“The Cuban Government Is Still Afraid of People Like Me”: Otero Alcántara Publishes His Testimony From Prison

“Every day I spend in prison is another day trying to make my country freer and fairer,” the artist and political prisoner told ‘The New York Times’.

The artist shares his story and questions the official narrative about the regime’s supposed current political opening. / Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara

14ymedio biggerArtist and activist Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara, imprisoned after the July 2021 protests, published a testimonial in The New York Times this Friday, in which he recounts his experience in prison and his confrontation with the Cuban regime through art. The article comes on the same day that a supposed US ultimatum to Cuba to release high-profile political prisoners, such as himself, expires.

Otero Alcántara recounts his story in the article and challenges the official narrative about the regime’s supposed current political opening. From his perspective as an imprisoned artist, the testimony summarizes how the state attempts to maintain its control on power despite pressure from the United States and demands from international organizations to end the criminalization of dissent.

The article confronts the announcement—cynically called by Díaz-Canel a “humanitarian and sovereign gesture”—of the release of 2,010 prisoners, from whom those who have committed “crimes against authority” have been explicitly excluded. “In other words, it didn’t extend to me,” writes the artist and political prisoner.

Otero Alcántara recalls that his sentence ends in July of this year, although he is skeptical about his release: “I don’t know if they will allow me to be free, nor what will happen to me or to my country.”

I do know that when the government says that Cuba’s political system is not open to debate, it is almost certain that political dissent will not be decriminalized.

“But I do know that when the Government says that Cuba’s political system is not subject to debate in possible negotiations with the US, it is almost certain that political dissent will not be decriminalized and that people like me will continue to go to jail,” he writes.

Otero Alcántara emphasizes that his imprisonment is just one of hundreds of cases of criminalizing dissent, in which expressions of critical opinion against the government end in criminal convictions. He recounts how the legal framework has hardened against freedom of expression since the 11 July 2021 Island-wide protests.

The artist was then convicted of “contempt” and “public disorder,” legal terms with ambiguous boundaries that allow for the punishment of political positions. Since 2022, the Penal Code has incorporated the charge of “propaganda against the constitutional order,” used to imprison citizens who express themselves in ways as diverse as putting up anti-government posters or publishing their critical opinions on social media.

The author points to these mechanisms of repression to refute the insistence of the regime and its president, Miguel Díaz-Canel, that there are no political prisoners in Cuba and that any citizen can freely express their opinion.

The most important thing is that they let me paint. It’s what’s kept me alive. That’s why the guards let me do it, so I don’t become a martyr.

Artwork by Otero Alcántara, used to illustrate the NYT article, from the series ‘Still Life: Turning Violence into Art’. / Studio of Luis Manuel Otero

Alcántara continues recounting his artistic and activist journey, describing how the government escalated its harassment until culminating in his five-year prison sentence: from his performances against Decree 349—a law that restricted freedom of expression in the cultural sphere—to the 2018 founding of the San Isidro Movement, comprised of artists, journalists, and academics who demanded greater civil liberties on the island. Alcántara’s activism is widely known internationally—he was included in Time magazine’s 2021 list of the 100 most influential people —but the artist revisits it now in his testimony for the readers of the New York publication.

The text devotes several paragraphs to describing daily life in Guanajay prison, emphasizing the poor food and monotony. The artist notes that he is aware of being a “privileged” prisoner, since his case has international visibility, which limits the abuses and mistreatment that have been documented in the Cuban prison system.

“The most important thing is that they allow me to paint. It’s what has kept me alive. I think the State knows that if I couldn’t make art, I would die, and that’s why the guards let me do it, so I wouldn’t become a martyr,” the artist writes.

An anti-government post on social media can land a person behind bars.

Inside Guanajay prison—where he is surrounded by both political and common prisoners—the inmates have created, according to Alcántara, “a space where people can get along,” which is very different from the atmosphere in other prisons on the island. “I know the guards aren’t to blame for me being here. Our destructive and dysfunctional political system isn’t their fault,” he writes.

“But the system remains,” the artist states, pointing out how, with the tightening of the Penal Code against dissent, “an anti-government post on social media can land a person in jail.” He adds that this situation has led to a mass emigration of artists, activists, and independent journalists, who have found themselves restricted from expressing themselves freely on the island.

“The government is still afraid of people like me, who haven’t been afraid to challenge the authority of the state,” says Otero Alcántara. “Even as conditions here have worsened under US pressure, it has made it clear that its hold on power is non-negotiable.”

“The government has made it clear that its hold on power is non-negotiable.”

The activist also describes how the regime has denied him any kind of leniency: eligibility for parole, sentence reductions, or house arrest, among others. To express his resistance and show that he has not succumbed to attempts to break his will, the artist reminds readers: “I don’t know how many hunger strikes I’ve already done to express myself.”

He adds, however, that his survival and creative work within the prison can serve as an example of “hope and sacrifice” for other Cubans. “I see it as an exchange of my time, as if each day I spend in prison isn’t a wasted day, but another day trying to make my country freer and more just.”

The author mentions in the article that the publication was made possible thanks to the mediation of the Cuban artist Coco Fusco.

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Cuba: On Another Anniversary of the Despicable Padilla Case

April 27 marks the 55th anniversary of the event, which was a true watershed moment, a turning point, both inside and outside the Island.

Padilla gives up his seat to State Security Lieutenant Armando Quesada, who “corrects” Norberto Fuentes’s statement. In the background, José Antonio Portuondo. / Screenshot

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, San Salvador, Federico Hernández Aguilar, 23 April 2026 — When night falls on April 27, it will mark 55 years since the most despicable event that Castro’s totalitarian regime carried out on Cuban art and culture: the sadly famous “self-criticism” of the poet Heberto Padilla (1932-2000) before a group of prominent members of the Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba (Uneac), after spending 37 days in prison accused of holding critical views against the Revolution. [Transcript, in English, here.]

The Padilla Case (as it has been known ever since) was a true watershed moment, a breaking point, both on and off the island. Authors who until then had remained steadfast in their support of the revolutionary process suddenly and painfully understood that Castroism was no better than Stalinism in its tolerance of intelligent dissent and creative disapproval. Even those who remained loyal to Caribbean socialism, whether out of emotion or pragmatism, began to question how far Cuba had gone in imposing limits on art and culture within its supposedly democratic system.

And it is not as if there had been a lack of warnings, of course. Besides the infamous speech of June 1961 in which Fidel Castro made clear how he conceived the “responsibility” of artists and intellectuals within the framework of the historical project he led —“…Within the Revolution, everything; against the Revolution, nothing”— it is sometimes forgotten that quite some time before, in October 1959, the Film Study and Classification Commission had been formed, attached to the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry (ICAIC), an entity that began to censor films considered “problematic” because of their content.

In October 1959, the Film Study and Classification Commission was formed, attached to the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry (ICAIC), an entity that began to censor films considered “problematic” due to their content.

Works such as Alberto Roldán’s Una vez en el puerto (Once in the Port) and Fausto Canel’s Un poco más de azul (A Little More Blue ) were banned from distribution on the island in 1964. Roldán’s film was banned because it realistically documented life in Havana’s seaside neighborhoods, while Canel’s film addressed the ever-sensitive topic of exile. Both filmmakers, of course, suffered the consequences of their “reactionary” actions: they were expelled from ICAIC (the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Art and Industry), which they had helped found, their freedom of expression was restricted, and they ultimately left Cuba. (Roldán died in Miami in 2014 at the age of 81, and Canel lived in France and Spain before settling in the United States, where he currently resides.)

The hardest blow to creative freedom, however, was the one suffered in 1961 by the documentary PM by Orlando Jiménez Leal and Sabá Cabrera Infante, banned and confiscated by the authorities, who accused it of offering “a biased portrayal of Havana’s nightlife” because, “far from giving the viewer a correct vision of the existence of the Cuban people in this revolutionary stage, it impoverished, distorted, and misrepresented it…” It was precisely in the wake of the scandal caused by the condemnation of this short film, barely 14 minutes long, that Fidel Castro himself brandished his fearsome “ Words to the Intellectuals.” continue reading

The regime’s terrifying “all or nothing” approach found its next victim in Heberto Padilla, whose excellent poetry collection, Fuera del juego (Out of the Game), had been recognized by the UNEAC (somewhat reluctantly) with the 1968 National Prize. Despite having received the award by unanimous decision of the jury, the organization made a strange “statement” indicating that the book would be published—along with Antón Arrufat’s in the theater category—with a note “expressing its disagreement” because they considered them “ideologically opposed to our revolution (sic).”

Three years later, in January 1971, Padilla dared to give a reading at the UNEAC (National Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba) of his new book, Provocaciones (Provocations ). And indeed, his attitude was considered provocative. A few weeks later, on March 20, Heberto and his wife, the writer Belkis Cuza Malé, were arrested by State Security agents and taken to the Villa Marista prison. The charge against them was “subversive activities against the government.”

“Did you think you were untouchable, the rebel artist…?” Padilla recalled the henchmen saying to him in prison. “Did you think we were going to forgive all your counterrevolutionary shenanigans?”

“Did you think you were untouchable, the rebel artist…?” Padilla recalled the henchmen saying to him in prison. “Did you think we were going to forgive all your counterrevolutionary shenanigans?” After the brutal interrogation, during which the poet was beaten, he awoke in a military hospital where he received an unexpected visit from Fidel himself. “Yes,” Heberto says in Bad Memory (1989), “we had time to talk, or for him to talk and expound to his heart’s content, and shit on all the literature in the world.”

The writer was then “suggested” that he draft a lengthy text listing his “errors,” a document he recited from memory 55 years ago at that private meeting at the UNEAC (National Union of Writers and Artists of Cuba). The recorded material of this “self-criticism” finally came to light in 2022, when Cuban filmmaker Pavel Giroud rescued it and used it to create an extraordinary documentary titled The Padilla Case, which was nominated for several prestigious film awards.

At this time, the three and a half hours of the writer’s confession can be viewed on YouTube, something I would recommend to anyone who wants to delve deeper into the censorship processes that Castroism instituted to turn art into propaganda and writers into obligated spokespeople for a revolution that ended up devouring their illusions.
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Collective Leadership in Cuba is a Myth, Power Remains Concentrated.

One doesn’t need to hold any position to represent true power

Internal struggles to eliminate competitors, gain influence, or secure exclusive patronage have always been intense. / EFE/ Ernesto Mastrascusa

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Yunior García Aguilera, Madrid, April 23, 2026 — It is true that power in Cuba is no longer as concentrated as before, that command has fragmented, and that the country seems to have moved from absolute verticalism to a kind of collective management of disaster. Today, more operators, more layers, more intermediaries, and more sectoral elites are visible than in the years of classic Fidel Castroism. But this does not imply that power has ceased to be concentrated. Management has fragmented, but what has not fragmented is command. And that command, even today, still points to a single name and his inner circle: Raúl Castro.

The Cuban regime no longer functions as it did in the years when the bearded leader monopolized the discourse and transformed every governing problem into an extension of his personal will. That model, for both biological and historical reasons, is exhausted. In its place has emerged another architecture, less charismatic and more bureaucratic. But opacity does not equate to a distribution of power. The fact that today the administrators of the apparatus, the trusted technocrats, the military-businessmen, the guards, and the ideological commissars have a greater presence in public affairs does not mean that they all carry equal weight or that they collectively decide the strategic direction of the system.

This nuance corrects the illusion that true power simply erodes through attrition. Sometimes the opposite occurs. The disappearance of the founding leadership opens the door to new, more discreet concentrations of power. In Cuba, authority no longer needs to appear as frequently as before to maintain its monopoly on power.

Raúl Castro unquestionably determines when to set limits, order successions, or bless high-risk contacts

Last March, in the midst of negotiations with the United States, Miguel Díaz-Canel was quick to emphasize that the talks were being led by him — with an almost anxious emphasis on that “by me”—along with Raúl Castro and other officials. The inflection in his voice betrayed more than it clarified. It seemed to reflect the increasingly widespread perception that he plays a largely decorative role, not truly occupying the center of power. His formal titles—President of the Republic and First Secretary of the Communist Party—are not enough to dispel that suspicion. Even less so when, at those same crucial moments, the presence of Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, Raúl’s grandson and bodyguard, served as a reminder that the truly sensitive areas of power still revolve around the old inner circle, and that no official position is necessary to represent the true authority.

In fact, when one looks at where Raúl Castro appears, he always appears in the decisive position. He unquestionably determines when to set limits, order successions, or bless high-risk contacts. It was he, and no one else, who chose Díaz-Canel for all his posts and who has allowed him to remain there. It was also he who proposed indefinitely postponing the Party congress scheduled for 2026, and then the Central Committee unanimously approved the proposal. To call that “collective leadership” requires a rather generous imagination. continue reading

And yet, that is precisely the formula that Díaz-Canel repeats. Last April 12, in the interview with NBC, he said that the leadership of the Revolution was not “personalized in one person” and affirmed “we have a collective leadership,” with unity, cohesion, revolutionary discipline, and hundreds of people capable of assuming responsibilities and making decisions collectively.

In Cuba there is collective administration, yes, but in the sense that an apparatus distributes functions, not in the sense that it distributes ultimate command. The collegiality serves to share responsibilities, so that several cadres bear the weight of deterioration and so that no one appears indispensable on the surface. But when the matter touches on the regime’s security, the relationship with Washington, or the architecture of succession, the system does not revert to a horizontal collective; it gravitates once again toward the intimate center where family, security, and historical trust converge.

Outside the family, all those who occupy these positions of micro-power do so precariously. They can disappear with the snap of a finger.

During the thaw with Obama, the key player was Alejandro Castro Espín, Raúl’s son, who was then linked to the national security apparatus. And now, all eyes are on Raúl Guillermo, known as El Congrejo, [The Crab]. In other words, when Washington wants to know who to talk to so that a conversation isn’t just a formality, it ends up reaching into the orbit of the Castro family and their most trusted contacts.

The same thing happens within the country. There are, of course, the administrators of the apparatus: Díaz-Canel, Roberto Morales Ojeda, Manuel Marrero, governors, ministers, and Party secretaries. There are the reliable technocrats, promoted to manage critical areas without altering the logic of command. There are the military businessmen, heirs to the economic power concentrated for years in Gaesa and in the circle of the late López-Calleja, Raúl Castro’s son-in-law and father of El Cangrejo.

But outside the family, all those who occupy these positions of micro-power do so precariously. They can disappear with the snap of a finger. The list of officials, cadres, and technocrats wiped off the political map is too long for this space, but a quick glance reveals inevitable patterns. No matter how high an administrator has climbed within the system, nothing protects them from a swift fall. There are the cases of Arnaldo Ochoa, José Abrantes, and the de la Guardia brothers, but also, on a different scale and at a different time, those of Carlos Lage, Felipe Pérez Roque, and Alejandro Gil.

No one is certain that Donald Trump will drastically end Castroism

Nor is the supposed “unity” within the power structures real. In the digital-propaganda sphere, the irreconcilable differences between Iroel Sánchez and Abel Prieto were well known. Internal struggles to eliminate competitors, gain influence, or secure exclusive patronage have always been intense. Today, the battle for the narrative is not only cultural; it also involves surveillance, defamation, mobilizing alliances, and managing fear.

Cuban power no longer takes the simple form of the one-man rule of previous decades. But when Fidel Castro died, everyone knew who his successor was. Now, new concentrations of power have emerged, various groups that manage different parts of the system, while a small core retains the ability to dictate the essentials. The big question is what will happen when Raúl Castro physically disappears.

No one can be certain that Donald Trump will drastically end Castro’s regime. But even surviving his threats, the regime doesn’t seem capable of sustaining itself indefinitely. If social and external pressure continues, it is unlikely anyone will be able to demonstrate sufficient credentials to proclaim themselves the legitimate heir to the dictatorial power. And that moment is inevitably approaching at full speed.

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Eaten Alive by Bedbugs in a Cuban Prison, 16-Year-Old Jonathan Muir Cries Out: “Dad, Get Me out of Here, I Can’t Take It Anymore.”

Lizandra Góngora declares a hunger strike in protest against Díaz-Canel’s statement that there are no political prisoners

Jonathan Muir tells his parents that bedbugs are keeping him awake in prison. / Facebook

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Madrid, April 23, 2026 — “Dad, please get me out of here, I can’t take it anymore.” With these words, Jonathan Muir Burgos called his parents from Canaleta prison (Ciego de Ávila) on Wednesday, at almost 2:00 a.m. The 16-year-old, arrested for participating in the massive demonstration in the town of Morón on March 13, is desperate due to the appalling conditions in the prison, where he is being held awaiting trial.

According to his father, Pastor Elier Muir, in a video shared by fellow evangelical pastor Mario Félix Lleonart, he and his wife received the call from the young man at that hour because bedbugs were keeping him awake. “They’re infesting my skin, and I feel like my brain isn’t going to take it anymore,” Muir quoted his son as saying. “I wrap myself in the sheets, and even then, the bites won’t let me sleep day or night.”

The pastor fears for his son’s health not only because of the wounds the parasites, which he says are proliferating in the new cell where he has been transferred, might cause, but also because of the meager food the boy receives. “They give him a pittance, enough to fit in a six- or eight-ounce disposable cup, at four in the afternoon, and then he doesn’t see anything else until five-thirty or six in the morning,” the father says.

“They give him food, meager, which all fits in a disposable six- or eight-ounce cup, at four in the afternoon, and then he doesn’t see anything else until five thirty or six in the morning.”

The provisions that the family brought him on their last visit, he continues, “have already run out,” because “he shares them with the five prisoners who are there with him, just as the others share with him, but they have nothing left.”

Accompanying the video that disseminates Muir’s message, Lleonart wrote: “A sick minor, subjected to this cruel treatment simply for participating in a peaceful protest asking for food, light, and freedom. This is state torture,” while demanding his “immediate release” and “urgent medical attention.” continue reading

On April 9, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) sent an official request to the Cuban government demanding urgent information on the situation of the minor. The request, addressed to Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez, gave the State five days to respond regarding Jonathan Muir’s detention conditions, his state of health, and the measures taken to guarantee his safety.

The IACHR clarified that this request did not imply a decision on granting such measures, but stressed the urgency of verifying the adolescent’s situation. The request was made following a petition for precautionary measures filed by the organization Cuba Decide.

Jonathan Muir, along with Kevin Samuel Echevarría Rodríguez, also a minor at 15 years old, were two of the new prisoners counted in March by the organization Prisoners Defenders (PD). That report from the Madrid-based NGO marked another record in March: with 44 new prisoners of conscience, the total rose to 1,250.

The strike, this family member explained, seeks “to demonstrate that there are indeed people imprisoned for political reasons and to demand respect for her status as a political prisoner.”

The number of women and minors arrested has grown “significantly,” Prisoners Defenders denounces, saying it demonstrates “a significant increase in repression also against vulnerable groups and a devastating impact on entire families.”

Faced with this reality, and amid pressure and contacts between the US and Cuba, the regime has continued to deny the existence of political prisoners in recent weeks, whose release is one of the requirements of the ultimatum given by the Trump administration to Havana, which expires this weekend.

It was precisely in response to President Miguel Díaz-Canel’s statements to NBC that political prisoner Lizandra Góngora, sentenced to 14 years in prison—the longest sentence imposed on a woman for participating in the July 11, 2021 protests—declared a hunger strike this Wednesday. She is being held in Los Colonos prison on the Isle of Youth.

Her husband, Ángel Delgado, explained this to Martí Noticias, which also reported on the words of the opposition leader’s cousin Ariel Góngora, in a Facebook Live broadcast. The hunger strike, this relative explained, aims “to demonstrate that there are indeed people imprisoned for political reasons and to demand respect for her status as a political prisoner.”

Ariel Góngora holds the Cuban regime responsible for any consequences to his cousin’s health and points out that she is not the only prisoner protesting in this way. He cited the example of Jesús Véliz Marcano, also imprisoned since the 11 July 2021 Island-wide protests, in his case in Camagüey, who this Thursday marks nine days of a hunger strike in solitary confinement.

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Havana Chronicles: Fatigue Barely Allows One to Enjoy the ‘Lights On’ in Havana

A childhood friend assures me that this is like when the eye of the cyclone passes over us and it seems that calm has finally arrived.

A graffiti on a wall in El Vedado — ‘Fuck signing‘ — sums up this whole story. / 14ymedio

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Yoani Sánchez, Havana, April22, 2026 —  I haven’t heard Caruso in days. The neighborhood rooster has stopped singing in the middle of the night, its discordant crowing starting long before sunrise. Did it finally end up in a cooking pot? I peer over the edge of the rooftop and see little lights here and there. Not a single blackout in all of Havana that I can see. That worries me more than the fate of the cheeky rooster on the block. What will come after so much electricity? I wonder.

They say that those who have lived through a war can suffer from what is known as “combat fatigue.” the physical and mental exhaustion, the disorientation, and the anxiety make up the trauma of a soldier who has experienced battle. But here nothing has ended; this is merely a brief respite. A childhood friend assures me that this is like when the eye of a hurricane passes us overhead and it seems that calm has arrived. People become complacent and leave their homes, but soon after the eye of the hurricane the worst winds and the most extreme tornadoes arrive.

It’s not like we’ve had time to let our guard down, because now we have electricity, but we still lack water. In Cuba, you always have to keep one foot in the trenches of precariousness. Last night I had to stay awake listening for the sound of the pipes. “Can you hear anything?” my husband asked me at three in the morning. I got up, checked, and pressed my ear to the thick pipe that runs from the enormous water tank above our heads. “Nothing yet.” I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I heard a gurgling stream that woke me up.

I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes I heard a gurgling stream that woke me up

My friend Abel, who works for a state agency, has assured me that this time he won’t be attending yet another petition drive to “defend the homeland.” He was just a teenager during that “constitutional mummification” of 2002 that made socialism an irrevocable option in this country. Forever and ever, Cubans are supposed to bear the burden of those pressures and those masks. Every dictatorship yearns for perpetuity, and Castroism believes that by scribbling on paper it will buy itself a “until forever.” continue reading

In my friend’s building, many of those who signed in favor of the regime that day have already left the country. One neighbor, particularly furious, who criticized others for not arriving early to sign the makeshift book—which lacked both the status of a ballot and the official letterhead required for a referendum—is now a businessman in Florida and complains that we on the island aren’t brave enough to shake off a dictatorship.

But courage, like the opportunistic stampede, also begins one day. Last week, my friend’s daughter broke her leg. The ordeal the family went through, the number of “millas” (thousand-Cuban-peso bills) they had to spend along the way so the girl could receive decent care and the necessary painkillers, made Abel say, “That’s it.” Now he’s “staring with a dead man in his eyes,” as the old folks begging in the streets say, recalling proverbs we’ve already forgotten. In other words, my friend doesn’t care about anything; a tribute or a rally of repudiation.

Nobody asks me if I’m going to go sign. Nobody asks the lunatics, babies, and worms to stamp our names on anything

At his workplace, they’ve called for people to sign a petition at a solemn event supposedly meant to defend the nation, but it’s really just validating the single-party system, the family clan that controls us with an outdated ideology that stifles the potential of millions of Cubans. Abel insists he won’t go. But I fear that the pressure and his plan to emigrate will make him give in. The thought of being “regulated,” like so many activists and independent journalists prevented from leaving the country, could break him.

No one asks me if I’m going to go sign. Nobody asks the lunatics, babies, and worms to stamp their names on anything. My absence probably won’t even be counted, because on this island, voter and signatory lists tend to be adjusted to reflect attendance while abstentions are concealed. In my building, too, many who signed that constitutional mummification have left the country . Many of those who voted for the current Constitution no longer live in Cuba either.

We gusanos, the worms, are sometimes stubborn and stay put. A graffiti on a wall in El Vedado sums up this whole story. On G Street, between 13th and Línea, someone has scrawled two words these days that say it all: “Puta firma.” What does it matter who goes and who doesn’t to leave their mark on those lists? What relevance does it have that there’s electricity now if in a few days the darkness will swallow us again? Is there anything more important than the sound of water when all the pipes are dry?

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Previous Havana Chronicles:

Dollars, the Classic Card, and a Havana Without Tourists

A Journey Through the Lost Names of Havana

The Shipwreck of a Ship Called “Cuba”

Havana Seen From ‘The Control Tower’

In Havana, the Only Ones Who Move Are the Mosquitoes

Reina, the Stately Street Where Garbage is Sold

Searching for Light Through the Deserted Streets of Havana

The Death Throes of ‘Granma’, the Mouthpiece of a Regime Cornered by Crisis

The Anxiety of the Disconnected Cuban

One Mella, Three Mellas, Life in Cuba Is Measured in Thousands of Pesos

It Is Forbidden To Leave Home in Cuba Today Because It Is a “Counter-Revolutionary Day”

Vedado, the Heart of Havana’s Nightlife, Is Now Converted Into a Desert

Havana, in Critical Condition

COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Cuba’s Official Social Media Celebrates a “Lit Up” City: Havana Regains Light and Buses for a Few Hours

Russian oil barrels are giving the capital a respite that will be short-lived according to the Cuban government’s own data.

“Looks like they’ve been given a shot of fuel,” commented a passenger as he watched two buses pass by one after the other. / 14ymedio

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Juan Diego Rodríguez, Havana, April 22, 2026 – “Today at four in the morning I went up to the rooftop and was impressed. It had been a long time since I’d seen all of Havana lit up without dark patches everywhere,” a resident of Nuevo Vedado, whose building offers a view of much of the city, told this newspaper. The image, almost absent from the capital in recent months, sums up what happened this Wednesday. For a brief stretch in the early morning, Havana was almost completely illuminated again, and at dawn, several buses reappeared on the main avenues.

The national electrical grid managed to meet demand between 4:12 and 5:07 a.m., according to a press release from the National Electric Union (UNE). This 55-minute period without outages was a brief respite in a day marked by frequent blackouts. The UNE’s daily reports, published by Cubadebate, also indicate that such a window of uninterrupted power had not occurred since February 8th.

The change was noticeable on the streets before dawn. “I’ve seen some buses on the streets today, which haven’t been seen for a long time,” said a Havana resident who left her house early in the Cerro municipality. Another woman, at a bus stop on Diez de Octubre Avenue, summed up the scene with a mixture of astonishment and sarcasm: “There are buses on the streets today, what a miracle.”

The image of the return of electricity and buses coincided with a campaign launched by several pro-government accounts on social media the previous night. The most visible example was that of Vice Foreign Minister Josefina Vidal, who shared a post with the idea that “a fuel ship arrives in Cuba and the lights come back on,” echoing a message disseminated earlier, in Portuguese, by Mídia Ninja, a Brazilian alternative media network with an activist profile. Photos of a lit-up Havana and texts about the supposed energy relief circulated as proof of a visible improvement, at least for a few hours, in the capital. continue reading

“There are also people at the bus stops, which had been empty for a long time.” / 14ymedio

Off-screen, the perception was far less dramatic. “Looks like they’ve been given a shot of fuel,” commented one passenger upon seeing two buses pass by one after the other on a route where none had appeared in recent weeks. It wasn’t just the presence of the vehicles that was striking. “There are also people at the bus stops, which had been empty for a long time,” he added. During the worst days of the shortage, many of those corners had been practically deserted.

Since the weekend, the state press has been presenting the arrival of the Russian-donated oil shipment in Cuba as a turning point. The Russian vessel Anatoly Kolodkin arrived in Matanzas on March 31 with 100,000 tons of crude oil, equivalent to about 730,000 barrels. This fuel was processed at the Cienfuegos refinery because the Havana refinery is not operational, and according to the official version, gasoline, diesel, fuel oil, and liquefied gas are already being produced and distributed from this refined product.

The authorities maintain that processing took between 12 and 15 days and that the distribution of refined products to consumption centers is being carried out in stages. These products, the government insists, will help sustain some electricity generation, transportation, and economic activity. According to this official account, diesel and fuel oil will power generating plants, while gasoline and other fuels will help move cargo, passengers, and services.

On April 18, the State newspaper Granma reported that these fuel derivatives were already being distributed throughout the country and were beginning to reduce disruptions to the electrical service. The same article added that the available fuel, although limited, would also be used for transportation and to support the economy. This is essentially the explanation that state media have used in recent days to accompany the image of a brighter capital with more buses on the road. Outside of Havana, however, the situation is far from similar, and in much of the country, blackouts continue with the same frequency, while any relief is barely noticeable.

The total amount of derivatives obtained would cover “around a third of the national demand for a month”

However, the National Electric Union’s own report qualifies the extent of the improvement. The agency reported that on Tuesday there were outages throughout the 24-hour period, reaching a maximum of 1,384 megawatts. For the evening of April 22, the forecast still predicted a deficit exceeding 1,100 megawatts. The early morning without a blackout, therefore, did not represent a return to normalcy for the system, but rather a brief respite in the midst of a crisis that remains far from over.

Even so, the government has insisted on presenting the arrival of Russian crude as a substantial relief. According to official statements reported by Cubadebate, the total amount of refined products obtained would cover “around a third of national demand for a month.” This phrase, repeated optimistically by officials, state media, and affiliated social media accounts, has become a central tenet of the official narrative in recent days.

In Havana, that discourse found a concrete, albeit brief, translation into daily life this Wednesday. In a city where blackouts and lack of transportation have become part of the landscape, 55 minutes without shortages and a few buses returning to the avenues were enough for many to believe, for a moment, that normalcy had returned to the capital.

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Ricardo, the Man Who Wants To Bring Order to the Transportation Chaos in Havana

From driving an almendrón [classic American car in use as a shared taxi] to managing a private fleet, he dreams of a modern bus network in a city trapped between fuel shortages and improvisation.

“The authorities see us as if we were the enemy, even though we are the ones who are keeping this city running.” / 14ymedio

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Natalia López Moya, Havana, April18, 2026 / The hustle and bustle begins early in Fraternity Park. Under the shade of the trees, a line of jeeps and pickup trucks adapted for passenger transport wait their turn while the drivers chat, check the engine, or lean against the open doors. The Capitol Building looms in the background, imposing, as if watching over this small universe where necessity, ingenuity, and daily survival intersect. In this private taxi stand, where each vehicle represents a story of hard work, Ricardo, a 48-year-old Havana resident, moves with a calm gait. He feels transportation as a vocation that runs in his veins.

Ricardo, a name changed to avoid reprisals, doesn’t wear a uniform or any special insignia. He dresses simply, speaks in a measured tone, and greets each driver by name. His role now is that of manager and supervisor of a small fleet he and his brother have built up over decades of work. However, as soon as he stops in front of one of the vehicles, a green minibus with a capacity for a dozen passengers, his gaze becomes technical, almost professional. He checks the condition of the tires, asks about fuel consumption, and reviews the day’s schedule as if he were inspecting a complex transportation network.

“I was born for this,” he tells 14ymedio, with a brief smile. And he doesn’t seem to be exaggerating.

When the boys were born, I couldn’t afford to continue studying without earning a penny. I had to find money as quickly as possible.

Ricardo studied Transportation Engineering at the José Antonio Echeverría Technological University of Havana, the well-known Cujae, until his fourth year. He didn’t graduate. Life, as it happens to so many young people in Cuba, forced him to take a more urgent path. He married young, had twins, and the need to support his family took precedence over books and classrooms.

“When the boys were born, I couldn’t afford to continue studying without earning a single penny. I had to find money as quickly as possible,” he recalls.

His entry into the world of almendrones — classic American cars operating as shared taxis — was almost a natural progression. His father had worked for the railroad for decades, and at home, trains, routes, and schedules were always a topic of conversation. Even his great-grandfather was involved in managing Havana’s old streetcar system, a family legacy that shaped his childhood. As a boy, while others played ball, he built imaginary cities with toy cars. That passion remains with him: in his living room, continue reading

he maintains a meticulous collection of miniature cars.

"Private transport operators know this city better than the Ministry of Transport." / 14ymedio
“Private transport operators know this city better than the Ministry of Transport.” / 14ymedio

The first vehicle he drove was his father’s old Chevrolet, a car that had already accumulated years and repairs when Ricardo decided to convert it into a shared taxi. Those beginnings, he says, were tough.

“There were days when I went out to work not knowing if I would be able to return home with enough money for food. The car was constantly breaking down and the parts were hard to find. But there was no alternative.”

On the route connecting Fraternity Park with Santiago de las Vegas, he learned to deal with impatient passengers, deteriorating streets, and a public transportation system that was already showing signs of exhaustion. That experience taught him to calculate times, costs, and routes with almost mathematical precision.

Over time they managed to build a small fleet that today includes six electric tricycles and five car-type vehicles, capable of transporting between 10 and 14 passengers each.

His brother, also a driver, joined the business, and together they began to grow slowly. They reinvested part of their profits in repairs, fuel, and the purchase of new vehicles. Over time, they built a small fleet that today includes six electric tricycles and five passenger vans, each capable of carrying between 10 and 14 passengers.

Ricardo no longer lives “glued to the wheel,” as he himself says, but he remains connected to the daily operation of the vehicles. He visits the taxi stand frequently, supervises the drivers, and reviews the day’s income and expenses. His presence, discreet yet constant, reflects a mixture of responsibility and pride.

At Fraternity Park, the flow of passengers never stops. Women with heavy bags, students with backpacks, and workers trying to get to their jobs gather around the vehicles, asking about destinations and fares. The sound of the engines mingles with the murmur of conversations and the metallic slam of closing doors.

Ricardo observes this scene with a critical eye. For him, transportation in Havana is not just a business, but a structural problem that requires technical solutions and political will.

There is no real coordination between the different modes of transport, and this leads to losses of time and resources.

As he explains, the principal obstacles facing passenger transportation in the capital are the lack of fuel, the deterioration of the vehicle fleet, the shortage of spare parts and the absence of efficient route planning.

“The whole system is improvised. There’s no real coordination between the different modes of transport, and that causes a waste of time and resources,” he says. “The authorities see us as if we were the enemy, even though we’re the ones keeping this city moving,” he points out. “They bombard us with fines and inspections, but what they should be doing is working with us, hand in hand.”

He also points out that current regulations limit the growth of the private sector. He considers it essential to create a legal framework that allows for the direct import of vehicles and parts in an expedited manner and “without so much paperwork,” access to financing, and the possibility of establishing stable contracts with the government.

“If we want to improve transportation in Cuba, we have to let those who know how to do it do their jobs,” he argues. “Private transport operators know this city better than the Ministry of Transportation; we’ve designed more efficient and comprehensive routes and connections than the Havana Bus Company.”

“If we want to improve transportation in Cuba, we have to let those who know how to do it do their jobs.”

His incomplete academic training hasn’t prevented him from maintaining a technical approach to the subject. Ricardo has dedicated years to studying route behavior, passenger flow, and operating costs. His notebook contains detailed notes on schedules, distances, and fuel consumption.

His greatest ambition is to run a bus route in Havana. This isn’t just a whim. He has developed a complete project that includes route planning, frequency calculations, and income and expense estimates.

In his mind, the city is divided into high- and low-demand zones, with stations strategically located to facilitate passenger access. He speaks of waiting times, cargo capacity, and preventative maintenance with the confidence of a professional.

“I have all the numbers done. I know roughly how many buses are needed, the municipalities that need to be connected because they are currently isolated, the type of bus that will best meet the needs of the conditions we have here, and something that is not allowed now, which is to turn the buses into rolling advertising options so that businesses can pay to promote their products in these display cases on wheels, which is a way to generate income,” he says.

At Fraternity Park, the flow of passengers never stops. / 14ymedio

His plan includes the use of modern technologies to optimize the service. It proposes the incorporation of electronic payment systems, the creation of rechargeable cards with special discounts for students and senior citizens, mobile applications for route tracking, and hybrid or electric vehicles that reduce fuel consumption.

“Cuba could skip stages if it adopts efficient technologies. There’s no need to repeat the mistakes of other countries,” he points out.

As he speaks, a group of passengers gets into one of the vehicles parked on the sidewalk. A woman in a red dress settles into the back seat, followed by two young men carrying their backpacks. The driver starts the engine and the vehicle slowly merges into traffic.

Ricardo watches the maneuver intently, as if evaluating every detail. His experience allows him to detect flaws and anticipate problems.

Despite the economic difficulties and uncertainty that characterize life on the Island, the entrepreneur insists that his future is in Cuba.

“I’ve never wanted to emigrate, even though almost all my friends are outside the country,” he admits.

He believes the island needs professionals willing to work for the recovery of public services and the development of infrastructure.

For him, transportation is more than a job. It’s a personal mission that combines family tradition, technical expertise, and social commitment. He believes the island needs professionals willing to work toward the restoration of public services and the development of infrastructure.

At Fraternity Park, the line of vehicles continues to grow. The sun illuminates the colorful car bodies and casts long shadows on the pavement. Drivers chat, passengers wait, and the city keeps moving with the precarious energy that characterizes Havana.

Ricardo walks among the cars with a firm step, greeting each worker and checking the details of the service. His presence conveys the feeling of someone who refuses to accept the decline, who believes in the possibility of organizing the chaos and building a more efficient transportation system.

In his mind, the maps and calculations keep turning like invisible gears. There, in that universe of numbers and routes, he envisions the future he imagines for the city: a modern, punctual, and accessible bus network, capable of restoring to Havana the dynamism it once had.

And although that project still belongs to the realm of dreams, Ricardo continues to prepare for the day he can make it a reality.

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This article was produced in collaboration with Cuba Siglo 21 as part of the project “Cuba: Stabilize and Develop.”

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Cubalex: Artemisa Provincial Court Refuses To Accept Appeal on Luis Manuel Otero’s Case Within the Legal Timeframe

Cubalex, March 23, 2026 — Cubalex reports that the Provincial People’s Court of Artemisa is refusing to receive, within the established legal term, the appeal filed in the framework of the Habeas Corpus procedure in favor of Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara.

Today, the person responsible for filing the appeal went to the Court on time, but the document was not received on the grounds that the relevant official was unavailable. They were told to return the following day.

For Cubalex’s legal team, this action is legally inadmissible. The deadline for filing the appeal expires today. Forcing its submission on a later date places the appellant outside the time limit, which in practice implies the loss of the right to appeal and constitutes a form of obstruction of access to justice.

According to Cuban procedural law, the Provincial Court of Artemisa has the obligation to receive the appeal filed within the legal term; incorporate it into the corresponding file and elevate it to the Supreme People’s Court (TSP) for processing.

The refusal to receive the document not only violates the right to due process, but also reinforces a pattern already documented in this case: the use of formal mechanisms to block effective access to Habeas Corpus.

This fact adds to the irregularities already identified in the Order dated March 12, 2026, by which the Court rejected the request for alleged lack of competence, without legal basis or indication of the competent body.

The original Habeas Corpus petition is based on the fact that Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara has fully complied with the imposed sanction, so his continued imprisonment constitutes an illegal deprivation of liberty. continue reading

The current refusal to accept the appeal aggravates this situation and constitutes an additional violation of basic procedural guarantees.

Cubalex demands the immediate receipt of the appeal filed within the deadline; the effective processing of the procedure; the referral of the file to the Supreme People’s Court; and the cessation of practices that obstruct access to justice.

It also warns that these events will be documented and presented to international human rights protection mechanisms as evidence of denial of justice and restriction of Habeas Corpus in Cuba.

A Woman Is Threatened With Five Years in Prison for Recording a Police Operation in Cienfuegos, Cuba

Madeleiny Fuentes León, who never published the video, was arrested by the Technical Investigations Department.

Madeleiny Fuentes has been detained for more than 72 hours at the detention center known as El Técnico, in Cienfuegos, Cuba / Facebook

14ymedio biggerMadeleiny Fuentes León, 30, a resident of Santa Isabel de las Lajas, Cienfuegos, was arrested last Friday by agents of the Technical Investigations Department (DTI), under orders from Cuba’s Ministry of the Interior, after she recorded a video of a police search of her home and sent it to her sister, Madeley Fuentes León, in the United States. According to a complaint filed Tuesday by the legal advice center Cubalex, although the video was never released, authorities threatened the woman with three to five years in prison for recording the police.

According to the NGO, agents arrived at the residence with a search warrant, entered the home, and confiscated two cell phones and cash. The reason for the operation, according to the group Freedom For Cuba, based in West Palm Beach, Florida, and to which Madeleiny’s sister belongs, was “retaliation because Madeley, from the United States, publicly defends freedom in Cuba.”

In another post on their Facebook page, the group even claims that the agents arrived at Madeleiny Fuentes’ house “with photographs taken from the US, where Madeley appears participating in activities of the movement for the freedom of Cuba.”

Fuentes León’s family members “continue to lack access to clear information about her situation”

Cubalex also reported that the young woman is being held at the detention center known as El Técnico in Cienfuegos, after spending more than 72 hours in custody, awaiting formal charges. In this regard, the Cuban Institute for Freedom of Expression and the Press (ICLEP) stated that Fuentes León’s family “continues to lack access to clear information about her situation, following the authorities’ refusal to provide details for at least 72 hours.” continue reading

Meanwhile, Justicia 11J reported that they contacted Madeley in the United States, who stated that she “fears the possible arrest of her mother, Mabel León Fonseca, after she attended a summons from authorities of the

Fidel Castro’s Daughter Says a ‘Little Push’ Is Needed To Topple the Dictatorship in Cuba

“You can’t bring down a system like this with old pots and dented ladles, it’s impossible,” laments Alina Fernández.

Alina Fernández, daughter of Fidel Castro, has premiered ‘The Daughter of the Revolution’, a documentary about her life. / Screenshot

14ymedio biggerAlina Fernández was 20 years old when she dared to ask her father, Fidel Castro, why the police were arresting artisans who traded in Cathedral Square. “Why? Explain to me why these people, who are doing us a favor, have to be arrested,” she said in the first argument she remembers with the leader. She soon realized that “conversations with him were useless. He had a monologue; he liked to listen to himself, and of course, he wasn’t someone who would accept being questioned.” The leader told her that the State could never lose its monopoly on trade. “That’s what Cuba is to this day,” she laments.

It’s one of the many small anecdotes that the daughter of Fidel Castro and Naty Revuelta’s shared with the newspaper El País in an interview where these brief glimpses reveal far more about her paternal family than her answers—direct, undoubtedly—to more obvious questions. Radically critical of Castroism since childhood, Fernández expresses her views on the current political climate, though she doesn’t hide her fear that things might not end well.

“I dare to have hope, though I also have the feeling that I’ve had hope many times before and had to swallow it. What is lacking is change. By any means necessary. People in Cuba need to breathe, to enter the 21st century, to give their children a life, they need hope, and freedom is needed for all of this,” she explained. Castro’s daughter is speaking from Miami, where she has lived for years, and where the documentary La hija de la Revolución [The Daughter of the Revolution], in which she appears, was recently presented at the film festival.

“What is needed is change. By any means necessary. People in Cuba need to breathe, to enter the 21st century, to give their children a life, they need hope, and freedom is needed for all of this.”

Fernández speaks about how he sees the island at this time. “If this critical situation of no electricity continues, if this drags on, I don’t know what might happen,” she wonders. In her opinion, a “push” will be needed to topple “a dictatorship” that she considers entrenched in its position, even more so than her father would be if he were alive today. “You can’t bring down a system like this with old pots and dented ladles, it’s impossible.” continue reading

“I see that throughout this whole time, there hasn’t been the capacity to admit that the battle was lost. I don’t know if Fidel would have been able to say, well, indeed, I lost the battle, and I’ll see what benefit I can gain from an orderly and elegant defeat. I imagine that would have been the position, not the entrenched one they’re currently taking,” she reflects. She confesses that she doesn’t know if her paternal family has more power than that granted to them by Gaesa, Cuba’s military conglomerate, but she is convinced that the current president’s resignation is irrelevant. “Focusing on Díaz-Canel, who is a person who has borne the brunt of the unpopularity of this madness, doesn’t solve any problems.”

Alina Fernández states that she has never had any contact with the Castros, although she reveals that this is an absolute constant within the family. “One of Fidel’s strangest characteristics as a person was that he didn’t want his children to associate with the rest of the family, and he kept them isolated until they grew up and were able to leave the nest a little, but we didn’t have much contact,” she recounts. Things went even further, as even cousins ​​weren’t allowed to meet. “One day, Raúl’s son (now General Alejandro Castro Espín) and one of Fidel’s sons happened to be together, and immediately there was an order that they couldn’t interact. A very peculiar thing, and also, for me, inexplicable,” she adds.

In Fernández’s opinion, as well, the revolutionary leader was particularly determined to ensure that no one overshadowed him, which is why it was her uncle—not her father—who unsuccessfully tried to promote Fidel Castro’s son as a deputy. She confesses that, although she has no contact with Sandro Castro, she is often asked about him, and she believes—from a generational perspective—that his message is valid. “I think that anything said about the need for change is useful. However you say it, however timidly, or with a good or bad joke, it’s important,” she says.

Fernández, who calls her father a “narcissist,” makes it clear that Castro treated the family the same way he treated the country. Despite their irregular relationship, with relatively frequent visits but little enthusiasm, the leader had sudden bouts of paternalism that he resolved through authoritarian means. This was the case with her wedding, when she was still young. “He was hurt, he felt guilty about having a 16-year-old daughter getting married, practically a child. (…) He stipulated that if I postponed the wedding, he would take care of everything. It was a rather modest wedding, considering it was being subsidized by the king of Havana. I waited a few months, finally turning 17, and he went and signed the authorization for the wedding. Even though he wasn’t my legal father. He was whatever he wanted to be,” she recalls.

“It was a rather modest wedding considering it was subsidized by the King of Havana. I waited a few months, finally turning 17, and he went and signed the authorization for the wedding. Even though he wasn’t my legal father. He was whatever he wanted to be.”

She also states that she never wanted to use his surname, even though her mother—who was always in love with Fidel—insisted on it to legitimize her. Although Castro consented, he didn’t show much interest, and nothing came of it. What the late leader did do was modestly contribute to the household’s food supply. “My mother was so strict that she said buying an egg on the black market wasn’t revolutionary. Everyone was living off the black market, but my mother resisted; she tried to adapt to what the Revolution provided. Fidel, at some point, started to help occasionally with a little milk, or something else.”

Fernández severed ties with her biological father for good after her daughter was born. “In the end, he was a terrible burden. When my daughter was born, I asked him not to visit her at home; every visit from him caused a commotion. When I was little, when he frequented my house, people would come with letters for me to give to him; that was a sad experience too. People knew he visited us and would deliver letters with very sad stories, and I would try to give them to him. I read many tragedies,” including those from families of those executed who were asking for permission to leave the country.

She believes that those primarily responsible for the tragedy are dead, but many accomplices remain, especially those resentful of the exile community, which provides so much assistance to the country. She maintains that the entire nation, both those on and off the island, will have to heal from these wounds. “At some point, we will have to reach an agreement in order to coexist, to rebuild. There is too much pain.”

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

Havana Water Admits to the Collapse of the Water Supply “In Practically All Localities”

The state-owned company reports 200,000 affected citizens, while the population claims the figures ignore the true impact.

A young woman collects water from a tanker truck in Diez de Octubre, Havana. / 14ymedio

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Havana, April 21, 2026 — A group of residents in Luyanó, in Havana’s Diez de Octubre municipality finally mnaaged to get a water truck from the authorities this week after days without a drop of water service. “They only sent it when they went to the government’s offices, a young resident told 14ymedio, describing the area’s hardships.

“When I took the dog out, there were some neighbors a few blocks away arguing over a water truck,” he continued. “If we continue without service, things are going to get intense: people tolerate power outages better than a lack of water.”

On April 18, the Havana Water Company announced a break in a 48-inch pipeline of the Cuenca Sur water supply source, forcing the interruption of pumping since the early morning hours. This has affected large areas of the Plaza de la Revolución, Cerro, Diez de Octubre, and Boyeros municipalities. As a result of the break, water service in Central Havana and Old Havana was reduced to a regulated level.

The effects have been felt in neighborhoods closest to government offices, such as Nuevo Vedado, in the Plaza de la Revolución municipality, where the 14ymedio newsroom itself has suffered the consequences, receiving only a few hours of water supply per day. continue reading

If we continue without service, things are going to get intense: people tolerate blackouts better than a lack of water.

On Reina Street in Central Havana, residents have been forced to choose between washing clothes or washing dishes, given the impossibility of doing both with the limited water supply. The situation has even forced the temporary closure of food businesses in the area, which cannot operate without water.

On April 17, the official media acknowledged in a press conference a “complex situation regarding the water supply in the capital.” Official figures presented by directors of Aguas de La Habana (Havana Water Company) indicate that around 200,000 Havana residents are affected, equivalent to 11% of the capital’s population. “A problem perhaps not so alarming in purely numerical terms,” writes Tribuna de La Habana, “but certainly very complex and stressful.”

On social media, residents of Central Havana are also denouncing the severity of the situation. “It’s been 25 days without water,” wrote a resident identified as Haila Barani, on Monday, who recounted that a water truck refused to sell her water, claiming it was intended “only for vulnerable cases.” “I can’t bathe, I can’t drink water, I can’t cook,” she lamented. The woman says she has had to make do with just three buckets of water.

“I ask Aguas de La Habana if they have invented anything to be help us survive without water”

In neighborhoods like Luyanó, the consequences of these interruptions worsen an already unsustainable situation. The lack of transparency in information about distribution schedules and the absence of effective alternatives, such as water deliveries by tanker truck, are frustrating residents, who have repeatedly expressed their outrage through protests. “I ask Aguas de La Habana, have they come up with anything to help us survive without water?” a resident of Guanabacoa questioned yesterday in a Facebook comment.

State authorities admit that in several territories delivery cycles have become unsustainably long, to the point that in areas like Aldabó, in the municipality of Boyeros, residents can go nearly a month without receiving water.

“The disruptions practically cover all of Havana’s localities, except Plaza, Marianao and Centro Habana, which are not so exceptional exceptions, since in some neighborhoods or specific areas of these territories there is instability in the deliveries,” admitted the general management of the Havana Water Aqueduct at a press conference.

Reactions to the published official statement reveal situations that the authorities do not communicate, or completely ignore: “Guanabacoa is not mentioned and in the high areas there has been no water for more than 15 days,” writes one commentator.

The day they turn on the water, they cut off the electricity and it’s impossible to pump water to fill the tanks.

“It is very serious, since in addition to the problems of leaks in Cuenca Sur and Palatino, we have the fact that on the day they turn on the water, they cut off the electricity and it is not possible to pump to fill the tanks,” says another, and adds: “In Víbora Grande, the water comes in every three days according to the plan and this has not been fulfilled several times consecutively in these months.”

The official statement described the disruptions as ranging from total water shortages to increasingly longer distribution cycles and recurring service failures. Among the causes cited were pumping equipment breakdowns, responsible for 40% of the interruptions, followed closely by blackouts at 39%, and to a lesser extent by breaks in pipelines and leaks.

The managers of the water system have insisted that any improvements will depend largely on the stability of the electricity supply. They promise the installation of new pumps and generators at various points in the city, and the repair of equipment, without providing specific timelines and provoking the same skepticism among a desperate population.

The severity of Havana’s water supply crisis has reached a critical point, causing growing frustration among the population. Recent breakdowns only highlight the dysfunctionality of a hydraulic infrastructure that has suffered from years of deterioration and lack of maintenance.

The enthusiastic promotion that Aguas de La Habana disseminated yesterday, Monday, about the digitization of its services with online payment as a “modern” technological advance “to minimize stress,” seems to ignore that the population faces a more urgent difficulty today: the need to access the most basic resource to exist.

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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.

The US Confirms a Private Meeting With Raúl Castro’s Grandson in Havana

The Council for the Democratic Transition in Cuba demands its “own seat” at the negotiating table

Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, ‘El Cangrejo’, grandson of Raúl Castro, in the center, in white / Presidency of Cuba

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Madrid, 21 April 2026 — The US State Department has officially confirmed that one of its senior officials had a private meeting with Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, grandson of Raúl Castro and known as El Cangrejo [The Crab], on the sidelines of the meeting held in Havana on April 10 between representatives of different countries.

A spokesperson for the agency confirmed to Café Fuerte what USA Today, citing anonymous sources, had reported in its Sunday article. “A senior State Department official also met separately with Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro ( Raulito ) while he was on the island,” the spokesperson said, without providing further details about the American’s identity or the private meeting.

This Monday, Alejandro García del Toro, the deputy director general in charge of the US at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, told the Cuban official press that there had indeed been a meeting between US and Cuban officials, although he denied that there was a two-week ultimatum to release high-level political prisoners, as USA Today had claimed hours earlier.

“A senior State Department official also met separately with Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro (Raulito), while he was on the Island”

Washington, according to these leaks, requested these short-term releases as a goodwill gesture to continue negotiating other issues, including economic and political changes, permits to provide internet service to the population through Starlink, and responses to demands for the confiscations of the 1960s.

“During the meeting, neither side set deadlines or made any threatening statements, as has been reported by the U.S. press. The entire exchange was respectful and professional,” assured García del Toro. The official added that “the U.S. side was represented by Assistant Secretaries of State, and the Cuban side by the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs.”

However, Castro’s grandson only holds military rank—he is an Army colonel—and serves as his grandfather’s personal security detail, without any official political position. His behind-the-scenes involvement in the negotiations with the US was nonetheless implicitly continue reading

confirmed when he appeared seated behind Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez during the press conference and address in which Miguel Díaz-Canel reported on the talks on March 13.

García del Toro also said on Monday regarding these meetings that the Cuban side prioritizes the energy issue, which it considers an act of economic coercion and punishment of the population. “It is also blackmail on a global scale against sovereign states, which have every right to export fuel to Cuba, under the rules that govern free trade,” he added. The official maintained that the topic of the talks “is a sensitive matter that, as we have said, we are handling with discretion.” This point has generated debate in the official media among supporters of the regime, who believe that as long as the press in the US leaks information, the Cuban side will always be at a disadvantage.

As news continues to trickle out on both sides of the Florida Straits, the Cuban opposition is asserting its right to a seat at the negotiating table. In a statement released Monday, the Council for Democratic Transition in Cuba (CTDC) insists that any talks on “change, democratization, openness, stability, governance, or the nation’s future should not be reduced to an exchange between two governments.”

Now that “a delicate and potentially significant political moment is opening up” for the country, “the real nation, not just the official one, must be represented in them in a visible and legitimate way.”

The organization, chaired by Manuel Cuesta Morúa, said that “the complexity and challenges of the present and future exceed the capacity of States to deal with them” and that, now that “a delicate and potentially significant political moment is opening up” for the country, “the real nation, not just the official one, must be represented in them in a visible and legitimate way.”

“Cuba is not just its state. Cuba is also its citizens, its civil society, its families, its political prisoners, its religious communities, its professionals, its reformers, its pro-democracy civil society and community, its entrepreneurs, and its diaspora,” the statement says.

The CTDC adds that this negotiation cannot be “an arrangement between elites, useful for managing situations, but insufficient to open a legitimate, stable and lasting way forward” and demands a table with a “public, brief and verifiable” agenda; “plural representation of civic and democratic sectors”; and a “non-violent, serious and solution-oriented” method, in addition to international accompaniment that “recognizes the right of Cuban society to have its own voice, without replacing it.”

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“To Repent Would Be a Lie”: Cuban State Security Pressures Ricardo Medina of El4tico To Retract His Statement

The young artist’s mother publishes a handwritten letter from her son in prison and addresses Díaz-Canel: “If there are no political prisoners in Cuba, what are they being accused of?”

Ernesto Ricardo Medina in one of El4tico’s audiovisual creations. / Facebook/El4tico

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Havana, April 20, 2026 — The mother of Ernesto Ricardo Medina, creator of the independent audiovisual project El4tico, has published a letter on social media written by the young man from prison, where he denounces that State Security is pressuring him to record himself admitting guilt and retracting his creations.

Medina and his colleague on the project, Kamil Zayas, were arrested on February 6 in Holguín and are under provisional detention, accused by the Prosecutor’s Office of “propaganda against the institutional order” and “incitement to commit crimes”.

The letter, shared by Mileydi Machín, Medina’s mother, is handwritten and clearly shows signs of poor quality. In it, the young man recounts constant harassment, which he describes as “psychological torture,” and describes how during interrogations he has been pressured to make a video using the words “repentance” and “retraction,” which he vehemently refuses to do.

“To repent and retract would be to admit I did something wrong, or rather, to accept the accusations against us,” Medina writes, adding: “And no less important: it would be a lie. Our intentions were in accordance with the ‘spiritual revolution’ that moribund Cuba needs.” continue reading

Letter written by Ricardo Medina from prison. / Facebook/Mileydi Machin

The mother accompanies the post with a complaint addressed to President Miguel Díaz-Canel, who insisted that there are no political prisoners on the island, in a recent interview with NBC News.

“If there are no political prisoners in Cuba, then what are they being accused of? Are they terrorists? They may cause terror with a piece of paper and a pencil, with an idea. They may imprison them, but they will not imprison their thoughts, nor those of the people,” writes Mileydi Machín.

The young creator also notes in his letter that the agents emphasized that they recommended he make the retraction video “for his own good”.

The staged repentance that State Security is demanding from Medina is a gesture that has been repeated throughout the regime’s history. It immediately brings to mind the case of Heberto Padilla in 1971, when the poet was forced to make a public self-incrimination after being arrested for the content of his work. That false confession sought to “discipline” and reinforce Fidel Castro’s words: “With the Revolution, everything; against the Revolution, nothing.”

In its time, the consequences of the Padilla case were devastating for global support for Cuba. Intellectuals from around the world who had trusted the system proposed by the Cuban state immediately broke with the regime—Simone de Beauvoir, Susan Sontag, Jean-Paul Sartre, Octavio Paz, among 61 other influential figures—considering the case an unacceptable humiliation of freedom of expression.

The staged display of repentance that State Security demands of Medina is a gesture that has been repeated throughout the history of the regime.

Padilla later described in detail—in books like La mala memoria—the methods of torture and coercion he was subjected to in order to force him to make his public retraction. Today, we don’t have to wait years for the publication of the young Ricardo Medina’s memoirs, and the strategies that State Security continues to implement are being exposed.

The legal concept of “propaganda against the institutional order,” incorporated into the 2022 Penal Code, punishes any critical expression that the State considers “incitement against the social order or the socialist State,” without precisely defining what acts constitute that crime, which makes it a legal instrument to persecute dissent.

International organizations such as Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights have denounced the imprisonment of the creators of El4tico and are demanding the release of the young people; these are just some of the many cases of artists, journalists, and opposition members imprisoned for their stance against the government. To date, the NGO Prisoners Defenders reports 1,252 political prisoners on the island.

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The Order To Sign “For the Fatherland” Has Been Given Throughout the Country in a Campaign Led by Díaz-Canel

In addition to setting up tables for the initiative, the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution are visiting citizens house by house.

Tables organized in Holguín for the initiative “My signature for the Homeland”, this Sunday. / Facebook/Alain Galbán Fernández

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Mercedes García, Sancti Spíritus, April 20, 2026 / Cuba’s state workers have already been ordered to participate in the “process” called “My Signature for the Homeland,” initiated this Sunday with his own signature by President Miguel Díaz-Canel, with which the regime intends to counter the pressures of the United States for a change in Cuba.

“They didn’t set up sign-in points at the workplaces, but instead established locations at the library, the cultural center, and other places. Companies are now telling employees they have to go there to sign,” an employee from Sancti Spíritus, who preferred to remain anonymous, told 14ymedio. How do they verify that the workers went to sign? “They sign a list that they went to sign,” the man replied.

The Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) have also mobilized to go door-to-door. Another resident of Ciego de Ávila recounts: “They came to my mother’s door, and she, being very old, signed. I don’t know what they told her. I already told my husband not to even think about opening the door.”

The woman compares it to what happened in 2002, following the Varela Project launched by Oswaldo Payá , when then-President Fidel Castro ordered the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs) to force citizens to sign a “counter-project” that ended up enshrining in the Constitution “the irrevocable and inviolable nature of socialism,” which popular humor dubbed “constitutional mummification.” “In my house, we don’t sign anything like that,” the woman asserts. continue reading

“They even came to my mother, and she, being very old, signed. I don’t know what they said to her. I already told my husband not to even think about opening the door.”

The Ciego de Ávila newspaper, Invasor, gave a detailed account this Monday of the official government’s mobilization, focusing not so much on its ability to mobilize people as on its use of triumphalist rhetoric. Lianet Pazo Cedeño, a member of the Municipal Party Bureau, declared that the people of Ciego de Ávila “are prepared to demonstrate to the world the free will of the Cuban people to preserve the sovereignty and independence of the nation, but without submitting to blackmail or renouncing their principles.”

Provincial government leaders, such as Odelsys Valcárcel Pérez, general secretary of the Federation of Cuban Women, contributed to the impassioned speeches published by the state newspaper: “Let us unite and denounce the barbarity. Let us make our stance the firmest and most resolute condemnation of all policies contrary to the life and rights of the Cuban people and in support of the Declaration of the Revolutionary Government.”

Several official posts also showed the lines forming at tables set up in Holguín for signatures—which will continue until May 1—although the faces didn’t reflect much enthusiasm. From Guantánamo, a resident reported to this newspaper that the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs) are going door-to-door “collecting information on people who are sick and those who are fit to come forward to defend the homeland.”

The call, disguised as a civil society initiative, aims, in the words of the statement issued by the Presidency, to support “the call made by the president at the event for the 65th anniversary of the declaration of the socialist character of the Revolution, to organizations in Cuba and the world so that the truth about Cuba is known in every corner of the planet,” seasoned, of course, with an allusion to “this people’s commitment to peace” and “the firmness and willingness to defend sovereignty.”

“At least don’t sign out of habit, think about it for a while, let’s try for a moment to be civic-minded and responsible with our destiny, don’t give away your signature.”

Immediately, activists inside and outside Cuba lashed out against the initiative. One example is the #PorEsoYoNoFirmo (That’s Why I’m Not Signing) social media campaign, which users have joined by accompanying the hashtag with images of the situation on the island, including the repression of peaceful demonstrations, blackouts, and giant piles of uncollected garbage.

Art historian Miryorly García reflects on her Facebook wall: “And many people will go there to sign irresponsibly once again, because Cubans have adapted to double standards,” and asks her fellow citizens: “At least don’t sign out of inertia, think about it for a while, let’s try for a moment to be civic-minded and responsible with our destiny, don’t give away your signature, don’t give away your approval.”

From this distancing, she reasons, “it may depend on them being more afraid than the one they’re trying to impose on us through repression, on the fear shifting sides and them packing a suitcase and fleeing, because they’ll realize full well that they have no support.” She elaborates on the same idea: “You have a business that’s struggling because you almost never have electricity, you have a salary that isn’t enough, you live off remittances from someone who had to leave to help you survive… For all these reasons, you need to refuse to sign; you have nothing left to lose. Are you doing it to keep your job? What job, in a country that’s grinding to a halt!” And she concludes: “You have to decide to do your part if you want to see the sand on an entire beach. Cuba changes if we change.”

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The Cuban Government Confirms the Meeting With High-Ranking US Officials, but Denies an Ultimatum

“Neither side set deadlines or made any coercive statements,” a regime official said in response to several US media outlets.

Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, ‘El Cangrejo’, alongside Raúl Castro and Miguel Díaz-Canel. / EFE

14ymedio bigger14ymedio, Havana, April 20, 2026 — The Cuban government confirmed on Monday direct contacts with the United States, responding to “recent publications in the foreign press,” and asserted that “the meeting was respectful and professional, without deadlines or conditions.” With this brief statement, the government attempts to deny the 15-day ultimatum allegedly issued by Washington during conversations held on April 10.

In a very brief interview published in the State newspaper Granma, the deputy director general in charge of the US at the Cuban Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Alejandro García del Toro, stated that “within the framework of the meeting, neither party established deadlines or made threatening statements, as has been mentioned by US media.”

According to information revealed by Axios, the talks included a two-week ultimatum for the Cuban regime to release “high-profile” political prisoners—including Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara and Maykel Castillo Osorbo—as a “gesture of goodwill.” The request was confirmed by a White House spokesperson to USA Today, who also urged Havana to “stop playing games while direct talks are underway.” continue reading

The Cuban government had reacted this same Monday to the revelation of the US ultimatum, through a text published by the official media outlet Razones de Cuba – coincidentally titled Lies with Footnotes – where the meeting was not entirely denied, but rather the existence of a “secret trip of high-level officials with demands.”

The article vehemently denies the existence of political prisoners, but what it reveals is the State’s refusal to release them.

Later, Razones de Cuba tried to justify the possible existence of the meeting: “If that meeting with ‘high-level officials’ really took place and demands such as the release of prisoners, political freedom, compensation and conditions for aid were raised, Cuba’s response was and will be the same as always: a resounding rejection.”

The article vehemently denies the existence of political prisoners, but what it reveals is the State’s refusal to release them: “’Freedom for political prisoners’ is a euphemism for demanding the release of people convicted of common crimes or for violating Cuban laws. The Cuban judicial system is independent and does not negotiate hostages.”

The article in Razones de Cuba emphasizes the rejection of Starlink, the satellite tool of SpaceX, Elon Musk’s company, whose use to offer internet services to the Island was also included in Washington’s ultimatum.

For the regime, this option is a direct threat to its control of information. The possibility that free internet access will no longer be filtered by the state terrifies the Cuban government. Thus, in the official statement, “technological sovereignty” is invoked with the same firmness with which the regime rejects “releasing prisoners.”

The possibility that free internet access will no longer be filtered by the state terrifies the Cuban government.

The rest of the text reiterates the usual narrative of describing the Island as a victim of imperialism and the blockade; and concludes with what is the regime’s stubborn response to dialogue with the US: “No conditions. No exchange of ‘prisoners’. No surrendering sovereignty.”

In this sense, the campaign of “voluntary” signatures initiated by Díaz-Canel in defense of a “vocation for peace” has been mobilized, which completely ignores the political opening that is demanded of him.

The recent attempt by Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, “El Cangrejo” [The Crab]—the grandson of Raúl Castro who uses him as a mediator— to send a letter to the White House through an intermediary, bypassing Secretary of State Marco Rubio, a staunch opponent of the regime, ended in resounding failure. The messenger was intercepted at Miami airport and the document, bearing an official seal, was confiscated, according to The Wall Street Journal.

USA Today had also reported in a previous article that the Pentagon had accelerated plans for a possible intervention – without implying a decision had been made – and, just a day later, a Navy drone flew over the island for 12 hours in what many interpret as a warning sign.

According to ‘USA Today’, Washington’s ultimatum ends this weekend.

The regime’s “gestures of goodwill” regarding prisoner releases remain unsatisfactory. Of the 51 prisoners freed following the agreement with the Vatican announced on March 12, only 27 were political prisoners. The subsequent pardon of more than 2,000 prisoners, presented as a “humanitarian and sovereign” act, has benefited exclusively common criminals. To date, the independent organization Prisoners Defenders reports 1,252 political prisoners.

According to USA Today, Washington’s ultimatum ends this weekend. The US demands included, in addition to the release of political prisoners and the introduction of satellite internet service with Starlink, economic reforms to facilitate foreign investment, a review of the confiscations of the 1960s, and the elimination of restrictions on political freedoms.
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COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.