4-minute read
Thomas E. Franklin
| Special to the USA TODAY Network
Cuba lies just 90 miles south of Miami, yet it feels worlds apart. Despite its proximity to the United States and economically stable Caribbean nations, life here is marked by stark contrasts in economic, infrastructure and human conditions.
Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to visit Cuba and produce a photo essay documenting the vibrancy of Cuban culture and the complexities arising from decades of economic restrictions. The photographs will be on exhibit at the Romano Gallery in Blairstown, New Jersey, through Oct. 29.
Cuba seems frozen in time, stuck in 1959. Classic American cars from the 1950s fill the streets, and many buildings remain in their original, often crumbling states. Despite the hardships, the Cuban spirit remains vibrant. The people I met were friendly, curious and welcoming. I didn’t sense much anti-American sentiment, and I felt safe even while wandering through some of Havana’s poorest areas with a camera or walking the Malecón late at night. For a photographer, Cuba is a wonderland.
The US embargo hangs like a cloud over Cuba
The U.S. embargo looms over Cuba like a black cloud. The trade ban began in 1960, when the Eisenhower administration imposed restrictions on American exports after Fidel Castro and his revolutionary forces came to power. Now, 64 years later, this policy continues to hinder the country’s ability to engage in global trade and has worsened conditions for the Cuban people.
Cuba’s state-controlled economy suffers from low productivity and a lack of incentive and diversification. Even iconic industries like rum and cigars are state-controlled, with little money trickling down to workers. It is estimated that 70% of the workforce has government jobs, resulting in inefficiencies and low wages. Guillermo, a tour guide I met in Viñales, a popular agricultural region three hours west of Havana, was once an ophthalmologist employed by the government but left due to poor working conditions. Now, as a tour guide, he says he earns more and enjoys meeting people from around the world.
The transportation system here is another major deficiency, with fewer than 10% of the population owning cars. The vehicles on the road are old, unreliable and expensive to maintain. While these vintage cars are beautiful to look at, they are gas guzzlers that contribute to poor air quality.
Cuba’s economic reliance on the Soviet Union ended with its collapse in 1991, leading to a downturn. Tourism became a crucial lifeline, but the pandemic dealt another devastating blow. Cuba was cautious and kept its borders largely closed until mid-November 2021, and tourism has not fully recovered. According to Reuters, Cuba’s tourism experienced a 75% decline in 2022. Despite these challenges, Cuba developed its own COVID-19 vaccines, which were shared internationally — an impressive achievement given the country’s limited resources.
Under former President Barack Obama, efforts to normalize relations brought optimism. His historic 2016 visit sparked hope among many Cubans, and the former president is revered there. However, these gains were reversed under the Trump administration, which tightened sanctions and targeted tourism. The Biden administration sought to recalibrate some restrictions, particularly for entrepreneurs and businesses, while avoiding direct support for the Cuban government.
Several Cubans told me conditions are worse than ever. Some, so desperate to leave, escape on makeshift rafts. This past summer during the Little League World Series in Pennsylvania, one of the Cuban coaches “disappeared,” as news reports suggested a defection.
What’s it like to visit Cuba now?
Current U.S. regulations prohibit general tourism to Cuba, requiring specific travel categories. I visited under the “Support for the Cuban People” category, bringing medications, school supplies and even my son’s old baseball glove. I hired a tour guide, Luis, whom I met through a photographer friend, and asked him to show me the real Cuba — the behind-the-scenes world tourists don’t typically see.
We explored his old neighborhood on the outskirts of Havana, where the street life looked like what I imagined an American city in the 1950s. Children played soccer in the streets, friends waved from open windows, and we were invited into a home for afternoon drinks and music. There was lots of street activity, people sitting outdoors holding conversations and kids running around.
Another friend cooked us a simple dinner of pork, fried plantains and rice and beans. It was simple, but a bountiful meal by their standards. I made sure to pay for the food. Luis seemed to know everyone, giving me unfettered access as well as a wealth of local knowledge and history. We have become pen pals.
At twilight in the old city of Habana Vieja, I watched a young man selling freshly baked bread from a pushcart. At night, I strolled along the Malecón, passing the monument to the USS Maine. I wandered the streets, seeing clusters of people outside bodegas and kids playing baseball. Everyday street scenes like these remain my favorite photographs to capture.
Guides like Luis, who interact with foreigners every day, are acutely aware of how far behind Cubans are. Their sense of longing is palpable. Luis told me he needed medical treatment for an injured neck but had little faith in the Cuban health care system. He already survived one botched procedure. The lack of pain medication and modern treatment options left him resigned to living in constant pain — something that could easily be addressed in the U.S.
Witnessing these tough conditions left me disheartened and questioning why the embargo remains, as Cuba poses little threat to U.S. interests today. This experience has motivated me to act, and I hope my photographs inspire others to help. One hundred percent of the proceeds from this exhibit and my online store will go directly to support the Cuban people. Scan the barcode to visit the store.
Thomas E. Franklin is a freelance multimedia journalist and an associate professor at Montclair State University with 30-plus years in the newspaper business. He is perhaps best known for his iconic flag-raising photograph, taken for The Record at Ground Zero, which was featured on a U.S. postage stamp that helped raise over $10 million for victims of 9/11. In 2002, he was a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his work on 9/11. He can be reached at tom@thomasfranklin.com or on Instagram at instagram.com/thomasefranklin.
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Publish date : 2024-10-24 21:23:00
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