Diaz-Canel, Conductor of an Orchestra Without Instruments
HAVANA TIMES – On our fabulous island, where the sun shines brightly and the rhythms of son resound in every corner, power outages aren’t part of the official tourist attractions—but they are frequent visitors.
We’ve been at this for years, but now the endearing Miguel Diaz-Canel made an emotional call for a better distribution of electricity. Suddenly, we all found ourselves reflecting on the art of enhancing the experience of playing cards by candlelight, or of creating deep conversations about life with your neighbors… or with your own shadow. Why didn’t he think of that before?
In his quest for a magical solution to this electrical dilemma, Díaz-Canel might consider turning his attention to quantum physics—or at least study a bit about resource distribution. I like to imagine him surrounded by a group of physicists and mathematicians, discussing how to make electricity flow through the streets of Havana. Phrases like “energy is distributed better when there is love” could become the new slogan of his administration.
He, who doesn’t know what a blackout is because his house is in the “strategic sectors,” keeps talking about long-term solutions. At this point, one wonders if it wouldn’t be easier just to hand out flashlights instead of electricity. And when you ask what to do if the battery runs out, the answer will be: that’s another matter.
“Strategic” too was Silvio Rodriguez’s concert the other night, where he didn’t say any of the things he sometimes writes about. He had at his feet the best possible stage to deliver a message, but clearly he isn’t interested—preferring to play with the chain but not with the monkey.
The peak of Cuban improvisation came this week, when several planes were forced to change course, and two even had to return to Toronto, because the Civil Aeronautics Institute’s radars lost electricity.
Let’s get serious. It’s not only about what goes in or out of Cuba, but we’re responsible for an entire airspace that planes cross en route to other destinations, and we must also be ready to assist any aircraft in an emergency.
This didn’t happen during last week’s nationwide blackout, which would have been “logical” in some way, but on September 15, affecting Air Canada Rouge flight AC1740 and WestJet flight WJA2710, both from Toronto. In the end, they were lucky it didn’t happen during landing, because a catastrophe would have ensued.
Who would have thought that Cuban air stability could be summed up as: “no signal here, buddy, turn back,” or “we always solved this with binoculars and faith.”
Picture the scene: air traffic controllers scanning the horizon, sweating like cane-cutters during harvest, hoping no plane turns into a UFO, and on edge because anything moving could be a bird—or the spirit of Jose Martí drifting by in a balloon.
All we can do is pray that the next flight doesn’t turn into an episode of Lost, because if those little things that prevent planes from nose-diving into each other midair are left to the same luck as the bread lines, nobody is safe—not even me, who’s never set foot in an airport.
But don’t worry, everything is back to normal… that is, controlled abnormality. And if you see a plane zigzagging between the clouds, don’t be alarmed: it’s just the new visual navigation protocol.
If there’s something we must acknowledge about Diaz-Canel, it’s his talent for turning the energy crisis into a national tragicomedy show. His most recent speech wasn’t a technical explanation but a monologue worthy of stand-up comedy in a candlelit bunker. Imagine: the president, on camera, with the seriousness of a neurosurgeon, explaining how to divide an invisible cake among 11 million hungry diners, lit by the glow of a cell phone. Bravo!
He was referring specifically to the blackout schedule, which is published daily—at least in the capital—and which is almost never followed, since blackouts arrive whenever they please, like the untimely visits of critical mothers-in-law. Sometimes you wake up without power; other times you’re left watching soap operas in the dark… it’s a Cuban-Russian roulette!
Many of us Cubans try, or at least pretend, to become experts in planning, but the National Electric Company doesn’t cooperate.
In a respectable political intervention, the blockade couldn’t be left out—that evil entity that mysteriously shuts down thermoelectric plants, breaks cables, hides fuel, and even sneaks out at night to unscrew transformers.
Our leaders keep offering their wise advice, like “disconnect unnecessary equipment” (I assume they don’t mean fans or water pumps) and “have confidence in the Revolution”—which means staying quiet while sweating like chickens in an oven.
Their words remind us that amid so much uncertainty, irony can be our best ally, helping us turn every blackout into an opportunity to bring the community together—like saying that a shipwreck is an “opportunity to swim.”
The speech ended, as it should, with a message of hope: “We will soon overcome this stage.” Soon? We’ve been hearing that word for decades! Children are even born knowing that’s the Cuban word for “never, but with optimism.”
And so, the purchase of new equipment is announced… equipment that will arrive in 2050, if the blockade doesn’t swallow it first.
The grand theater of energy remains on stage. Diaz-Canel, as conductor, leads a symphony of broken generators and senile thermoelectric plants praying to finally be laid to rest. Cubans, as the audience, applaud ironically from the darkness.
Still, not all is lost: at least we have the comfort that, when the lights finally go out, no one will see our desperate faces. Long live the equitable distribution of misery!