The Homeless, the Powerless
HAVANA TIMES – It had seemed to me that up until that moment, I had experienced blackouts only at home. That can’t be entirely true, as blackouts have been a constant companion, I believe, since forever, and surely one must have caught me outside my comfort zone at some point. But perhaps that was my impression because I am always extremely careful to stay home whenever I know there will be hours of darkness.
However, this time, my “Ayuda B06” group called me to meet at 8:30 p.m. in the city center, at San Jose Park. The goal was to distribute snacks to homeless people who sleep on the streets. There was electricity in my area when I left for the task, but about six blocks later, I encountered a blackout that struck me more profoundly than usual.
Perhaps it was because I’m so careful to stay home during blackouts, erroneously believing that certain privileged areas, like the city center or its surroundings, are spared this misfortune. I was wrong. In some places more, in others less, but everyone experiences these adversities brought on by the current economic and political circumstances.
It left an impact on me. Right on the corner of Marti and Maceo streets, there was a man selling sweets and other small items for children from his cot, illuminated by a rechargeable bulb. It felt surreal. Meanwhile, on the opposite corner of Martires Street, tables and chairs filled the street, accompanied by a musical group, singers, and lights powered by batteries from who knows which country. It was like stepping into another world. The contrasts were stark!
I kept walking. San José Park lay ahead. We were happy to see each other and began our mission. The snack consisted of a small sandwich, a soda, and coffee.
The first person we met was Yaquelin. She was about to sleep in front of the Casa de la Trova, without socks, on a cold night. We promised to bring her a pair as soon as possible. Someone was sleeping deeply in front of the Parque de las Flores. We hesitated to leave the sandwich nearby as it could be taken. We called out loudly, but nothing. “Could he be dead?” I asked. Bruno, the young leader of our group, assured me he wasn’t. He was breathing. Disrespectfully, we lifted his blanket and left the sandwich there.
Another man was sleeping in front of the Natural Museum on Maceo Street. He woke up quickly, gratefully accepted the sandwich, soda, and the last bit of coffee. At the corner of Maceo and Martí, we found a young man sleeping. He was blind. Vendors nearby informed us, so we helped him with the sandwich and drink.
On the doorsteps of Libertad Street, next to Calixto Park, near the bookstore and barbershop, many people sleep—mostly men. And there are more around San Jose Park. We handed out 18 of the 20 snacks we had brought.
Sometimes, as many as 38 snacks are distributed. We’re considering organizing an end-of-year activity for these people. We didn’t leave the city center, but I kept thinking about stray animals too. During times of severe crisis, they suffer the most. While the cold in Cuba might not be extreme, it still adds another layer of adversity for the homeless.
As I live through these events, I recall an anecdote I’ve never confirmed but have always found interesting. Someone told me that when Mother Teresa of Calcutta visited Cuba, Fidel Castro received her and asked, “Mother, what brings you to Cuba?” She replied, “I came to see the poor.” Fidel allegedly responded, “There are no poor in Cuba.” To which she said, “Do you want me to show them to you?” True or not, knowing the country’s Supreme Commander, it feels plausible. Sometimes, things exist only if they’re acknowledged.
We talked for a while at the park and said our goodbyes. I still had more than half the way to walk back home when the electricity returned. I heard the uproar it always causes when the lights come back on—Cubans expressing relief from the stress of enduring without power. I was happy for them, for that large area, no less. They were lucky; it wasn’t even midnight yet.
They were lucky.