Electricity Cuts in Cuba
HAVANA TIMES – In Cuba, blackouts are nothing new; everyone has heard about them for years. They began in the 1970s, and I remember how quickly they became normalized. For most people, it was a sacrifice they had to make—live through it, suffer through it—and no one complained, or almost no one. People endured it with incredible stoicism.
I remember that in my house, we would finish serving the food before the power was cut, and then my mother and all my siblings would sit on the front porch. She would start singing a song Elena Burke used to sing: “La era está pariendo un corazón, no puede más, se muere de dolor.” Of course, that heart was the one they were hurting so severely, causing us suffering from a young age.
What happened in the homes was horrible. They cut the power every day, especially at night. They ruined my mother’s television and refrigerator, leaving us in the most terrible misery, having to ask the neighbors to store what “they gave us at the bodega.” I will never understand why Cubans always say that phrase and keep repeating it. They don’t give us anything— they sell us the rationed goods from the ration booklet.
That’s how the ’70s went by. If you visited friends in any municipality, you’d get caught in a “delicious” blackout and return to the bus stop in total darkness—you couldn’t even see your hands—waiting for the bus, which could take two or three hours. Truly cruel.
We continued into the ’80s, and the blackouts eased a bit. People began to breathe—just a little—because some basic necessities started to appear, and we experienced the relief of at least having fewer power cuts. Because they’ve never stopped cutting it.
That ended quickly. In the late ’80s, the socialist bloc collapsed, and Cuba fell into a terrible crisis—the so-called “Special Period,” though “infernal period” fits better. Blackouts lasted 12 and even 24 hours. I remember a lady who lived near my house, who, the moment they cut the power—as we say here—would start shouting “down with the president” (including his full name). People thought she was crazy. No one ever arrested her, and no one from the CDR (Committees for the Defense of the Revolution) ever visited her. Sadly, she has passed away now, and the neighbors from that time have left the country. These things happened in the ’90s. People slept in the streets and on rooftops; they took their mattresses outside because during the summer it was impossible to sleep indoors.
A few years passed, and in the late ’90s and early 2000s, the situation began to change a bit. The electricity cuts eased because the country improved its tourism sector. They began granting permits to Cubans to open paladares—small restaurants and cafés—very few in Havana, and some of those still exist. And the blackouts stopped.
This is just a brief overview of what blackouts in Cuba have been like. The 21st century arrives, and instead of being better and more advanced—like the rest of the world—we are stuck in a deep hole. Now we have blackouts again, and sometimes the entire electrical grid collapses.
We are sitting at the table having dinner when they cut the power. We think it will be for just a few hours and move to the terrace to wait. We jump from one topic to another, and I keep trying to turn on mobile data, but nothing. When the power goes out, there’s no internet signal. I turn on a speaker and try to play the radio so it won’t feel so awful, but there are no stations. I figure it’s because they have no electricity either. Then the phone gets a small signal, and we find out it’s a nationwide blackout. I don’t know how to describe how bad it feels—it’s like a mockery, a lack of respect for human beings, a deep disappointment.
Some new technology has made its way here, and I know a friend whose brother lives outside Cuba and gave him a small generator. He charges it when the power is on, and he’s over the moon. At least one friend won’t have to suffer in the tomb-like darkness; without that generator he might go crazy, like so many others already have.
We continue in the same conditions. Nothing has improved, nor does it seem like it will. As everyone in the street says: Cubans endure and wait.