A Cuban doctor who lives and works on the island published a video on TikTok on June 25, 2026, showing the cost of weekly groceries during the ongoing economic crisis, with the dollar hovering around 700 Cuban pesos in the informal market.
The doctor, a mother of a little girl and a baby, recorded her trip to the market and summarized in less than a minute a reality that millions of Cubans face each week: "Unlike other countries where you do a big shopping for the whole month, here neither the money nor the products show up all on the same day, so I have to go out several times a month to find what becomes available.”
On the day of the recording, the rise of the dollar set the pace for prices. "The dollar has gone up again. It started the day hovering around 700 Cuban pesos, and when the dollar rises, almost all products follow suit," explained the doctor, who noted that this dynamic is "a blessing for those who receive dollars in some way, but a real headache for those who rely solely on a salary in pesos."
And she is precisely that: a health professional earning a salary in pesos. According to estimates, Cuban doctors earn between 5,060 and 8,000 pesos monthly, equivalent to between 10 and 16 dollars at the informal exchange rate. A single weekly purchase of basic food items can cost between 25,000 and 30,000 pesos, which is four to six times their entire monthly salary.
Food prices reflect an unrelenting spiral. Oil has reached 1,800 pesos per liter, a pound of tomatoes sells for 350 pesos —compared to the 60 it cost before—, a bunch of bananas went from 100 to 600 pesos, and a dozen eggs now costs 3,800 pesos. Chicken, in a four-pound package, ranges between 2,000 and 2,600 pesos.
That gap between income and expenses becomes even clearer when compared to the minimum estimated cost of living by independent economists: a person needs at least 96,060 pesos monthly to meet their basic needs, of which 70,070 pertains solely to food. The official minimum wage, which increased to 3,210 pesos in July 2026, barely covers 3% of that amount.
The currency distortion exacerbates everything. While the informal market quotes the dollar between 600 and 735 pesos, the Central Bank maintains an official rate of 24 pesos per dollar, a gap of more than 25 times that turns salaries in pesos into something almost symbolic.
Despite that context, the doctor summarizes her situation with a phrase that encapsulates the forced resilience of many Cubans: "With a girl, a baby, a house, and a kitchen that doesn't understand crises or excuses, one must keep finding solutions."
As the video came to a close, the doctor posed a question to her followers that sparked a debate: "Let me know in the comments how much this same purchase would cost in your country, because hearing that the dollar is at 700 pesos is one thing, but seeing it reflected in every meal that arrives at the table is something else entirely."
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