While hundreds stand in line to leave the country after sleepless nights, a class emerges capable of shielding themselves from blackouts and sleeping soundly.
14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Havana, 12 May 2026 / Everyone on the street is talking about the same thing. “I couldn’t sleep even an hour last night,” a young woman tells an elderly woman she passes as she walks along Calzada del Cerro. I follow behind, with the clumsy gait of someone who spent the night awake, barely blinked the night before, and managed, if anything, a couple of hours of sleep. The constant sleeplessness imposed by the combination of blackouts and heat weighs heavily on all of us in this city.
Before five o’clock in the morning this Tuesday, I’d already had a couple of cups of coffee. By seven, my eyes were wide open, and I headed out, but I made a mistake turning right at Rancho Boyeros instead of going straight, and I ended up at the Ciénaga train workshops. I crossed the avenue and decided to walk to Esquina de Tejas. The oak trees were in bloom all over the city, so with every step I stumbled upon a tapestry of petals on the ground. A soft carpet that got me yawning. All I could think about were pillows, blankets, and a cool room where I could snore for hours on end.
The owner of the most powerful Ecoflow, the longest-lasting battery, and the generator with the most fuel is now the neighborhood ‘big shot’.
Several blocks before reaching the Immigration and Foreigners Directorate office, I see the crowd. There are dozens, most likely hundreds, of people who have spent the night there to apply for a passport. The exodus continues unabated. A woman boasts to others that she spent the night at a friend’s house who has a generator and that she slept “like a log with the air conditioning on.” The looks she gets from those who hear her bravado are like poisoned arrows.
The new class emerging is the one that can isolate itself from blackouts and enter the deep sleep stage, essential for physical recovery. People with resources are no longer identified so much by the designer clothes, the car they drive, or the drinks they toast with. Now, the deepest social divide is between those who can count on an energy supply that allows them to rest during the early morning hours, and those who experience that time of day amidst mosquito bites, sweat, and sudden awakenings.
Our status is written all over our faces. That woman with dark circles under her eyes; she probably doesn’t even have a rechargeable fan to keep cool in the dark. That young man with puffy bags under his eyes; he probably lives in a windowless tenement and has a small child he must fan all night. And those cheeks without a dark spot on their upper part; there we have the nouveau riche. The owner of the most powerful Ecoflow, the longest-lasting battery, and the generator with the most fuel is now the neighborhood dandy.
I arrive at the Esquina de Tejas. The park benches at the base of the two 20-story buildings are full of families. Some children sleep stretched out on the granite, while their mothers wave cardboard boxes close to their bodies. These towers, which I can see from my apartment, spend a good part of the night in darkness. When I feel that my building’s electricity is being mistreated more than the others, I only have to look toward the horizon at the windows of these darkened buildings to remind me that in this city there’s always someone who might be worse off, much worse off.
I turn onto Infanta Street. Several government offices have been ordered to clean up the mess in front of their buildings. So, several employees, brooms and dustpans in hand, are sweeping up a piece of paper here, some cardboard there, in the middle of an avenue overflowing with filth. As the sun begins to beat down, they retreat to their offices with a sense of accomplishment, while outside, mountains of garbage continue to dominate the landscape. One of the enthusiastic cleaners has forgotten the bin of accumulated waste, which a cart driver accidentally knocks over, and it all spills back onto the street.
She bought some coffee from a street vendor. She never drinks it after eight in the morning to avoid sleep problems later, but who cares about a little more caffeine in a city where you can’t sleep anyway? The small dose came with sugar, but she didn’t care; she just wanted to wake up and get to her destination. She reached Parque de la Normal.
In one corner, a woman has fallen asleep leaning against a tree trunk. It’s an oak. The blossoms have continued to fall, and her shoulders, skirt, and bag are covered in those fragile petals that wither as soon as they fall.
Previous Havana Chronicles:
A Desperate Plea in the Middle of the Dark Havana Night: ‘Light!’
Under a Picture-Postcard Blue Sky, the Country is Crumbling
Fatigue Barely Allows One to Enjoy the ‘Lights On’ in Havana
Dollars, the Classic Card, and a Havana Without Tourists
A Journey Through the Lost Names of Havana
The Shipwreck of a Ship Called “Cuba”
Havana Seen From ‘The Control Tower’
In Havana, the Only Ones Who Move Are the Mosquitoes
Reina, the Stately Street Where Garbage is Sold
Searching for Light Through the Deserted Streets of Havana
The Death Throes of ‘Granma’, the Mouthpiece of a Regime Cornered by Crisis
The Anxiety of the Disconnected Cuban
One Mella, Three Mellas, Life in Cuba Is Measured in Thousands of Pesos
It Is Forbidden To Leave Home in Cuba Today Because It Is a “Counter-Revolutionary Day”
Vedado, the Heart of Havana’s Nightlife, Is Now Converted Into a Desert
Havana, in Critical Condition
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