A Future Cuba as Imagined by the Director Eduardo del Llano

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, December 5, 2019 — A group of elderly men meets in what was once a park, commenting on the news of the day as they recall a bygone era which they refer to simply as “communism.” Each of them is reconstructing a country based on his own personal recollections. The portrait of Cuba that emerges in Eduardo del Llano’s twenty-minute short, Two Veterans, exists only in the minds of old men.

The film is imbued with the spirit of some popular jokes in which a leap into an imaginary future is the narrative device for commenting on the present. The characters parsing their memories are those you would find today working in a bureaucratic office, shopping in a rationed food store or spending hours watching el paquete* in a typical Cuban home.

Their conversations revolve around the past but always from the perspective of a time to which they cannot return. Some look back with pain, some with sarcasm. Their reconstructions involve leaps of memory and acts of forgetting, both voluntary and involuntary. The present they now inhabit is referred to as “democracy.” In their discussions, socialism is as far removed as primitive cave dwellings or feudalism. continue reading

“It turns out the the enemy wasn’t the enemy,” says one of the characters recalling the rivalry between Washington and Havana. His words irritate Nicanor O’Donell, played by the actor Luis Alberto García, the group member who most idealizes the past.

Time has moved on but Nicanor still clings to the official language that dominated the public sphere decades earlier. His allusions to the American “blockade” and remembrances of a country where workers did not strike because they had “more awareness” provoke laughter and skepticism among the other pensioners.

In contrast, Rodriguez, played by Nestor Jimenez, has much harsher memories of the communist era. The two men have a heated argument, all the while sharing a bench of what had once been a park but is now the loading zone of a huge shopping center.

With their flaws and inconsistencies, Nicanor and Rodriguez’ competing and divergent arguments reflect the current polarization of political discourse in Cuba. Most members of the group are much more inclined to view the past critically, or they simply act as passive observers in the debate between the two men.

No one discusses how the change actually happened. Details about the fall of the old regime are the least of their concerns. The argument boils down to an imperfect today versus an obsolete yesterday. The most intriguing chapter of the story is ignored or swept aside.

Nicanor’s nostalgia seems to be drawn from the headlines of Granma, learned from state TV newscasts or based on slogans from speeches. His longing bears the whiff of mothballs. It provokes mockery from his companions and an incredulous smile from a spectator, none of whom feel sympathy for the nostalgia in which he wallows.

With his Che Guevara-style beret, criticisms of young people’s use of new technology and annoyance with the huge shopping malls springing up everywhere, even in the Plaza of the Revolution, Nicanor is a future version of the cederista**, a party stalwart from the days when communist ideology was not yet the commanding and determining force on the island.

The only young person who participates in the conversation is Yaquelin, played by Ana Chelys Matos, whose gestures and tone convey the indifference and boredom that led to this discussion about the past. She is present but aloof, occasionally translating the unintelligible sounds of her uncle, an ancient rock-and-roll drummer, brought to life by the actor Carlos Gonzalvo.

Two Veterans is inspired by a story written by del Llano himself and published in his most recent book. This short film marks the end of a fifteen-year-long journey in which the writer and filmmaker captures on screen the adventures of Nicanor, who has become an archetype of the average Cuban, a character trapped in the island’s everyday absurdities.

The most recent episode of the series, which stars O’Donell as Nicanor, can now be seen on YouTube, with English subtitles, and will compete in the short film category at the upcoming Havana Film Festival. The cast also includes actors such as Osvaldo Doimeadiós and Mario Guerra.

It is no coincidence that this saga ends with the a futuristic fifteenth episode. The Nicanor who inhabits this hypothetical world is an outdated leftist who only finds support for his diatribe from a beggar, played by Eduardo del Llano himself, nodding in agreement with the protagonist while rummaging through the trash

Nicanor neither understands nor accepts this Cuba of the future. The country that has emerged before his eyes leaves him trapped in a melancholic delirium, in an homesickness for an outmoded country where everything he stands for has been cast aside. His tomorrow represents the denial of what was. The symbolic vote at the end of the film makes its meaning all too clear: communism is a fossil that only those nostalgic for the past dig up.

Translator’s notes:
*A USB device containing pirated entertainment and news programming from overseas and distributed clandestinely on a weekly basis throughout the country.
* “Cederista” comes from the initials CDR, “Committees for the Defense of the Revolution” — the government-aligned block watch groups that cover the country.

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Cubans Unable to Withdraw Money from Accounts with Foreign Currency

Every day, banks start with long lines of clients interested in opening accounts with the newly legalized magnetic cards to receive deposits in dollars, euros and other foreign currencies. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, November 5th, 2019 — Bank accounts freezing has been implemented in Cuba and not many knew about it. Marta Karla just learned it the hard way when she tried to withdraw $500 US she deposited in her account six months ago, which she was required to do to qualify for a Panama visa at that country’s consulate in Havana.

The resident of Havana, age 38, now must wait three weeks to recover her own money, deposited in Fincimex, the financial branch of the Cuban military conglomerate Cimex.

Hundreds of Cubans are in a similar situation; in the past few days they have tried to withdraw dollars from their bank accounts and they have been met with elusive excuses. “I am being told they have put my name down in a waiting list and they will let me know when they have the money,” said Maria Karla. continue reading

At the Fincimex office located on 3rd Avenue and 6th Street, in the Playa municipality in Havana, an employee confirmed this situation to 14ymedio. “All withdrawals from accounts in foreign currency are delayed because right now we do not have the cash,” she explains. “We have to wait until we are back to having a cash flow in the given foreign currency, then we can start giving the money back to each client that makes the withdrawal request.”

In the middle of the cash flow crisis Cuba is going through, authorities have kicked off a new chain of stores. It is the State’s attempt to pocket the dollars that the “mules” are taking out of the island to acquire merchandise in foreign countries. That outflow of hard currency is also aggravated by the purchases of foreign currency being made by Cubans seeking to emigrate.

In the waiting line at the Fincimex office, José Raúl Pacheco is waiting to withdraw his money and close his bank account, but holds little hope that he’ll go back home that day with his dollars in his pocket. “They told me I have to wait, but I need my money now. A bank’s role is to safe keep our money until we need it, not until whenever they want to return it to me.”

Fincimex is a financial entity that works as an intermediary for the remittances sent to the island, and issues magnetic debit cards that, unlike those cards issued by the state-controlled banks (Popular, Bandec, Metropolitano), can be used in economic transactions anywhere in the world and to make online purchases.

Fincimex deposit accounts are often used by Cubans seeking to emigrate out of the island, as an evidence of their financial self-sufficiency, a common consular requirement prior to issuing a visa, mostly to Panama, Mexico, Colombia and other countries in the region.

After the Cuban government’s announcement last October that the dollar and other foreign currencies will be allowed to legally circulate again on the island, the value of the dollar has increased significantly in the black market, and the value of the “convertible peso” (CUC) has tanked, and there is also an increased demand for the commonly called “verdes” or “fulas” [American dollars].

Within the black market, where “private” or “individual” transactions take place, the dollar value just rose to $1.18 CUC, well above the official exchange rate of $0.95 at the beginning of 2019. This hike has motivated many people like Pacheco to withdraw their dollars from the bank to resell them in the black market. A young man who is set to emigrate to Puerto Rico and wants to bring some money with him is his first client.

“I have saved $900 dollars from a car I sold last year, and part of the payment was in hard currency,” he adds. “I wanted to keep it in the bank because I do not have safe conditions to keep that kind of money in my house, and because at Fincimex I was given a magnetic (debit) card.”

Now Pacheco has learned the hard way that blue card he was issued back then is good for nothing; it cannot be used for purchases in the new hard currency stores being opened all over the island. “To do that, I was told I need to open an account in another bank, or a different account with Fincimex and wait for them to issue me a green card.”

These hurdles pushed Pacheco to make the decision to withdraw all his dollars from Fincimex and resell them to make some additional profit. Although in the official exchange offices (Cadeca) the prices have not changed ($0.87 dollars for $1 CUC) because it is the State-controlled exchange market, those offices do not sell dollars, they only buy them back for the government.

“I have been in several banks in three different municipalities to buy dollars because I have t0 travel this week, to no avail,” explains a woman outside the Metropolitan Bank office on 23rd Ave and J Street in Vedado. “Here the employee told me they only have $30 dollars in the register and I need $70, so I will have to wait and see if they get more (cash) in throughout the day,” she complains.

Since the opening of the new stores operating only in hard currency was announced, more than three weeks ago, every day the banks wake up to long lines of clients waiting to sign up for the new magnetic (debit) card to use with their accounts in dollars, euros and eight other foreign currencies. “I am going to stay out here but I will have to get back in the line later on, to ask again if they have enough dollars to sell me.”

The woman adds that, even though the liquidity of foreign currencies in the banks has decreased in the last few months, “it was already a problem that have been affecting clients for over a year.”

In 2018 she had to “rent” $1000 dollars to use them as financial statement requirement for her older son to apply for a visa, and after he showed the statement in an European consulate, she had to return the money, paying a small fee for the temporary loan of the dollar bills.

The increased demand for the dollar is not only prompted by the opening of the new stores; it is also fueled by the fear of a sudden monetary exchange that would merge both currencies now circulating in the nation: the CUP and the CUC. Hoarding the “verdes” has become the safest alternative for Cubans planning to travel abroad, to open a small business or simply because they want to safeguard their life’s savings.

The decreased in tourism from the United States has also contributed to the scarcity of “the enemy’s currency“, as ironically, dollars are called in the Cuban streets. After the diplomatic rapprochement between Washington and Havana, lots of small private businesses located in high traffic tourist areas started accepting this currency as form of payment.

“The dollar is under a search and rescue (operation),” jokes a young Cuban American outside a Metropolitan Bank office in Linea this past Monday. “Last year when I came to visit my family, nobody wanted to accept my payments with American dollars because they’d lose money at the exchange and today everybody is asking me if I brought fulas.”

Translated by: Mailyn Salabarria Cappuccio

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In Search of a Clean and Free Public Bathroom in Cuba

Outside a bathroom in a state cafe, a table where tips are expected in exchange for toilet paper.

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 18 October 2019 — The Cuban State has a problem with public toilets, as if socialism and the presence of sanitary services were contradictory concepts permanently at odds with each other. The problem has worsened so much in the last half century that it has even reached the pages of literature.

The writer Manuel Pereira, in his novel Toilet, presents a protagonist in search of the lost bathroom. Gaitan travels through chimeric and ghostly worlds that lead him to descend to Dante’s hell and reach Bosch’s Garden of EarthlyDelights, where he discovers a prototype of an ancient toilet, a human fantasy of eschatological pleasure.

In reality, the lack of bathrooms and the poor state of those located in public spaces such as stadiums, train terminals and cinemas reached the point that in July 2013 Raúl Castro lamented before the National Assembly that the Island would end up tolerating as normal “meeting physiological needs in streets and parks.” continue reading

In November of that same year, the Official Gazette published new measures to allow private businesses to provide public toilets. In the decree, which established the price list, these places were divided into five categories so that self-employed workers could enter into contracts with state entities that could not guarantee a clean and functional sanitary service.

Over time, most of the bathrooms available in a city such as Havana, and with the exception of those located in the common areas of hotels, require payment, or at least that the customers must leave some coins to be entitled to receive a piece of toilet paper. Tips, rather than a gesture of thanks, are almost forced.

Those who do not have money to pay for access to the bathroom must withstand the desire or end up meeting their needs behind a tree, in a dark corner or — in less discreet cases — in the middle of public roads. But having some coins is no guarantee of finding a clean toilet with water and hand soap. Sometimes the payment is just an “open sesame” to access a place that, despite being managed by an individual, is still governed by state indolence.

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Insufficient Personnel in Havana Hospitals To Assist Those Sick with Dengue

Since the beginning of summer the capital’s hospitals, above all those for children, are paralyzed by cases of patients exhibiting dengue symptoms. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 30 August 2019 — “The only thing we have to give you is a chair,” was the response that a dengue patient received when he arrived at the Joaquin Albarran Surgical Clinic Hospital last Wednesday.  The rooms, hallways, and even the entrance area are crammed with stretchers and improvised beds due to an outbreak of the virus that is affecting Havana.

The situation, which still has not been reflected in the official media, is repeated in the majority of the hospitals of the Cuban capital.  “We are overwhelmed and the problem is not only that we cannot keep up but also that when the patients see what this place is like they want to go home and they reject the admission order,” laments a nurse from the Freyre de Andrade General Hospital, popularly known as Emergencies.

Located on a central avenue of Downtown Havana, Emergencies is full of people infected by the dengue virus, which is contracted by the bite of the Aedes aegypti  mosquito.  Through a quite rainy summer and with the fumigation system almost paralyzed due to the lack of raw material and fuel, the capital is going through a health crisis. continue reading

“Only this morning we have had three deaths, among them an elderly lady who arrived in a very bad state,” adds the nurse who prefers to remain anonymous.  “We all met so that those who could do it would take voluntary shifts because the staffing is insufficient for the number of sick people that we have, and also they warned us that we could not give out information to anyone about the number of cases or of the dead.”

At mid-month an International Course on dengue, zika, and other arboviruses was held in Havana at the headquarters of the Pedro Kouri Institute of Tropical Medicine.  In the event’s sessions it was reported that Cuba is implementing a national project to combat Aedes aegypti with the application of ionizing radiation.

The method, known as “the sterile insect technique” (TIE), consists of irradiating the male in the pupa stage, later freeing him into the field, and when he copulates with wild or field females, no offspring are produced.  But the official information did not specify the date of the implementation of the strategy or its extent in the national territory.

“We are living through an outbreak of dengue, and the situation has been aggravated because this year there has not been a national fumigation campaign,” an official from the Ministry of Public Health connected to the also so-called antivectoral fight tells 14ymedio.  “The most critical situation is in some areas of Villa Clara, like Placetas, in wide neighborhoods of Havana, and also in Santiago de Cuba and Pinar del Rio,” he adds.

@MINSAPCuba,@DiazCanelB,@martinoticias,@revbuenosdias what disrespect I have just gotten to the hospital clinic at 26th and it is 10:45 because my wife is in a bad way and they tell me that she may have dengue but that there are no beds and she has to sleep on a chair … what kind of medical power.

— Alejandro M.P (@Alejand56861201) August 29, 2019

Recently the Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) warned about the complicated dengue situation in Latin America and the Carribean.  “The region is experiencing a new epidemic of dengue with a notable increase in cases,” said Marcos Espinal, PAHO’s director of the Department of Communicable Diseases and Environmental Determinants of Health.

In the first seven months of 2019, more than two million people in the region contracted the illness, and 723 died, according to PAHO’s latest epidemiological update published August 9.  However, the data about Cuba are llimited and have not been updated with the figures from the outbreak that now affects the Island.

“We don’t have mosquito nets, the patients have to bring them from home because otherwise the risk that they will infect their companions or medical personnel is great,” says a nurse from the 26th Street Clinic. “We also have problems with food because it’s not enough with so many patients so that everyone who can bring frood from home does so,” she explains.

In the children’s hospitals the scene is repeated.  In the Central Havana Pediatric the number of patients admitted daily with suspected dengue is about ten.  The tests to confirm the virus can take up to three weeks so many of the infected return home without knowing whether they suffer from the illness.

In a Catholic parish of El Cerro this week a priest called during the mass for a reinforcement of the area’s hygiene and for the residents to clean up the garbage dumps themselves.  The word dengue was mentioned a dozen times and prayers were said for various nearby residents who are sick.  “We are taking turns going to the houses of old people who live alone in order to ask how they feel,” Lopia, a devout woman from the area, tells this daily.

“The elderly are very fragile and above all those who have no family, we already lost a neighbor who contracted dengue and didn’t last at all because when we could take him to the hospital he was already very bad,” says the woman.  “He died in the hallway of Emergencies because there wasn’t an empty bed in the rooms.”

Translated by Mary Lou Keel

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‘Maleconazo’ Turns 25 Between Legend and Oblivion

Caption 1: The popular uprising begagn on Avenida del Puerto and many people joined it along the Malecón. (Karel Poort)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, August 4, 2019 — “This was one of the places where more people joined,” remembers Loipa, a resident of Malecón and Escobar in Central Havana. Twenty-five years after the Maleconazo*, the events of that day have taken the form of an urban legend that older people tell and younger ones don’t know. “That fifth of August in 1994 it seemed that everything was ending,” stresses the woman.

The area has changed a lot since that social explosion that put Fidel Castro on the ropes. Calle San Lázaro near Maceo Park now has a quarter century more of deterioration, in several places entire buildings have collapsed, and “the majority of those who experienced that moment have left or have died,” says Loipa.

“I was a nurse at Hermanos Ameijeiras Hospital when everything happened,” she remembers of that Friday. “We started the day with no light and I didn’t have to work that day but I had gone out to look for some food because in the house we’d gone a week with only rice and a sauce that my mom invented with lemongrass and oregano from the ground.” continue reading

The crisis, which the government had baptized with the euphemism of Special Period, had been dragging on the lives of Cubans for several years. After the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union, the economy of the Island sank from the lack of fuel, the abrupt cutting of imports, and the lost of Soviet support that turned out “brutal,” according to the economist Carmelo Mesa-Lago.

On August 5, 1994, the Cuban seaboard was witness to a popular revolt known as the Maleconazo. (Karel Poort)

That fifth of August, Loipa was unaware of what was brewing near her house. For days tension had been growing after authorities intercepted several boats sailing toward the coast of the United States. A rumor began to gain force on the street: that the Government was going to permit the arrival of boats from Florida to seek family members on the Island, just as had been done in 1980 during the exodus of the Mariel Boatlift.

“That morning my son came in the house and told us he was going,” remembers Fernando Soriano, a retiree who lives in a neighborhood “with a view of the sea,” as he likes to call it. On the avenue of Malecón and near the corner with Campanario, the now retired man is in the business of collecting beer and soda cans from businesses in the area to sell them in raw material centers and augment his pension.

A few months earlier, in an attempt to relieve the social pressure cooker, Castro had promoted self-employed work by permitting some licenses for the private sector. Thus were born the first private restaurants, the first small shops in decades that sold sweets, fried food, and pizzas in a legal manner, but the economic situation remained at rock bottom for the great majority of Cubans, trapped in a suffocating cycle of survival.

“Many people like my son went to the boat launch on the Regla wharf to see if they could go on the boats that were going to arrive,” remembers Soriano. “That filled up but the police already had surrounded the place because the residents of this area kept going down through all the streets to get to the Malecón wall in case the boats came.” In one moment the frustration erupted.

The area has changed a lot since that social explosion that put Fidel Castro on the ropes. (Karel Poort)

“The Malecón turned into a death trap, when the people came to realize that they weren’t going to let them go, the shock troops were already here,” he explains. Soriano points out the intersection of Calle San Lázaro and Belascoaín. “The Blas Roca construction contingent entered through here, with helmets and rebar in their hands, dealing out blows on all sides.”

Soriano believes that the protest didn’t turn into more because “it lacked leadership and they chose the route poorly.” He believes that “had they placed themselves in Central Havana and Old Havana and moved outward, thousands of people would have joined and then everything would have been different because it’s not the same thing to suppress a handful versus a sea of people.”

Castro had the skill of setting civilians against each other to avoid the image of uniformed soldiers hitting the population. “No one knew who was who, although I remember that those who were demonstrating looked skinnier and with more raggedy clothing,” says this Havanan.

Mesa-Lago believes that the worst year of the crisis that led to the Maleconazo was 1993, “but the crisis began in 1991,” he specifies. What was lost was not a small thing, between 1960 and 1990 the USSR injected around $65 billion into the Island’s economy. In the decade of the 80s that bulky subsidy generated a “golden” age of Cuban socialism that some still remember today with nostalgia.

After the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union, the economy of the Island sank. (Karel Poort)

Ernesto was born a year after that popular revolt and now he operates a pedicab in the vicinity of where on that day his father joined a group of those who were yelling and demanding that they be permitted to leave the country. “The old man has told me some things but he doesn’t like to talk about that day because the police arrested him and put him in jail.” Years later and after leaving prison, Ernesto’s father managed to get political asylum in the United States.

“Here almost nobody talks about that, although everyone still has the same desperation to leave,” reflects the bicycle-taxi driver. “People no longer go out in the street [to protest] because it was already seen that nothing is achieved, but the Maleconazo of today is outside of the embassies,” he believes. The event has been erased from official history and every August, the media praises the birthday of Fidel Castro, on the 13th, while they silence that other day that marked so many lives.

Castro had the skill of setting civilians against each other to avoid the image of uniformed soldiers hitting the population. Fidel Castro is in the green army cap center left. (Karel Poort)

The Rafter Crisis [Crisis de los Balseros] that erupted after, in which tens of thousands of Cubans embarked upon the sea, has also been erased from the anniversaries that are studied in schools and broadcast on national media.

On the same corner of Malecón y Belascoaín, one of the epicenters of the protest, now there is an esplanade where children play and at night groups of young people gather to share their dreams and a lot of rum. The adjacent building has some columns that look out on the sea, they have tried to hide the cracks with some paint.

A man rocks in a chair in the doorway while he sells paper cones of peanuts. He says that he doesn’t remember much of that day but that in the stairway of the entrance of the building “some children hid, one of them covered in blood because they had split his head.” The neighborhood of San Leopoldo, in Central Havana, was one of those that took the worst part of the suppression against the demonstrators on that fifth of August.

Cubans launched sticks and stones against Hotels like the Deauville and stores like La Época. (Karel Poort)

Propelled by frustration and rage, some of them began to break the glass windows of state-owned businesses and vandalize trash containers. “Here almost every family had a child beaten that day or who later left on a raft,” believes Soriano.

Official media broadcast the arrival of Fidel Castro to the area, like a sign that the revolt had been pacified and the Government had emerged victorious. “He only arrived when everything was already calm and the truth is that that wasn’t a happy day for anybody in this neighborhood,” says a resident of San Leopoldo who prefers anonymity and who was surprised by “all that” on the street.

But behind the official silence, the wound remains open. “I handed in my Communisty Party card a little after that, I had stopped believing in everything when I saw the builders splitting heads open and dealing out blows,” the woman makes clear.

*Translator’s note: In Spanish “azo” is an ending used to coin words and implies concepts such as “blow and hit, and also big.” In this case, added to “Malecon” it means the explosion/riot on the Malecon.

Translated by: Sheilagh Herrera

Maleconazo Photographer Shares Links / Karel Poort

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

Cuban or Imported, Beer Sets the Beat of the Economy on the Island

In recent months authorities have had to import greater volumes of beer to be able to meet the demand. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, July 22, 2019 — “We don’t have Cristal or Bucanero,” repeats the employee of a state-owned cafe in Havana. On the counter, a can of Heineken and another of Hollandia sum up the offerings of cold drinks, at a price of 1.50 and 1.75 CUC, much higher than the domestic product.

Beer, which three decades ago was almost a luxury or was only consumed on very special occasions like weddings, birthdays, and carnivals, has become a frequent companion to summer on the Island, at private restaurants, the tables of the new rich, and the relaxation of tourists. “There’s nothing better than a lager in this heat,” declares Urbano Rodríguez, a bartender at the private restaurant La Grandiosa, on the beaches in the east of Havana.

“It’s the product that’s sold the most, above soft drinks, cocktails, and bottled water, but also in the past year it’s become the most difficult to get,” confirms the employee, who has worked in the private food industry for 16 years. “A while ago it was easy to stock up on beer but now we have to almost do an espionage operation in the stores to know when they are going to put it out.” continue reading

Rodríguez laments that “there’s very little supply of domestic beers and every time they put it out in a market, they run out quickly.” The customers of the private restaurant where he works “have had to get used to drinking imported beers that are always a little more expensive,” he points out. In La Grandiosa, Cristal and Bucanero are sold at 1.50 CUC, but a can of Heineken surpasses them both.

The price of the beers is determined in the majority of countries by various factors, from the level of the company, taxes on alcohol, availability, the type of beer, which can be industrial or craft, but also the flavor and the tradition of a certain brand. However, on the Island that price is determined by factores like scarcity, shipments, and money of the informal economy.

Only two state-owned places of the twenty visited by this newspaper had domestic beer this weekend. The rest had imported product or totally lacked it. However, a similar trip to 20 private establishments revealed that in all of them there was Cristal or Bucanero, along with imported beers.

At state-owned markets domestic beer has a price of 1 CUC but the private, more exclusive places sell it for double, although in the past year, frequently, they have only been able to get brands from Mexico, Panama, Europe, and a few other far-off places on the planet.

“It’s clear that the tourists want to drink Cuban beers but if there aren’t any, there aren’t, and that’s it,” points out the bartender. “Who comes here to drink Dutch or German beer?” he asks. “They blame private companies for stockpiling boxes and boxes of Cristal or Bucanero when they sell it in stores, but what are we going to do, if we don’t keep up the supply we don’t sell.”

A result of the shortage is that it is more common to find imported beers than domestic brands. (B. Snelson)

Recently, in an article published in the official press in Cienfuegos, self-employed workers were blamed for “stockpiling” domestic beer to later sell it at a higher price. The text reported that the product sold at private businesses costs almost “200% its sale price, perhaps 250% its cost price. For someone who didn’t invest even a drop of sweat in producing it.”

The price of beer in the private sector provoked a bitter controversy around who is responsible for the increase. While the official press points at the entrepreneurs, independent economists blame low production and the State’s attempts to control prices.

The text also blamed sources inside the administrative framework of state-owned stores who notify the private businesses about the sale of domestic beers and make money for themselves by selling them more than the permitted quantities. The product has suffered frequent shortages in recent years, which has obligated the regulation of its retail sale to two cases (of 24 cans or bottles each) per person.

According to the statistical yearbook of 2018, beer production has modestly grown on the Island to reach some 2.6 million hectoliters at the end of 2018, but demand seems to have increased more, especially from the liberalizations that expanded the practice of self employment and the arrival of a greater number of tourists.

“What has also happened is that beer has stopped being a luxury product and become something that Cubans feel that they deserve and that they should have it whenever they want. They’ve realized that it’s not an elite product but rather a proletarian beverage, to drink after work,” points out Erick Núñez, who works as an accountant at several private businesses.

“It’s been a slow process, influenced by the visits of emigrant Cubans who invite their family members on the Island to eat, spend a weekend at the beach, and stay in hotels, where beer is one of the least luxurious and most consumed drinks,” he believes. “What used to seem unattainable came to be something that everyone wants.”

The opinions of the economist Pedro Monreal match up with that hypothesis, and on his blog El Estado he points out that “in the case of beer, the same thing is happening as with almost all products: the demand is relatively divorced from the income that comes out of the pockets of the worker. Part of the explanation is remittances.”

Monreal explains that “there are specialists who place the level of remittances at some $3 billion annually, but it would be enough to assume half of that figure — $1.5 billion — for that income via remittances to surpass all the salaries paid in Cuba (34,262,000,000 Cuban pesos in 2017 [roughly $1.37 billion US]).”

On an international level the average price of a beer is $5.70, according to a study done in 2018 in 48 cities. Havana is far below the world average, far from the $8.00 of Hong Kong and the $7.70 in Zurich. But 1.50 or 2 CUC for a cold one is still high for those who live on their salary on the Island, who must pay an entire day’s wage — or more — to refresh themselves with a single Cristal.

It’s on that point where remittances, money from informal business, and earnings obtained through the private sector come into play. These incomes are what “are bringing up the price of some products, including beer,” believes Erick Núñez. “It’s a status symbol, a marker of economic solvency and everything that involves.”

“It’s happened that way with other products, which started out being the exclusive domain of the few who were able to pay for them and now they have a greater and greater demand,” points out the accountant. “On that list we can put disposable diapers for children, which before were a thing of the elite and now even the most humble person tries to look for some extra money to buy them, and also vegetable oil for cooking.”

“Remittances play a positive role in the Cuban economy,” notes Pedro Monreal, who believes that “the problem is that it’s an ’extra’ demand that the economic model has not been able to take advantage of to generate an equivalent ’extra’ supply,” and he points out the problems of production as the source of the shortage and the rise in prices of the product in the private sector.

A source from Cervecería Bucanero S.A. (CBSA), the most important domestic producer, tells this newspaper that “after the problems with raw materials a few years ago, production has stabilized and the plan is being fulfilled.” The official from the joint enterprise explains that “the shortage is owed to an increase in consumption and bad practices in distribution.”

This matches up with the judgment of the economist Elías Amor, a resident of Spain, who questions the explanation given in official media about the lack of beer in establishments managed by the State. If “they run out in state-owned stores it’s because those responsible for the communist planning are incapable of detecting needs and much less of increasing the supply.”

“Cubans who want to enjoy a cold beer know where they can find it, although they have to pay a higher price,” assures Amor. “Nobody can be punished for it. The owners of the private establishments do what they have to do: provide service, even though the price is higher.”

In the small storage room at La Grandiosa restaurant, this week some cases of Cristal beer alternate with those of the Heineken brand. “In summer we run out more quickly, we almost have to count on double what we normally have in other months,” says Urbano Rodríguez. “Because the beach without beer is hell.” The word of a bartender.

Translated by: Sheilagh Herrera

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

The Two Faces of Paseo del Prado

For sixty-six convertible pesos, a “day pass” will provide access to the hotel pool and spa at the Manzana Kempinski. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, 17 July 2019 — The pool’s water jets create a relaxed atmosphere while on the other side of the glass the city swelters under a relentless sun, rendered benign by the Manzana Kempimski’s air conditioning system. Down below, two men use a hose to fill a rooftop tank, empty after two weeks with no water supply. The revolution that promised to end inequality has, sixty years later, instead made it blatant on one particular street.

The Paseo del Prado is not just an avenue of bronze lions, glamorous Chanel fashion shows and a backdrop for provincial tourists’ obligatory snapshots. It is also where the starkest contrasts of today’s Cuba are most evident. With at least two luxury hotels in operation and another about to open, it is a reflection of an incongruous Island.

Yusi, who prefers to remain anonymous, is all too aware of its contradictions. She lives in a working class area near Virtudes Street in a two-story building of small apartments where multiple generations are piled one atop the other. She was born there forty-one years ago and, though she has “moved heaven and earth to leave the country,” she still lives in the same place where her mother and grandmother were born. continue reading

Last week a friend from overseas invited Yusi to spend a day at the spa in the Manzana Kempinski, a luxury hotel that opened two years ago, which neighborhood residents call “the spaceship.” Located in the former Manzana de Gómez, a 19th century shopping arcade, the hotel caters to a discerning clientele looking for lots of comfort but little reality, classic cocktails and soft sheets.

“When she told me she was inviting me to spend a day there, I felt like telling her I could live for a whole month for the cost for a day pass.” says Yusi. A few years ago the young woman was sentenced to several months in a reeducation camp for engaging in prostitution with foreign tourists. She later became certified as a cultural promoter and spent a year working for the state.

“I didn’t realize I would be working with tourists again but this time I give walking tours and provide them with company,” she says. On that July day she was the only Cuban in the warm waters of Kempinski’s pool, with the scent of vanilla permeating the air.  Yusi takes deep breaths to see if she can “take some of that aroma back to the hovel” where she lives.

Yusi is not terribly surprised by the contrast between her lodgings and the luxurious spa. Her adolescence coincided with the advent of tourism, the dollarization of the economy and foreign investment, and she has experienced the pluses and minuses of the transformation. Unlike her mother, who for years refused to set foot in a  shopping mall because she believed it was “a place for gusanos“* with hard currency, she knows that she lives in a country where political slogans are one thing and reality is another.

Her building has not had water for two weeks. Less than a hundred or so yards from the luxurious hotel, her mother carries several jugs of water to bathe her bedridden grandmother and to clean the dishes piled in the sink. “My neighbors would go crazy if they saw me like this. They’d have a heart attack because, in my building, you have to save the bath water to clean the house,” she adds.

Old Havana and the areas closest to the hotel have been plagued by poor water supply for decades, a situation that has not improved even as the Paseo del Prado and the historic city center have gradually become the golden mile of Havana tourism. “This has actually aggravated the problem because now there is more demand,” says Yusi.

Shelves filled with neatly folded towels at the hotel’s pool reminds Yusi of the pile of dirty clothes on the edge of the cot where she sleeps. “When I leave here, the spell is broken. Or rather, the bubble bursts,” she notes ironically as she orders a mozzarella pizza and a tropical fruit cocktail. “I feel like I am in another world, that I am not in Havana.”

Residents living near the Manzana Kempinski Hotel face serious water shortages. (14ymedio)

Seated in the shade on one of the wide benches a few yards away, 79-year-old Pablo is waiting for a miracle. “The soup kitchen at Holy Angel Church, where I have lunch several times a week, is closed because they don’t have water,” he laments. “A lot of elderly people here have been left hanging. Without the extra help, everything becomes very difficult.”

Pablo lives near the majestic Prado. “I was born in this neighborhood but there are things here I don’t recognize,” he says, pointing to the facade of the Grand Hotel Packard from which freshly watered green plants hang. Upstairs, on an intermediate floor, we can see sun bathers and a couple of tourists leaning on the railing with beers in hand. “It lacks for nothing,” he says, annoyed.

When Pablo was young, political slogans emphasized equality and social justice for all. In those decades, capitalism was blamed for some people being rich and others poor, for the disparities in purchasing power. He worked hard, thinking that the neighborhood where he grew up would get better for the people who had stayed, for those who did not leave during the Mariel boatlift. Now retired, he sees inequality wherever he looks.

Employees clean the windows of the wide entry to the hotel. They wear work clothes, and use long brushes and buckets of soapy water. Paul’s eyes remain fixed on the workers. “With that much of water, or just a little more, you could make lunch for the old folks at Holy Angel,” he figures. But it is not that easy. “The water for tourists is different. “It does not come from the same place nor does it taste the same,” he jokes bitterly.

Down the street and near the Malecón seawall the SO/Paseo del Prado Hotel is almost finished. It stands out like a newcomer in front of Morro Castle. There is a visible swirl of activity as workers add the final touches. It is schedule to open in September and its five-star rating is bound attract tourists who do not worry about expenses or hesitate to reach into their wallets.

This week work is being done to exterior, trucks arrive with deliveries for the large building and finishing touches as being made to the sidewalks. Among them are fire hydrants, which now stand out in the July sun. A few yards away is another Cuba, where a sign in a small government office warns, “No restrooms and no water.”

“We are operating at reduced capacity because we have problems with the water supply and the employees are only working half days,” says an administrator, who has brought a plastic water bottle from home. It still has an ice cube in it.

*Translator’s note: Literally, “worms.” A derogatory term coined by Fidel Castro to refer to Cubans who fled the island after the revolution.

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

Turn Off the Cuban Summer and Turn On the AC

Many Cuban travelers import air conditioning equipment for domestic use or for resale in the informal market. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 10 July 2019 — He was one of the first to obtain the ‘purchase card’ that Panama authorized for Cubans as of last October. Since then he has traveled four times to that country to bring varied goods, including three air conditioning units, popularly known as splits. “My business is cold, so people don’t sweat,” Sendry explains to 14ymedio.

With temperatures exceeding 85F every day, summer in Cuba is that time of the year when a breath of refreshing air is greatly appreciated. “This business is not what it was before because the prices of the devices have dropped a lot,” says Sendry. “There is too much supply and now you make less and it takes more time to sell the merchandise.”

If two years ago a device of this type with the capacity to produce one tonne of refrigeration (TRF) cost more than 750 CUC (roughly the same in US dollars) in the informal Cuban market, now they can be less than 550, which leaves a smaller profit margin to the private importers who buy them in retail stores in other countries, pay the costs of airfares and customs duties. continue reading

In Sendry’s house, in a corner of the room, several boxes are piled up with the different parts that make up the splits, the status symbol of an emerging social class that does not want to be dripping fat drops of sweat all day. “I’ve had these here for more than two months and I have not been able to sell them although I am giving them away at 600 CUC which is the cheapest thing that can be found right now”.

In 2013, in the midst of the reforms promoted by Raúl Castro, Cubans not only saw the rules governing travel and immigration relaxed, allowing them to leave the island, but they were also authorized — after eight years of prohibitions — to import air conditioning units, electric stoves, refrigerators and microwave ovens. Both measures unleashed a real rush of personal imports.

But the “split bubble” seems to be deflating. For six years a constant trickle of these devices has landed on the island. “On my flight from Cancun, there were seven and most of them are people who bring them to sell,” says Anayansi, a woman from Matanzas who is also a naturalized citizen of Spain. She makes the trip frequently to bring clothes and shoes. “I do not deal with household appliances because they are complicated and the market here is saturated.”

The drop in enthusiasm is not only due to a greater supply, but also affected by the costs of electricity service. Although compared to other countries in the region, the island does not have the highest rates, the price of kilowatts consumed is high compared to wages.

In October 2010 electricity rates increased in the residential sector. With the current prices, the Electric Union of Cuba (UNE) begins charging 9 centavos for each kilowatt-hour (kWh) below the first 100 consumed, a rate that grows exponentially until reaching a price of 5 CUP (roughly 20¢ US) for each kWh higher at 5,000.

According to data from the last population census, published in 2012, of the 3,880,000 households in the country, about 579,000 had air conditioners. A figure that must have increased significantly in recent years, not only because of the legalization of travel, but because the State began selling these devices in their network of stores in the country, after decades without offering them.

“Before, to have air conditioning one had to be a ’vanguard worker’, or have gone to fight the war in Angola, be a sugar can cutter, and behave well, but now it is different. Those who don’t have to put up with the heat are those who travel, have hard currency, a business or family abroad” explains Richard, a 47-year-old engineer who, along with another friend, has a small AC repair team.

“The minimum you will pay for electricity, to run a modern AC all night, is about 350 CUP per month,” he tells 14ymedio . “Although modern equipment is more and more efficient, that constant expense can not be assumed by many people, so there are families who have the device installed but use it very little,” explains the technician.

For those who have a business renting rooms to tourists, it is not a choice. “We have four rooms with their respective air conditioners, all recently installed and quite efficient, but still what we have to pay monthly electricity exceeds 2,000 CUP,” says Rosendo, owner of a house on the beach of Guanabo, east of Havana.

“These devices are a costly investment, not only for the value of each and then to keep paying for electricity consumption, but also in our case we also had to put bars around the outdoor unit to protect it from thieves,” he adds. On several digital sites, second-hand and “well-maintained” AC units are offered.

Most likely, these devices come from a theft or, above all, from users who can no longer pay the electricity bill.

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

"Importing is Cheaper Than Producing," Laments Cuba’s Minister of Economy and Planning

The Minister of Economy and Planning, Alejandro Gil Fernández, appeared on national television on Monday to dispel doubts about the Cuban economy. (Round Table / Archive)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 25 June 2019 — Popular concerns about the worsening economic situation in the country have led the Minister of Economy and Planning, Alejandro Gil Fernandez, to appear on national television on Monday to dispel doubts. “We are not going to have a second Special Period,” said the official, who lamented that “today importing is cheaper than producing in the country.” 

For more than a decade, since Raúl Castro assumed the presidency of the country in February 2008, one of the slogans most repeated by the Cuban government has been the need to “replace imports.” But the calls to reduce purchases abroad have been met with the monetary reality of the country, divided for a quarter of a century between the dual currency system comprising the Cuban peso (CUP) and the convertible peso (CUC).

Along with the two currencies, different exchange rates work for different sectors of the economy. A dollar can be equivalent to 1 CUP or 24 CUP, depending on whether it is a state or private entity. These distortions contribute to discouraging local production and “as long as this monetary environment persists, we have to find a way to directly finance the national industry,” the minister said. continue reading

“Today the country spends more than one billion dollars on the importation of food and not everything can be produced in Cuba, but a part of it could,” he said. “Today more than 900,000 tons of corn are purchased abroad for animal feed; this year the country is expected to produce more than 130,000 tons.” The greatest expenditures are for food and fuel.

Using great car, to avoid the phrases that generate alarm, and replacing “crisis” or “recession” with concepts such as “complex conjuncture” or “economic tension,” the head of the economy blamed the application of Title III of the United States’ Helms-Burton Act, in addition to the recent ban on cruise ship travel, for the difficulties in achieving the goals set.

In May, the Administration of Donald Trump approved the enforcement of this part of a law that punishes those who profit from properties that belonged to US citizens that were confiscated after the coming to power of Fidel Castro in January 1959. The first lawsuits have already been presented in US courts and are considered by specialists as a “bucket of cold water” for potential investors on the island.

Gil Fernandez also blamed the US embargo for the current situation, although he admitted that there are “internal shortcomings: productivity problems, deficits in the investment process, breaches of export revenues, lack of incentives to export more, diversion of resources (a euphemism for ’theft’), indiscipline, obstacles and bureaucracies.”

The minister alluded to the words of the President Miguel Díaz-Canel, who recently, during the Congress of the National Association of Economists and Accountants of Cuba (ANEC), recognized the existence of an “internal blockade,” a concept that until then was only voiced by opponents of the government and by the most critical voices within the island’s academics.

“Today we have a more diversified economy,” insisted the official, to mark the differences with the crisis known as the ’Special Period in Times of Peace’ into which Cuba fell after the fall of the socialist camp and the abrupt elimination of the Soviet subsidies to the island’s economy in the 90s. In contrast to those years, Gil Fernandez says, this time “we are not going to have an abrupt drop in GDP, in fact we are proposing that the economy should maintain its growth trend this year.”

At the end of 2018, the authorities announced that the Island had a discreet growth of 1.2% of GDP that year and that an additional 1.5% was expected for 2019. In a study published in January of last year, the Inter-American Bank of Development (IDB) indicated that Cuba have not 35%, as had previously been reported, but a “little more than 50%” of its Gross Domestic Product in the 90s and that crisis still weighs on the economy.

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

The Conflict Between Google and Huawei Has Cubans Scrambling

The highest-end terminals on the island cost over 500 CUC (close to the annual salary of a professional). (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 24 May 2019 — As soon as the news was heard, webpages were filled with offers for Huawei phones accompanied by the words ‘rebate’ and ‘bargain’.  One of the ads included the phrase, “Don’t listen to what Google says, Huawei will win this battle.” The American technological giant announced last Sunday the suspension of all commercial activity with the Chinese firm, which has a huge market share in Cuba due to the sanctions imposed by the US Government.

Users who already have Huawei brand devices may install new applications and download updates for Google services, but they can not update the Android operating system, which presents an ongoing security problem.

“I already had to exchange my Blu-branded phone last year because it did not work for me to surf the internet with 3G service and I bought this Huawei Honor 7A,” explains Yaima Chávez, a Havanans who fears she will have to get rid of a device that she finds “practical and efficient.” However, she does not want to “have to jump through hoops and pay technicians under the table to update the operating system.” continue reading

“If there comes a time when I can’t update it, I’ll have to sell it, but who’s going to want to buy this when the thing gets uglier?” she says. In Cuba, as soon as you enter the José Martí International Airport in Havana, the posters with Huawei advertising immediately trumpet the firm’s leading role in the country.

The step taken by Google is in line with the executive order issued by Donald Trump, on May 15, which prohibits US companies from using services of foreign telecommunications firms that “endanger the country’s security.”

Huawei is currently the second largest manufacturer of telephones in the world and in Cuba it has deep roots among users due to its more favorable prices and the quality of its screens.

Since 2008 when the Government of Raul Castro authorized Cubans to contract for cell phone service, the number of customers with mobile lines has soared. Currently there are more than five million subscribers to the prepaid service of the Telecommunications Company of Cuba (Etecsa), in a country with a population of about 11.5 million people.

Osvel Álvarez Jacomino, a graduate of the University of Computer Science (UCI), downplays the situation and believes that it will not affect customers too much. “If you can’t use Google Play there are other alternatives. In Cuba you can visit platforms such as Apklis, or Cubapk.com, Apkpure, Uptdown and many others that, although they do not have as much security, basically provide the same service,” he says.

Ezequiel, a 27-year-old mobile repair technician who works in a small workshop on San Lazaro Street, has a different opinion. “People get very nervous with anything like this and it is enough that Google has said that things will not continue as they have, with Huawei, for someone in the market for one of those Chinese mobile phones, to think twice about it.”

Ezequiel believes that “when it comes to their pockets, the buyers want to play it safe.” Most of the sales of terminals take place in the informal market because the state network fails to satisfy users, who complain that Etecsa offers outdated models at very high prices.

Etecsa telepoints continue to sell models such as Huawei Y3 and Huawei Y520 for 80 and 85 CUC, respectively. Cataloged as low-end terminals with limited features, these devices are an option for those who can not afford higher-end terminals that, on the island, can exceed 500 CUC.

Huawei’s presence is felt not only in phones. In 2000, the Chinese company obtained a contract to install the national fiber optic network and its equipment is also used in Wi-Fi hotspots and in the newly-created Nauta Hogar service that provides Internet access from homes. The presence of the firm on the island dates back more than three decades, according to Javier Villariño Ordoñez, sales director.

But this presence has not been exempt from controversy. The freedom-defense organization Freedom House, based in Washington, has closely followed several allegations about Huawei’s close ties to Chinese state power. The entity warned about the security and human rights problems that have been associated with the company.

In the midst of this conflict, Huawei has called for calm saying that it will continue to provide security updates to existing models, including those already sold and those in stock.

“We will continue to build an ecosystem of safe and sustainable programming to provide the best experience for our users,” said the company, which has lamented Google’s decision.

The biggest markets affected by Google’s actions are the European and Latin American, since the US and China already inhabit practically different universes. In the US, Chinese phones are only 1% of the market and in China the presence of Google is very rare. However, in Europe, 18% of phones are from Huawei and in Latin America it ranges from 28% in Costa Rica to 17% in Chile.

“It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back.  If I already didn’t trust Huawei very much because of all the security scandals, now this comes along and it is not worth risking it,” says a young man who, on Wednesday, convinced several friends to change to the Samsung brand. At the centrally located corner of G and 23rd Streets, the passionate user assured that “South Korea and the United States are not going to be squeezed out, so better safe than sorry.”

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

Cuba’s Iconic Coppelia Ice Cream Parlor Loses Flavor

The ice creamery Coppelia is still one of the most visited sites in Havana in spite of a significantly smaller menu.

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, May 28, 2019 — Hugo is nine years old and has never seen a pistachio. But the word sounds so funny that he asks for an ice cream with that flavor in a privately owned spot on the corner of Línea and L streets in Havana. The menu at this small shop includes everything from the unusual cherry to the common lemon, a variety of choices that can only be found in the private sector.

The privately owned cafe Amore is located near the legendary ice cream parlor Coppelia but there are different management styles, a disparity in price and a chasm in the level of cleanliness between each. While the iconic state-run establishment only sells two or three flavors, the privately owned competition offers more than a dozen.

When Coppelia opened its doors in 1966, its different sections sold dozens of flavors and many possible combinations of ice cream, with candies and other items that could be added. Over the years, however, there were fewer and fewer choices, the quality of the ice cream declined and the lines became longer and longer. With the advent of flexible self-employment in the mid-1990s, competition also emerged. continue reading

“I have been in this business for almost twenty years,” says Manuel Octavio Gómez, a self-employed worker who began making ice cream in an old Soviet-era Aurika washing machine and now sells his products to various privately owned establishments in Havana. “At first I was selling only two or three flavors, but now I offer almost twenty,” he says.

“It took me years to figure out the level of creaminess that Cubans like and now I sell to private restaurants, cafes and customers who want a high-quality, more artisanal product,” he explains. “My ice cream is more expensive than those you can buy at Coppelia but the quality is better. Just try it and you’ll taste the difference.”

Cheleny Darias, administrator of the Coppelia factory, told the official press last year that the company provides two types of product to the centrally located state ice cream parlor. The “special” version contains 18% butter fat, is served in the tower section and is the more select and expensive option. A lower cost version contains only 14% butter fat and is served in the so-called canchas (soccer pitch) section on the ground floor.

Under the laws of supply and demand, private ice cream parlors can charge up to ten times as much as Coppelia. (14ymedio)

Customers often complain about finding shards of ice inside their ice cream, a limited number of flavors, flavors that are bland, and a lack of fresh fruit options. There are also often complaints about serving sizes, which are often much smaller than expected.

Ice cream is in high demand on the island, especially in the summer when temperatures are high. Faced with strict rationing of milk, many turn to this product as a sweet source of dairy. For decades the state has kept prices low by subsidizing places like Coppelia throughout the country, but the pilfering of supplies and limited choices have become increasingly common.

“I have a Spanish passport so I am allowed to travel frequently to Mexico, Panama and the United States,” says Gómez. “I bring back different extracts, dried fruits and also ideas to improve my product. Now I want to offer more natural fruit flavored ice cream because there’s a big demand for it among tourists. The would like to try something with pineapple, frutabomba, guava or mango because these are more local.”

“For years, when anyone thought about ice cream, they thought about strawberry and chocolate. Sometimes vanilla or custard, but it was all very boring. Now private shops like ours want to innovate and offer more options,” he explains. “I’ve made ice cream with tamarind, with walnuts and chirimoya, and even with mandarin oranges and mint, all without preservatives or additives,” he explains.

On Sunday an employee at Amore helped a girl make a decision by giving her small samples of different flavors until the little girl settled on a waffle cone with a scoop of chocolate covered strawberry for 1.50 convertible pesos ($1.50 US), the equivalent of almost two days salary for a public sector employee.

Coppelia, where a scoop of ice cream costs 1.50 Cuban pesos (about $0.06 US), has been closed for repairs during the month of May and is expected to reopen in June. The Coppelia factory is also scheduled to begin operations again by that date.

“Now that its ice cream is no longer of the same quality as it was twenty or thirty years ago, Coppelia’s main draw are the subsidized prices,” says Niuris Fonseca, a resident of nearby 21st Street, who has had both some of her best and worst moments here. “There are several hospitals and schools in the area so many patients and children are able to drop in for an afternoon snack.”

On the other hand, Fonseca believes Coppelia has deteriorated and is dirty. “It’s best to avoid the bathrooms and the spoons are often not well washed,” she laments. “There are also very few flavors and, what few they have, are not as good as before. Sometimes, if I close my eyes and taste them, I can’t tell if I am eating strawberry or orange-pineapple. They all taste the same.”

“A few weeks ago, I went with my daughters before they closed and the menu board outside indicated they had four flavors. But when we got inside, they only had vanilla and strawberry,” she says. She shared a table with man from overseas, who had wanted to experience the famous ice creamery. “He didn’t care that there were only two flavors because what he wanted was to visit the iconic building.”

Private ice creameries have opted to compete with Coppelia on its weak points. “Cleanliness, comfort, convenience and flavors you’ve never tasted,” explains an employee of an ice cream parlor located near Infanta Street. “It’s true that it’s not common for people here to order five scoops at a time, like they do at Coppelia, because it would be too expensive. But if you order one scoop, it’s a high-quality scoop.”

“All our products are made here on the premises and most are made from raw, natural materials, without chemicals or preservatives,” explains an employee to two curious tourists who have selected one soursop ice cream and another with mamey. “You don’t find this in any state-owned shop because they only make ice cream from mass-produced concentrates.”

The most difficult ingredient to source is still milk, although Gómez says that the newly opened wholesale markets for self-employed workers have helped him get powdered milk in bulk as well as cream. Other ice cream makers consulted said that farmers provide them with fresh cow’s milk, but most purchases are done informally.

“If you don’t want to spend a lot and fill up, go to Coppelia. But if you want to splurge and enjoy a good ice cream, then you have to go to a private ice cream parlor, which is where the best ice cream in Cuba is made today,” he explains proudly as he serves a chocolate scoop with chips in a slender cup and a scoop with sour apple in another.

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

"The Fridges Are on Vacation": The Obsessive Search for Meat Products in Cuba

In the larger markets like Carlos III meat supplies arrive more frequently, but the lines are long and contentious. “There is some kind of scuffle hear every day when they put out the chicken and sausages,” says one of the guards. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 25 April 2019 — “Is there meat?” asks a customer outside a market in Havana. “No, the refrigerators are still on vacation,” the employee, who has heard the same question a dozen times in the last hour, says ironically. In the midst of the famine of food supplies, the first to disappear from the shelves have been all those of animal origin.

Cubans have a long and painful obsession with flesh. During the crisis of the ’90s they tried to recreate it with other products, some of which weren’t even food. Today, in the midst of the shortages of chicken, pork and sausages that currently affects the whole island, the effort is being repeated, with an endless coming and going to the stores and markets.

“I got up at four in the morning to look for pork but when I arrived at the counter nothing but butter and orejas were left,” Lala Garcia tells 14ymedio. Garcia is a neighbor of the Youth Labor Market (EJT) on 17th Street in Havana’s El Vedado neighborhood, who had to be satisfied “with some chicken bouillon cubes to make some croquettes.” continue reading

Garcia inherited the recipe from an aunt who made it frequently during the Special Period: “You only need old bread, an egg, a little nutmeg and two small bouillon cubes to make up to 20 croquettes,” she explains proudly. “That’s the closest thing to a protein [of animal origin] that we will eat this week in my house.”

The crisis of the ’90s led to a “multiplication of substitute products and a decrease in the quality of products in general and protein in particular”, including “fricandel (sausage based on fishmeal) or minced meat that is textured or enriched (with soy flour and meat scraps),” according to a study by anthropologist Margalida Mulet Pascual.

History repeats itself for many, like Virgilio Fuentes, 78, who says he was lucky because he managed to get a pack of ten hot dogs in a store in convertible pesos. “With this I have my grandson’s food for several days,” he tells this newspaper. “One day I prepare two dogs in sauce, another I grate them and make a Chinese sauce (soy) and the third day  I slice and fry them on both sides.”

Fuentes was a teacher at a secondary school when the Soviet Union imploded and the island lost the huge subsidy that came to it from the Eastern European socialist camp. “I learned to make steak with the white part of the grapefruit, to prepare a good forcemeat with wheat flour or a plate of shredded “beef” from shredded banana peel.”

The retiree regrets that now there is less and less supply in the butcher shops and lists some products that have also been disappearing, such as “turkey hash, hamburgers and even the cans of spam, which solved a lot of problems because they can be prepared in various ways.” Now “only the cans of sardines are left but they are very expensive, at 2 CUC each (Cuban convertible pesos – roughly worth $1 each), and I have a pension of 300 CUP (Cuban pesos) (about 12 CUC)” per month.

The refrigerators in most stores are empty. (14ymedio)

A study carried out in 2017 by the Ministry of Agriculture and the United Nations Program for Development determined that “in Cuba there is an unmet demand for animal protein for feeding the population.” This dissatisfaction becomes more evident in the case of beef,” because “the consumption of this product has been deeply rooted in the food culture of the country and is the product that has suffered the most from the effects of the crisis.”

According to figures offered in the study, the amount of beef that each Cuban eats each year barely reaches 7.3 pounds, far from the 19 pounds consumed in the 1980s when the product was imported at very preferential prices from the countries belonging to the Council of Mutual Economic Assistance (CAME) of which the Island was also a member.

Although recent studies confirm that the consumption of animal protein is not necessary for proper health, beef has become a recurring dream for many Cubans who see it as an unattainable delicacy.

“The last time I could eat a beef steak was at an all-inclusive hotel in Varadero, when my brother who lives in Miami came and invited the whole family,” recalls Osmani, a 30-year-old who was born just when the Special Period crisis began.

“Every time I meet with my friends we end up talking about food, and especially meat, roasts, grills and chops,” he says with a smile. “We all end up salivating, and then the problem comes because we have to go back to the house and face a plate of rice with beans or maybe a croquettes of ’mystery meat’,” he says.

Among the reasons that Osmani yearns to emigrate outside the Island is just being able to eat meat more frequently. “I want to fulfill the old dream of one day eating breakfast with meat, eating meat at lunch and dinner with meat,” he says and touches one of his eye teeth. “I have to use this which nature gave me, because at the rhythm I eat here, they will atrophy on me.”

At the end of last year, the authorities announced that they were trying to stop the fall in pig production but the lack of liquidity has prevented buying the animal feed necessary for raising pigs abroad. In Candelaria, Artemisa, a town that has traditionally been dedicated to farming and raising pigs, many producers have had to sell their animals when they are just a few weeks old because they do not have feed to keep them.

“When the sow gave birth we had no food to give the piglets so we had to sell them when they were very small and also slaughter the mother,” Onelio Suarez tells 14ymedio. Suarez is a producer who insists he had twenty pigs in fattening barely two years ago. “Recovering will cost me a year,” he says.

“Even if we get a lot of feed for the pigs, the producers here need at least a year to recover the cycle of births and fattening that has been severed,” he says. “That’s why the cost of pork has exploded everywhere and will continue to rise,” he says.

In several agricultural markets in Havana the price of a pound of boneless pork has reached 60 CUP, the salary of two days of a professional. “As there is not much frozen chicken in the shopping centers there is an even greater demand for pork and that has complicated the situation much more,” says Suarez. “This has been going on for a while and the production is not going to meet the demand.”

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

Nuevo Vedado Businesses Suffer after Viazul Offices Relocate

Viazul no longer occupies its signature location on 26th Street in Havana. (Martin A.)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, April 1, 2019 — “Things never slowed down. All day long the place was full of tourists. Now, if there are one or two, it’s a lot,” laments Sara, an employee at a privately owned cafe near the location where, until March 22, the Viazul bus company had its offices in Havana. The agency’s relocation has been a severe blow to businesses in this part of Nuevo Vedado.

“The economy of the entire neighborhood revolved around Viazul because there was nothing else here to attract tourists,” explains Sara, who notes that in the past week she has sold “very little food and almost no beverages” in the small cafe that also sells takeout items. “If this keeps up, we will have to close,” she warns.

Created in 1996, Viazul is a subsidiary of the Astro Business Group, owned by the Ministry of Transportation, which provides transportation services to travelers. With twelve daily departures from the capital and three departures from Varadero, Trinidad and Santiago de Cuba, the company handles more than 8,000 customers per month, most of them foreign tourists. Tickets can only be purchased with hard currency. continue reading

The Viazul station had always been located on 26th Avenue, near the Zoological Garden, before moving to the Central National Bus Station on Independence Avenue, a few yards from the Plaza of the Revolution. Until then, the central station had only been used by the state-owned transportation company Astro, which charges for its services in Cuban pesos.

“There were several short-term rental properties in this neighborhood which were doing well because they had customers who wanted to spend the night here before catching the early bus the next day,” explains Luís Alberto, who was born in the 26th Street vicinity. “Many residents also provided private taxi service for travelers, but now all that is up in the air.”

“This is the kind of decision that is made at the top without consulting the local community and that ends up causing a lot of difficulties and problems,” adds the young man. “There are people who are already losing a lot of money.”

A travel agency that provides trips to Isla de la Juventud is planning to move into Viazul’s former location, where passengers will be able to buy a bus ticket from Havana to Batabanó on the southern coast as well as a ticket for the catamaran that will then take them to the small island. “But that will mean many fewer customers because most of them are Cubans and they don’t have as much money to spend,” explains Luís Alberto.

Viazul has a fleet of more than 90 vehicles, at least 75 of which are forty-seat buses, as well as 13 microbuses with ten to eleven seats, and four mini-buses with twenty-four seats. In contrast to the buses operated by Astro, Viazul’s vehicles have a reputation for being safer and more comfortable.

Last January a Viazul bus was involved in an accident in Guantánamo province which killed three Cubans, two Argentinians, a German woman, a French man and injured thirty-three others. “This has been a very big problem for our company, which is currently involved in several lawsuits with the victims’ families, who are demanding compensation,” said an employee who preferred not to give his name.

We have tried to maintain a high level service but, over the years, the bus yard has deteriorated a lot, almost none of the restrooms in the buses work, the seats suffer from constant use and mechanical breakdowns are becoming more common,” he explains. “Even then, we’re still way above what Astro offers.”

The employee points out that the move to a new location is unrelated to the January accident or to the costs of the lawsuits. “It was a decision made by the former transport minister, Adel Yzquierdo, when she was still in office and is only now being carried out,” he notes.

The ministry announced its decision in mid-March and stated that the change was in response to the reorganization and consolidation of the National Bus Company, apologizing for any inconvenience this might cause.

During the initial phase, authorities have provided free transfers from 26th Street to the new location to give travelers time to adjust to the change.

“A lot of us who work for the company don’t agree with this but there is nothing we can do.”

“Having one company which charges in hard currency and another which charges in Cuban pesos under the same roof is not a good idea,” he states. “Their customers’ expectations are not the same. And Central Station does not meet the standards that tourists are looking for. There isn’t even a convenient taxi stand in the area.”

A group of drivers from Panataxi, who used to regularly pick up passengers at the former location, sent a letter to the ministry last week asking that Viazul either be returned to its former headquarters or that a dedicated taxi stand for its customers be provided. So far, however, they have not received a reply.

The issue of both companies operating under one roof has also led to complaints from Viazul customers, who lament the poor conditions of the station’s public areas. “You cannot use the toilets because they are so dirty. They have no toilet paper and you can’t flush most of them because there’s no water in the tanks,” complained Lucía, a Cuban living in Miami who bought a ticket on Saturday to travel to Camagüey.

“I arrived at the airport and thought I had to go to the terminal on 26th Street but they told me it had moved,” she reports to 14ymedio. “The old station was smaller but it was in better condition. At the new location things are very disorganized and the customer services leave much to be desired”. She acknowledges, however that “though the quality has gone done, at least it’s now in a more central location.”

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

Fewer Potatoes, More Business

The line to buy the potatoes at the La Timba market at 37th and 6th in the Plaza municipality. (14ymedio)

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana,  27 March 2019 — “Between the end of February and April I do ’the harvest of potatoes’,” jokes Jaime, the fictitious name of an illegal seller of the tuber, in conversation with 14ymedio. “Before, I used to sell shrimp and lobster, but this is less dangerous, because despite having to move larger volumes, it does not leave a trail of odor like seafood does, nor is it so controlled by the police.”

Five years ago, Jaime went to the 19th and B market in El Vedado in Havana to buy some yucca and ended up talking with an informal vendor who offered a bag with 5 pounds of potatoes for 1 CUC. “I realized right away that there was a niche market and I started looking for contacts to do the same.”

At that time, he says, he was lucky. “The price of the potatoes went up because they have been scarce, so that same bag I now sell for 2 and even 3 CUC, it depends on the type of customer,” he says. “I sell from home and I have my network of contacts that are basically paladares (private restaurants), foreign diplomats and Cubans who can spend more.” continue reading

“I have two supply routes, several guajiros from the San Antonio de los Baños area and also some stores where they sell potatoes on the ration book,” he explains. “Both are all the same to me, but right now all the supply I have comes from the markets, because right now the sale to the population has begun.”

“The supply” to which Jaime refers is nothing other than the diversion (i.e. theft) of state resources that end up for sale illegally. “The miracle of the surplus,” as Jaime calls it, is the sum of what is obtained by manipulating the scales or by adding dirt and, also, from the rationed amounts that people don’t pick up. “I make a living from that, getting those potatoes to people who can pay what they are really worth.”

Consumers buying through the rationed market receive a total of 14 pounds of potatoes in multiple deliveries, at the subsidized price of 1 CUP per pound. The supply arrives in the months of February and March when the so-called Cold Campaign is harvested from the fields. In other provinces the sale of the product tends to be lower quantities and sporadic.

The fall in potato production has been remarkable in recent years. In 1996, during the Special Period when it was strictly rationed, exports began after the harvest reached 348,000 tons. With the Raulista reforms, in 2010 its unrationed sale was authorized, but in just five years the harvest had fallen to 123,938 tons and the authorities had to import 15,233 tons to meet the internal demand. In 2017, the potato was again rationed.

“We have several dishes that can be accompanied with mashed potatoes and malanga,” says Rubén Núñez, an assistant chef at a restaurant located next to the central Boulevard of Havana. “It has been several years since we began using instant flakes to replace the natural potato and although it is not ideal, there is enough demand.”

“The packages with instant mashed potatoes are very cheap and easy to bring to Cuba from Miami, Cancun or Panama, and they weigh very little so we have a stable supply,” says this paladar employee. “The recipes with fries are made with pre-cooked and frozen packages that we buy in some markets in Havana, but our menu does not include any dish with boiled or roasted potatoes.”

According to Núñez, you have to get used to it. “You can find many substitutes to the potato, such as bananas, sweet potatoes and taro, but we get tourists who ask for natural potatoes and you have to explain that there are none and suggest another garnish to accompany the main course.”

Luis Marrero was one of the first farmers in the area of Güira de Melena who joined the planting of potatoes when the state ended its monopoly on cultivation and distribution. “My father and my grandfather had planted a lot f potatoes at the beginning of the last century,” he tells this newspaper.

“That’s why when they allowed the farmers to buy the seeds to grow them, I immediately asked for the ’technological package’ that I needed,” he adds. In a state store he bought fertilizer sacks and the seeds necessary to achieve a good harvest.

“That first time I grew potatoes I was very happy because everything was very easy for me, although it is a crop that has its temperature demands,” he details. “I planted the Romano variety, which is quite common in this area and it went well, but over the years the purchase of the seeds became very complicated (as they call it in the Island when the tubers themselves have outbreaks) and the fertilizers have failed “

Over the years, Luis was reducing the area devoted to this crop because he thinks that the State pays the farmers “poorly for a quintal [101 pounds] of potatoes.” Most of the harvest must be sold to the State.

“We are paid between 45 and 65 CUP per quintal, it depends on the quality of the product but I can sell a pound at 3 CUP from the door of my house to the resellers who then sell them for twice that money,” explains the farmer. “It would be silly if I did not sell inthis way.” In this season Luis does not expect big gains. “I have not planted a lot of potatoes and if I take out about 1,000 or 1,200 CUP, it will be a lot.”

Until the beginning of March, 6,100 hectares of the tuber had been planted on the island and 7,200 tons had been harvested, of the 122,000 tons that are expected to be harvested in the provinces of Mayabeque, Artemisa, Matanzas, Villa Clara, Cienfuegos and Ciego de Ávila.

In view of this situation, the Government began, over a year ago, negotiations with Peruvian producers, who have surpluses. They do not seem to have reached an agreement. Meanwhile, the informal vendors continue with their business and the consumers with their packaged potato flakes.

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.

René, the Mattress Magician

Some mattress repairers have built electric machines that allow them to renew the wadding to fill the mattresses. (Revolico)

14ymedio bigger

14ymedio, Zunilda Mata, Havana, 19 March 2019 — His hands move with agility, looking first for the scissors, then the thread and finally the needles to close the long cut made on one side. He is not a surgeon or a tailor, but a mattress repairman who, in the middle of a Havana roof, repairs that soft surface where later a couple will be sleep in peace, a child will romp or a grandmother will rest.

“There are two places in life where we deserve a good rest: the mattress and the coffin,” René Puerto reflects philosophically, like the mattress repairman with more than ten years of experience that he is. “In the coffin we do not realize it but a mattress can help us really get our rest, or it can be an ordeal.”

Puerto travels the Havana neighborhoods of El Cerro, El Vedado and Nuevo Vedado announcing his services. “I repair all kinds of mattresses.” He has in a small truck with two assistants and they bring with them all the tolls necessary tools for their work. “We know people’s embarrassments,” he says. continue reading

“Most of the mattresses that I have to repair are over 40 years old but I have been faced with some older than 70,” Puerto explains to 14ymedio, Before making the switch to this particular job he  was employed by a subsidiary of the Ministry of Domestic trade.

Ten years ago he obtained a license to practice as a mattress repairman on his own and he no longer imagines doing anything else other than straightening springs, placing a lining, and stitching and distributing the filling to make the mattress firm and fluffy.

Puerto charges about 50 CUC for repairing a mattress and claims to be able to do it in less than three hours. “That’s if I do not find surprises like too many broken springs or part of the outer wire frame split,” he clarifies. “This work requires patience but you also have to be very clever to solve problems that arise.” He considers that “each mattress is a mystery until it is opened.”

“I was always skillful with my hands and during the Special Period I dedicated myself to upholstering furniture but immediately I realized that if repairing a sofa is almost a luxury, repairing a mattress is a necessity and even people with less money are willing to spend a little bit to sleep better.”

Puerto’s team works on the most common models and types of mattresses in Cuba: bed, cradle, the so-called “three-quarters” and the enormous imperial ones. “We can repair the ones filled with wadding as well as those that are partly foam.” Although he says he prefers “the old mattresses with good springs that are no longer sold in the stores.”

“The most important thing is the mattress framework because the rest is the filling and what happens is that those they’re selling now look very nice but they do not last half as long as that mattress that my parents bought when they got married a lot of years ago,” says Puerto.

During the 70s and 80s, buying a mattress in Cuba was an almost impossible task. Through the rationed market, a few units were sold for newborns and couples getting married, but it was such a small number that it could not meet the demand. With the opening of stores in hard currency, in the 90s, the sale of mattresses reappeared.

Currently bed mattresses are for sale  in the network of state stores at about 250 CUC (the equivalent of well over half a year’s salary for the average worker). The price in the informal market can fall by half but scams and adulterations are frequent. For many families, repairing an old mattress is the only affordable way to sleep more comfortably.

Juan boasts that he has taken the mattress repair business to a “higher level,” he tells 14ymedio. “Before, I used to do it on the sidewalk, in a parking lot or on a rooftop, but since I put an ad in Revolico — an online ad site similar to Craigslist — to work in peoples’ homes, I’m doing better and with fewer risks.” Before, he says, the police bothered him a lot because although he has a license “most of the raw material that is needed can not be bought legally.”

“Strong fabric for the lining, steel wire for the springs to be replaced and the wadding itself are not for sale anywhere,” he complains. “We do not have access to a wholesale market and we have to recycle and recover everything we can so as not to waste new materials, but in any case we lack the resources to be found on the street.”

In more than 20 years dedicated to the trade, Juan says he has seen everything. He relates that once a couple getting a divorce asked him to separate a mattress to make two personal mattresses. “The most difficult thing is when we have to work with mattresses where an old man or a sick person has been bedridden because then it has spots or smells bad.” Although Juan knows that in these cases the mattress can be a health hazard, he does not hesitate to repair it if he is paid.

“The day I suffered the most was when I visited my brother in Miami and several times I saw mattresses thrown in the trash, almost new,” he recalls. “I wanted to take them all and bring them to Cuba but I could not.” His brother, as a family joke, sends him pictures every now and then of other mattresses that he sees being thrown out on the streets of that city.

Other times unforeseen events are not so negative. “Once we bought an old mattress very cheap to get the springs and when we took it apart in the workshop we found more than 1,000 CUP in a roll.” The practice of keeping money under or inside the mattress (shoved through a gap) is common on an island where many continue to distrust state banks.

“We couldn’t even return the money because the mattress had reached us through several intermediaries and when we started asking nobody knew who the original owner was.” With that unforeseen treasure Juan bought a good electric motor to fulfill an old dream.

“Between my son and I, we created an electric machine that helps to renew the wadding, which helps a lot with the old mattresses where the stuffing has gotten hard in places,” he explains. “We give a one year guarantee and the customer can stay close by the whole time to see what we do and what materials we use, there is no cheating.”

Scams are very common in that sector, which is why Juan likes to act with transparency. “I had a good mattress that I inherited from my mother, she needed to change the outer fabric because it was stained and fix a couple of springs but nothing else,” says Marilú, a client who was the victim of a hoax.

“I made the mistake of not looking at what they were doing in the parking lot of the building, which was where they were repairing my mattress,” she recalls. “The first night everything went fine but then some balls started coming out and when I couldn’t take it anymore and I opened it up I realized they had exchanged all the original stuffing with sacks of dried grass and jute sacks,” she laments.

Now Marilú is saving to buy a mattress in the stores in convertible pesos and insists that she will try to take good care of it to avoid having to resort later to the repairers. “These people are like magicians: they can  turn an old mattress into a wonder; or they can change it into a pile of garbage.”

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The 14ymedio team is committed to serious journalism that reflects the reality of deep Cuba. Thank you for joining us on this long road. We invite you to continue supporting us, but this time by becoming a member of 14ymedio. Together we can continue to transform journalism in Cuba.