Economic inequality is driving European tourists to the African country who come seeking sun, but also sex. Its government’s plans to attract ‘quality tourism’ have failed to take off
“We’re going to take a walk on the beach,” shouts a Dutch woman, smiling widely before she disappears among the dunes, kissing a Gambian who appears to be 30 years her minor. Her party, composed of three other Dutch tourists and three young locals with dreadlocks, seem neither surprised nor bothered.
Staff at Justice, a café-restaurant with an open patio situated alongside a dirt road near the coastal town of Serakunda, watch the scene in silence. The night security guard at the nearby Bamboo Garden hotel is more talkative. “It hurts me to see our brothers and sisters being exploited,” he says. Every evening, he sees Dutch, British and German tourists leave their room alone, only to return later that night with a Gambian man or woman. “But what can we do?” the caretaker asks with a shrug.
Officially, visitors’ guests are not allowed to sleep at the hotel, but if tourists slip some money to the receptionist, they turn a blind eye. In the majority of cases, their guests leave that night. “But sometimes, girls come to the front desk crying,” the guard says, sighing. And although the girls say that they’ve been treated rudely, or worse, they hardly ever call the police. “The hotel’s customers pay them not to talk, and it’s over. It doesn’t feel good, but we have to be on our customers’ side. If we aren’t, they’ll fire us,” says the guard.
What’s Cuba like? How are things domestically there?
I haven’t been since 2019, so I can’t really say how things are right now, but rather than give you my opinion on what I think about Cuba, I’d like to share my experiences to illustrate what Cuba is like.
I started going when I was in middle school back in 1995ish to visit family. At the time, the country was in a severe economic depression while relations between the US and Cuba were terrible. Traveling to Cuba was a mission that required individual approval from the federal government, particularly the Dept of the Treasury I believe, and traveling through another country. During these trips, half of my role for traveling was to take supplies and money to help my family in Cuba. Having been born and raised in the US, seeing the severe economic conditions in Cuba were impactful. Things were rough in Cuba. Acquiring basic things like food could be an endeavor. Places that sold food would often not have any, and the places that did had incredibly long lines…like hours long. Occasionally, we would be waiting in line when food would run out. If we were able to purchase food, we were limited to a small amount. Transportation was also a hassle. We mostly biked or hitchhiked everywhere. If we were traveling across town, we would take these buses they called camels. Camels were basically semi-trucks with a trailer that was a bus (picture). The lines for these could also take hours and sometimes the bus would not show up at all. If we got on, the bus was literally packed to the physical max. I’m talking about the last person to fit was pushed in by someone outside of the bus so the doors could close. Fuck safety standards. We need to get home. Of course, mostly everything was in a state of disrepair. Buildings, streets, cars, appliances…everything that was a necessity was barely working. Things that weren’t necessities were generally abandoned.
Despite this, the people were happy and welcoming. They had a sense of community and helped each other. As stated earlier, it was quite common to hitchhike with strangers as everyone was just understanding of the economic situation and helpful. People would gather together to share stories, eat together, tell jokes, share what they had, or come up with fun experiences. One time, we went to a “club”. Basically, it was what visually appeared to be an abandoned building. Someone brought over a stereo system to play music and some lights so that the place wasn’t entirely dark. There was no cover or bar…there was no exchange of money. People just gathered there. Mostly everyone brought their own drinks, but an industrial truck with a large tank in the back showed up. The tank was full of rum and people were filling water bottles with rum out of a spigot in the rear of the truck.
The struggle became an adventure, and we would make it overcoming it fun. “We have to resolve” was the motto. For example, going to the beach when Havana doesn’t have beaches. The beaches are to the east of Havana quite a ways, so getting there on foot was not feasible. How would we get there? That’s the fun part! Let’s figure it out. Perhaps we new someone in the neighborhood that was going in that direction and could get us partway there, there was a friend that worked with an employer that was taking workers near there and we could catch a ride in their bus, we could hitchhike over, or who knows what we would come up with. Once there, there isn’t anything to eat or drink, so we’d have to prepare and take everything we could possibly need. Since they had a strong sense of community, we would make all sorts of friends at the beach and have a great time. There was a communal sense of humor over the economic situation that led to many hilarious jokes, stories, and moments. Once we wanted to leave, the next mission in the adventure came up. How the hell do we get home?..and it’s starting to get dark. Perhaps some of the friends we made at the beach could help us, or we could maybe hitchhike back, or possibly a worker transportation bus/truck was driving by and out of their own goodwill was stopping near the beach to pick up anyone that wanted a ride. Seeing this sense of community despite the extreme struggle they experienced daily without end in sight had a considerable impact on my personality. It was such a stark contrast from the rugged individualism and general mistrust of strangers in the US.
Slowly, things started getting better for the Cuban people. Food and basic necessities became more available and easier to obtain to the point that it was no longer a dire situation. People could assume that they would have enough to be comfortable. Luxuries started developing as well. We could go to the ice cream parlor Coppelia and know that while they may not have the specific flavor I wanted, it was likely they would have ice cream. Taxis became more reasonably priced, the bus would come by more regularly and less full, restaurants started showing up all over the place, and some places even had air conditioning! People could sign up for excursion to go camping or visit a scenic area with friends and families. Sometimes even entire neighborhood would plan days-long excursions together, catching a train halfway across the country to vacation as an inclusive community. Old, young, disabled, single mothers…everyone was included.
Coincidentally, I developed a rash on my arm right before going to Cuba and almost cancelled my trip so that I could get seen by a doctor here in the US. However, my family talked me out of it and told me to see a doctor in Cuba. This would be my first experience with Cuban medicine, and I was hesitant due to the stories I had heard. Regardless, I tried it out. I swear to everything that I was incapable of imagining my experience until I lived it. This is how it went. We were going to do something for the day, and on the way to do that thing, we passed by a general clinic (they call them polyclinics) that happened to conveniently be on the way. Apparently, there are clinics within walking distance of mostly anywhere in Havana. We walked in and saw a nurse that was chilling at a desk. There was no line. She asked me what was up, and once I told her, she directed me to the doctor on shift. There were 2 people ahead of me, so we sat down. No more than 10 mins later, I was seeing the doctor. The dude asked me for my name and address in Cuba. He didn’t even bother to ask to see an ID, and I was forthcoming that I was a tourist from the US. Not only did that not affect my care, it made me interesting to him and we had a nice little chat. He then asked me what was going on, and I told him. They guy explained his assessment, his reasoning for his assessment, and the treatment. He gave me a paper with a prescription on it, but then told me that if I didn’t want to bother to get the medicine, there was a specific tree that was abundant in the area whose leaves I could boil and place on the rash to cure it. After that, I left. The whole thing was maybe 20 mins. We didn’t pay a penny, show any IDs or cards, nor even talk to anyone that wasn’t either a medical provider or another patient. It was simply and only just healthcare. Still, I didn’t have the treatment in my hand, only a script. However, there are pharmacies all over the place in Havana. Seriously, I would bet that most people in Havana are no more than a 5-7 min walk from a pharmacy. We went to a pharmacy in passing. The pharmacy maybe had a really quick line of less than 5 mins if that. I gave them the script and bought the cream. It was 4 Cuban pesos, which was like $0.20 in US dollars. But wait, the story gets better! We are now far from home, it’s the middle of Summer in the Caribbean, still have the rest of our day to live, and I now have a cream that must stay cool. What did we do? We seriously went up to a ~20 year old woman that was selling ice cream and drinks on the side of the road and explained the situation to her. She offered to hold the cream in her fridge/cooler and told us that she would be there until a certain time that afternoon, so we gave it to her. We did not buy anything, and there was no expectation of that. We lived our day and came back. Picked up the cream and thanked her for holding it for is. She acted like of course she held it for us. Who wouldn’t?
Last impactful experience that I will share happened in like 2017. I was in Havana and heard that one of my favorite Cuban reggaeton groups (Los 4) was performing at a concert, so we went. I was expecting the typical American concert. Sealed off, barricades, security, ticket lines, lines to enter, assigned seating…etc. Yo…we showed up, and the concert was just open to everything. They had closed off the seawall road (el Malecon), set up a stage just outside the US Special Interests Office to annoy them, and had an open air, open to the public concert. You would just walk up. That’s it. Not one barricade aside from a few near the stage to allow the concert workers to function comfortably. There were people selling beer, people brought rum and were sharing, people were dancing in the streets and chilling on the wall. I was partying, dancing, and having a great time with whomever I happened to engage with. Everyone was just living life like enjoying a concert with your community was a basic human standard that everyone deserved for existing.
These were some of experiences that just blew my American mind. Imagine a place where things like this happen, but across all of it. Not just in transportation, a club, the beach, healthcare, or a concert, but everywhere. That is what Cuba is like.