The passage of Hurricane Rafael through Artemisa and other western provinces fueled the desperation of Cubans where the ’11J’ protests broke out in 2021
14ymedio, Yankiel Gutierrez Faife, San Antonio de Los Baños, 8 December 2024 — The protest of 11 July 2021 is still fresh in the memory of San Antonio de los Baños, in the province of Artemisa. It was a desperate cry in the face of an accumulation of problems that still remain unresolved. The inhabitants of what was once the “Villa del Humor” – the title is no small thing in such a guarachero country – can now only list their sorrows.
Founded by emigrants from the Canary Islands, San Antonio was home to or exhibited the work of cartoonists such as Eduardo Abela and René de la Nuez. The Museo del Humor Gráfico, founded in 1948, a Biennial of Humor held since 1979, and the Escuela de Cine y Televisión, which still enjoys a certain prestige abroad, bear witness to better times.
Real life, however, is different. The 50,000 or so Ariguanabenses who still live there have ridiculed the old name and replaced it with a new one, Villa del Horror, more in keeping with the ruined buildings, the deserted streets and the mournful expression of its inhabitants.
Tania, a teacher from the village, has put together a brief chronology of the disaster: during the Special Period, conditions were very difficult, between blackouts and the cessation of nightlife and culture; from the year 2000 there was a truce; but after the pandemic we have “seen and experienced things like never before.”
These are not problems that the rest of Cuba is unaware of, but the passage of Hurricane Rafael through Artemisa and other western provinces has fueled the desperation of the people in the town. The cyclone ripped off roofs, left streets flooded and many facilities in disrepair. Many homes have hit rock bottom.
Delia, a 52-year-old housewife, knows this well. She sees a procession of neighbours carrying buckets of water from the Ariguanabo River every day. “Getting a water truck costs 2,500* pesos, and I don’t have the money to buy two trucks a week. So, when there’s no other option, I go to wash clothes in the river too,” she says, pointing to the series of wet clothes hanging from a clothesline in her yard.
Delia has been hunting for a gas cylinder for four months. She is on an endless list whose basic characteristic is always having more applicants than cylinders. There is the black market, where a tank costs around 32,000 pesos or – if the metal container is provided – around 12,000. “There are other alternatives that are just as bad for the pocket: oil and coal stoves. Getting one is, in addition to being expensive, an odyssey,” she says.
Delia’s father listens to the conversation. In the past, the woman liked to cook the old man’s favourite dishes without worrying about the cost of the food and its preparation. The father’s meager pension allows him to buy “some fuel.” “Sometimes I just can’t cook,” she exclaims, making sure that two neighbors passing by her door can hear her.
Her mornings have become a search for coal, which has become unaffordable. “At the La Salud store, my husband got it a little cheaper, but even so, 1,000 pesos is a lot when the rest of the food is also so expensive,” she confesses.
Luisa, a single mother of two, divides her time between looking after her family and looking for some gas to cook with. “Sometimes, when I feel cornered, I have had to turn to my neighbors to be able to prepare food for my children,” complains Luisa. “The neighbor has often given me some coal that they buy, and with that I have been able to cook when I don’t have time to get ahead and the electricity is cut off.”
“The sick need a special diet and the children need the right food for their growth and development. I can’t give them that,” she adds. “Sometimes I can only offer them rice with some broth because we can’t eat beans every day. I can barely find legumes, everything has gone up in price and I don’t have money to buy more,” she laments, while her children play in the street.
In the markets of San Antonio, the price of food has skyrocketed, reaching figures that some consider unthinkable. “Rice is 180 pesos per pound; beans are 300; a pound of malanga is 120; a pound of tomatoes is 1,000 pesos. A liter of milk is 150; sugar is 500. I can only buy the basics and sometimes I find myself in a tight spot,” says Luisa, who leaves her house with a small gas canister in a small cart.
As if the desperation were not enough, the long blackouts add insult to injury. “There are five hours without electricity and then five with electricity. During that time, life here stops. The shop assistants take their chairs out to the entrance and the bank workers go for a walk and chat in the park. People are out on the streets, but there is no joy, only frustration,” explains Jorge, a young man who used to work in commerce. Now he sits with his friends in any public space and, to mitigate the desolation, they tell jokes.
Like any town in Cuba, the migratory stampede is also part of the landscape.
“A sack of coal has come to cost up to 2,000 pesos and there are days when one of those trucks enters the town loaded with coal and, in just 30 minutes, everything is sold. This cannot be sustained,” says Pedro, 68 years old.
Like any town in Cuba, the migratory stampede is also part of the landscape. “My brother left for the United States six months ago and, although he tries to help us from there, the situation here gets worse every day,” says Ana, who, tired of waiting for the electricity to come on, sits outside the Credit and Commerce Bank – still closed – to see if she can get the 3,000 pesos that they allow tp be withdrawn.
Around Ana, several women comment on how things are still the same three years after the protests. Blackouts, misery, people who have left the country, families that have been divided in search of a better future. “People took to the streets because this is not the country we want,” says Dariana, a young student. As things stand in San Antonio de los Baños, another ’11J’ could happen tomorrow.
*Translator’s note: Minimum and average salaries in Cuba fluctuate and accurate current data is hard to come by. One set of reference numbers for 2024 is presented here.
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