Pablo Padilla Cruz – Page 2

Eleven Cubans Linked to the Cuban Armed Forces Are Detained in Matanzas for “Mercenary Activity”

The Cubans were recruited by an army officer to fight with Russia in the war in Ukraine.

Cuban mercenaries on the Ukrainian front. / Mario Vallejo/Facebook

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz. Matanzas, 23 July 2025 — On May 12, 2025, Eduardo was released after spending a year and four months in Combinado del Sur, a maximum-security prison in Cuba’s Matanzas province. His crime: having purchased a ticket to Russia for February 2024 from the same agency and on the same flight as a group of 11 people currently being prosecuted in total secrecy for the crime of mercenarism

All those detained are being investigated for their alleged intention to participate as soldiers in the service of the Russian Army in the war against Ukraine. In Cuba, mercenarism is a serious crime, punishable by up to 30 years in prison under the Penal Code. Although the government has officially denied its involvement in the Russian-Ukrainian conflict, it has also acknowledged—ambiguously—the existence of recruitment networks to send Cuban combatants to the war front.

Eduardo denied knowing anyone involved, but they didn’t believe him, and he ended up in a cell with three members of the group that was about to travel to Russia. Among those arrested was a former member of the Ministry of the Interior, originally from Bayamo but living in Havana. His name is Amaury. He trained as a sniper at the military school and had continue reading

worked as a driver in Cuban Revolutionary Armed Forces (FAR) units.

Another detainee, known as Tasé, is from Baracoa and was part of an alleged mixed martial arts team.

Another detainee, known as Tasé, is from Baracoa and was part of a supposed mixed martial arts team. He was traveling, according to his version, to participate in a “cultural exchange” in Russia, an alibi repeated in similar cases.

All of the detainees, except Eduardo, had some connection to the Cuban Armed Forces or the Cuban state security apparatus. Several possessed military titles, combat skills, or specialized training. One of them, arrested after confessing that war was “a possibility,” became a key player in the case. Although the investigation has not revealed formal employment contracts, accounts point to an informal recruitment network operating under the command of an officer nicknamed “El Maestro.”

Identified as a FAR officer, El Maestro was known for leading a paramilitary martial arts team. At least one of those implicated was a member of that group. According to sources close to the case, he is identified as the operational center of the network, managing flights, connections, procedures, and contacts. Although he is not incarcerated with the other detainees, his trial is being conducted in parallel from the Canaleta prison in Jovellanos, Matanzas—not to be confused with the prison of the same name in Ciego de Ávila. This separation has fueled the theory that his isolation is a control strategy: to prevent leaks between defendants or preserve hierarchies within the prison system.

“The Maestro had everything squared with the Russians,” says one of those involved.

According to one of the detainees at Combinado del Sur, whose comments reached 14ymedio through a relative, there is a suspicion that El Maestro was sacrificed as a scapegoat to calm the waters and disprove any state involvement when the scandal broke regarding the involvement of Cubans sent to the war broke. There is also the hypothesis that the recruiter acted independently. “El Maestro had everything arranged with the Russians,” comments one of those involved.

Some testimonies from those who did reach the battlefields demonstrate the effects left on them by the war. Francisco García, a 37-year-old Cuban, says his “life ended” when he discovered that the promised job—repairing buildings in exchange for a Russian passport and $2,594 a month—was nothing more than a lie to turn him into a mercenary. After witnessing the deaths of dozens of Cuban and Russian soldiers, subjected to psychological violence to act as a “robot on the battlefield,” he deserted in October 2024. García paid nearly $13,000 to a trafficker to flee to Greece and now lives on the streets of Athens, without help, lamenting the price of having survived a war that “has nothing to do with him.”

There is also the case of three young men from Matanzas who were arrested months ago on the Russian-Finnish border. They were trying to leave Russia when they were detained by immigration police and taken to a detention center where they were pressured to sign a military contract. The Cuban Embassy, they reported, never intervened. Only thanks to the their story going viral—through a video sent to their families and shared on social media—were they able to return to Cuba.

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Artex Has a Lot of Income but Does Not Pay Cuban Musicians and Artists

The provincial branch of Matanzas collected 257 million pesos in 2024: “The money enters the box office and the talent is forgotten.”

If the profits were so significant, where is the salary of the artists? / Ricardo López Hevia

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas,15 July 2025 — Various voices of the cultural guild linked to Artex S.A. -the State trading company responsible for marketing Cuban culture- complain about delays of three to six months for delivery of their salaries. According to the statements of artists from different provinces, the payment they should receive for concerts in venues, hotels and festivals simply does not materialize.

“Three months of waiting, and they say the money is there, but it never arrives,” says José, a night club worker in the city of Matanzas. “There are colleagues with six months in this situation. Imagine, a salary is never enough to live on, much less without receiving tips.”

Joseph’s testimony is no exception. Efrén, a musician hired by a hotel in Varadero, says that he worked his shifts on time, but he has not been paid anything. “I started playing at the agreed time, but if I ask for my salary and they say ’not yet’. That’s how it’s been for two months.” continue reading

Artex’s branch in Matanzas closed the year 2024 with more than 257 million pesos in gross revenues.

In the annual balance sheet of the provincial Artex branch in Matanzas, it was announced that the entity closed the year 2024 with more than 257 million pesos in gross revenues. This positioned the territory as the second highest-earning branch in the country. For these results they received the status of “national vanguard” for the thirteenth time. If the profits were so significant, many question, where is the salary for the artists?

The same is true in Havana. The persistence of these defaults has led artists like Yanairis Fernández, director of the metal band Bonus, to warn that they will stop performing in centers such as Submarino Amarillo and Jardín del Mella if they do not receive their remuneration before July. His decision has also affected rock bands like Pyra and Green Beans, who have been claiming arrears since March. On social networks like Facebook, some directors have announced the sending of open letters calling on musicians to stop their performances until Artex complies.

The president of Artex posts more political propaganda on his social media than artistic promotion

Artex is a complex State trading company with headquarters, agencies, divisions and branches throughout Cuba. Its commercial network includes shops, cultural centers and promotion of products and services in both Cuban pesos and foreign currency. Its catalogue includes entities such as Bis Music (recording and publishing), Ediciones Cubanas, Clave Cubana, Musicalia, d’Arte, Paradiso (cultural tourism) and Soy Cubano (export of cultural products and services). Artex manages festivals, hotel events, tours and contracts with Cuban artists.

A glance at the X profile of Artex’s national president, Eladio Marrero Florido, reveals an extensive campaign to promote political figures such as Fidel Castro and Miguel Díaz-Canel, as well as attacks on Marco Rubio and Donald Trump. But it is almost impossible to find promotions, comments or allusions to the work of Cuban artists, much less a report on the fulfillment of payment dates for their work.

Artex “has money,” but the concept of “paying for talent” does not seem to be part of its priorities.

Musicians, sound technicians and artistic directors consulted by 14ymedio report that Artex “has money,” but the concept of “paying for talent” does not seem to be part of its priorities. “They promote festivals in Varadero paid in dollars and have huge advertising campaigns, but those of us who work directly at these events are waiting, without a clear explanation,” says Efrén. Sound technician Yoangel, in another hotel in the same area, says that signing a contract with Artex is like “playing Russian roulette.” After two months without pay, he decided to quit to avoid getting trapped in an endless wait.

“How many more months do you plan to leave us without pay?” asks a musician who threatens to boycott performances in venues linked to Artex. The proposal for a standstill is presented to a company which, without issuing official apologies or explanations, continues to operate and sell culture without paying the creators. The pressures extend to requesting the intervention of the Ministry of Culture and the Public Prosecutor’s Office, denouncing a supposed structural exploitation: “The money enters the box office and the talent is forgotten.”

In a country where the average wage barely covers the basics, these defaults are a daily tragedy. Artists like José, Efrén and Yoangel divide their time among concerts, private classes and informal jobs to survive. “I live on what I sell to tourists, records and tips; but I can’t go on like this anymore,” one admits. For families who depend on their work in culture, these unpaid months mean losing shelter, food and medicine.

Bars, restaurants and even small private cafes have become the alternative for artists.

Others have begun to present themselves in private venues, aware that the State is increasingly lacking in resources to meet its commitments. Bars, restaurants and even small cafes have become the stage for singers, magicians and comedians, who, tired of waiting for their salary, prefer to close a deal with an entrepreneur and support themselves with tips from customers.

Artex’s reputation is faltering under the shadow of this wage crisis. The question that resonates in the guild is clear: can a sustainable culture maintain itself on broken promises? Artists and workers demand immediate payments, transparency in financial management and a genuine commitment from the institution. If not, they warn, the silence could become louder than any song.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Etecsa’s ‘Tarifazo’ Forces Cubans To Return to Dangerous Parks with WiFi

In Matanzas, users recount the difficulties of connecting to the network and thefts of accounts by hackers.

The connection’s strength isn’t a reason to jump for joy. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 12 July 2025 — The ‘tarifazo’ [huge price increase] imposed by Cuba’s State telecommunications monopoly Etecsa has suddenly returned hundreds of Cubans to the past and the search for a Wi-Fi hotspot that would allow them an internet connection. But also, due to time, those places are no longer what they once were. Blackouts and the widespread increase in theft and violence make those who are forced to resort to this option vulnerable, due to a lack of effective connections at home and the expensive and poorly managed data.

“I study,” says Yusmari sitting on a bench in Paseo Martí, in the Versalles neighborhood of Matanzas. “It’s not that all I do on the internet is study, but most of the time the so-called 6 GB extra for students, at least in the university Camilo Cienfuegos, is slow,” she says. Homework doesn’t wait, explains the young woman, who points out how small the packages are. “The 500 MB per month that we are given in school expire in no time, because a PDF enquiry can use more than 50 MB easily, and you have to get a turn for time at the computer. The only thing left is the park wifi,” she says.

But Yusmari knows that the landscape is not the same as it was a decade ago. “Now there is an atmosphere of insecurity; in addition, the street lighting almost never works because of the blackouts, so you have to be careful about coming alone. Nothing has ever happened to me, but if someone can snatch your cell phone in broad daylight, what will they do at night?” continue reading

“Now there is an atmosphere of insecurity; in addition, the street lighting almost never works because of the blackouts.”

The connection’s strength isn’t a reason to jump for joy. “There are parks that are better or worse,” says Orestes, who uses the wifi to download files while waiting for his transport to Varadero, where he works as a musician. “Everything depends on the users; in my case it’s the worst since there is not much signal in this area, and people point their phones at the park so they don’t have to leave the house. Many times in less than an hour the phone is disconnected more than 10 times, and you have to restart the authentication process,” he says. The average download speed on fixed broadband is 2.73 Mbps with an upload speed of just 0.96. These results place Cuba in 159th place out of 159 countries evaluated, according to SpeedTest.

Orestes complains that it is sometimes impossible to even enter the Etecsa user portal. “And to top it off there are cloned portals that steal your account and password with total impunity. In the end, with patience, it is resolved, and at least something lets you upload, but it’s a constant struggle.”

The young musician says that the insecurity is not only physical but also due to the hackers. “Several people have complained,” says a worker from a nearby point of contact. “Mostly elderly people, but I can’t do anything, only raise their complaints to the managers. My functions as a company worker are only commercial.” Etecsa’s investment in cybersecurity appears to be nil, they both claim.

The great alternative to public wifi areas were, before data worked, the hotels. In the case of Matanzas, many people approached the Velasco and the Louvre, in the center of the city, for their good options to get online. Being service networks abroad, the speed was much better – up to 4 MB of data transfer – and all you had to do was create an Etecsa account, but that only worked in those hotels.

The great alternative to public wifi areas were, before data worked, the hotels. In the case of Matanzas, many people approached the Velasco and the Louvre.

“The option no longer exists, at least for those Cubans who used it,” says Reinaldo, who works as a freelancer. “One day, without further ado, they told me that they could not top up my account because the service was only for guests, even though we are the Cuban customers who fill the lobby and the bar, both at the Velasco and the Louvre.”

“And every day, I spent more than three hours there and consumed enough, even had lunch several times a week. But now that network is under-exploited, and many people who are creating new ways of bringing foreign exchange into the country have to look for other paths. We all lost in this,” he says with resignation.

One of the employees at the Louvre confirms that if you are not a customer, you cannot have an account to connect to the internet in the hotel. “I don’t know the reason, and it’s not that I personally want it, but one day that law came from above and remained,” he says. “As a worker, I must comply, although it seems extreme. More so now, with the controversy over mobile data.” The employee claims that before, under the pretext of connecting to the internet, the bar was filled with domestic customers who are now mad. “Sometimes, he recalls, we couldn’t even keep up.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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With Half-Empty Hotels and Deserted Restaurants, Varadero, Cuba is Bleeding

Many workers return to their hometowns, Cárdenas and Matanzas, to seek alternatives outside the tourism sector.

After the shock of the Covid pandemic, Varadero is experiencing its worst crisis in decades / EFE]

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Veradero, June 30. 2025 — In the 1990s, during the so-called Special Period, the Cuban regime bet on international tourism as a lifeline for its faltering socialist economy. The Hicacos peninsula, better known as Varadero, became in a few years the emblem of the new economic model: all-inclusive hotels, rum, tobacco and a low-cost tourist package that attracted mainly Spanish hotel chains.

But the boom is only a memory. After the shock of the covid-19 pandemic, Varadero is experiencing its worst crisis in decades. The decline in tourism has left half-empty hotels, deserted streets and thousands of workers on the verge of subsistence.

“There have always been ups and downs, but nothing like the last five years” / 14ymedio

“After Covid we had to reinvent ourselves,” says Maria Carla, a 30-year employee of the restaurant Floridita in Varadero. “There have always been ups and downs, but nothing like the last five years. All inclusive hotels have affected us a lot: tourists no longer leave the hotel, they leave a tip inside to ensure good service and they go away without stepping inside a shop or restaurant outside the complex.”

Maria Carla remembers with nostalgia the days when the city was a hotbed. Today, except for some places frequented by locals, such as the brewery on 43rd street or the bowling alley on 45th, “Varadero looks like a desert.” Many workers are returning to their home towns of Cárdenas and Matanzas to look for alternatives outside the tourism sector.

During the last decade, the official press claimed to have exceeded four million tourists per year, of which more than one million would have arrived in Varadero, but that figure has been questioned even from within.

“Every December they said that they had reached one million visitors, but there was still a long way to go to reach that figure” / 14ymedio

“At Radio 26, where I worked, everyone knew that the numbers were inflated,” says a former technician from the provincial radio station. “Every December they said that they had reached one million visitors, but there was still a long way to go to reach that figure”.

Competition has also played its part. Punta Cana, Cancun, Puerto Rico, Isla Margarita and the Bahamas offer modern infrastructure and better service. The comparison is humiliating.

“The hotels here look like campsites,” says Anthony, a buffet worker at the Los Delfines hotel. “Shrimp and lobster are almost invisible. And if they come in, we workers fight for them. Our salary is not enough, and when tourists see the environment, the toilets without seats and the leaks when it rains, they don’t leave a tip. If you don’t believe me, pass by Cuatro Palmas on a rainy day.” continue reading

“The hotels here look like campsites”

Anthony bitterly recalls a week he spent in a modest hotel in Punta Cana: “In Varadero, it would be in the top ten.” It is not surprising that the state-owned chains – Cubanacán, Gaviota and Islazul – are increasingly turning to national tourism.

“It’s the third year that we come here with the family,” says Elena, a habanera living in Marianao. “My husband and I work hard and give ourselves this luxury. But you can see the drop in service and offers. Still, we had a good time, although every year we think it will be the last. Just three days in a three-star hotel cost us more than 100,000 pesos, and with that we can eat at home for several months.”

For many Cubans from Mantanzas and Cárdenas who work there, Varadero is not just a beach, it’s their livelihood. Every tip, every bag of groceries and hotel leftovers ends up in their homes. “If Varadero is fine, Matanzas is fine,” is repeated as a mantra among those who live on what “falls off the truck.”

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Blackout for ‘The Little Prince’, Light for Cuban Communist Party Officials in Matanzas

Some neighborhoods barely suffer any outages, while others live among candles and silent refrigerators.

Members of the Teatro de las Estaciones, in Matanzas, with a poster announcing the suspension of the play. Sign: “Function suspended. Theater for children is not a priority of those who plan electricity service.”/ 14ymedio

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 20 June 2025 — “The essential is invisible to the eyes,” says the famous quote from The Little Prince. But when Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote it, he was not referring to the blackouts. In Matanzas, the children find it difficult to see the adaptation prepared by the group Teatro de las Estaciones. The city has become a dark pit, in whose abyss the light is distributed with diffuse and often arbitrary criteria. In that abyss, only some – the chosen few, the closest to power – receive the grace of constant electricity. As is often the case on this island, for some to win, others must lose.

“We know what is going on in the country. We know and understand that hospital circuits must have priority. What we don’t understand is how a circuit where there are only houses of Party officials and militants has ten hours more electricity than any other,” says a theater worker who prefers anonymity. While he brings a cup of coffee to his lips, he smiles with irony and adds: “The provincial headquarters of the PCC [Cuban Communist Party] is just there,” and he points to some lights a few meters away.

The comment is not isolated. Parents, artists, technicians and theater managers share the same frustration. It is not just the impossibility of rehearsing or presenting performances, but an implicit message: culture, childhood and art are not priorities. continue reading

It is not just the impossibility of rehearsing or presenting performances, but an implicit message: culture, childhood and art are not priorities

The children who came to the theater with the hope of seeing a puppet show, accompanied by parents who strive during the week to offer them moments of healthy recreation, found the doors closed, lights out, curtains down. “Then we and the kids put our heads in our hands. Places where children can grow up with sensitivity are not valued,” continues the same worker.

The Teatro de las Estaciones is not just any institution. Founded by maestros Rubén Darío Salazar and Zenén Calero, it has been for decades a quarry of creativity and sensitivity for generations of Cubans. Its members have taken the puppetry technique to unexpected levels, combining tradition and avant-garde, raising the genre to a level of respect and recognition. “I don’t say it only because I work here,” insists a woman from Mantanzas. “I say it because we have built it with a lot of effort, with every rehearsal, with every performance under the sun and under the blackouts.”

The work, entitled A Trail in the Stars (Invisible poems to say at twilight), started from the verses of Asteroid B612 by writer José Manuel Espino – a book that pays homage to Saint-Exupéry’s immortal classic. The company has had to suspend performances, adjust rehearsals and reinvent the calendar because of power cuts. But more than a technical contingency, what is perceived is a deep fracture: the lack of equity in the distribution of energy.

The authorities have implemented a rotation system that, according to the official discourse, seeks “equity” in the distribution of electricity. In practice, however, the perception is different. Some neighborhoods barely suffer cuts, while others live among candles, exhausted batteries and silent refrigerators.

Art, like the flower of the Little Prince, needs care. It does not survive without light, without attention, without a space to flourish

Art, like the flower of the Little Prince, needs care. It does not survive without light, without attention, without a space to flourish. And although the rulers proclaim from the grandstands the importance of culture and healthy recreation, administrative decisions contradict that discourse. “They talk about culture as a shield, like a sword, but here we feel forgotten,” says another member of the artistic collective.

And this is not just a cultural anecdote. It is a reflection of how the blackouts – that word so present in Cuban daily life – affect not only domestic life, but also the social fabric, the mood, the soul of the nation. Because when the theaters go out, it’s not just the light bulbs.

Artists don’t ask for privileges. They ask for minimum conditions to do their work, one that often fills educational, emotional and spiritual gaps. In a country where childhood is surrounded by scarcity and uncertainty, theater is something more than a respite.

“We are not a priority. That is clear. But at least don’t keep telling us that we are,” one of the actors concludes with resignation. While in some neighborhoods the air conditioning does not stop buzzing, in others, as in this theater, the heart of Matanzas, the only thing you hear is the silence of a performance that was not. A flower that could not be watered, a child who did not know the fox, an asteroid without light.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Lobito, the Star of Matanzas’ Narváez Promenade, Has Died

“Life is difficult for humans, what can we expect for stray animals?”

Lobito, like other stray dogs, was art of the environment of the Matanzas boulevard.

14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 15 June 2025 — Lobito was a mixed-breed dog, a sato, without a pedigree. Even so, his death last week, when a door fell and struck him, dismayed the workers on Narváez Avenue in the city of Matanzas, who were accustomed to feeding him and watching him frolic with bar patrons.

Lobito arrived on Narváez Avenue after passing through several homes. The Animal Welfare (BAC) staff in Matanzas had taken him in as a puppy, covered in sores. They treated him, bathed him, and tried to put him up for adoption, but Lobito never adapted. “What he liked most was running around the streets and playing with the bar patrons, who gave him food and sometimes held his paw. Little by little, along with other street dogs, he became part of the Matanzas boulevard scene,” says Yordani, a bartender at one of the street cafes.

“A worker at the Artys bar, where the accident happened, told me about it. When I started working here, he was already here. Every day, we brought him his lunch and his dinner along with ours. He was part of the team, not just at this bar but at most of the bars in the area,” explains the young man from Matanzas.

Lobito, he recalls, had “free access” to a few establishments, where he took refuge from the heat and entertained diners. “Surprisingly, he didn’t bother the customers; on the contrary, they were the ones who most often called him over and even asked to take pictures with him,” he says. Tourists also photographed him, or he was seen playing with some children, trying to steal a ball from them. continue reading

The stray dog wasn’t the only one with a reputation on the boulevard either. “There was Firulais, who went viral when a quinceañera took some studio photos with him, and the story was reported in a Spanish magazine. We also had El Rubio and his girlfriend, who we weren’t sure if they were dating or not, but they always lay down together to take a nap in some shaded area along the promenade,” says Yordani. Little by little, some due to illness and others due to accidents, Narváez’s community pets began to disappear.

The city’s animal rights activists never stopped caring for Lobito. According to Yordani, “they always kept him clean and took care of his health” despite the lack of resources and institutional support they’ve suffered since the association’s founding a few years ago.

BAC members, mostly young people, not only make their own resources and pockets available to stray or abandoned animals, but were also the ones who pushed – with a demonstration in front of the Ministry of Agriculture in Havana – for the creation of an Animal Welfare law that was finally approved in 2021. However, interviewed by 14ymedio , some of the young people are not satisfied with the law.

“It’s already outdated and no longer serves the purpose for which it was created,” says one BAC activist. “It’s as if it was created to silence the demands of animal lovers,” adds another.

El Rubio and his girlfriend were also on the promenade.

The young people lament that the crisis the island is mired in, which leaves little room for anything but daily survival, has worsened the situation for domestic animals. “Life is difficult for humans, what can we expect for stray animals? Many of us activists take part of our wages to buy medicine, pay for surgeries, and transport not only our own but also these other animals in critical condition,” the animal rights activist explains. “An operation for a cat can cost over 20,000 pesos and is generally only performed in the capital.”

While acknowledging that many have become aware of the precarious conditions faced by stray animals, he also admits that Cuba is “in its infancy” compared to many countries around the world and on the continent. Lobito is proof of that.

The youth lament that the crisis the island is experiencing has worsened the situation of domestic animals.

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