Private businesses charge different prices for the same product, and customers visit several stores before deciding what to buy.
14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Matanzas, July 8, 2026 – “Last week I bought bologna right here for 550 pesos. Today they’re selling it for 680, and by the time I come back it’ll probably be over 700,” complains Silvia, without taking her eyes off the refrigerator where the cold cuts are displayed. Cubans had grown accustomed to the price caps imposed in 2024 on six essential products, and now they are watching in astonishment as prices fluctuate in a way more typical of runaway inflation than of a free market.
With 500 pesos more than usual in her purse, Silvia left her home in Pueblo Nuevo (Matanzas) this Tuesday determined to face another day of shopping. It was not optimism that drove her, but caution. “Prices have gotten completely out of control now that everyone is allowed to set their own rules. Every time they impose or remove a measure, the people are the ones who lose, even though the speeches say otherwise,” she laments.
The first stop in her search for the best price before it changed was a neighborhood store whose shelves were well stocked with cookies, canned goods, personal hygiene products, and beverages. However, the small handwritten price tags displayed figures that seemed to have changed only hours earlier. Behind the counter, a young sales clerk waited for customers while a long row of packages of hot dogs hung beside the candy and detergents.
The routine is repeated in many neighborhoods across Matanzas: the customer asks the price, pauses, does the math mentally, and, more often than not, continues on to the next store
After leaving without buying anything, Silvia enters another small shop just across the street. From the sidewalk, a simple counter can be seen, several cartons of eggs stacked by the entrance, and shelves filled with imported products. The routine repeats itself over and over again in many Matanzas neighborhoods: the customer asks, hears the price, pauses, calculates mentally, and often keeps walking to the next business.
“The problem is that every product goes up by 50 or 100 pesos, and when you add it all up, you end up having to choose between half a carton of eggs or three pounds of rice. Nobody can live like this,” Silvia says as she puts the money back into her purse.
The prices of refrigerated meat products remain relatively stable in stores that are still suffering the full impact of the blackouts and do not have solar panels or generators. The need to sell goods quickly before they spoil sometimes forces businesses to limit price increases.
“I just bought a package of hot dogs for 680 pesos. The store next door had them for 640, but according to the clerk they’d been without electricity for more than 48 hours,” says Ignacio after leaving a private business where only a single fan powered by a small battery was operating. For weeks now, he admits, before asking about a product he first checks whether the store has its lights on. “That already tells you a lot about how they’re probably handling their merchandise.”
For this Matanzas resident, blaming entrepreneurs alone for the latest wave of price hikes oversimplifies a much more complex reality. “Customers only see that a liter of cooking oil cost 1,300 pesos yesterday and 1,500 today. But we don’t know how much it costs the store owner to put that bottle on the shelf, with blackouts, expensive transportation, scarce fuel, and a dollar that just keeps rising,” he reflects.
Ignacio does not completely absolve the private sector either. He believes some merchants are taking advantage of the new environment to increase their profit margins, but insists that this is only part of the problem. “The Government is the main source of losses for private businesses, directly or indirectly. Even if many entrepreneurs wanted to keep competitive prices, they’d end up going bankrupt.”
“It’s hard for me to understand how a package of cookies can have different prices within just a few days”
The removal of price caps on the six products previously protected—hot dogs, powdered milk, pasta, and cooking oil—has spread to the rest of the market, causing prices to rise even for products that had never been subject to government price controls, such as beverages, cookies, candy, and other everyday consumer goods.
“It’s hard for me to understand how a package of cookies can have different prices within just a few days,” says Damaris outside a kiosk on Calzada de Tirry, illustrating how unfamiliar ordinary Cubans are with the laws of supply and demand. From the window protected by heavy bars, she looks at the well-stocked shelves, but also at the constantly changing price tags. “I live next door to a private business, and I see everything continuing to go up, even when no new merchandise has arrived. I think some private business owners are contributing to this disorder in some way because they’re afraid of losing their investments.”
Her six-year-old daughter had asked for a package of sweet cookies before they left home. Damaris looks at the price again, sighs, and decides to leave them for another day.
“I have to stretch the food as much as possible and save the little piece of meat or the egg for my daughter,” she confesses. “It breaks my heart when she asks for some little treat and I can’t give it to her. With this unstoppable inflation, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I can’t even remember the last time I drank a cola because buying one means not having enough money left for something more important.”
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.