Those who did not manage to board during the day are condemned to sleep in the facility.
14ymedio, Julio César Contreras, Cienfuegos, 17 August 2024 – It’s after 8pm in the only bus terminal in Cienfuegos and despite the fact that dozens of people are gathered at the departure gates or are sleeping on the benches in the waiting room, the route board is not displaying a single destination. Anyone who didn’t manage to travel during the day is condemned to sleep in the building, along with those who, on a waiting list, are trying to travel to other provinces of the country. Outside, the private taxis hawk their services but the waiting passengers don’t listen to – or don’t want to hear – the price they’d have to pay for an almendrón shared taxi ride.
On the second floor of the terminal, in the gloom, there are only two lights working, beneath which sits one of the few employees – with a pile of crumpled papers – who are still in the station at this time to keep a note of the names of passengers. The darkness attracts people who, being exhausted, resign themselves to sleep in the corners or on the benches. “I’ve been sleeping here for three nights, trying to get to Holguín”, Nereida tells 14ymedio – a health worker whose salary won’t stretch to a more expensive means of transport.
According to her, having options available but no money to pay for them is what keeps her tied to the terminal: “If you speak to the duty manager he’ll get you on the first bus that arrives but that conversation will cost you between 1,500 and 3,000 pesos, on top of what you’ll have to pay later to the driver”, she says.
Spending time in the way that she has until now in this terminal has not exactly been comfortable either. She and Ana, who lives with her four-year-old daughter in San Fernando de Camarones, Palmira, have decided to join forces to look after each other and each others’ luggage. The young mother has only spent one night in the terminal but the abandonment that she’s made to feel, especially having to carry her child around on piggyback, is very real.
“I have to visit my sick mother in Gibara and I don’t have anyone I can leave the child with. We have to stay in here until we can depart”, she says. Ana explains that it was impossible for her to book a ticket on the Viajando app because, “when there’s no capacity it doesn’t allow you to buy a ticket for a minor; or you find the connection with the server is down”, she complains.
“Its lucky that I brought a little bit of lunch and dinner for us. The only thing that they had in the cafeteria today was instant hot drinks and pasta with stale bread. To top it off, when I went past there at four o’clock in the afternoon it was already closed”, she adds with disgust. What’s on offer in the private shops opposite the station is also inaccessible for most of the travellers: the cheapest, a sandwich, is 150 pesos and a simple shared meal 1,000 pesos.
With her daughter asleep in her arms, Ana laments the poor state that the terminal is in, and that the authorities’ lack of concern, and necessity, have attracted a number of beggars, who are sleeping in the building long term. The semi-darkness doesn’t help the situation either, she says. “It doesn’t even matter if there’s a power cut, ’cos you can’t see anything anyway”, she adds sarcastically.
On a board with various crossings-out you can read the origin, destination and time of departure for all of the different bus routes to the municipalities of the province. “That board is just there for decoration, because almost none of the routes are operating and those that are don’t leave at the time advertised”, she says, pointing to the black notice board fixed to the wall. Apart from Havana and Santa Clara, it’s rare for a bus to have a daily departure to other destinations, so that the number of travellers can build up easily at any hour of the day.
“At this hour the terminal appears quieter, but the reality is that everyone is outside to escape the heat. As soon as a bus arrives it’s full in here”, she explains.
Inside the hall, a group of men, women and children who are sitting on the broken metal benches jump up like coil springs when they see a vehicle appear – and bring them back some hope. “Here there are people who are travelling to any municipality, like Cartagena or Abreus, but at this hour it’s unlikely that anything will arrive”, comments Nereida, noting that the 9.30 Lajas bus is “running late or won’t arrive at all”.
She explains that some time ago she gave up trying to get any information about the bus timetables. “No one’s able to give any information to anyone who is desperate to get home. Some employees even get shirty if you ask them for the schedule, or whether the bus you’re waiting for is operating”, she adds.
The poor level of hygiene in the toilets, the careless and unreliable treatment of passengers’ belongings – “they don’t even put labels on the suitcases”, she says – all make the whole travel experience a real ordeal. Nereida’s and Ana’s opinion, like every other passenger’s opinion of the level of service in the terminal, is solemn: “The only thing moving on wheels here… is the Inefficiency”
Translated by Ricardo Recluso
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