Cuba finds itself in the throes of an energy crisis that’s not just a fleeting inconvenience but a grim reality that millions are learning to navigate. Following a nationwide blackout that left approximately 10 million residents in the dark for days, the situation has been exacerbated by Hurricane Oscar’s destructive path along the northeastern coast. The dual blows have laid bare the fragility of the island’s energy infrastructure and raised urgent questions about the government’s priorities.
Yusely Perez’s struggle to find firewood in Havana speaks volumes about the desperation many are facing. With regular gas deliveries halted for two months, she resorted to scavenging for fuel to cook. The scene of families gathering around makeshift stoves, cooking with whatever they can find, paints a stark picture of a community grappling with a basic need—food. “We’ve gone two days without eating,” she lamented, encapsulating the dire conditions that have become all too familiar for many.
The Cuban government, represented by Energy and Mines Minister Vicente de la O Levy, pointed fingers at the U.S. economic embargo, claiming it hampers the ability to import necessary parts and fuel. However, this narrative doesn’t sit well with many Cubans who see the government’s mismanagement as a significant contributor to the crisis. The minister’s assurances of a quick return to normalcy were quickly undercut by yet another grid collapse, highlighting a system that feels increasingly unreliable.
Victor, a restaurant worker, isn’t shy about voicing his frustrations. He criticizes the government’s heavy investment in tourism at the expense of the energy sector. “They’ve built so many hotels in the past few years. Everyone knows that a hotel doesn’t cost a couple of bucks. It costs 300 or 400 million dollars,” he said, questioning the logic behind neglecting energy infrastructure while pouring funds into luxury accommodations for tourists.
President Miguel Diaz-Canel’s response to the growing discontent has been to issue warnings against protests, a strategy reminiscent of past crackdowns following the protests of July 2021. Yet, the simmering resentment among the populace cannot be easily quelled, especially as electricity generation has plummeted to alarming levels. Cuban economist Ricardo Torres highlights the gravity of the situation, noting that electricity generation has dipped to only 60-70% of national demand, a staggering 25% drop since 2019.
For many, like Marbeyis Aguilera, the blackout was just a brief glimpse into the daily reality of living without reliable power. Her village of Aguacate has been enduring power shortages since the pandemic began, and the current crisis only amplifies the struggles of daily life. “First, electricity. Secondly, we need water. Food is running out,” she states, laying bare the interconnected challenges that arise when energy is unreliable.
The image of families cooking over open flames is a haunting reminder of Cuba’s historical struggles under previous regimes. It’s a stark juxtaposition to the modernity that many hope for, yet find elusive. The sight of citizens resorting to firewood in the 21st century reflects not just a failure of infrastructure but a deeper societal issue that resonates with the echoes of Cuba’s past.
As the island grapples with the aftermath of Hurricane Oscar, the precarious state of its energy infrastructure looms large. With each blackout, the question of resource allocation becomes more pressing. Will the government continue to prioritize tourism over the basic needs of its citizens? Or will the current crisis force a reevaluation of what truly matters? The answers remain uncertain, but one thing is clear: the people of Cuba are tired of living in the shadows, and their patience is wearing thin.
