By Nike
HAVANA TIMES – It’s Saturday, and Cubans refuse to give up on happiness. Since I opened my eyes, I’ve been hearing music and a commotion on the street. I wonder if I’ve traveled way back in time.
I get up, head to the kitchen, open the coffee jar, and notice I have only enough for two small pots left. I think to myself that I need to find more for the next morning. Once the coffee pot is ready, I glance at the peas soaking since the night before because, if I don’t, they never soften. All of this brings me back to reality —it’s Saturday, November 23, 2024.
The shortages force us Cubans to live in a vicious cycle; now it’s coffee that’s running out, next, it’ll be rice, oil, or something else. You almost always have to choose just one. But it’s Saturday, and Cubans know it.
From the quiet of my kitchen, I try to make out the different types of music coming from the street. In one part of the neighborhood, Dominican Bachata mixes with the dreadful Reggaeton, inseparable from the electric motorbikes. Elsewhere, you can hear Roberto Carlos, a romantic icon of the ‘80s generation, or Marc Anthony, a constant presence. Closer to my house, the voice of José José, another romantic from the past, drifts by. There’s also ‘80s pop. It’s a strange mix reaching my ears, making me think my neighbors woke up this Saturday with a desire to do something different.
Once out on the street, I head to the town center in search of food. The faces I see confirm the reality we’re living in. Everyone looks irritated and sad. The music seems to contrast with the pain the country is enduring, but Cubans refuse to give up the meaning this day of the week has always had, a festive one.
After a week of work, Cubans eagerly awaited Saturdays to go dancing, visit a cabaret or a club, or watch a good movie at the cinema. Eating together as a family was also a Saturday afternoon or evening tradition.
As I walk, I reach the park, the favorite spot for people in my town to spend some time. There, I see a green tent with the Cristal beer emblem, selling draft beer for 90 Cuban pesos a cup. It caught my attention because that tent had never been there before. I wondered, What’s going on? Then, I saw a large sign explaining that it was to celebrate the 100th anniversary of La Terraza de Cojimar, the restaurant where writer Ernest Hemingway used to dine in the 1940s and 1950s.
When I got home, some neighbors were celebrating a birthday, with mariachis and everything. The party didn’t end until 3 a.m. This was a Saturday of celebration for some, who refuse to give in and live by the Cuban saying: “This is the life we have, and no one can take away the fun we’ve had.”
Read more from Nike’s diary here.
