Gustavo usually spends Cuba's long blackouts reading or writing on the computer on his balcony.
Gustavo goes to the gym every morning. He works at an art gallery in Cuba's capital, Havana. And, on weekends, he visits exhibitions and writes about them for a magazine. His life could be the typical life of a 25-year-old professional, if it weren't for the energy crisis faced by Cuba, the worst in recent decades. It has caused a domino effect that affects almost all of its activities.
The issue is not just the blackouts, which last for around 16 hours a day. There is also a lack of public transport, which leads Gustavo to carefully plan his departures from home. Otherwise, he would risk having to pay for a taxi that could cost a third of his monthly salary. Not to mention that his house often goes entire weeks without water and that he spends many nights next to a flashlight on the balcony, trying to avoid the heat. Gustavo states that the lack of energy "affects even what you least imagine".
Cuba's National Electric System, operated by the state-owned company União Elétrica, has collapsed seven times since the beginning of this year. The country's energy infrastructure is old, technologically obsolete and there has not been sufficient investment in its maintenance and modernization. Currently, Cuban thermoelectric plants produce only a fraction of their capacity. An analysis by the Cuba Study Group concluded that the poor state of the Cuban power grid is due to "insufficient internal resources with poorly defined priorities, compounded by a weak implementation capacity."
Furthermore, the electrical grid depends fundamentally on fossil fuels, which Cuba currently does not have available. The lack of oil worsened seriously this year, due to the energy blockade imposed on the island by the United States. In January, American President Donald Trump threatened countries that supply oil to Cuba with import tariffs. And shipments from Venezuela to the island ended with the arrest of President Nicolás Maduro at the beginning of the year. The objective, according to senior American officials, is to increase pressure for the "fall" of the Cuban revolutionary government.
Parallel to all these events in terms of international relations, people like Gustavo bear the consequences in their daily lives. All of this, added to a long and deep economic crisis. BBC News Mundo spoke with Gustavo for a week, to understand some of the consequences for his life and that of millions of other Cubans of the worst energy crisis faced by Cuba in recent decades.
On Tuesday, Gustavo dawned with light in his house. "I was lucky," he writes, as he heads to his work. Gustavo lives in the east of the capital and works in the center. The two regions are separated by Havana Bay. Therefore, every day, he has to cross an underwater tunnel, which cannot be crossed on foot, bicycle or motorbike. Only car traffic or public transport is permitted. But Havana's bus system has practically stopped working.
The so-called cyclobus, which travels the short distance from one side of the bay to the other, is one of the few means of transport that continue to operate. Still, "since the energy blockade at the beginning of this year, it also started to fail", according to Gustavo. When this happens, he simply can't go to work. "I'm not going to basically spend my salary to go to work, it doesn't make sense," he explains. When the cyclobus is working and he can cross the tunnel, Gustavo needs to walk to what Cubans call piquera, the place where the private cars that replaced the buses arrive. They sell individual places and travel specific routes.
But instead of charging two Cuban pesos, as public buses did, they charge around 800 pesos, which represents 25% of the monthly minimum wage in Cuba. "Sometimes they are uncomfortable because we travel with a lot of people in one car," he says. "Cars are often modified to fit more people." Back home in the afternoon, to avoid taking the cyclobus, which takes a long time and is usually full, Gustavo coge botella, that is, he asks for a ride. His luck "depends on there being electricity at the traffic lights and the generosity of drivers", according to him. Both on the way there and back, Gustavo also needs to walk long distances in the sun. "With the crisis, I'm walking more and more", he laments. "I did some walks that, honestly, I could now be a marathon runner. Any Cuban could be."
It wasn't just public transport buses that stopped operating regularly due to lack of fuel. The same happened with garbage trucks. "Right now, the city of Havana, and I'm sure the rest of the country as well, is completely covered in trash," he says. "On every corner, there is a dump. Some of them take up the entire street." In the region where he lives, the garbage truck used to come once a week. But now, "in Old Havana, he maybe comes by once a month and, here where I live, he never comes by", says Gustavo, laughing. The solution found by residents is to burn the trash. "Either you burn the trash to clean it up a bit or you let the trash eat you," he said. "There is no more medicine."
The consequences of the crisis also reach your home. On Wednesday, after a long blackout caused by a fault that affected the entire national electrical system, Gustavo says that "the electricity came back, but I haven't had water for a week." Without electricity, the engines that deliver water to homes stop working. Not to mention that the pipes frequently break, as they are old and in poor condition, according to Gustavo. "We've been used to water problems for a long time. It's something that affects us a lot." Faced with frequent supply interruptions, Gustavo and his family learned to prepare. “What we do is store water,” he explains. "We have a tank on the roof, another in the courtyard and 20 small buckets."
And, of course, there are the blackouts, or alumbrones, as they are called in Cuba. They have become increasingly longer and are irregular. "You spend the whole day without electricity, they put the current on for four hours and then you go back to the dark", says Gustavo. "Sometimes, the electricity comes on for two hours, no more than that. There's no reason. There's no rhythm, there's no logic, it's whatever it has to happen." Gustavo says that, when the light comes on, some people rush to turn on the washing machine, even if it's early in the morning. Sometimes blackouts last so long that refrigerated foods begin to spoil. "Right now, in Havana, we've had maybe 16 hours without electricity," he highlights. And, during all this time, he also has no cell phone signal or internet.
On Friday, Gustavo attended an art exhibition so he could write about it. He went out at night and had to return home in the dark. “I was a little scared, because I had to cross dangerous areas of Havana without electricity,” he says. "My neighborhood was also without electricity and it was already 10 o'clock at night. So I paid the driver a little extra to drop me off in front of my house, just to be safe." He says that the idea that Cuba is an exceptionally safe country no longer corresponds exactly to reality. “Crime has increased a lot,” he highlights. "You need to tread more carefully."
Even with everything he has to face due to the lack of fuel his country is experiencing, Gustavo maintains a certain degree of optimism. “I try to adjust my dreams and goals to what is feasible for me,” he explains. "The crisis is very serious, it makes all aspects of life difficult. But I cannot give up." Since graduating in Art History, his goal was to enter the world of art, write and make a living from it. "As long as there is art and artists, I will have the opportunity to make my dream come true."
There is also an emotional impact, according to Gustavo. Not just for him, but for everyone around him. "It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. When the electricity goes out, so does the fun." “This situation makes me and everyone very angry,” he says. "There is a lot of frustration, a lot of stress and a lot of uncertainty, because we don't know what will happen, how it will be resolved." Gustavo states that, in addition to the fuel crisis, there is a mental health and state of mind crisis in Cuba. "This myth of the Cuban who laughs at his own miseries is over. People's nerves are on edge."
