The energy crisis in Cuba is not only measured in hours of blackouts but also in interrupted lives, disrupted routines, and a growing emotional toll that spans the country from east to west.
In such a context, the testimonies of Cubans are gaining prominence as living documents of collective despair. Among them, the account of professor and playwright Irán Capote stands out, as he shared on social media his experience visiting his family in the town of El Jíbaro.
Disillusionment and governmental abandonment
Irán Capote traveled outside of Havana with the intention of sharing a joyful day with his loved ones in El Jíbaro, but the blackout, lasting over 26 hours, turned his visit into a story of forced resilience.
"I thought it would be one of those happy family days. I thought it would be one of those days when we catch up and laugh a little. I thought it would be one of those days when my brother cooks a crab feast with spicy sauce… But it wasn't."
Capote was stranded in the village, unable to recharge his electric scooter, in the midst of a community that often goes more than a day without electricity. His account gives a face to the crisis, from the perspective of someone who, even coming from the city, recognizes his own privilege as something relative.
"My mother stirs the coals with pieces of old rags to brew my coffee. My brother tells me he's going to cook something nice over the fire, but that there won't be any cold water. My neighbors ask me all the time: 'Kid… What’s it like over in the city?' And I reply, watching them sweat profusely while they swat away mosquitoes: 'A bit better, but it’s the same crap, the same filth, the same disappointment, the same governmental neglect.' And they widen their eyes at me."
Capote, using simple yet powerful imagery, describes the atmosphere of his hometown. "It's very sad to see the weariness of everyone in the neighborhood, with their refrigerators off, their food spoiled, without supplies, cooking with firewood and in terrible silence, with this unbearable heat."
The playwright recalls some evident contrasts on the island, especially considering the news from the official media.
Meanwhile, on the presidential runway, during fleeting 'helicopter' visits, a message of encouragement is conveyed, a message of misleading positivity: 'We will get through this by working'… And they take the flight to Moscow dressed in Gucci, perfumed with Chanel. And the press echoes this. And the law suppresses anyone who opposes or complains. And the press echoes this. And they take the flight to Rome dressed in Gucci, perfumed with Chanel. But they never take the flight to my neighborhood, they never camp out in backyards like my mother's. The mosquitoes are never scared away, they never throw out the meat that has gone bad in the refrigerator," he expressed.
From Matanzas they confirm: "We do not live, we barely survive, or we are in prolonged suffering."
In Matanzas, journalist Yirmara Torres Hernández also shared on her Facebook profile a sharp and painful perspective on how power outages have ceased to be exceptional events and have become the natural state of affairs.
"Now in Matanzas, we don't have blackouts anymore. There are no bright spots either. There are no scheduled outages or blocks. Let me explain: to have blackouts, you need to have electricity. If you never have it and it's provided only from Easter to St. John’s, I don’t know what to call that, but they aren’t blackouts," said Torres.
Her post, written after 17 hours without power, depicts a routine filled with improvisation, anxiety, and insomnia:
"We live waiting for scraps of electricity to cook, wash, or work. We rush to charge everything, but there's hardly any time, so we find ourselves drained as well. We neither work nor produce. We are a ghost town, moving like zombies. We don’t sleep, we don’t rest. That’s how we are, with no energy even to complain," he expressed.
The prolonged blackouts have left the Cuban people immersed in absolute apathy, silence, and resignation.
"We no longer care to know why there is no electricity. We are fed up with the deficit, the thermal power plants, and their breakdowns. We just want to know if there will be a solution one day or if we have to get used to living as if we were before the industrial revolution, if the future that awaits us involves more coal and firewood."
The Cuban journalist ironically remarks on how her neighbors no longer expect answers because they know the government's speeches by heart and are aware of who will always be blamed for what happens in the country.
"It's not for nothing. It's not that we feel anyone has the responsibility to respond. Nah, we aren't anyone's responsibility. No, the blackouts right now are only the fault of the blockade and ourselves. Nobody feels they owe us real explanations," he said.
"Surely soon we will see some statement where someone says that we must endure more and save. There’s always more we can do. I can only imagine they think that endurance is infinite. And the lack of electricity and shame as well. Everything is normal, normalized," he remarked.
Voices that cannot be ignored
The testimonies of Irán Capote and Yirmara Torres are two examples of the same affliction that affects millions of Cubans: the instability of the electrical service, the daily hardships, and the institutional silence in the face of a people who endure without energy, both literally and emotionally.
Both narratives, although different in style, coincide in denouncing how life in Cuba has been hijacked by the darkness and indifference of the government.
Frequently Asked Questions about the Energy Crisis in Cuba
How do prolonged blackouts affect daily life in Cuba?
The prolonged blackouts in Cuba severely disrupt daily life, affecting food refrigeration, the use of appliances, and the performance of basic activities. Families are forced to cook with firewood or charcoal and to struggle against heat and mosquitoes without fans. This situation creates significant emotional strain and hinders access to essential services such as education and work, especially in a context of widespread economic crisis.
What measures are Cubans taking to cope with the lack of electricity?
In the absence of electricity, Cubans turn to ingenuity to survive. Some solutions include the use of solar panels, motorcycle batteries, and clever homemade systems to generate electricity. Additionally, many families cook with firewood and charcoal, although access to these resources is also limited and expensive. Creativity has become an essential tool for coping with the energy crisis on the island.
What is the Cuban government's response to the current energy crisis?
The Cuban government has promised to stabilize the electricity supply, but so far it has not provided concrete answers or long-term solutions to the energy crisis. The authorities have inaugurated some solar parks, but the lack of fuel and the deterioration of thermal power plants continue to be significant obstacles. The population continues to suffer the consequences of blackouts with no visible solution on the horizon.
How is the energy crisis affecting families and children in Cuba?
The energy crisis severely affects families and children in Cuba, exposing them to inhumane living conditions. Prolonged blackouts force families to improvise for cooking and to shield themselves from the heat and mosquitoes. Children suffer from insomnia and constant bites, which impacts their health and well-being. This situation also emotionally affects parents, who must make daily sacrifices to care for their children amid precarious circumstances.
Filed under: