On the broken benches of El Prado lie old people, beggars and drunks who have no other place to spend the night.
14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 22 December 2024 — Night falls with low temperatures in El Prado de Cienfuegos this December. Only a few people walk through the streets, dark due to power outages or the lack of public lighting. State bars and restaurants close before 11:00 but Cristina, a retired teacher, could not alleviate her hunger even if the establishments were open.
Cristina says she has been abandoned to her fate by the Social Security system, without even being able to enter an old-age home. “My nephew, despite having raised him, threw me out of my own house and the social workers ignored my problem; that is the reality. My only bed is the floor of the doorway where I find a place to rest and my only clothes are the ones I am wearing,” she laments.
“I belong to El Prado just as the statue of El Benny belongs,” says Gustavo.
Cristina’s tragic situation is not an isolated case. On the broken benches of El Prado lie old people, beggars and drunks who have no other place to spend the night. Some carry sacks or bags where they keep their few belongings. Others go empty-handed, tired of wandering and begging so that, if luck and charity help them, they can eat once a day.
“On the Paseo de El Prado is my little shop and my house at the same time. I go through all the garbage bins collecting cans and bottles to sell as raw material. That’s how I survive. I go to sleep wherever I feel sleepy first, whether it’s in the library porches or outside the Baptist church. I belong to El Prado just like the statue of El Benny belongs,” says Gustavo, another of the park’s occasional residents.
According to what he told 14ymedio, he dedicated his best years to the sugar industry, until a work accident prevented him from continuing. “I don’t have a home and sometimes I go months without being able to shower, but I am an industrial engineer, graduated in 1971, and I lived through the dismantling of the sugar mills in the 90s. After so much sacrifice, the debacle also came for me,” confesses the Cienfuegos native, leaning on his crutch.
“My accident happened in the middle of the harvest and after that I didn’t hear anything more from the union or the management of the 14 de Julio sugar mill in the municipality of Rodas, where I worked. They always accused me of being ’conflictive’ for clearly saying what I thought and, at the first opportunity they had, they took me to the medical commission to get rid of me. Then I lost my house in a fire. Eight years later, I’m still waiting for the government to address my case,” Gustavo complains.
Cristina and Gustavo are not alone. Protected by the quiet of the night and without a better option, other beggars rest their heads every night on the marble steps or the hard wood of the benches. When a patrol car approaches, they press themselves to the stones and do not move until dawn. Despite everything, they do not want the police to take them away.
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