Paying for Debts: Retirees and 'Buquenques' in Santiago de Cuba

In Cuba, words also survive. Buquenque did not originate with bank cards or the current cash shortage. It is an old Cuban term documented by Fernando Ortiz in his "Glossary of Afrocubanism," published in Havana in 1924, where he defined it as “pimp, hustler.” More than half a century later, it also emerges in Santiago de Cuba and is used to refer to those who provide cash in exchange for a bank transfer and charge a fee for doing so.

But this is not a simple phenomenon; rather, it stems from the crisis that the island is experiencing. We can approach it not from the perspective of this intermediary, often referred to as a buquenque, but from the standpoint of the person who needs cash. "Withdrawing or cashing a check with the card is an ordeal, a torture, full of uncertainty," shares a retired individual from Santiago, who preferred to remain anonymous. His account highlights difficulties that go beyond simply knowing how to use a card. He speaks of banks that do not always have enough money and of ATMs that often run dry, failing to guarantee access to earned funds when needed. Then emerges this individual who has cash in front of someone who does not and says, "I accept to help you, taking a risk." Therefore, you must give me my share (profit).

According to our investigation, in Santiago de Cuba, commissions of around 40% can currently be charged, and this trade raises many questions: Does the buquenque charge for doing a favor, or is he taking advantage of the situation?

Who is behind those operations? How much money is really involved? And, above all, who has enough cash today in Cuba to sustain a business of that magnitude? The visible buquenque may just be a link in a chain.

The calculation of that percentage allows us to measure what it means for someone living on a small pension. The interviewed retiree receives 3,200 Cuban pesos. If we apply a 40% discount, he would have to give up 1,280 to receive 1,920 in cash. He has to pay more than a thousand pesos to access his own money. What can the retiree buy in Cuba with what he has left? “Every day, our money is worth and stretches less for everything,” says the retiree.

"There are already many Mipymes and private homes where the purchase by transfer also has a 40% markup." If a product costs one thousand pesos in cash and this surcharge is applied, the retiree would have to pay 1,400. For someone receiving such a low pension, this is not a trivial difference.

Money is losing value along the way, from the ethereal or digital to having it in hand. But the cost is not just monetary. "Withdrawing or cashing a check with the card is an odyssey, a torture," repeats the retiree. "There are lines, there is uncertainty, there are ATMs without cash, there are days when it is unknown when it will be possible to withdraw the money. And that is why there are buquenques in the streets and neighborhoods."

In conclusion, the buquenque exists because there is a need. This is not about justifying the individual who takes advantage of this situation, but placing all the blame on them would be to confuse consequence with cause. The problem is structural. In Cuba, the main economic and financial decisions are made within a highly centralized and vertical management system. The banking system, the way pensions are paid, the conditions for handling cash, and the measures taken in response to liquidity shortages did not emerge spontaneously. They are the result of policies and decisions made within the regime's structures. Therefore, if the retiree ends up paying to access money that is already theirs, the responsibility is clearly on those who created the situation.

Stopping the buquenque can remove a person from the streets, but it does not eliminate the problem. In Santiago de Cuba, several arrests have been reported by CiberCuba, such as in May of this 2026, where they were accused of charging commissions between 35 and 50 percent.

In June, another man was arrested near an ATM in Santa Bárbara, and he was accused of charging a 20 percent fee. However, these operations do not eliminate the underlying need, because as long as there is a retiree facing an ordeal to convert their bank balance into cash, due to the system not providing a solution, there will continue to be a market for those who offer that service.

The retiree loses their money, their time, their life, their strength, and after all that journey, they discover that their pension "is gone, it runs out quickly." This is the true and sad picture of this problem in Santiago de Cuba.

But like this, there are others in different parts of the country, and although the rest of the population may be affected, this group is the most vulnerable. That is why, behind the inability to access cash, the difficulties of the banking system, the time lost, the dependence on intermediaries, the exhaustion, and the vulnerability, lies a network of issues. This is more than just a small problem for a bank or a city, or for a retiree; it is a social problem.