Cuba is grappling with a crisis that feels like a scene out of a dystopian novel, where citizens like Yusely Perez are resorting to collecting firewood just to cook a meal. The recent nationwide blackout left around 10 million Cubans without power for several days, and the situation has been compounded by the destructive force of Hurricane Oscar, which wreaked havoc along the northeastern coast. For many, this energy crisis is not merely a temporary inconvenience; it has become the new normal.
Yusely’s story is not unique. With regular deliveries of liquified gas cannisters halted for two months, she and her husband scoured the streets for firewood. “We had to collect firewood wherever we found it on the street. Thankfully it was dry enough to cook with,” she said, as she prepared a meager meal of yucca chips in lukewarm oil. The desperation in her voice underscores a grim reality: two days without food can push a family to the brink.
At the heart of this energy debacle is a crumbling electrical infrastructure, which Cuba’s energy and mines minister Vicente de la O Levy attributes to the “brutal” US economic embargo. He argues that the embargo stifles Cuba’s ability to import essential parts for grid maintenance and secure fuel supplies. However, the US State Department counters that the issues stem from the Cuban government’s own mismanagement. This blame game does little to alleviate the suffering of everyday Cubans.
As the blackout extended into its fourth day, Havana plunged into darkness, with residents lighting their mobile phones to navigate the sweltering heat. Restaurant worker Victor voiced the frustrations of many, questioning the government’s priorities. “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. So why is our energy infrastructure collapsing?” His words resonate with a growing discontent that could easily boil over, especially given the memories of the protests from July 2021.
President Miguel Diaz-Canel’s warning against protests highlights the government’s awareness of the precarious situation. By donning the olive-green fatigues of the Cuban revolution, he sent a message that dissent wouldn’t be tolerated. Yet, the reality is that many Cubans are already living in a state of protest through their silence and suffering. The government’s decision to funnel resources into tourism instead of energy infrastructure has left citizens like Marbeyis Aguilera in a dire situation. Living in Aguacate, she has gone six days without power, relying on a makeshift charcoal stove to feed her children. “We have no choice but to cook like this or use firewood to provide something warm for the children,” she laments.
The energy crisis has exacerbated other pressing issues like food insecurity and water distribution. Marbeyis’s husband is idled, unable to work due to the power cuts, leaving the family in a precarious position. “First, electricity. Secondly, we need water. Food is running out,” she says, capturing the urgency of the situation. The sight of families cooking over open flames harkens back to an era long past, a stark reminder of the poverty that the Cuban revolution sought to eradicate.
As Hurricane Oscar adds another layer of devastation to an already precarious situation, the fear of future blackouts looms large. The energy infrastructure is in such a precarious state that Cubans are left wondering when the next crisis will strike. The resilience of the Cuban people is commendable, but the question remains: how long can they endure this cycle of neglect and despair? The need for substantial investment in energy infrastructure is clear, but whether the government will heed this call remains to be seen. The stakes are high, and the clock is ticking.
