A video about the artisanal salt harvest in Ciego de Ávila sparked a debate on social media regarding one of the paradoxes that most outrages Cubans: the scarcity of salt on an island surrounded by the sea.
The Cuban content creator Thalia Moreno Izquierdo (@thalia.iz) posted on Instagram images of the traditional salt harvesting process in La Marcelina, a coastal area in Bolivia, located in the municipality of Ciego de Ávila.
The images show how, taking advantage of the drought and low tide, crystallized salt is collected from the evaporation of seawater, using no machinery and employing rudimentary methods that include transportation by ox-drawn cart.
"The salt in the Cuban way, on a small scale, without machinery or technology, from the hands of our parents and grandparents who keep the tradition alive through the years," the young woman explained while presenting the video.
The process involves using the sun and wind to evaporate the water accumulated in natural salt flats near the coast. Once crystallized, the salt is collected, dried, and subsequently ground for use.
The post received over 8,000 "likes" and garnered hundreds of comments, many of which focused not so much on the tradition displayed but on the scarcity that Cuban households are experiencing.
"I’m watching this with no salt in the house," commented a user.
Another internet user was more explicit: "What salt? If in Cuba, an island surrounded by saltwater, there is no salt."
The irony also emerged among the reactions: "The height of absurdity for an island surrounded by sea and there’s no salt; you have to go to the sea in an ox cart [...] to collect a little salt mixed with sand."
The contradiction pointed out by users has recent precedents. In March 2025, nearly half a million Cubans in Artemisa had gone three months without receiving salt through the rationing book.
Months earlier, Geominsal authorities had acknowledged that there were "tens of thousands of tons" of salt stored, but transportation issues were preventing them from being delivered to the warehouses.
Still in May 2026, the Ministry of the Interior reported the seizure of over 1,400 packages of salt from a small and medium enterprise in Pinar del Río, which were illegally acquired for resale, according to the official statement.
Thus, images intended to revive a tradition from previous generations ended up bringing back a recurring question among Cubans: how can there be a shortage of salt in a country completely surrounded by seawater?
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