Tag Archives: traveling to cuba

Havana Update/Emergency Aid for Cuba

Hello from Havana everyone. If you haven’t heard the news of Cuba going dark and then getting Oscarized, cue my envy: what we are living here is duro, and more difficult still due to the world’s longest, strongest sanctions (a friend calls it ‘the slow Gaza’), decimated support systems (no one is immune to emigration and loss), and the hate emanating from here, there and everywhere zooming around the Internet.

Anyone who is not on the ground cannot know what we are going through, so here’s a quick summary, followed by ideas of what you can do to help during different stages of the recovery process.

Why the italics? For you newbies, I’ve lived and worked in Havana for 22 years as a journalist and volunteered in the Cuban campo in August 1993: I tasted the ‘special’ in Special Period. I’ve reported through many hurricanes here, and accompanied Cuba’s Henry Reeve medical team in post-earthquake Pakistan (2005) and Haiti (2010). I lived through 9-11 in my hometown. I know what disaster looks, feels and smells like. When the national electrical grid crashed last Friday morning, and several times again after that, we were plunged into disaster.

The first 72 hours of any disaster are critical. It depends on the type and scale obviously, but some disasters give you warning – like hurricanes. Others – earthquakes for instance – hit suddenly and hard, like an anarchist’s brick through a Starbucks window. This was the latter. There’s little anyone outside can do to help in these first days, especially on an island – unless you’re like, Joe Biden. Oh wait! [Duuuuuuude. Where is your humanity?]  

We’ve been having scheduled (and not) blackouts for a couple of years now. The city is divided into sections called bloques;  the electric company publicizes the weekly schedule widely. Before Friday, Havana was typically without lights 5 hours a day, a couple, three times a week. We managed and adjusted our washing, charging, cooking, reading, whatever-takes-electricity schedules and maintained families, businesses, sanity (or tried to).

This was different. This was the entire island for days. Some longer, some shorter (and as I write this, some places are still without). Every single electronic apparatus ground to a halt, lost its charge or waited for a generator to kick in. For days in Havana, no water was being pumped and there was no refrigeration – in a tropical metropolis with a violent trash collection (and creation) problem. As food rotted beyond redemption, it was thrown out. And it kept piling on and piling on. We have a friend who was horribly sick with dengue when the country shut down. She lives on the 10th floor. She had no water except what we hauled up those 10 flights. I wondered aloud how many people had been stuck in elevators when the grid collapsed? Cuban friends shared Special Period horror stories.

We switched into disaster response mode: the able-bodied hauled buckets of water from cisterns, others collected rain to bathe and flush. We treated drinking water and brought it to friends, whether we had to bike or walk or hoof up 10 flights of stairs. With our cell phones dead and no connection, we relied on landlines. Remember those? Handy during the attack on the Twin Towers, handy this past weekend. We kept fridges shut, cooking furiously when the food was just about to go bad and only opening big freezers to safeguard neighbors’ meat. Assuring water and food and attending the most vulnerable: this is what the first hours of a disaster are about.

After 72 hours, the situation looks different. Generators have run out of gas, perishable food is toast, nerves are frayed and frustration high. And that’s when Hurricane Oscar hit the eastern part of the country. Disaster heaped upon disaster.

As a starting point for this ‘what can I do?’ conversation, I ask you to consider the following. Can you send your family or friends a generator, food, or phone chargers? Yes. How about solar panels and glucometers? Those too. This will help your immediate circle and those they choose to help (if they choose to help). But what about everyone else? To paraphrase the Cuban Ambassador to the US: most Cuban families don’t have this option. What about them? Thinking about the whole, together with your personal loved ones, is critical right now – Cuba, and Havana especially, are experiencing rapacious individualism of unprecedented proportions.  

Vamos al grano: here is how you can help in the next weeks/months both in the macro and the micro:

MACRO  

 – What’s the best nation? DO-nation: You can’t save the electrical grid, collect the garbage or rebuild the bridge that collapsed in Guantanamo. Contact your nearest Cuban embassy or consulate to make monetary donations to the emergency fund or to organize large donations and shipments.

Leave it to the pros: Many organizations, foundations and projects have been supporting Cuba for years, in good times and bad. They already have the necessary paperwork, connections, shipping partners, experience and, in the case of USA-based entities, legal ability to make large donations, now. This includes Let Cuba Live, which launched an emergency fundraising campaign this week, Global Links, MEDICC, and Global Health Partners in the health sector, and Hope for Cuba in the education sector and for general humanitarian aid.

Take to the streets/Internet to change inhumane US Policy: US sanctions are killing Cubans, encouraging people to emigrate, destroying families, and causing trauma. Plus, they’ve shown they don’t work. Biden has 90 days to make good on his campaign promises (grrrr) to revert to Obama-era policies – he can achieve this with the stroke of a pen.

MICRO

The mental health toll is real: Call or write your loved ones to let them know you care. Don’t ask what they need, offer to fix what you can’t or expect a rapid response – this is all a burden in a traumatic, post-disaster situation. Just call and listen. Accompany.

Send supplies: Every family can use something and donation packages can be purchased via any online retailer and sent via Crowley shipping direct to recipient’s door. They have different options, but donations cost $1.99/lb, plus a small handling charge and a minimum customs charge in pesos cubanos, paid by the recipient. There are a minimum of 4 sailings a month. This is an efficient, professional service with over 20 years’ experience. Tip: don’t ship what you think your friends or family need, ask first. They know best. For instance, a generator is typically less useful than an inverter (one takes gasoline, the other runs off a moto/car/truck battery).

Bring supplies: Individual travelers can bring items for their friends and family, as long as they do not run afoul of Cuban customs regulations. All customs duties are waived for people coming in with food and medicine until the end of the year.

Cuba Libro has been administering targeted donation programs since 2014. We maintain a list of the most-needed ‘regular’ crisis items, updated regularly with our community and counterparts, on our website. With the grid failure and hurricane double whammy, we’ve also created an Amazon list for those items most needed during this super crisis.

Send food, medicines and more to individuals: Since pandemic lockdowns, several reliable e-tailers deliver food, medicines and more direct to homes across the country. These are the ones we have used:

Travel to Cuba: You’ve been here or you’ve dreamt of coming. Now is the time. We will mutually lift each other’s spirits. Laugh and joke (one going around right now is ‘at least in the Special Period we had milordo. Now we’re without sugar AND water!’) and connect as humans. Don’t believe what you read on the Internet, experience it in the flesh, while helping a person, a family, a barrio, a country, to feel more whole.

Cuba Libro volunteer prepares donation for Guantanamo hurricane victims

Compost: This is for everyone reading this on the ground and for those visiting who can convince their friends what a big, immediate impact this can have for us here. A typical Cuban home generates about 75% organic waste, 100% of which goes into dumpsters, improvised garbage piles and landfill. It is heavy and creates methane. It overflows our bins and creates rivers of garbage and more work for the already over-worked. If even a fraction of households and restaurants started composting, we could reduce waste, improve health and hygiene, and create super enriched soil at the same time. It isn’t a resource barrier that keeps people from composting, it’s cultural. Here are over a dozen different DIY compost bins, some of which are perfect for our context.

Will write more soon.

Sending everyone much love from Havana where the lights are on (fingers crossed), garbage is being bulldozed into open trucks and taken away, and we’ve finally been able to shower. Basically, we are doing whatever we can to return to some sort of normalcy (and not go mad trying).

[Disclosure: I’ve received no compensation whatsoever for products recommended in the links here]  

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Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban economy, health system, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba, Uncategorized

Let Us Pray

[tweetmeme source=”connergo” only_single=false] I ventured once again outside my comfort zone yesterday here in Havana: I went to mass. It was as oppressive (and let’s be frank – hypocritical) as I remember from Jesuit high school (see note 1), although this one was presided over by the big Catholic kahuna himself, Pope Benedict XVI. It was also mercifully short.

While I’m sure you’re oversaturated with ‘The Pope in Cuba’ news up your way, one of the indelible lessons I’ve learned in my 10 years of island residency is that the picture you get of here from there – especially when refracted through the lense of reporters sent to cover such an event – does not accurately reflect what we’re experiencing on the ground. It’s not only that every media outlet from The Militant to FoxNews has an agenda. The view is skewed also because Cuba newbies rarely grasp the complexities of our context (see note 2), nor the attendant history influencing those complexities. You don’t get this perspective unless you’ve been around and stick around and only if you speak Spanish – even a translator is no guarantee (see note 3).

So let me tell you about the mass I attended yesterday under a blazing sun, delivered by a frog-like man in a funny hat.

What folks are saying: One of the pervasive myths about Cubans is that they’re afraid to speak their minds or offer opinions, and that self-censorship is rampant. While it’s undeniable that people keep their heads far below the parapet in the workplace and have the tendency to adjust responses to what they think people want to hear, I’ve always found Cubans to be fiercely opinionated – once you get to know them. Or more to the point: once they get to know you.

The Pope’s visit confirmed this impression.

“I’m so sick of this Pope.”

“Wasn’t he a Fascist?”

“I’ll come by your house once The Almighty Pope leaves and things calm down.”

“Son of a b@&*h! The Pope took our Internet.” (see note 4)

“Faith, hope, and peace: that’s what it’s all about.”

Rocking our rum-pork-party holy trinity: Another element piquing my interest was how Cubans approached this whole Papal visit. Essentially, yesterday felt much like hurricane preparation and landfall: people laid in stores and stayed home watching events unfold on TV, with some chicharrones and a bottle of rum close at hand. Except – and this was a rude awakening for several of my unprepared friends – authorities instituted a booze ban the evening before, which lasted until the Pope Mobile and its cargo were safely at the airport. So those who didn’t lay in the ron were homebound with pork, friends, and family, but no curda. In my decade here, I only recall a few alcohol-free events: election days are always dry and if I’m not mistaken, they did the same during the Non-Aligned Summit here in 2006. Let me tell you: no rum makes Havana kinda grumpy.

Revenue coup: The cleverness of Cuba never ceases to amaze me and yesterday didn’t disappoint once I saw the huge numbers of tourists in the Plaza for mass. My first clue was the distinguished older gentleman of means dressed in khakis, a pink Oxford, and penny loafers, with not a gin and tonic in sight; clearly not one of us. I started looking closely at the crowd and their clothes and distinguishing different accents. Nicaragua, Argentina, Chile, Panama, the DR, USA, PR, Mexico, Venezuela – flags from all across Latin America snapped in the wind whipping across the Plaza and I realized that aside from the pride and so-called “soft power” the Papal visit signified, it also represented a hugely-needed and greatly-appreciated influx of tourist cash. There wasn’t a hotel room to be found; paladares overflowed; extra charter flights were added from Florida. And all Habaneros (save for cops and docs), were given a paid day off. This is the type of devotion we could use more of and we thank you for supporting the cause.

The US matters less: After Juan Pablo II’s visit in 1998, Bill Clinton’s White House issued a press release announcing new policies ostensibly resulting from this historic trip. Most importantly, the release approved people-to-people visits in order to foment “regime change” and “promote a peaceful transition to democracy” – concepts mentioned no fewer than six times in the short document. Blatantly threatening the national sovereignty of an independent and peaceful country thusly is absurd enough, but that Obama maintains precisely the same policies and parrots exactly the same rhetoric 14 years later – that’s just loco. While the US is embarrassingly and unjustly static in its policy, the world and importantly, Cuba has changed, is changing still. Raúl is a different bird from his brother and that manifests itself in many ways, including less of the ping pong policy-making that based decisions on what the bully to the North was doing. That’s how it looks publically anyway.

holy jama!


As anti-climactic as the Immaculate Conception: I’m sure you’ve already divined that the religious importance of having his Holiness here held no interest for me and in this I’m not alone: I’ve never seen an event so thinly attended in the iconic Plaza de la Revolución in my 10 years here. In fact, we strolled into the central area just a few moments before the 9:30 mass kicked off and were going against the current of people streaming away from the square. “I came and took the pictures I wanted; I’m going home,” a friend I ran into said. The curiosity seekers and thin crowds were surprising but make sense: as a whole, Cubans just aren’t that church-y. Religious and faith-bound, yes, but that’s different from kneeling before a man in a dress and goofy hat while he proselytizes a doctrine peppered with sins bound to doom your mortal soul. Cubans just aren’t down with that, but they do love a spectacle: one of my favorite moments was when a women who wanted to taste the host tried to fake her way through the motions while the priest held the wafer aloft. When he caught on, he patted her on the head and returned the host to his jaba. Though the Pope himself failed to inspire, Cubans never do.

Notes

1. This, Fidel and I have in common, except those same Jesuits expelled me my junior year (another story entirely!)

2. A simple example: journalists arrive here and compose some flaccid or purply prose (even leading with it occasionally, dios mío) about all the old cars rumbling about. For those of us with continuity here, that’s ‘dog bites man.’ The more compelling, ‘man bites dog’ story is the unbelievable amount of new cars on the road and what that means for traffic, transport options, pollution, etc.

3. The press conference by Foreign Minister Bruno Rodriguez upon the Pope’s arrival is case in point: his response to an English-speaking reporter about “freedom of consciousness” was elegant and sweeping in the original Spanish, mangled and less inspired in English.

4. Cuba has limited bandwidth due to the US embargo-cum-blockade which prohibits the island from connecting to underwater cables running nearby. Instead, the connection for the entire island is provided by a sole, slow Italian satellite. This bandwidth was prioritized for visiting press so they could report live from Cuba. It’s back now, thankfully, obviously.

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Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban customs, Cuban idiosyncracies, Cuban Revolution, Expat life, Fidel Castro, Living Abroad, Raul Castro, Travel to Cuba