Amid prolonged power outages, record energy shortages, and an economy marked by uncertainty, a Cuban journalist succeeded, with humor and a chubby little pig, in giving a face to the daily reality of thousands of families.
From Nueva Gerona, in Isla de la Juventud, Yuliet Pérez Calaña, known on social media as Yuliet PC or "La Yuli de Cuba," introduced her followers to the animal that will become her family's New Year's Eve dinner, which—she explained—is much more than just a future main dish: it is a living symbol of the national economy.
In a video published on Facebook, Yuliet shows the pig, calm inside its pen and with a healthy build despite its young age.
The journalist remembered that she only celebrates two important dates each year: her birthday and December 31st. For that reason, come what may, she ensures that she always finds a way to secure the protein that will wrap up the calendar.
However, what truly distinguishes her pigs is not their size or diet, but the significance that she herself assigns to them. Each one is named after an economic concept that has marked recent stages in Cuba.
"You have already met MLC, and Inflation; last year you met Reordenamiento, and now I am going to introduce you to Floating Rate," he announced.
The new name ironically encapsulates the complex monetary situation the country is experiencing.
Yuliet calls the piglet, presents it in front of the camera, and explains that it is a bit dirty because it has just been moved, but she continues to emphasize its healthy appearance and its unique "presence."
With that everyday scene, the woman transforms a domestic act into a social commentary that many recognize as a creative way to narrate the economy from the backyard of the home.
This is not the first time she mixes humor, everyday life, and national context. A few days ago, she shared another anecdote that went viral, this time related to the blackouts affecting the country.
One night, after she put water on to heat for a bath, a power outage caught her off guard with her phone dead and the house completely in the dark. Her partner brought her a bucket of water that she thought was hot, and she proceeded to shower in complete darkness.
Although she came out "clean and smelling good," she noticed a strange sensation on her skin, which she initially attributed to a new lavender gel.
Only later, when the electricity returned and he went to the kitchen, did he discover that the water he had left heating was still intact. The bucket he used actually came from a pot where his mother had boiled the plantains intended for the fufú at dinner.
The story, told with humor, ended with a joke about the supposed "effects" of bathing in banana water and an ironic statement about starting off closed in 2026.
These domestic scenes take place in a very challenging national context for most of the population.
In that context, the story of "Tasa Flotante" and the dark bathrooms with fufú water become more than just simple anecdotes: they are portraits of a daily life marked by scarcity, ingenuity, and laughter as a mechanism of survival.
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