Let’s Build a House to Live In
HAVANA TIMES – Doing anything in Cuba can be extremely complicated, but building a house is a Herculean, titanic task. Besides the materials, which have always been expensive for those who only have modest salaries, labor costs are even higher than those of construction materials.
Then there’s the added challenge of unreliable builders—a very common issue among Cubans. Because if they find better pay elsewhere, they’ll leave without explanation and abandon you mid-project. And through it all, the emotional toll is greater than both of those other factors combined.
You have to deal with all these workers—the foremen and their assistants: masons, electricians, plumbers, carpenters, locksmiths… some good, some bad. Building a house is not just a matter of money; it requires willpower, courage—and all of this, if God wills it, in Cuba. That’s why, when we saw that a young dancer had bought the right to build on the roof of the house next door, we admired him. The young man built the typical neighborhood house: bedrooms on one side, two or three—I’m not sure. And on the side with the front door: the living room, dining room, and kitchen. His elevated water tank—had to be prioritized, as water is nearly nonexistent in this area.
His front porch, nicely adorned with plants. Stairs leading up to it. A small fence around the porch, and the roof top terrace also fenced with those masonry blocks that are very expensive. They used to be expensive. Now they’re much more so. The roof has zinc sheeting, and there’s another water tank—this time a plastic one. The house has rough and smooth plaster on the interior and exterior walls. All that’s left is to paint it and call it done. Wow! My neighbor is a lion. So young! So enterprising!
He has a wife and two little kids, and his mother helps him as well. She’s a serious, educated woman—she studied in Europe during those years when many Cuban students went to train in Eastern Europe. They’re good people, and I was glad to have them as neighbors.
Well, I found out from my mom that they’ve all left for Brazil—everyone except the mother. All of them? I didn’t think about them. I thought about the house. About how much it costs to build a house.
To build a home and not live in it.
I think Cuba is something like that. And the idea comes to me that Cuba tried to build such an extraordinary country that it became a land where living is barely possible. Or rather, it’s not possible to live—but those of us who remain can’t escape for the moment.