By Laura Gomez
HAVANA TIMES – In Cuba, many people have had to give up their studies to become street vendors, messengers, and cobblers. Leonel is 24 years old, left his music classes, and now sells peanut cones on the streets of Havana.
When did you realize you had to swap music for the peanut business?
My father used to tell me that living off music, at this time, wasn’t going to bring me anything positive, and in a way, I agree with him. When we found ourselves with nothing to eat, the first thing I did was isolate myself in my room. I didn’t understand what was happening. Until that moment, my inner world had been far from reality because my father took care of everything, including paying for my music classes.
During those days of isolation, I realized that distancing myself wasn’t the way to go, much less turning my back on reality. My father, who had been laid off from his job, advised me to sell my guitar. It was an urgent way to get money to buy food. But I chose to rise above it. Among the many options that came to mind, I decided to sell peanut cones.
How did you come to terms with this change?
The first step was to stop seeing myself as a music student. My classmates, who had different lifestyles, told me they could help me. But that help would be temporary; I needed something sustainable in the long term. I remembered how often peanuts come to the rescue when you’re hungry on the street, so I started looking into price options.
Did you go to the agricultural markets?
Yes, prices in the markets are the same, 300 pesos (just under US $1) per pound of peanuts. Growing them was never an option for me. Can you imagine getting a piece of land in today’s Cuba and buying the seeds? That would be impossible for me.
Did you have the money to invest?
A friend lent me the money, and I paid him back little by little. First, I bought four pounds to test the waters. Then I started buying six pounds and have stuck with that amount. My father told me that peanut cones used to cost one peso, and now they cost 10 pesos. Each pound makes about 47 cones, and I try to fill them well. So, for six pounds, that’s about 2,820 pesos. After deducting what I invested, I’m left with a thousand pesos in profit. A thousand pesos isn’t much now, but it helps us get by.
What’s the roasting process like?
I had to create the right conditions. I bought a big pot and a wooden spoon. We’re lucky to have piped in gas, which isn’t in canisters, although when it shuts off, it’s a lost day. The process is straightforward but exhausting. It takes a lot of time, and you have to constantly stir it to make sure it doesn’t stick or burn. That’s why you need to keep stirring it constantly over low heat. The change in color signals that the peanuts are ready. Some people remove the shells after roasting, but I don’t have much time. I spend long hours in constant heat. At first, I felt weak and suffocated, but I drink plenty of water and shower when I’m done. It’s not easy, roasting one pound isn’t the same as the amount I do now.
How do you get the paper for the cones and the salt?
Oh, that’s a tough question to answer. With the paper shortage, any sheet is welcome. I’ve had to sacrifice some books, especially the larger ones, which is sad. I have a friend who works at a printing shop, but they’re only making time cards and forms for companies, so I can’t get anything from him. Another friend gave me discarded sheets written on both sides. I know it’s not ideal. The ink contains chemicals. I would love to sell with respect, but everything in Cuba has deteriorated, and that’s how people live now.
Salt was missing from the ration store and markets. I had to buy packets for 200 pesos. I’ve heard of many people being scammed and buying packets of salt mixed with lime. I made sure to always buy it from a market or trustworthy people. Thank God it’s now available in bulk and is cheaper.
Do you sell peanuts in your neighborhood?
Not just in my neighborhood. I go around the nearby municipalities with my backpack on my shoulder. It’s very dangerous to carry a can with coals, like the old peanut vendors did, although people would appreciate it. It’s true that it would keep the peanuts warm and taste delicious, but it’s a utopia to invest in coal. Besides, I don’t have a license, so I have to stay under the radar. Sometimes I don’t need to announce my sales. I carry the cones in my hand and prefer to go unnoticed by inspectors. I think it’s a matter of luck. I always come home with an empty backpack.
Do you consider it a good business?
It’s not a business. It’s just an action that helps me survive, giving me money to eat and buy the essentials. Last week I had to buy myself a cap, some used sneakers, and a long-sleeved shirt. The walking and the sun are too much.
Do you hope to return to music one day?
That’s my greatest desire. I haven’t lost hope that things will change, and I won’t have to keep standing over a hot pot. I have friends who keep insisting that I return. Honestly, I don’t have the time now, and the cost of classes has skyrocketed. Sometimes people call me to see if I’ve decided to sell my guitar. I would only do it as a last resort. I know many musicians who have to make ends meet daily. Music no longer brings in as much money as it did a few years ago unless you’re a professional and lucky enough to join a good orchestra, or if you venture into reggaeton and have a sponsor.
My spiritual world hasn’t disappeared, nor has my sheet music. I see this as a difficult period, but like everything, it will end eventually.
Read more from Cuba here on Havana Times.
