Nothing that depends on internet access is guaranteed on the Island
14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Havana, February 28, 2026 – I walk to the corner of the rooftop, raise my arm, and lean forward. A signal bar appears on my phone screen. All the accumulated messages begin to appear, and just as many struggle to come in. The only sound is the hum of a nearby generator in a ministry. The neighborhood falls silent in the blackout, heavier and denser than the peace of the graves.
Nothing that depends on internet access is guaranteed in Cuba. Local mobile apps, which until a few years ago organized food deliveries, passenger transport, or contact with construction workers, are useless most of the time. Only in the early morning hours does web browsing seem to loosen up somewhat and flow, but who would think of ordering a pizza at four in the morning? What’s the point of hiring a plumber shortly after midnight?
There are neighborhoods and then there are neighborhoods. A relative who lives in Vedado tells me I can go to her house anytime to check my email. Hers is a privileged zone. There are hardly any blackouts because it’s connected to a “hospital circuit” that ran out of fuel a while ago to power its generators and must maintain the lights in the surrounding houses, even when all of Havana is in darkness. I do the math: about a forty-minute walk there, another forty minutes to get back. Almost an hour and a half just to download my emails.
Sometimes I miss the days of telegrams. When the postman’s booming voice called out a name in the tenement where I lived, we all knew it was something brief, quick, and probably urgent. People wrote short sentences, without prepositions or compound verbs. Every word cost money, and you couldn’t waste it on embellishments. “Aunt dead, funeral tomorrow”; “Born, eight pounds”; “No wedding, groom left”; or “Send money for the wake.” That’s how we found out about the most important things.
But now, no. Now there are memes to watch, emails loaded with multi-megabyte images sent from all over the world, Valentine’s Day cards that take minutes to download, audio recordings a friend made on the Madrid metro, taking his time, forgetting that we envy the speed at which smoke signals travel. There are reels, heated debates to follow on Facebook, discussions where everyone wants to have the last word, and videos, with faces practically glued to the lens, filmed inside cars parked outside enormous shopping malls in Miami or Tampa.
Anxiety is growing. We’re not aware, nor could we be. The so-called FOMO (fear of missing out ) has people in this city climbing water tanks to see if they can get a 4G signal and those blessed Facebook posts will finally load on their phones. It was one thing when we didn’t know what we were missing, and quite another now, when the abysmal telecommunications service robs us of the internet users we’ve become, that we have constructed through years of social media presence. More than a deficiency, this is an amputation.
An architect friend has arrived in Cuba after more than a decade living in Europe to bury her mother. Now she has to arrange for someone to care for her father, who has serious mobility issues and is almost 80 years old. But most of her contacts with possible candidates for the position, which she will pay in euros, are through mobile phones and WhatsApp. Having lost all experience dealing with Cuba’s slow internet speeds, my friend curses at her phone screen every time she dials and gets the recording that says “the number you are calling is switched off or out of coverage,” one of the many ways the state monopoly Etecsa masks its inefficiency.
The architect, who emigrated, has to finish and deliver a project she was asked to complete on the other side of the Atlantic. Her employers can’t seem to understand that, by boarding that plane to this island, she’s entered a kind of Faraday cage where communication is either unreliable or impossible. Her finished sketches are stuck in Havana, waiting for the longed-for bars of connectivity to appear on her phone. But my friend has lost the capacity to wait. She says that time is worthless here and that every minute that passes is money lost.
I can’t help her much. The Wi-Fi hotspot closest to our house no longer works. After the initial excitement surrounding these wireless parks, the arrival of mobile internet and the lack of maintenance have little by little shut them down. Mobile internet service began in December 2018, and we thought it was time to abandon the hard benches in public squares where the darkness and the threat of muggers forced us to keep one eye on the screen and the other constantly scanning our surroundings.
This Wednesday I visited several of those Wi-Fi hotspots. Some lost their antennas a while ago, and in others, the limited bandwidth has been absorbed by nearby residents who installed antennas that extend the wireless signal into their living rooms, collapsing the service for everyone else. However, the biggest problem now is getting the recharge cards that allow access to the Nauta portal with a username and password.
“Do you have Wi-Fi access cards?” I ask a telecommunications agent who, until recently, made a living selling mobile phone top-ups and other Etecsa services. “No, those haven’t been available for a while now, except that they’re selling them at some main offices,” he tells me. To offset the drop in sales, the man has set up a makeshift stand where he also sells soft drinks, beer, and cookies. If you can’t get online, at least have a drink and something to eat, seems to be the new motto of his tiny business.
At the Etecsa office on Obispo Street, they tell me they’ve run out of Wi-Fi cards. My relative from Vedado isn’t home so I can sit on her sofa and download my emails, so I decide to go back home. On the stairs, I run into my architect friend who is, quite literally, climbing the walls in despair. She hasn’t been able to check her LinkedIn account for over a week.
I go up to the rooftop. I put my phone in a corner and get to work in my little garden. An hour later, I hear a familiar sound. I’ve just received my first WhatsApp message of the day. Faraday, this time, I’ve beaten you.
______________________
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.