“Someone Said That There Would Be Gas for Everyone, and There Isn’t Any”: Indignation in the Line for Propane in Matanzas

“The same person decided 20 years ago that everything should be electric, and look how that’s going” with the Energy Revolution

The sale of gas in Matanzas. / 14ymedio

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Pablo Padilla Cruz, Matanzas, 9 September 2025 — It didn’t matter what time the gas truck arrived. Before the sun came up, Aimé and her son quickly lowered their propane tank from the 11th floor of the building where they live, hoping to reach their turn at the Peñas Altas depot. The population had not received fuel for three months, and families had to resort to makeshift strategies such as cooking in the early hours of the morning to take advantage of the electricity rotation or by using charcoal, with its health and taste problems. Finally, the propane returned this week, but the calm was short-lived.

“This situation is terrible,” says Aimé, a retiree in Matanzas. “One day you-know-who decided that everything should be electric, and look how that’s going” she recalls about Fidel Castro’s 20-year commitment to what he then called the Energy Revolution. “And another day he said that there would no problem getting gas for the population, and a couple of years later there is no gas, even though the Chinese and other companies are exploiting oil and gas just a few kilometers from here.”

The search for fuel has become an ordeal. The digital application Ticket, which organizes the sale of propane and fuel, “has not stopped sending me warning messages that it is now available, but one thing is the app and another is what happens on the ground,” explains Aimé. “A worker from Cupet told me in June, when the gas shipment stopped, that there was some, but they took it to other provinces and left us stranded, until today.”

Aimé had to wait for three hours before the truck made its entrance

The Peñas Altas collection and storage center became a scene of long waits. Aimé had to wait for three hours before the truck made its entrance. Along with her, some 200 people were waiting their turn, including 50 in the “disabled” line, designed for those who have physical difficulties or special needs.

Among the most difficult cases is Norelis, a resident of one of the buildings near the depot, whose mother, over 80 years old, lies in bed after breaking her hip. “I have been cooking with charcoal since April in the hallway of the building. The neighbors sometimes sit down to watch me cook in the style of Masterchef,” she comments, with irony and exhaustion.

“No one who is not in my situation can calculate how frustrating it is to have a sick family member these days. Now look: there are only ten tanks for special cases, and I was chasing Public Health and its committees for two months because they are the ones who give the approval to receive gas this way. I appear on the list but do not fit among the ten, so I missed the day here. The neighbors will continue to enjoy Masterchef in the hallway.”

There are two mechanisms for the care of vulnerable persons: one for special cases supervised by social workers and another for confined persons under public health regulations. “In theory it’s fine, but here we all know each other, and we know that the easiest thing is to give a gift [bribe] to someone who keeps the list. Automatically your name becomes the first, either here at the distribution center or with the social worker,” confesses a neighbor, unconvinced by the fragile legality of the processes and the discretion with which the lists are handled.

“Although the local authority announces that there will be a weekly supply, the uncertainty is constant”

The distribution in the depot is limited. On this day, 150 tanks were unloaded plus 10 intended for special cases. Andrés, who is retired and until recently earned some extra pesos as a messenger, was in the row with the number 2,545, while the distribution advanced barely to 2,190. “At this rate, three times more tanks have to come so that I get what I deserve. I’m afraid there will be trouble before my turn comes, in the meantime I’ll have to figure it out with the help of my children or do some work carrying gas to neighbors who contact me,” he says.

Although the local authority announces that there will be a weekly supply, the uncertainty is constant. Neighbors know that the situation changes from one day to the next and almost always for the worse. Maybe on Saturday or next Monday they can supply the area; maybe Norelis’ charcoal cooking show ends early; maybe Andrés will find another way to advance his shift. However, even those who manage the lists cannot confirm this with certainty.

Meanwhile, the neighborhood of Matanzas remains trapped in an endless wait, where every gas truck becomes an event and every available tank a treasure. The combination of unfulfilled promises, unreliable digital applications and local favoritism leaves many residents in a situation of vulnerability that, for some, now goes on for months.

Translated by Regina Anavy
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