The gigantic China Import warehouse opens in Havana, for minimum purchases of 50 dollars and in national currency
14ymedio, Juan Diego Rodríguez/Olea Gallardo, Havana, 22 August 2024 — The new China Import store that opened just over a month ago at Manglar and Oquendo, very close to the Cuatro Caminos market in Havana, does not yet have many customers, but it soon will. Unlike the state shops, it offers everything, and in abundance; unlike the MSMEs or on the informal market, its prices are ridiculous.
Although the entrance sign says “wholesale selling” and offers its merchandise to retailers, it is open to the public. On one condition, however: you have to spend more than 50 dollars.
Inside the gigantic warehouse, which until a few years ago was part of the Sabatés soap factory – founded by two Spanish brothers, later sold to the multinational Procter & Gamble, nationalized after the triumph of the Revolution and, today, in ruins – the shelves are multiplying with all kinds of products, from clothing, footwear and perfumes to electronics and household items. In contrast to other large state spaces, such as those selling in freely convertible currency (MLC), let alone the dilapidated warehouses, there are few empty corners. Everything is clean and well lit.
The store, the clerk told 14ymedio on Wednesday, has its prices in foreign currency and accepts national currency, “at the exchange rate of the day,” as the signs under the products say, referring to the informal rate, currently around 320 pesos per dollar, and in no way in bills of less than 200 pesos .
They also accept electronic transfers in MLC, the employee explains, “but not today because we have connection problems.” It is not a “national private business,” she pointed out, but rather “a foreign investment business.” There were people with oriental faces around the place, presumably the owners.
Headphones, $2.00; progressive glasses, $1.00; sun glasses, $1.50; LED lights, $4.50; mobile chargers, $4; cell phone holders for vehicles, $1.80; rechargeable light bulbs for times of blackout, from $11.50; imitation perfumes, $3.00; bras and panties – on sale for having some stains – $1.00; socks, 50 cents. The buyer’s eyes are lost in the abundance of items, but not only is the minimum purchase dissuasive – the equivalent of 16,000 pesos, five times the average monthly salary – but buying wholesale is also mandatory.
Items are not sold separately but in batches that, as a rule, contain a dozen pieces. “This is for those who have a store or receive remittances,” complained a customer who visited the store for the first time, alerted by a cousin who saw the information “on the networks,” and who had to leave empty-handed. “I don’t even have 50 dollars, and I wouldn’t know where to put all that if I bought it.”
However, she was amazed at the prices: “Just Imagine, these same things on the street cost three and up to five times the prices here. These colognes cost me 2,500 pesos, and here they are at three dollars [960 pesos at the informal exchange rate]. I have seen the headphones at fairs at 5,000 pesos and the sneakers that here cost 16 dollars [just over 5,000 pesos] – you can’t find them for less than 17,000 pesos out there.”
The sneakers to which this Havana resident of the El Vedado district refers have brand labels, but they are clearly Chinese imitations, like all the merchandise. “They seem to be good quality, but you buy them and after two months have to throw them away because they fall apart.”
So far, no official media has mentioned the inauguration of the store, nor are there details about its owners. Chinese wholesale businesses had already been established on the Island but only online, such as Ninhao53 and Dofimall, a digital stationery store.
“You’ll see when all the resellers of Galiano or the El Curita park find out, then it will get bad, and this will have three-block lines like when there’s chicken for sale in the bodega [ration store],” said another buyer, a thirty-year-old from Central Havana. He did take a batch of magazines, some fly swatters, light bulbs and underwear of various colors and sizes – “to distribute to the family,” he said.
The young man, who has family in the US, commented mockingly: “This is a ’Chinese Costco’ but with worse quality.”
Another store that received the nickname “Costco” but “Cuban,” the Diplomarket, closed at the end of last June. Its owner, the Cuban-American Frank Cuspinera Medina, was arrested along with his wife, and their whereabouts are unknown to date. In that store, however, only payment in dollars was allowed, and there was no minimum purchase or wholesale, although they did sell Kirkland products, the “real” Costco brand.
Translated by Regina Anavy
____________
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.
