Translating Cuba – Page 39 – English Translations of Cubans Writing From the Island

Whether to Buy Food or Medicine? The Dilemma for Cubans When They Stock Up at the Neighborhood Pharmacy

“The 1,000 pesos I had saved to buy a piece of meat are going to be spent on medicine,” says a retired woman in San José de las Lajas.

The pharmacy in La Micro is a small shop with worn walls and lighting that doesn’t dispel the gloom. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, San José de las Lajas — At seven in the morning, the green gate of the pharmacy in the La Micro neighborhood already had a line that stretched around the corner. There was no sign announcing the arrival of medicine, nor an official announcement, but in San José de las Lajas, important news spreads by word of mouth with the speed of necessity. It only took someone saying “something came in” for many to leave the stove lit, the broom leaning against the wall, or a grandchild in the care of a neighbor, and head out with the folded card in their pocket. The scene, repeated so many times in recent years, took on a particular air of urgency last Monday: it wasn’t about buying, but about not waiting any longer.

“It’s been over four months since we last got captopril,” says Mabel, a second-grade teacher, referring to a blood pressure medicine, as she fanned herself with a notebook she carries in her purse. During that time, she’s been buying it on the street for 500 pesos per blister pack, an amount that eats up a good chunk of her salary. To be in line at the pharmacy, she left her students with a teaching assistant and practically ran out. “This isn’t about getting ahead of ourselves, it’s about not running out,” she explains. In front of her, a couple of women check their prescriptions again and again, as if the paper might vanish before reaching the counter.

The pharmacy in La Micro is a small shop with worn walls and lighting that barely dispels the gloom. Sales proceed with the usual slowness, and each customer seems to take longer to be served than the last. Outside, those waiting make themselves comfortable as best they can: sitting on the wall, standing under the asbestos roof, or leaning against the rusted window bars. Most are middle-aged and elderly, carrying that accumulated weariness that not even continue reading

good news can dispel.

“I even brought a prescription for amoxicillin, although they told me no antibiotics were allowed in,” Mabel says in a low voice.

“I even have a prescription for amoxicillin, although they told me no antibiotics were delivered,” Mabel remarks quietly. The complaint is echoed among those present: “Other establishments in town get their supplies first; we get what’s left over.” The usual suspicions of favoritism and cronyism also hang in the air, a constant murmur that no one can quite confirm but that is part of the scene. The distrust, like the queue, is now ingrained.

Zenaida, a 67-year-old retired architect, got her place in line at five in the morning and is still number seven. “The 1,000 pesos I had saved to buy a little piece of meat are going to go toward medicine,” she says without raising her voice. She suffers from several chronic illnesses and knows the cruel arithmetic of these times all too well: either she eats better or she sleeps without pain. “I thought nothing would come in until January. I’d rather spend the 31st with just rice and beans than spend the night awake because of my joints,” she confesses as she takes two 500-peso bills, crumpled from being kept for so long, out of her purse.

Inside the pharmacy, an employee rigorously controls access to the counter. Looking out the barred window, he repeats the directive: three prescriptions per person, no more. “As long as I’m here, there won’t be any disorder,” he warns, aware that some see each shipment of medication as a business opportunity. His vigilance contrasts sharply with the precariousness of the system he’s trying to maintain: few medications, too many needs, and a distribution chain plagued by theft, diversion, and lack of oversight, as documented in recent months by investigations into the deterioration of the public health system.

The scene becomes almost ritualistic. Every time someone leaves with a bag in hand, the others ask what they managed to buy, how much there was, what’s already gone. The inventory is rebuilt in real time: captopril, some clonazepam, a few painkillers. Nowhere near enough for everyone waiting, nor anything that will last long. “This is a respite, not a solution,” a retiree remarks, adjusting his cap and looking at the ground. “Now they might bring it back in March or April. That’s why I came running.”

The approach of the end of the year is the topic of every conversation. No one is talking about celebrations, but about survival.

The approach of the end of the year is the topic of every conversation. No one talks about celebrations, but about survival. In the queue, stories of expired prescriptions, months without treatment, and exorbitant prices on the black market intertwine. Some remember when the pharmacy was a place for quick errands and not a test of physical endurance. Others prefer not to remember.

In San José de las Lajas, as in the rest of the country, the shortage of medications has forced chronically ill patients to reorganize their lives around the scarcity. The pharmacy becomes a meeting point, a social barometer, a stage where the strain is measured. This Monday, the arrival of “a few” medications did not solve the problem, but it did raise a small, almost defensive hope: that of not being left completely unprotected.

As midday approaches and the queue begins to dwindle, some return home with the essentials; others, with empty hands.

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Granma Province, Cuba: “With No Propane To Cook the Little You Can Get, What Is There To Celebrate This December 31?”

Granma Province runs out of liquefied gas due to lack of availability at the Santiago de Cuba plant

In Sancti Spíritus, neighbors asked one another for charcoal to cook. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Madrid, December 30, 2025 — It was timely for the Granma Province television station to ask the population about their experience without propane. The local television station published a notice on its Facebook page, previously provided by the Provincial Territorial Fuel Marketing Division, warning that due to the lack of availability of propane canisters at the Santiago de Cuba plant, there would be no sales “until further notice.”

The report took note of the number of criticisms sparked by the entity’s announcement and decided to ask residents to share their experiences. “How is this situation affecting your community? We invite you to share your experience in the comments.” Few posts by the station have generated such a volume of responses – more than 100 so far – when most comments are usually about the daily power outage report, with about 24 replies. It is fair to note, however, that on December 26, a video of the “celebration” of the 67th Anniversary of the Revolutionary Victory in the municipality of Río Cauto drew more than 300 complaints, mostly critical: “Give that town some quality of life, they are dying while still alive. You should be ashamed of such a charade celebrating something that has not existed for many years,” one of many posts read.

The message about the lack of propane has accumulated countless complaints that reflect the state of affairs in the eastern province. “Our situation is truly sad. The end of the year arrives and people are under the same stress we have endured all year: no electricity, no water, no cash, scarce food, a basic ration basket that is completely out of sync (today the 29th, the six pounds of rice and three of sugar that were announced still haven’t reached the ration store). And an apparent normality that gives the impression that no one with decision-making power has any idea what the people are living through. They don’t even explain anymore. We only see apologies for the inconvenience caused. ‘Company management appreciates…’ Where is the understanding? No one understands,” wrote one user.

“At my distribution point, number 78 in Santiago de Cuba, located in San Félix, since distribution began they have only delivered twice,” argued another. “In my community this is affecting us a lot, because this area is one of those hardest hit by power outages. This is like a deserted mountain: all you hear is the sound of axes chopping firewood. Hopefully continue reading

it will be restored soon. Happy New Year,” said another comment, somewhat more optimistic. Quite the opposite was a reader who retained not even a trace of the holiday spirit expected at this time of year: “How sad our lives are. No water, no electricity, no propane to cook the little that can be obtained. What is there to celebrate this December 31? And life goes on and nobody seems to care.”

“This is like a deserted mountain: all you hear is the sound of axes chopping firewood. Hopefully it will be restored soon. Happy New Year.”

The situation is discouraging, and not only in the eastern region, where yesterday another moment of panic was experienced when a fault on the “110 kV Renté-Santiago Industrial line, which supplies much of Guantánamo province,” disconnected that province from the National Electric System. The issue was resolved in a matter of minutes, but it has become impossible to tell when the grid is or is not connected. The state company was forced to clarify that once the line was repaired, “the electricity deficit in the province is due to lack of generation.”

While waiting to find out if the Antonio Guiteras power plant in Matanzas manages to reconnect properly to the system, the Island faces another day of energy shortages. Despite forecasts of very low temperatures for the end of the year, not exceeding 18 degrees Celsius (64.4 F), demand remains very high relative to the limited generation available. Expected availability during peak hours is just 1,570 megawatts, less than half of the country’s required 3,300 MW, so an impact of 1,760 MW is anticipated for that time slot.

The rest of the day should theoretically be better. Demand is much lower, at 2,100 MW, and although production is also limited at 1,420 MW, the maximum impact will be 950 MW. Breakdowns at unit 5 of the Mariel thermoelectric plant, unit 2 of Felton, and unit 6 of Renté add to the maintenance work on unit 2 of Santa Cruz and unit 4 of Carlos Manuel de Céspedes in Cienfuegos.

Nevertheless, the problems come mainly from distributed generation, which has 93 plants offline, totaling 1,039 megawatts on New Year’s Eve.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Cuban Faces 2025: Generation Z in Cuba, Neither Silent Nor Submissive

This generational awakening, with its own particularities, has also begun to manifest itself in Cuba

Social media serves as a window through which many young people portray their lives on the island. / Facebook

14ymedio, Havana, 30 December 2025 — In various parts of the world, Generation Z has begun to occupy a visible place in public life. Young people born in the late 1990s and early 2000s have participated in protests and social movements that have challenged governments, traditional leadership, and official narratives, from Peru to Indonesia, and including Madagascar, Kenya, Morocco, and the Philippines.

This generational awakening, with its own particularities, has also begun to manifest itself in Cuba. Far from the image of apathy that for years was associated with youth on the island, some young people have found ways to express their discontent and participate in public debates from their immediate surroundings or through digital platforms. Among the names that have gained visibility are Erlis Sierra and Ana Sofía Benítez, whose public statements have brought everyday problems to the forefront.

Sierra became visible after releasing a video in which he complained to officials of the municipality of Contramaestre about the power outages.

Erlis Sierra, a pediatrician residing in Baire, Santiago de Cuba, gained notoriety after posting a video in which he complained to officials in the municipality of Contramaestre about power outages, water shortages, and garbage accumulation, citing the Cuban Constitution to support his demands. Shortly afterward, two police officers arrested him at his home and took him in handcuffs to Santiago de Cuba, according to local residents. During his arrest, another video circulated continue reading

in which Sierra claimed to be “fine,” although some internet users pointed out that the recording appeared to have been made under the supervision of State Security.

The doctor’s mother, Ania Gómez Leiva, also spoke publicly, appealing for help in securing her son’s release. Neighbors reported a police presence in the area and warnings issued to those sharing information about the incident.

Ana Sofía Benítez has used digital environments as a space for reflection

Ana Sofía Benítez, for her part, has used digital environments as a space for reflection. Her publications describe common experiences of life in Cuba, such as limited access to printed books and reliance on online resources for studying and staying informed. Through these narratives, she has shown how young people of her generation face material constraints while developing strategies to adapt to them.

Social media serves as a window through which many young people portray their lives on the island. Audiences outside of Cuba closely follow this content, which offers a direct glimpse into the living conditions of the population. The hashtag #VivoEnCuba (I Live in Cuba) has gained prominence as a space where young creators document daily life. Some, like Frank Camayeris, achieved popularity before emigrating, while others continue to produce content from the country, such as Aprendedora (Learner), who recently narrated the arrival of Hurricane Melissa from her daily experience in Holguín.

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For “Stimulating Adverse Opinions” on Social Media, Cuban Prosecutor’s Office Is Asking for up to Nine Years in Prison

Authorities link the eight defendants to the Cuba Primero group and cite as evidence “the possession of materials related to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights”

Carlos Alberto McDonald Ennis, one of the accused, is experiencing a serious health condition that has deteriorated in prison / Facebook

14ymedio, Havana, 30 December 2025 — Eight people from Las Tunas province could face up to nine years in prison for the crime of “propaganda against the constitutional order.” According to a report published Monday by the legal advice center Cubalex, the defendants have been held in pretrial detention since March and April 2024 awaiting trial for expressing political opinions on social media.

In its report, the NGO noted that it had access to the provisional conclusions presented by the Prosecutor’s Office before the State Security Crimes Chamber of the Provincial Court of Santiago de Cuba, in a document dated July 21, 2025 and signed by prosecutor Iany Fernández Jomarrón.

The indictment mentions Javier Reyes Peña, for whom the prosecution is requesting nine years in prison, as well as Adisbel Mendoza Barroso (eight), Guillermo Carralero López (eight), Carlos Manuel Santiesteban Saavedra (seven), Carlos Alberto McDonald Ennis (seven) – who is living with a serious health condition that has deteriorated in prison, without receiving adequate medical attention – Enrique González Infante (seven), Pedro Carlos Camacho Ochoa (seven) and Maikel Hill Ramírez (six).

The accusations are based on “interaction on social media, especially Facebook”

Authorities link them to the Cuba Primero movement, a group considered by the regime as “terrorist” and “criminal,” based in the United States, “which organizes, finances, provides means and carries out actions against the security of the Cuban State.”

According to the Prosecutor’s Office, the accusations are based on “interaction on social networks, especially Facebook, the recording and publication of videos in which the accused persons expressed political positions, the dissemination of critical content and the exchange with other users inside and outside the country, and the possession of printed materials and pamphlets, including materials related to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”

According to the Prosecutor’s Office, these actions were presented as aimed at “stimulating adverse opinions” and generating dissent regarding the Cuban political system, without any mention of violent acts or calls to violence in the charges. Furthermore, the document includes assessments of the defendants’ “moral and social conduct,” such as maintaining behavior “at odds with the revolutionary process,” elements continue reading

that—Cubalex emphasized—reinforce the “ideological, stigmatizing, and discriminatory nature of the charges.”

The case has involved the use of psychiatric evaluations, criminal records, and social assessments.

Cubalex warned that in the case, psychiatric evaluations, criminal records, and social assessments have been used “as elements of accusatory reinforcement, which can aggravate the situation of people in vulnerable contexts.”

Regarding the case of Carlos Alberto McDonald Ennis, due to his health condition (he suffers from hypertension, diabetes, pancreatitis, heart disease, and a malignant tumor in his nasal cavity), the NGO reported that his family has exhausted all available legal resources, including several habeas corpus petitions and requests to modify the precautionary measure, without receiving an effective response. This, it added, is compounded by “the absence of basic procedural guarantees,” such as the fact that the charges against him have not been clearly defined, he has not been notified of the evidence against him, and the legal time limit for the criminal proceedings has been unjustifiably exceeded, without any formal request or duly substantiated extensions.

This case exemplifies the use of the penal system in Cuba “as a tool of political repression”

Cubalex denounced that this case exemplifies the use of the penal system in Cuba “as a tool of political repression” and demanded the release of “all people criminalized for peacefully exercising their rights in Cuba.”

In November alone, according to the latest report from the same organization, 165 repressive incidents were recorded across all provinces of the country, in which at least 138 people were victims of some type of human rights violation that month. In many cases, these acts occurred after various spontaneous protests motivated by power outages, water shortages, the collapse of the healthcare system, and state neglect following Hurricane Melissa and the current chikungunya and dengue epidemic affecting the country.

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2025: The Year Food in Cuba Took On a Foreign Accent

Imported foods, more expensive and better, have displaced domestic products, which are increasingly scarce

Imported pork loin began the year at 900 pesos per pound and closed December at 1,200 / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Natalia López Moya, December 30, 2025 –If there was one thing Cubans learned in 2025, it was to read agricultural markets the way one checks the weather report: not to know whether it will rain tomorrow, but to calculate how much food might make it into the house before money evaporates. It was a year without respite for prices, and with a novelty that has ceased to be anecdotal and become part of the landscape: the definitive consecration of imported products in sectors that, until recently, were domestically produced.

Rice, pork, citrus fruits, onions, garlic, and even sugar finished the year having changed their accent. They went from homegrown to speaking English, Portuguese, or peninsular Spanish. The United States, Mexico, Panama, Brazil, and Spain made their way onto the Cuban table not out of gastronomic preference but from sheer necessity. Domestic products became scarce, irregular, or unviable, and the market responded with the logic it knows best: bring goods from abroad to take advantage of a desperate demand for food.

One product that sums up the year was rice, that household thermometer that determines whether there is lunch or only a single meal at night. At the Plaza Boulevard market in Sancti Spíritus, a pound of domestic rice started January at 150 pesos. By July it had reached 280 and, after a slight “breather” forced by state intervention attempting to regulate its price, December found it at 250 pesos. The price did not go down due to a production miracle, but because many private vendors chose to hide it or replace it with imported rice, conveniently outside any regulation. The result was simple: less domestic rice in sight and more sacks with foreign labels.

A pound of domestic rice started January at 150 pesos. By July it had already reached 280

That dynamic repeated itself over and over. Price caps, announced with the tone of a final order, ran into three hard-to-breach walls: the constant devaluation of the Cuban peso, unmet demand, and the obstinacy of merchants, who know full well that selling below costs is not altruism, but ruin. Faced with the choice of losing money or pleasing the authorities, many chose a third path: pulling their merchandise and selling it on the side, where there are no inspectors or ministerial resolutions.

A carton of 30 eggs, in private shops in Holguín, went from 3,000 pesos at the beginning of the year to 3,200 in December / 14ymedio

Black beans, another staple of the national plate, offer a similar lesson. At the La Feria de Los Chinos market in Holguín, they began the year at 400 pesos per pound. In August, supply briefly improved and the price fell to 320. But the relief was short-lived. December brought it back to 420 pesos, confirming continue reading

that in Cuba discounts are usually a parenthesis, not a trend. Imported beans, meanwhile, entered without asking permission from price caps and found their niche among those who prefer to pay more rather than never eat them.

Pork, historically the queen of the Cuban table, definitively lost its crown in 2025. In the Youth Labor Army markets in Havana, managed by the Armed Forces but with most stalls run by private vendors, imported pork loin began the year at 900 pesos per pound. By July it was already at 1,000 and closed December at 1,200. Domestic pork, battered by the lack of feed, theft, and the impossible costs of raising pigs, became a rarity. When it did appear, it did not always respect official prices, and when it did, it disappeared the next day.

Pork, historically the queen of the Cuban table, definitively lost its crown in 2025

Something similar happened with products that define daily cooking. Onions, for example, behaved like a financial asset. At the market at 19th and B, ironically known as La Boutique, in Havana, a pound began January at 350 pesos. By July it was already at 500, and December found it at 600. The smell did not change, but the origin did: increasingly imported onions, better presented, more attractive, and, above all, free of price caps.

A carton of 30 eggs, many households’ protein lifeline, also jumped. In private shops in Holguín it went from 3,000 pesos at the beginning of the year to 3,200 in December. It is not a spectacular increase, but it is persistent, and it adds to a context in which the average salary does not go up, pensions shrink, and any increase, however small, ends up hurting.

The reappearance of mandarins in private markets this year has been scandalous, not so much for their flavor, always pleasant and fragrant, but for their price: around 1,300 pesos per pound, equivalent to nearly half of an average monthly pension on the Island. The citrus fruit arrived from Peru after years of absence and provoked a mix of amazement, nostalgia, and disenchantment. Many Cubans, especially older ones, confessed it had been more than five years since they had seen mandarins for sale.

The scene became iconic: alongside U.S. onions and Panamanian garlic, imported mandarins are sold at central points in Havana with labels recalling their origin, attracting those who see them as a piece of lost flavor. Yet the price turns them into a painful paradox: what should be a return to freshness ends up being an almost unattainable luxury for many pockets.

Alongside U.S. onions and Panamanian garlic, imported mandarins are sold at central points in Havana.

Behind these figures lies a clear logic. The policy of price caps, applied selectively, ended up incentivizing precisely the opposite of what it intended. By regulating domestic rice and leaving imported rice untouched, a clear message was sent to the market: bring in what is not regulated. The result was an accelerated shift toward imported products, more expensive but available.

With bitter irony, many consumers learned to distinguish foreign brands without ever having left the country. Not out of cosmopolitanism, but because Spanish onions, U.S. rice, and Brazilian pork were, paradoxically, more stable than their national equivalents. In 2025, Cuba’s agricultural market did not just sell food: it sold a daily lesson in basic economics. And most people forcibly approved it.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Seventeen Cuban Artists Remain Imprisoned, La Crema Leaves, and the Regime Rewards Amaury Pérez

The Observatory of Cultural Rights regrets that “young creators whose personal development has been cut short by political hatred” continue to be punished.

Cuban artists Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara and Maykel ‘Osorbo’ have been in prison for more than four years. / Facebook

14ymedio, Madrid, 30 December 2025 — At the end of 2025, 17 Cuban artists remain locked up in prisons on the island and ten more are serving sentences without imprisonment “as a direct consequence of their creative practice, their civic participation or their refusal to give up their own voice,” the Cultural Rights Observatory reported on Monday.

In a brief statement on its Facebook page, the organisation notes that “one of the most serious and persistent expressions of repression in Cuba [is] the imprisonment of citizens for exercising their freedom of expression, specifically young creators whose personal development has been cut short by the political hatred that characterises the Cuban Government”.

The observatory does not disclose the names of the individuals on its list, although on previous occasions it has referred to the most prominent cases, such as visual artist Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara and Maykel Castillo Osorbo, who were sentenced to five and nine years in prison in 2022. The former is due to be released this year, as they were arrested in 2021.

“One of the most serious and persistent expressions of repression in Cuba [is] the imprisonment of citizens for exercising their freedom of expression.”

Previous complaints have also cited the cases of Yasmany González Valdés, an activist and rapper sentenced to four years in prison for painting anti-government posters, and Wilmer Moreno Suárez, sentenced among the 11 July 2021 protesters in La Güinera (Havana) to 18 years in prison, whose stage name is Mister Will D’Cuba.

“Throughout this year, we have accompanied, documented, and denounced cases of artists imprisoned or continue reading

punished for political reasons, updating the situation of those who continue to face institutional violence, medical negligence, isolation, threats, and arbitrary punishments within the country’s prison system,” adds the Observatory.

In its post, it also accuses the authorities of putting pressure on the families of artists – as well as other prisoners – and of disrupting their careers and work.

“We will continue to name each artist, record each abuse and uphold the memory of those who resist from prison and those who do so under harassment in semi-freedom,” the platform claims.

Amid this bleak outlook, one person who has decided to put an end to the mere idea of returning to Cuba is Luis Alberto Viscet Vives, known as La Crema, from Santiago. The artist, who has thousands of followers thanks to his music denouncing everyday life in Cuba, had left for work in the Dominican Republic two weeks ago, leading many to speculate that he was going into exile.

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Now, the singer has released his new video, Navidad en libertad (Christmas in Freedom), humorously recounting his change of life: “I left behind the power cuts, mosquito nets and filth. Goodbye, chikungunya,” read

Cuban Faces 2025: Leyanis Pérez, Queen of the Triple Jump

Her performance earned her recognition from national sports authorities as the best athlete of the year, along with boxer Julio César La Cruz

The young woman overcame a muscle strain that prevented her from competing in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. / EFE

14ymedio, Havana, December 29, 2025 – Cuban triple jumper Leyanis Pérez Hernández affirms that “life is a fleeting moment that must be seized,” and she did just that in 2025. At 23, she dominated the World Athletics Championships, surpassing Venezuelan Yulimar Rojas, retained her Diamond League title, and won the World Indoor Championships. This achievement earned her recognition from national sports authorities as the best athlete of the year , along with boxer Julio César La Cruz

Pérez’s achievements came at a time when Cuban sport lacked figures like five-time Olympic champion Mijaín López, judoka Idalys Ortiz, and sprinter Omara Durand, all retired, in addition to a series of failures in boxing, wrestling, baseball, and volleyball. The Pinar del Río native has revived track and field, which had been battered by defections.

The road has been fraught with setbacks. After a disappointing fifth place at the 2024 Paris Olympics, Pérez won gold at the World Indoor Championships in Glasgow. She started 2025 with a second-place finish at the Miramas Athletics Meeting, consistently achieving jumps exceeding continue reading

14 meters.

Behind Pérez is coach Ricardo Ponce, who has focused training on exercises to help the triple jumper break the 15-meter barrier. She achieved this goal at the Puma Meeting in Guadalajara (2024); however, a slight tailwind exceeding the permissible limit (2.3 m/s) prevented her from validating the record.

“You have to make many sacrifices, but nothing surpasses the satisfaction of surpassing yourself and winning a medal,” the triple jumper stated last September.

Pérez has focused on technical details with her left leg. Ponce says the young woman is ready to jump 15.20 meters. Although 15.30 meters would be even better. “You have to make many sacrifices, but nothing beats the satisfaction of surpassing yourself and winning a medal,” the triple jumper stated last September. This year, she also graduated with a degree in Physical Culture.

The road hasn’t been easy for Pérez. The young woman overcame a muscle strain that prevented her from competing in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. “Accepting that I was there, and not competing, was devastating for me,” she told the same media outlet. At that moment, her coach took the tall, 1.88-meter (6’2″) athlete and assured her that “everything was going to change, that life would go on.”

The triple jumper, who lives in the Cuba Libre popular council, known as El Rancho, in the municipality of Pinar del Río, began to stand out internationally in 2022: she won the Ibero-American Championship in Alicante (Spain) and placed fourth in the final of the World Championship in Eugene (USA).

At the 2023 Pan American Games, she won the gold medal with a jump of 14.75 meters. She also reached the podium at the World Athletics Championships, taking home a bronze medal with a jump of 14.96 meters on her first attempt. Her personal best was 14.98 meters, achieved in July of that year at the Central American and Caribbean Games. Now, she aspires to win an Olympic medal.

Pérez told AFP last September that “when you’re in Cuba, you just have to follow the existing legacy, train hard to uphold it.” The young woman recalled that in her early days, “the triple jump scene was already well-established; there were great triple jumpers and long jumpers in my country, so you have no choice but to go out there and give it your all.”

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Cuban Faces 2025: Laura Gil, the Minister’s Daughter Who Demanded Transparency in Her Father’s Trial

The daughter of the convicted former minister broke her silence, appealing to the Constitution of the Republic and its recognition of “freedom of expression for all citizens”

Laura María Gil González was praised for her role as Director of Innovation and Development at Caudal. / Facebook

14ymedio, Havana, December 25, 2025 – The Facebook post made on July 3, 2023, by Laura María Gil González, daughter of former Minister of Economy and Planning Alejandro Gil Fernández, recently sentenced to life imprisonment, continues to receive congratulations. At that time, she announced her appointment as Director of Innovation and Development at Caudal SA, the insurance and financial services group—comprised of no fewer than eight companies, including Cubacontrol, dedicated to inspection—belonging to the military conglomerate Gaesa. A high-ranking position, as is typical for relatives of the Cuban nomenklatura

Her father had already been detained for nine months for “serious errors committed in the performance of his duties” when Laura María’s name appeared in the official press in an article praising the “financial strength and security” of the state conglomerate for which she works . “Laura María Gil González, Director of Innovation and Development at Caudal, explained that each company in the group specializes in a specific service,” Cubadebate, quoting her as saying: “For example, Cubacontrol and Intermar provide inspection services. The consulting firms Canec, Conas, and Interaudit offer appraisal and auditing services, while ESEN and ESICUBA are the insurance companies. Asistur is an insurance brokerage firm.”

Neither she nor her mother, Gina María González García—who was held for a time in a safe house along with her husband—said a word about the legal proceedings against Alejandro Gil. Then, on November 1st, after 20 months without any news of his whereabouts, the Prosecutor’s Office announced that he was being charged with “espionage” and continue reading

other serious corruption offenses .

On November 1, after 20 months without any information about his whereabouts, the Prosecutor’s Office announced that he was being accused of “espionage” and other serious corruption crimes.

And then, Laura Gil spoke out. She did so through her Facebook wall and in several posts, demanding a fair, public, and open trial for her father. She broke her silence by invoking the Constitution of the Republic and its recognition of “freedom of expression for all citizens,” something that was immediately criticized by hundreds of commenters on the post, since it is a right that the regime denies to its dissenting citizens.

Gil González ironically celebrated the “highly efficient” implementation of the Transparency and Access to Public Information Law, “with unprecedented consistency,” adding that “small details remained unresolved, fueling public speculation.” She then addressed the espionage charge against her father, noting that “small details” were missing: “What did he do? Which country or countries are we referring to? Since when? What were his communication channels? What did he receive in return? Where did he hold his meetings? In what settings? With whom? Under whose direct orders? What information did he reveal? What measures did he propose to the country on the express orders of another state? What evidence do they have? What was his pseudonym?”

In one of her posts, the young woman also asserted that her father remained steadfast in his defense and would not acknowledge, “under any circumstances,” any crime he was accused of “that was not duly verified.” Her plea, which was followed by another post addressed to the program Con Filo—unusually discreet in its coverage of Gil—was ignored. The former minister would be tried behind closed doors by the State Security Crimes Chamber in a court in Marianao , Havana, in two separate trials: one lasting four days, for espionage, and another, two weeks later, for “money laundering, continued falsification of public documents, illicit economic activities, continued illegal trafficking of national currency, foreign exchange, precious metals and stones, and smuggling.”

He was defended by lawyer Abel Solá, a prestigious jurist with experience in cases of crimes against state security, who will predictably have appealed the sentence.

He was defended by lawyer Abel Solá , a prestigious jurist with experience in cases of crimes against the security of the State, who will predictably have appealed the sentence.

It was the former minister’s sister, María Victoria Gil, who revealed that he was accused of spying for the United States, and that behind the purge was none other than the Prime Minister, Manuel Marrero.

Laura Gil has remained silent on all of this. She has only made one brief post since then. “My little princess is my whole world,” she wrote, referring to her three-year-old daughter. It remains to be seen whether she will dare to openly break with the regime that sheltered her family and that, like Saturn, ended up devouring them. The road to Damascus for the former minister’s daughter still seems long.

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Cuban Faces 2025: The 14 Faces That Marked the Pulse of Cuba in 2025

Each one, from their own place, has influenced the public conversation or embodied a profound dimension of this turbulent year

Here, then, are the unwitting or chosen protagonists of a tough and crucial year. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, December 24, 2025 — Every December, 14ymedio presents the faces that have stood out in Cuba during the year. Some reflect the face of power, others that of exhaustion or hope. Between blackouts, trials, hurricanes, viruses, and exoduses, the country hasn’t changed much, but the protagonists are different. This year, 2025, was, more than ever, a mosaic of crises and reinventions: politics showed its most cynical side; the eastern part of the island, devastated by Hurricane Melissa, revealed the country’s most vulnerable image; and on the margins of daily life, journalists, migrants, and athletes once again gave these months their own unique character

The 14 faces we present here defy easy categorization. There are officials who rose rapidly through the ranks, political prisoners whose resistance sustained many, and migrants who, even from afar, shape the island’s reality with their remittances, phone calls, and calls to action. Each, from their own unique position, has influenced the public discourse or embodied a profound dimension of this turbulent year.

These are faces that speak of decay—the deterioration of institutions, basic services, and family economies—but also of ingenuity and adaptability. Looking at them together is like peering into a snapshot of the country: some appear because of their exercise of power; others, because of the cost of confronting it. Some became visible by contributing to the crisis; others, by being victims of Cuba’s collapse.

Choosing them was not an act of sympathy or condemnation. Rather, it is about recognizing how these figures—diverse, contradictory, and distant from one another—decisively influenced the emotional and political climate of 2025.

Choosing them was not an act of sympathy or condemnation. Rather, it is about recognizing how these figures—diverse, contradictory, and distant from one another—decisively influenced the emotional and political climate of 2025. Among them are those who tried to maintain the framework of the State despite the evident erosion of its structures; those who paid for their dissent with imprisonment or forced exile; and those who made their way in sports, civic engagement, or social media.

2025 was the year of visible fractures: healthcare, electricity, food, and morale. It was also the year in which some voices managed to cut through the noise, from those who predicted endless blackouts to those who denounced abuses, including those who challenged the official narrative from exile or from a mobile phone. These faces, more than a list, form a map. Each one contributes a fragment of truth, a facet of the country that cannot be narrated from a single perspective.

Here, then, are the unwitting or chosen protagonists of a difficult and crucial year. Some will remain at the center of the stage in 2026; others will conclude their cycle this December. But all of them, without exception, leave an unmistakable mark on Cuba’s recent memory. Through them, the complete story can be told: the story of those who rule and the story of those who resist.

The 14 faces of 2025

1. Repressors returned to Cuba, Melody González

2. Exiled by the Cuban regime

3. Laura Gil, the daughter of the minister who demanded transparency in her father’s trial

4. Yosvani Rossell García, the body as a form of denunciation

5. José Jasán Nieves, the totí [blackbird] of economic chaos

6. Inés María Chapman, the engineer who wants to bring order to chaos

7. Marta Elena Feito, the minister who denied poverty and ended up being devoured by it

8. Lázaro Guerra Hernández, the man of the blackouts

9. Tania Velázquez Rodríguez, president of Etecsa during the ‘tarifazo’ (price hike)

10. The students, who rose up against Etecsa were defeated

11. Leyanis Pérez, queen of the triple jump

12. Juan Reinaldo Pérez, the man who deepened the crisis of Cuban baseball

13. Generation Z in Cuba, neither silent nor submissive

14. Óscar Pérez-Oliva Fraga, the power of the Castro lineage

Cuban Faces 2025: Juan Reinaldo Pérez, the Man Who Deepened the Crisis in Cuban Baseball

If good results have been scarce during the 53-year-old official’s tenure, promises have been plentiful

Juan Reinaldo Pérez Pardo has been incorporated into the organizational structure of Cuban state sports in two ways. / Vanguardia

14ymedio, Havana, December 29, 2025 — With a bit of luck and by chance, Juan Reinaldo Pérez Pardo found himself twice within the organizational structure of Cuban state sports. The man whose leadership of led Cuban baseball to its worst world ranking in history was appointed four years ago as head of the National Baseball Commission, following the death of Ernesto Reynoso from COVID-19. Months later he became president of the Cuban Baseball and Softball Federation (FCB), after the death of Higinio Vélez. This led him to assume two responsibilities that the National Institute of Sports, Physical Education and Recreation (INDER) had previously separated

Except for the fortuitous fourth-place finish achieved by the Cuban team in the last World Baseball Classic in 2023, the national team has suffered setbacks in the various international events in which it participated during the tenure of this official born in Villa Clara. In the Premier 12 tournament, which brings together the best teams in the world, Team Asere went from sixth place in 2015 to second-to-last place (11th), tied with Puerto Rico, in 2024.

The accumulation of bad results caused Cuba to drop to 12th place in the World Baseball Softball Confederation (WBSC) rankings in the middle of this year, the worst place showing for the Island since this system was invented in 2011, although in recent months it managed to gain some points to place itself in ninth place, only 41 points above eighth place, Panama, a place it has not been able to surpass in continue reading

the last two years.

He has unable to stem the the exodus of the country’s top talent, who seek a better life away from the island due to meager salaries.

At the local level, however, his mismanagement has been most evident. He has been unable to stem the exodus of the country’s top talent, who seek a better life away from the island due to the meager salaries (3,500 pesos for those playing in the National Series and 8,500 for those in the Elite League).

This year he has led to the country’s main sporting event, the National Series, being considered “the worst in history ,” a label that came not from an independent media outlet, but from public television on December 2nd. Almost during prime time, journalists from Tele Rebelde reviewed all the complications the season has faced, from thefts and teams not resting “because they didn’t have electricity the day before,” to umpires “not showing up,” players out “due to the virus,” and a lack of transportation, among other issues. At the end of the program, they said that “this has gone beyond what is acceptable” and issued a strong plea: “Baseball cannot be allowed to die in Cuba.”

While the 53-year-old official’s tenure has been marked by a scarcity of positive results, promises have been plentiful. Late last year, he outlined a four-year development program. He stated that the primary objective would be to reclaim the historical prominence Cuba once held in all levels of baseball. He also pledged to revitalize the talent development program, improve payment mechanisms for coaches and umpires, and implement a tiered salary structure for players. Furthermore, he maintained, priority would be given to developing talent at the youth levels.

However, those words came just months after he announced – for the second year in a row – the cancellation of the Under-23 Tournament . Pro-government journalists revealed at the time that in the country “there are several sports that cannot complete their competitions scheduled for the year due to logistical and budgetary difficulties.”

Official government journalists revealed at the time that in the country “there are several sports that cannot complete their competitions planned for the year due to logistical and budgetary difficulties”

A year earlier, in 2023 , neither the 9-10 year old national championship, the final stage of Baseball 5 nor the National Women’s Baseball Cup were held, and in addition the National Under-18 Championship, was left unfinished.

However, while these promising young players have been left without support, the president of the FCB will effectively control the careers of 16-year-old and Under-18 players by signing contracts. Just last December 8th, it was announced that the Federation will be the sole entity authorized to negotiate between these young prospects and foreign teams, which will bring up to $10 million into the state coffers to compensate for the athletes’ years of development.

Despite his shortcomings, he was reappointed to the position in April of this year. The criticism came from outsiders, but also from within the regime itself. Ernesto Amaya, a reporter for Radio Guamá and the Tele Pinar channel, said that Pérez Pardo’s “professional career has been marked by more missteps than achievements,” but that his reappointment “was not surprising” given the tendency to perpetuate lifetime appointments.

In a lengthy post, Amaya added that “the decision to reappoint Pérez Pardo reflects the lack of renewal and meritocracy in Cuban sports, as well as the complicity of those who voted for him.” He also said that “the reappointment is a reminder that, in Cuba, sports seem to be more linked to politics and personal connections than to merit and ability.”

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About 8,700 Cubans Have Died From Chikungunya or Dengue in the Current Epidemic

Data from the Cuban Observatory of Citizen Auditing contrasts with the official tally, which counts only 55 deaths

The authorities have not provided separate data on infections. / Granma

14ymedio, Madrid, December 29, 2025 — Mortality from arboviral diseases in Cuba has reached 8,700 people according to statistical estimates by the Cuban Observatory of Citizen Auditing (OCAC) and Cuba Siglo 21, published this Monday in a report on the collapse of the island’s health system. The report includes data up to mid-December and states that its figure is 185 times higher than the data from the Ministry of Public Health, which at that time had announced 47 deaths. With current figures (55), the unofficial total is 158 times higher than the official one.

The document is based on official data to carry out the calculation. According to the island’s health authorities, around 30% of the population has been infected, which amounts to 2.9 million people affected in a population of 9.7 million inhabitants, the official figure from the National Office of Statistics and Information (ONEI). The lethality of chikungunya is low under normal conditions, at around one death per 1,000 cases. In this situation, which OCAC calls “Scenario A,” 2,900 Cubans would have died. However, this would be the course of the epidemic in countries with good health care.

The report considers two other scenarios. One would be moderate lethality (Scenario B), which is considered the most likely for the island. This corresponds to a health system with limited clinical care, hospital saturation and a high prevalence of co-morbidities. In such contexts, mortality can range from 0.3% to 0.5%, which would mean between 8,700 and 14,500 deaths, depending on severity.

The moderate-lethality scenario is the one considered most likely for the island, which would have a health system with limited clinical care, hospital saturation and a high prevalence of comorbidities

Finally, there would be a case of high lethality (Scenario C), rare and affecting very vulnerable subgroups or collapsed systems, in which mortality would reach 1% or 29,000 people in a population like Cuba’s. “This scenario represents a limit of high epidemiological severity, which may indicate not only the intrinsic lethality of the virus but also the limitations of the health system’s ability to respond to a large-scale continue reading

epidemic,” the document specifies.

OCAC believes the island is in Scenario B, which could put the figure at 8,700 deaths with the more moderate lethality. Nevertheless, the report notes that even if Cuba were in better condition than presumed (Scenario A), there would still have been 2,900 deaths, which is 61 times higher than the 47 recognized by the Ministry of Public Health at that time.

However, one of the report’s inaccuracies is that it does not separate the two diseases that are, in principle, causing the mortality. The estimate that 30% of the population has been infected was offered by the director of Epidemiology, Francisco Durán, who at the time referred to “nonspecific febrile syndromes” and also did not differentiate the type of virus. In that television appearance, the doctor assured that there was no “new” disease circulating on the island, and that these cases were dengue and chikungunya.

Currently, according to official data, there are 37 deaths from complications of the latter and 18 from dengue, a much more lethal disease to which the same calculations cannot be applied. Since Durán did not provide the percentage of those infected by each disease, it is impossible to make a precise calculation.

Among the criticisms appearing in the report is this one: the lack of transparency. The report attributes to this the long delay in informing the population about the seriousness of an issue that social media and the independent press had been warning about since the summer. Patients multiplied in a perfect breeding ground: power outages that prevented protection against mosquitoes, breeding sites due to water accumulation, lack of garbage collection and the absence of an anti-vector campaign due to limitations in supplies and human resources.

The report emphasizes that the current health crisis is a direct consequence of poor “political decisions sustained over years that have systematically weakened the State’s capacity to protect the life and health of its population.” Among these, it cites underinvestment in health care (approximately 2% of State expenditures) compared to the enormous percentage of State money going to tourism (around 36%), which is managed by the military conglomerate GAESA.

Among the poor decisions, it cites underinvestment in health care (approximately 2%) compared to the enormous percentage of State money going to tourism (around 36%)

This situation has reduced medical staff to a minimum: between 2021 and 2024, the system lost a staggering 30,767 professionals. In addition, since 2019 there have been 7,144 fewer hospital beds. The report also includes data from BioCubaFarma’s report on medication shortages up to January 2025, which noted the absence of 255 of the 395 drugs the company supplies to the national system. Furthermore, authorities stated last week that the basic formulary is made up of 651 medications, of which 62% are produced domestically and the remaining 38% are imported. Of the latter, at least 60% are not available.

“For the Cuban Observatory of Citizen Auditing, the collapse of the health system constitutes a form of structural violence exercised from power. Keeping millions of people in conditions of malnutrition, health defenselessness and permanent exposure to epidemiological risks is not an accident, but the consequence of a model of governance that has ceased to prioritize basic human well-being,” the document states, adding that profound structural changes and an independent assessment of the situation are needed.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Is There Anyone [in Cuba!] Who Can Exchange Currency?

In the queue at the Cadeca in San José de las Lajas, people just want to collect their meagre pensions in pesos and no one is interested in the new floating dollar exchange rate.

“We are now in a state of tremendous confusion because many businesses are applying an intermediate exchange rate, between the one published by ‘El Toque’ and the state rate.” / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, San José de las Lajas (Mayabeque). 28 December 2025 — In San José de las Lajas, the new floating dollar exchange rate does not feel like a change, but rather like a number – 410 pesos – that is alien to the real life of the population.

In front of the municipality’s Cadeca [currency exchange], the morning is progressing slowly, with the sun beating down on the pavement and a line where almost no one talks about currency, even though the signs and figures are there for all to see.

Gisela arrived early to collect her mother’s pension. With the recent change in the exchange rate, she wondered if there would be longer lines and if the collection of checks would be separated from foreign currency exchange transactions. She asked the guard at the door and the answer was simple: everyone waiting is there for their retirement. The last to arrive is an elderly man in worn clothes, unhurried and with no intention of exchanging dollars.

“As far as I’m concerned, the government can set the dollar at whatever price it wants,” says the retiree, adjusting his cap emblazoned with the letters USA. “With my pension of 4,000 pesos, the most I can hope for is to eat for a week,” he explains, referring to a payment that is not even equivalent to $10, according to the official exchange rate. “Everything is more expensive on the street,” the man says, without raising his voice.

They want to compete with the informal market, but they don’t do that well either. / 14ymedio

The assistant pokes his head out from time to time and asks the usual question: “Is there anyone here to exchange currency?” No one responds. All morning, no one has stopped in front of the doorway with the intention of selling dollars. “They want to compete with the informal market, but they’re not doing that well either,” says Gisela, leaning against the wall. Her experience is not theoretical. “I signed up in February to buy $60 through the digital queue, and I’m still waiting. So it’s obvious that you have to sort out your dollars on the street.” continue reading

In San José de las Lajas, as in much of the country, you only need to open Facebook or Telegram to see that informal trading continues unabated. Ads appear one after another, rates change several times a day, and transactions are carried out without paperwork or blackboards. “If my brother sends me a few dollars, I’m not going to sell them to the government at a lower price than what others are offering me,” says Gisela. “You don’t have to be an economist,” she points out. For her, the new rate is just another chapter in a series of broken promises, too similar to those of the Tarea Ordenamiento (Ordering Task*).

“To make matters worse, we now have tremendous confusion because many businesses are using an intermediate exchange rate, between the one published by El Toque and the one used by the government, which means that now you have to do a lot of mental calculations to be able to pay directly with dollars or when selling them,” the woman tells 14ymedio.

“All we do is stand here praying that the cash doesn’t run out before we get to the window.” / 14ymedio

The line of pensioners moves slowly. There are no faces of relief, no optimistic comments. The weariness of those who live counting every penny is pervasive. Mario, a retired agricultural engineer, observes the board with irony. “This is a joke,” complains the man who spent most of his professional life in a Cuba “where the dollar was prohibited or frowned upon.” It was in the early 2000s that he first came into contact with the US currency, during a time when he worked in Venezuela and managed to save some money.

Mario doesn’t believe the measure announced by the Central Bank of Cuba will benefit most people. “That’s for a small group, not for ordinary people,” he says, leaning against his old bicycle. “All we do is stand here praying that the cash doesn’t run out before we get to the teller window.” Around him, several elderly people nod in agreement as they try to take advantage of the shade under the doorway.

*Translator’s note: The “Ordering Task” was a collection of measures that include eliminating the Cuban Convertible Peso (CUC), leaving the Cuban peso as the only national currency, raising prices, raising salaries (but not as much as prices), opening stores that take payment only in hard currency which must be in the form of specially issued pre-paid debit cards, and a broad range of other measures targeted to different elements of the Cuban economy.

Translated by GH

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Cuban Officials Propose Taking Advantage of the Shortage To Stop Eating Potatoes and Rice, Products Foreign to the National Culture

“We are not Asians, that is not a Cuban habit,” argues a Cuban official

On the program Cuadrando la Caja, they argued that in order to achieve food sovereignty, the best approach would be to change habits. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, December 26, 2025 — Thoroughly debunked, the cliché that the Chinese word for “crisis” means “opportunity” has been used by both politicians and motivational talk gurus, and this week national food officials have appealed to its spirit to call for a change in the Cuban diet. Seated with Marxlenin Pérez Valdés on her program Cuadrando la Caja, Roberto Caballero, a member of the National Executive Committee of Agricultural and Forestry Technicians, and José Carlos Cordobés, Director General of Industrial Policy at the Ministry of Food Industry, argued that to achieve food sovereignty the best course would be to change habits that clash with the reality of Cuban soils and to remove potatoes and rice from the regular diet.

“And once an Italian asked me, quite rightly: ‘Why do you spend so much money on potatoes when you have sweet potatoes, yucca, yams, malanga, and with the money you spend on potatoes they could flood the country with all those products?” said Caballero. The technician explained that potatoes have never adapted well to the territory, and although he did not give a reason – that potatoes thrive in temperate to cool climates, while the Island’s warm humidity favors pests – he specified the enormous investment that the country has made to plant them, keep them at suitable temperatures and curb the diseases that plague them.

It is an unprofitable product, he wanted to make clear, but he put it in such a way that host Pérez Valdés herself was taken aback, especially when he stressed that rice is not an easy food to grow in Cuba. “Roberto wants to take away even our rice! José Carlos, help me with this,” the presenter exclaimed in alarm when Caballero explained that this grain has been incorporated into the national culture, without being realistic. “We are not Asians, that is not a Cuban habit,” he stressed, before considering that, although it is already an established tradition, that too could change. “With the shortages that exist, anything you put out for people will sell,” he asserted.

That part of the conversation is what has generated the most ink among the population, although there were other, more interesting segments in the program, which dealt with the situation of food production. The officials reviewed the factors that have led to the current dire situation, while refraining from throwing continue reading

stones at the government. The energy situation, the passage of Hurricane Melissa, the shortage of inputs to produce and, of course, the US “blockade” were mentioned, but they also openly criticized a policy that has been widespread on the Island for decades: price caps.

“There are many things that could be solved but which have not been solved this year, and which in the long run will lead to totally insufficient levels of production”

“For farmers, production costs have skyrocketed enormously, which we then suddenly try to regulate by imposing price caps, and the only consequence is that they stop producing, because they cannot sell at a price lower than what it costs to produce,” said Cordobés, who also railed against the delays caused by bureaucratization.

“There is the whole problem of non-payments; there is the whole problem of delays in the procedures that farmers have to go through. In other words, there are many things that could be solved but which have not been solved this year and which in the long run lead to production levels that are totally insufficient,” he lamented.

Cordobés, however, also made some remarks that surprised viewers. “Today the country has an industrial infrastructure that, with a different dynamic in agriculture, improved financial flows for the country and the ability to import the raw materials needed, would allow industry to meet the demands of the population. I think that’s very important,” he said. In other words: if things worked properly in the country, there would be no problem. To put it bluntly.

The officials, satisfied that the industry “does not need investments but does not exploit them efficiently,” regretted that at present there is no foreign currency to import everything that would be needed, and they congratulated themselves because the “links” – the private enterprises – have contributed a lot and in a satisfactory way. “We should be closing at around 70,000 tons of product with those actors. Without them, we would not have incorporated that amount into our system. So somehow the industry has been able to take advantage of that scenario.”

“Well, I do organic farming. It’s less efficient, more expensive, but I sell the product at a higher price. So the person who has money eats healthy food and the others continue to be poisoned. I mean, that doesn’t fit in our system.”

Roberto Caballero has also analyzed Cuba’s conditions, with a tradition of small farms in most areas of agriculture – excepting sugar cane – for reasons which he attributed mainly to the climate and the saline soils. “There are those out there who have said that we cannot be self-sufficient in food, that Cuba doesn’t have the right conditions,” he noted, and he also admitted that in a globalized world, full sovereignty is not indispensable either, but that it is important to accept the circumstances of each country.

“The other day we were talking to some Koreans and they said that they practically don’t produce food. As they have many minerals and export a lot of technology, what they do with the money they earn is to buy food. Ah, okay, that’s a solution. But we don’t even consider that; it wouldn’t be valid for us, because they don’t have a blockade* and we do,” he emphasized.

The officials also spoke at length about sustainable agriculture and said that Cuba must strike a balance with this model because, while it is important, it may in some sense contradict the State’s principles of social justice. “For there this problem of the environment is very easily solved. Well, I do organic farming. It’s less efficient, more expensive, but I sell the product at a higher price. So the person who has money eats healthy food, while others continue to be poisoned. That doesn’t fit into our system,” they said. However, they do not deny that, in the long run, an improvement can be achieved.

The final segment was entirely devoted to theorizing about how to produce more, but, again, it all came down to the usual pie-in-the-sky story and how with foreign currency, exporting and generating income, things would get better. “It’s a big task we have for the year 2026, and things can be done in this scenario. Even with these complexities, things can be done,” they promised. One more year.

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Translator’s note: There is, in fact, no US ‘blockade’ on Cuba, but this continues to be the term the Cuban government prefers to apply to the ongoing US embargo. During the Cuban Missile Crisis the US ordered a Naval blockade (which it called a ‘quarantine’) on Cuba in 1962, between 22 October and 20 November of that year. The blockade was lifted when Russia agreed to remove its nuclear missiles from the Island. The embargo had been imposed earlier in February of the same year, and although modified from time to time, it is still in force.

Translated by Regina Anavy

Cuban Doctors in Angola Spend Christmas Without Pay and With No Date Set for Their Vacations

Cuban doctors in Angola spend Christmas without pay and with no date set for their vacations

Late payments, delayed flights and silence from Antex mark the end of the year for health workers and teachers on official missions in the African country.

14ymedio, Natalia López Moya, Havana, 25 December 2025 — Christmas once again finds hundreds of Cuban health professionals in Angola caught between family distance, job uncertainty and administrative silence. Hired by Antex, the state corporation that manages these official missions abroad, many doctors and teachers arrive at the end of December without having received their salary for this month and without minimum guarantees to organise a temporary return to the island. The scenario is not new, but it repeats itself with a regularity that erodes any institutional promise.

From Luanda, a Cuban doctor sums up present feelings among his colleagues: “This Christmas will be a little more painful.” In addition to being separated from their children, parents and partners, they cannot afford a dinner that is any different from their daily routine. “It is now usual for Antex to delay payments. Normally, salaries arrived around the 20th, but that’s just a memory now,” he complains, referring to the equivalent of $200 they should receive in Angola, while most of their salary is kept in a bank on the island.

Antex had announced that it would most likely only be able to pay half that amount, but as the days go by, the promise has been reduced to $50. “If that’s the case, they would have to guarantee us a New Year’s Eve dinner, at least, but I doubt they will,” says the doctor.

“If that’s the case, they would have to guarantee us a New Year’s Eve dinner, at least, but I doubt they will,” says the doctor.

In December, as in other months, payment has been delayed and questions remain unanswered: will there be a special end-of-year meal organised by the Cuban authorities, will the pattern of 2023 be repeated — when some went more than two months without being paid — or will we simply have to resign ourselves to another year-end in limbo?

This testimony coincides with other complaints received by 14ymedio in recent days, in which Cuban doctors in Angola report systematic delays in payments, unclear deductions and obstacles to accessing their statutory holidays. Not only does this situation persist, but it is worsening in a context of local inflation, rising food prices and declining purchasing power of wages.

Added to the economic uncertainty is the chronic delay in return trips for vacations in Cuba. Many professionals expected to return between August continue reading

and September, but that schedule was almost completely disrupted. “Antex has not even sent 10% of the teachers who should have travelled during that period,” explains the doctor. The domino effect is evident: mission time is accumulating, holidays for all staff are being postponed, and there are increasing numbers of colleagues who have been in Angola for 15 months with no clear return date. For some, the wait is even turning into a forced extension of their contract.

“There’s always a manager who manages to leave on the scheduled date,” he adds, adding to the perception of privilege.

The official explanation changes depending on the situation, according to those affected. When there are no TAAG Angola Airlines flights, the response is that there are no connections available and that chartering a flight would be too expensive. When there are flights, the argument is reversed: the airline has raised its prices and it would therefore be preferable to hire a charter flight. “But neither is true,” says the doctor. In practice, almost no one travels. “There’s always a manager who does leave on the scheduled date,” he adds, fueling the perception of privilege and arbitrariness.

The impact of these breaches goes beyond just economics. For many, the mission in Angola was presented as an opportunity to improve their income, help their families in Cuba and build up savings. However, wage arrears and travel restrictions have turned that expectation into frustration. Christmas, with its symbolic significance, accentuates the feeling of abandonment. With no money in hand and no certainty of return, even basic gestures—buying a gift, preparing a special meal, connecting with family—become difficult.

From a contractual point of view, professionals insist that the agreed conditions are not being met. Late payments, lack of information and “total silence”, as they describe it, contrast with the official rhetoric on international medical cooperation. Angola is one of the historical destinations for these missions and a significant source of income for the Cuban state, which acts as an intermediary and retains a substantial portion of the salaries. For workers, this intermediation should entail clear responsibilities: punctuality in payments, transparency and guarantees of rest.

Angola is one of the historical destinations for these missions and a significant source of income for the Cuban state.

The institutional response, however, remains elusive. There are no statements explaining the delays or public timetables for regularising salaries and flights. The lack of information fuels rumours and anxiety, especially on sensitive dates. “Will we not be able to have a New Year’s Eve dinner either?” some ask, no longer expecting a formal response.
In a context where medical missions are presented as one of the pillars of Cuban foreign policy, reports from Angola once again bring forward the human cost of the model. For professionals in Luanda, Christmas brings no respite: it arrives with unpaid bills, broken promises and the certainty that, once again, the the solutions are not keeping up wioth the problems

Translated by GH

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Due to a Lack of Teachers in Cuba, Recess Is Permanent at a School in San José De Las Lajas

Staff shortages turn afternoons into lost teaching hours at Camilo Cienfuegos Elementary School

A grandfather approaches on his bicycle and chats with his granddaughter. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, San José de las Lajas, 23 December 2025 –At four in the afternoon, the air on Avenida 40 is thick with smoke in front of the Camilo Cienfuegos Elementary School in San José de las Lajas. Under the dense shade of the flamboyant trees, parents gather in front of the fence that separates the street from the inner courtyard. They balance patience and frustration as they watch the children run haphazardly among loose stones, puddles, abandoned backpacks, and trees with roots protruding from the ground. It doesn’t seem like school time. There are no blackboards or notebooks, only impromptu races, wads of paper, games of hide-and-seek, and noise. Lots of noise

Among the parents stands Marlén, her son’s uniform folded over her arm, her face weary. “When he’s not covered in dirt, his shirt’s missing a button,” she says, her gaze fixed on the little boy playing at the edge of the fence. “They force him to come in the afternoon, supposedly because he has classes, but most of the time they spend those two hours playing in the playground, with no one to supervise them, much less teach them.” Since last year, her son hasn’t had a regular teacher. What used to be routine now seems like improvisation: a school without teaching, a schedule without content.

Since last year, her son hasn’t had a regular teacher. What used to be routine now seems like improvisation.

The surrounding scenes confirm it. A grandfather approaches on his bicycle and, through the fence, talks to his granddaughter, who shows him a crumpled folder. Further on, a mother leans against the metal fence and barely blinks as she watches her daughter run after a group that has turned the courtyard into a maze. Two children are throwing small stones, another is juggling a stick, and a teenager, her headscarf undone, kicks up dust with her shoes that are no longer so white. A few meters away, the only teaching assistant who should be keeping order is looking at her phone screen.

Through the fence, the old painting of the school mural can be seen, almost erased by the sun / 14ymedio

“Before, there were teachers in every classroom here,” recalls Marlén, who studied there in the 1990s. Now, every day is marked by absences: there’s a lack of teaching staff, a lack of teachers, a lack of classes. And, meanwhile, those children who should be learning their multiplication tables, spelling, or reading comprehension spend hours in the sun, during an extended recess continue reading

that no parent asked for.

The school celebrated its 70th anniversary this year. It received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the local government. But none of that changes the scene that repeats itself every afternoon: first-grade students with no activities, no proper supervision, and no security. The state institution, founded in 1956 as the Eliodoro García School, seems to be stuck in an indefinite limbo.

A few meters away, the only teaching assistant who should be in control is looking at the screen on her phone.

“In their eagerness to change everything and solve nothing, the government has even lost the educators,” says Marino, the grandfather of a fifth-grade student. He speaks while waiting, bicycle in hand, for the main gate to open. “My granddaughter has to come in the afternoons five days a week, and they don’t even give her physical education. If this continues, I won’t bring her after noon anymore.”

Many family members arrive before four o’clock. They line up in front of the metal fence waiting for the dismissal signal, which should theoretically come at 4:20. Although they can see and even talk to the children from the street, the gate remains locked. “They make the rules arbitrarily, because the Ministry of Education mandates it, even though not even the teachers agree,” Marino insists.

While they wait, street vendors appear with sweets and cookies. A mother takes the opportunity to briefly feed her daughter through the fence, who complains about the school lunch menu: “What they serve here isn’t even fit for pigs,” she says bluntly.

Her daughter’s teacher, she says, is 67 years old and by 11:00 in the morning “she can’t do any more”

At the far end of the courtyard rises the building’s facade: columns, open corridors, and peeling walls. The flag seems small compared to the magnitude of the problem. Where there should be books, there is disorder; where the dictation of a prayer should be heard, there are shouts. “They’re trying to cover the teaching with university students,” says Marisol, who now takes care of two nephews because her sister emigrated. “The few old teachers who are still left are teaching because they have no other choice.” Her daughter’s teacher, she says, is 67 years old and by 11:00 in the morning “she can’t go on anymore.”

Through the fence, the old paint of the school mural is visible, almost faded by the sun. “Every day they come with the story that the teachers are asking for the parents’ help,” Marisol sighs. “That means bringing brooms, floor mats, chalk, money for the Teacher’s Day party… everything.” But what weighs most heavily on her isn’t the list of supplies, but what she sees every afternoon from the street: “The children doing everything but studying. And in the end, there’s no one to complain to.”

When the gate finally opens, the parents are able to hug their children. The yard is left behind, full of dust kicked up by the running.

The state institution, founded in 1956 as the Eliodoro García school, seems trapped in an indefinite pause today / 14ymedio

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