Another Luxury in Cuba: Working in What You Studied

By Lien Estrada

HAVANA TIMES – He was my coworker at the Botanical Garden. He had just graduated in Biology from the University of Oriente, Santiago de Cuba. He told me that during his last vacation as a student, he visited the Valley, the recreational area where, among other places, the Garden is located. While waiting at the bus stop to return home, he noticed the small, well-maintained field full of plants behind the fence. With a hint of boredom, he thought to himself, “Wow, it must be boring to work there.”

He then told me that when he went to pick up his assignment at the Work Office, where they tell you where you’ll start your social service, he was surprised to see the name of the place he had just visited and had found so dull: the Botanical Garden. I laughed a lot at his story.

Now I find him on one of the streets near downtown, behind a cart selling fruits and vegetables. We greeted each other warmly, discovering that we are now working in places far removed from the kind and boring one we had come to love.

But my young biologist friend is not an isolated or unique case in the Cuban landscape regarding the fate of new professionals. He is an example of a more than notable social phenomenon. Due to the current extreme crisis in the country, it doesn’t seem to be disappearing but rather growing.

My cousin studied Economics in Holguín. She worked for a few years at the bank but then decided to sell items from her home. Her husband, who graduated in Telecommunications Engineering in Camagüey, started a small business after completing his social service at the electric company. Many of his colleagues now repair cell phones, computers, and scooters in private workshops.

My youngest cousin, who also graduated in Telecommunications, but in Santiago de Cuba, has dedicated himself to working in a ministry at the Baptist Church of the Eastern Convention. Similarly, my neighbor, whom I visit occasionally to buy movies —because that’s her home business in addition to selling water, sweets, and bread— is very young and a nursing graduate.

Another of my cousins, a mechanical engineering graduate, and his son, also a university graduate, have opted for running a bakery, making pizza dough, which they then deliver on their scooters to various cafes that request them in Holguín.

It’s a fact that many of those who take up teaching positions each year in schools are already retired people, the so-called “reincorporated” because there are no more younger teachers. Graduates find a way to make a living, in case they can’t leave for abroad, in activities “that make money,” mainly selling clothes, food, and basic necessities.

It is widely voiced that the generation that sacrificed everything for a glorious socialist future no longer exists on the Island. It seems they are dying, if not physically, then spiritually. And the interest in economics outweighs the ideological, even though the official discourse tries to conceal this at all costs.

This reality is not surprising. The high prices of everything and the decades-long struggle with wages that can’t meet even the most basic needs change the perception of ideals. And, of course, working in what you studied in a country with a prolonged economic collapse is not an alternative for anyone, whether those studies took four, six, or more years. Except for those who love their careers and have families in good economic conditions, due to having parents abroad.

The critical situation affects more than just one aspect of life, in fact, almost all aspects. And one of them, though it might be the least mentioned, is professional fulfillment. This also weakens society significantly, not only because it deprives the right personnel to perform specific tasks or because of the economic loss invested in this specialized sector but also because it impacts personal satisfaction. Such is so necessary for a healthy and fulfilling life, something every human being aspires to, and which is so difficult to achieve without that personal fulfillment.

Individual and collective dignity is much more than just an individual effort. It’s a responsibility shared by everyone —state and people, individuals and communities. The call must be made. It has to be a concern. This is not a topic for another time.

Read more from diary of Lien Estrada here.