By Rosemary
The wide boulevards of Havana now fall into near darkness after sunset, a stark contrast to the once lively atmosphere that drew visitors from around the world. Theaters have gone dark, bars and cafés remain shuttered, and the sound of music and conversation that once filled the night air has largely disappeared.
A deepening economic crisis, compounded by a tightening oil embargo imposed under Donald Trump, has pushed the Cuban capital into a state of quiet that residents say reflects a broader sense of hardship across the island.
“I feel empty inside when I see my streets empty,” said Yusleydi Blanco, a 41-year-old accountant. “I can’t be happy when my country is sad.”
The current downturn marks a dramatic reversal from the surge in tourism that followed a 2016 agreement between Barack Obama and Raúl Castro, which eased travel restrictions and opened the door to increased engagement between the United States and Cuba. That period saw a rapid influx of visitors and investment, particularly in the private sector, where newly authorized small businesses flourished.
By 2018, Cuba welcomed a record 4.7 million tourists, overwhelming hotels and accommodations in popular destinations. In places like Viñales, known for its dramatic limestone landscapes, visitors were sometimes forced to sleep outdoors due to a lack of available lodging.
Today, that influx has dwindled sharply. Official figures show that just 77,600 tourists arrived in February, less than half the number recorded during the same period a year earlier. The decline has rippled through nearly every sector of the economy, particularly those tied to tourism.
Fuel shortages have become one of the most visible and disruptive aspects of the crisis. Gasoline sales are now heavily rationed, limited to small quantities per vehicle, with drivers often waiting months for access. Public transportation has been curtailed, with buses ceasing operations early in the evening, effectively shutting down much of the city after dark.
The impact extends to international travel. Major carriers such as Air France, Air Canada and Iberia have suspended flights to Havana due to the inability to reliably refuel on the island. In neighborhoods like El Vedado, once known for their vibrant nightlife, the absence of traffic has given way to an unusual quiet, broken only by natural sounds that had long been drowned out.
For many Cubans, the severity of the current conditions evokes memories of the economic collapse that followed the dissolution of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s—a period known locally as the “Special Period.” Some residents now say the present situation is even more difficult.
“This is worse than the Special Period,” said Dolores de la Caridad Méndez, a 65-year-old parking attendant, reflecting a sentiment increasingly heard across the country.
The roots of the crisis are complex, but recent geopolitical developments have intensified the strain. U.S. policy toward Cuba has hardened, with Washington demanding political reforms while maintaining strict economic pressure. The situation worsened further after the United States moved against Nicolás Maduro earlier this year, disrupting Venezuela’s long-standing role as Cuba’s primary oil supplier.
The loss of Venezuelan fuel shipments left the island scrambling for alternatives. For weeks, no oil shipments arrived, deepening shortages until a tanker from Russia provided limited relief in March. Even so, supply remains inconsistent, and the effects continue to be felt across daily life.
The economic strain has manifested in widespread shortages of basic goods, from food to medicine, alongside recurring blackouts and water supply disruptions. The government has also reduced provisions under the state-run ration system, increasing pressure on households already struggling to make ends meet.
The crisis has accelerated migration from the island. Between 2021 and 2024, an estimated 1.4 million Cubans left the country, many of them young people and skilled professionals. The departure of artists, musicians, and performers has further hollowed out Havana’s cultural scene, removing a key pillar of its tourism-driven economy.
For those who remain, the downturn has been especially difficult for small business owners who once thrived during the tourism boom. Many now face days without customers, as both foreign visitors and local spending power decline.
“You wake up ready to conquer the world, thinking today will be better,” said Yeni Pérez, who runs a café in Old Havana. “Then no one comes in, and you go home devastated.”
Despite the challenges, some continue to push forward, hoping conditions will improve. “The next day, you try again,” Pérez said. “This is a time that’s testing everyone’s stamina.”
As Havana’s streets grow quieter, the city’s struggle reflects a broader national crisis—one shaped by external pressures, internal constraints, and the enduring resilience of its people.
Original article
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