Bauzá comes at a time when the crisis of Cuban mothers is becoming increasingly visible. At the Provincial Gynecological Teaching Hospital José Ramón López Tabranes, in Matanzas, pregnant women must also overcome the lack of basic supplies, as this newspaper recently reported. There, Yamila, 22 years old, had prepared her bag for giving birth a few days ago, not only with the baby’s clothes but also with syringes, sutures, gloves, a fan, cutlery and even a washbasin to bathe.

The deterioration of the facilities is evident: cockroaches on the walls, nurses smoking by the windows and consultations that prioritize those who arrive with “gifts.”

The deterioration of the facilities is evident: cockroaches on the walls, nurses smoking by the windows and consultations that prioritize those who arrive with “gifts” for staff. Even pregnant women at risk, such as Leticia -diabetic and bleeding- report waiting hours for lack of priority attention.

The province of Matanzas has gone from registering almost 8,000 births per year to just over 4,000 in 2024, with a birth rate of 6.6 per 1,000 women, one of the worst in the country. The emigration of young women, homelessness, high prices and low wages complete the picture of a crisis affecting both demography and public health.

In this context, cases such as that of Belkis Bauzá reflect not only the vulnerability of the health system but also the loss of confidence in a population that, between fear and resignation, knows that giving birth in Cuba is today an obstacle course. On the list of concerns, the presence of fake personnel is just another risk that adds to a picture already marked by scarcity and deterioration.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Holguín’s Residents Catch a Thief and Uncover a Chain of Robberies

A young man was caught trying to steal an electric motorbike and held by the community until the arrival of the police.

Some wanted to beat him, but an older man stood in his way, asking for restraint / Screen capture

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, 7 August 2025 — In Holguín, a city increasingly hit by violence, a group of residents decided that this Thursday they had had enough. The scene occurred in broad daylight, around 10:00 am, in the Vista Alegre neighborhood, when a young man was caught trying to steal an electric motorbike and detained by the community until the arrival of the police.

The victim, a 56-year-old man who works transporting passengers on a motorbike, picked up the young man, who signaled him from a corner and asked him to bring him near the area of Alcides Pino. The journey proceeded normally until, when arriving at Calle Colón, the passenger asked him to stop in an alley with an unconvincing excuse. The driver, already alerted by the young man’s behavior, decided to remove the key from the vehicle as a precaution.

The young man, seeing himself surrounded, changed tactics: he began to shout that he was the victim.

The assailant came back and pretended to get back on the bike but then jumped on the man and punched him in the mouth. The driver reacted, trying to defend himself and holding on to the handlebars. The noise attracted several residents who, upon witnessing the scene, were quick to intervene. The young man, seeing himself surrounded, changed his tactics: he began to shout that he was the victim. But it was too late. No one believed him. continue reading

The real victim was bleeding from the mouth, and his appearance made it clear that he was the driver of the motorbike. In a matter of minutes, the street was filled with curious people and mobile phones. Some were filming while others were indignantly recalling recent robberies. There was talk of a chain of assaults, all with the same modus operandi: a young man who approached bikers in broad daylight and then attacked them to flee with the vehicle.

“Tie him up, so he can’t get away,” can be heard on one of the videos.

One of those present brought a rope. “Tie him up, so he can’t get away,” can be heard in one of the videos. The young man, already cornered against a wall, was insulted and threatened. Some wanted to beat him, but an older man stood in the way, asking for restraint. “Wait for the patrol,” said one lady as she watched the scene from the sidewalk.

Later, when the police finally arrived, the young man was taken to the Third Unit behind the Lenin Hospital, but what looked like an isolated incident turned into a more complex case as other people began to arrive. Four more victims showed up at the station and identified him without hesitation.

One of them, assaulted on July 25, was “an elderly man, about 60 years old, very skinny,” a neighbor told this newspaper. Upon seeing the young man arrested, the victim knew immediately that it was the same one who had attacked him and beat him until he broke his jaw. The pattern was repeated: the thief acted alone, without visible weapons, and took advantage of surprise to hit his victims, almost always older men, and to flee with their motorbikes.

The victim knew immediately that it was the same one who had attacked him, beating him until he broke his jaw.

In recent months, like other cities on the island, Holguín has been the scene of a worrying increase in urban violence. Robberies with violence, holdups on public roads, assaults on businesses and street fights have been reported frequently. Residents in neighborhoods such as Vista Alegre, Alcides Pino and Pueblo Nuevo often tell similar stories. Although there are no official figures published, fear is growing at the rate that informal reports and home videos circulate on social networks.

The lack of resources and or an effective police presence plus growing poverty have been identified as some of the causes of this deterioration. There is also a widespread perception of impunity. Many offenders are not prosecuted or re-offend shortly after release. This distrust of the institutions leads to scenes like what happened this Thursday: citizens who decide to intervene on their own in the absence of security in the streets.

The community acted quickly, but also within limits. There was no lynching, but a warning. Holguín is on the edge, and its inhabitants are willing to do what the law does not seem to guarantee them.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuba: An Eloquent ‘Freedom’ Painted on a Wall in Holguín Rekindles Popular Discontent

The graffiti appeared in a busy area where thousands of people pass by every day.

The sign is located between the La Barra Dalama guarapera [sugar cane drink stand] and the old service station known as La Curva. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Miguel García, Holguín, 4 August 2025 — Residents in the Alex Urquiola neighborhood of Holguín woke up this weekend to find a word painted on a deep blue wall: “Freedom.” The graffiti, written in uneven and hasty letters, appeared on the stretch between the La Barra Dalama guarapera [sugar cane drink stand] and the old gas station known as La Curva, a busy area where thousands of people pass through every day.

The sign draws attention not only for its direct message, but also for the way it was written, with a final “t” that betrays a spelling error but, for many residents, reflects the urgency and spontaneity with which it was created. “Whoever wrote it must have written it exactly as it sounded in their mind,” commented a neighbor who stopped in front of the improvised mural. “You can’t spell a word that’s never used correctly,” added another local woman with a wry smile that summed up the widespread frustration with the situation on the island.

“You can’t spell a word well if you never use it.”

The graffiti is the latest in a string of public expressions of discontent that have become more frequent in Holguín—and throughout Cuba—in recent years. And that have increased in recent months.

In mid-June, authorities in Holguín were busy early in the morning erasing some 20 anti-government graffiti on the wall of the Mayabe cemetery, even scraping with machetes, while Interior Ministry agents, supported by continue reading

several cars and motorcycles, controlled the area and watched for anyone who approached. A tricycle driver recounted how he couldn’t even take out his phone for fear of being arrested, while a tanker truck loaded with lime waited to paint the extensive wall and cover the remnants of the messages as quickly as possible.

In mid-June, 20 anti-government graffiti appeared on the wall of the Mayabe cemetery.

In the Lenin neighborhood, also in Holguín, graffiti bearing the phrase “Down with communism” appeared on one of the buildings in May. Authorities reacted quickly, attempting to cover it with reddish paint, but the faded color left the message visible, creating a palpable irony. The act of censorship ended up reinforcing the phrase.

In May, the phrase “Down with communism” was painted on one of the buildings in the Lenin neighborhood.

The head of the U.S. mission to Cuba, Mike Hammer, who was visiting the city, even posed for a photo in front of the sign, emphasizing that Cubans should be able to express themselves without fear of reprisals.

In the case of this new graffiti on Alex Urquiola, however, the word “Freedom” remained visible all weekend, becoming a topic of conversation for pedestrians and drivers passing by. Some even speculate that the authorities’ failure to remove the message could be due to the fact that the experts have run out of resources to analyze the frequent protest graffiti. One much more suspicious Holguín resident sarcastically commented: “Maybe there’s not even any paint left.”

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