cuba, havana —
During the first and second national power outages that Cuba experienced in July, I lined up behind two psychologists in white coats openly discussing their patients.
“I’m not worried about the people who say they’re stressed,” one psychologist told another, who was waiting in line to buy food trucked in weekly from the countryside. “These are people who say they’re fine. They really have problems.”
Cuba’s energy grid failed again on Tuesday, for the third time this month, leaving nearly 10 million Cubans in darkness and further uncertainty. Anxiety about the future is at an all-time high here.
As the communist-run island’s economy collapses and the Trump administration continues to impose ever-tougher sanctions, the Cuban revolution appears to be coming to an end.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned from living in Havana for nearly 15 years, it’s how much Cubans can endure and how effectively the government can maintain control.
Life for most Cubans is far from easy and has become excruciatingly difficult. Electricity, water, and fuel are increasingly precious luxuries, and we are lucky to have them, and we actively hope to have all three at the same time.
After a second nationwide power outage on Friday, my neighborhood in Havana remained without power for 36 hours. Finally, at 4am local time on Sunday, we woke up to lights from the house next door lit up like it was Christmas Eve. In the sudden light, I could see my neighbors scurrying around in the middle of the night, using their precious few hours of electricity to do as much laundry, cooking, and charging as they could.
The next morning, while the power was out again, I chatted with my neighbor Jorge. He’s been helping me and a few people on our block turn a small patch of grass in front of our house into a vegetable garden in order to comply with the strange government mandate that people grow their own food.
He was overjoyed that we were back in the 20th century.
“Four hours without a power outage. When was the last time something like that happened?” he said.
Uncertainty deceives our minds. No one knows when or how long the power outage will last. Sometimes the power comes back on after being out all day, only to be cut out again in just a few minutes, causing the entire neighborhood to groan in unison. Everyone I know seems exhausted.
The government here maintains a WhatsApp channel to update residents on exactly how long the power outage will last. Power outages lasting more than 30 hours are no longer rare. If electricity is applied for even a few minutes, the count will be reset to zero. When Cubans realize they are being mistreated, they respond to the government using feces and American flag emojis in chats.
Some people banged pots and pans in the middle of the night, but there have been no organized protests yet in a country where the government considers dissent a veiled form of treason.
Cubans recognize that they are living through a culminating moment in the island’s roller coaster history, and that more shocks are likely to come.
Every morning on Cuban state television, a host with what is clearly the worst job on the island is tasked with predicting daily power shortages, much like local news outlets in other countries do with weather and traffic updates. Now, with hotter summers upon us, Cubans need more energy to combat the scorching temperatures, making the shortage even worse.
Jorge Piñon, a senior energy researcher at the University of Texas at Austin, told CNN that “the solution to Cuba’s energy crisis no longer has to come from within Cuba, but from outside.”
Beyond the blockade imposed by the Trump administration on oil shipments, Cuba’s energy sector is crippled by decades of lack of state investment in aging power plants and no easy solutions, Piñon said.
“Cuba produces enough oil on its own,” Piñon said. “But at any moment, half of the thermoelectric power plants are down for maintenance.”
There’s no sign of help coming. With the seizure of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro by the United States, Cuba has lost a key ally with the world’s largest oil reserves. Russia is increasingly embroiled in a war with Ukraine and is unable to send any more aid to the island, which is already billions of dollars in debt to its former Cold War benefactor. Mexico has so far complied with the Trump administration’s threat not to ship oil for fear of U.S. economic sanctions.
The Trump administration says the pressure campaign is designed to attack government officials, not ordinary Cubans.
But there is little sign that those at the top are being forced to tighten up.
In a July interview with USA Today, Raul Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, the grandson of former Cuban President Raul Castro and secretary of security, showed off his access to gold chains, luxury brands and a jet-set lifestyle unimaginable to most Cubans.
Castro, who is recognized by Cuba as Cuba’s interlocutor in ongoing talks with the Trump administration despite not holding a high-ranking position in the government, lamented that most Cubans do not share the privileges that come with his heritage.
Cubans I know have been scandalized by their brazen comments at a time when their already difficult standard of living has plummeted.
“They don’t seem to understand how we live and how close to worthless our daily wages are,” a Cuban friend named Homero told me over lunch recently. Knowing how little Homer earned from state work, I invited him to the simplest restaurant I could think of.
However, as we looked at the menu, Homer let out a big sigh and I realized that I had failed to reassure him. He told me that every dish on the menu costs more than his current monthly salary.
