Updated by Faith Barbara N Ruhinda at 1556 EAT on Friday 27 February 2026

The enduring image is of a woman in a dirt-floored, palm-thatched hut cooking over firewood. Similar photographs line state museums across the island, from the Bay of Pigs to Birán — birthplace of the Cuban Revolution’s leader, Fidel Castro.

The intended message is clear: the revolution rescued Cubans from the hardship and backwardness of life under a Washington-backed strongman and set the country on a path toward dignity, education and true independence.

But today, Lisandra Botey says her reality feels closer to the poverty depicted in those images than to the promises of the revolution that ousted Batista.
“We are living like that now — exactly like that,” the Havana housewife said outside her home, a patchwork structure of sheet metal and wood.

The enduring image is of a woman in a dirt-floored, palm-thatched hut cooking over firewood. Similar photographs line state museums across the island, from the Bay of Pigs to Birán — birthplace of the Cuban Revolution’s leader, Fidel Castro.

The intended message is clear: the revolution rescued Cubans from the hardship and backwardness of life under a Washington-backed strongman and set the country on a path toward dignity, education and true independence.

But today, Lisandra Botey says her reality feels closer to the poverty depicted in those images than to the promises of the revolution that ousted Batista.

“We are living like that now — exactly like that,” the Havana housewife said outside her home, a patchwork structure of sheet metal and wood.

“Every morning we go to the beach to collect firewood. We bring it back to cook breakfast because when electricity comes, it is usually during school hours,” she said.

Lisandra’s nine-year-old daughter left for school that morning on an empty stomach, she said, tears welling in her eyes. Her husband, Brenei Hernández — a construction worker who now struggles to find jobs — said the family often does not know wh

ere their next meal will come from.
“Every day is the same hunger, the same misery,” he said, stirring a pot of white rice so that, at the very least, his daughter will return from school to something hot to eat.
With the Cuban economy in freefall since the coronavirus pandemic, no cooking gas has been delivered to Brenei’s fragile home on the outskirts of Havana for months. He and his neighbours had already reverted to firewood and charcoal even before United States forces captured Venezuela’s closest ally, President Nicolás Maduro, on 3 January.

Since then, Washington has moved to exert control over Venezuela’s oil sector, and crude shipments to the communist-run island have dwindled, deepening Cuba’s energy crisis.

The decades-long US economic embargo on Cuba has been tightened further, with US President Donald Trump threatening tariffs on any country that ships oil to the struggling island.

None of Cuba’s traditional partners — including Mexico, Russia, China, Vietnam or Iran — have moved decisively to replace the supply gap left by Venezuela. However, the US Treasury said this week it would ease restrictions on a limited number of oil transactions to “support the Cuban people for commercial and humanitarian use.”

The development comes amid rising tensions between Washington and Havana. Cuba’s government said its border guards fatally shot four people travelling in a US-registered speedboat, describing them as Cuban nationals living in the United States. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio said Washington was investigating the “highly unusual” incident.

“Washington’s old playbook on Cuba no longer applies, and whoever has not realised that is in for a shock,” said Cuban economist Ricardo Torres. “Trump is changing the rules of the game.”
Trump has declared that “Cuba is ready to fall,” intensifying pressure on the island at what analysts describe as one of its most vulnerable moments since the Cold War.

Some commentators argue that Washington’s January operation in Venezuela — which resulted in the capture of President Nicolás Maduro — was partly aimed at deepening Cuba’s economic strain by disrupting its key oil lifeline.

The underlying calculation appears straightforward: that a worsening internal crisis could create conditions for the Cuban Revolution to unravel from within. What remains far less certain is whether such pressure will ultimately force political change — or whether Cuba’s communist leadership will, as in past crises, find ways to endure.

One constant question since Maduro’s arrest has been how long Cuba can hold out without fresh fuel supplies reaching the island.

“Perhaps the oil inventories could last six to eight weeks,” suggested economist Ricardo Torres, though he acknowledged the estimate is uncertain. “Cuba does not publish figures on fuel inventories.”
Torres said “extreme rationing” could be introduced, but strict controls are already in force. Drivers are limited to buying just 20 litres of fuel at service stations, typically paid for in US dollars.

Motorists must also secure a slot through the government-run Ticket app — but waits can stretch for days, weeks or even months. Some users report finding more than 10,000 people ahead of them in the virtual queue for a partial tank of petrol.

Unsurprisingly, under such conditions, black-market fuel prices have surged.

Despite the hardship, Brenei Hernández does not direct his anger at Washington. Instead, he blames the Cuban state.
“I’d like Trump to take this place over. Then let’s see if things get better,” he said candidly. “What can I tell you? I’m not going to lie.”

After years in which many Cubans publicly repeated cautious revolutionary slogans, such frank criticism — voiced without visible fear — is striking. Analysts say deepening economic strain appears to be eroding the public’s traditional caution about speaking out.

“It’s too much,” Brenei said. “We’re only eating white rice. Hopefully I can get enough money together in the next couple of days for a packet of hot dogs, or three or four eggs.”

Lisandra is already worried her daughter will ask for a birthday cake this year — something the family can no longer afford.

Such suffering may form part of the Donald Trump administration’s strategy of “maximum pressure” on Cuba. But while the methods may be evolving, economist Ricardo Torres said Washington’s ultimate objective remains unchanged: regime change.

“Whether the change in Cuba is sudden or the result of a negotiated process, in the end it is regime change that Trump wants,” he said.

For ordinary Cubans, the more immediate concern is how Washington intends to force that outcome, Torres added, with the effects of the oil squeeze expected to deepen in the coming weeks.

The Cuban government has repeatedly condemned the policy as inhumane, cruel and illegal under international law. “What right does a world power have to deny fuel and the ability to function to a smaller nation?” said President Miguel Díaz-Canel.

The current tensions mark a sharp contrast with the optimism that briefly characterised Washington’s Cuba policy a decade ago. In 2014, President Barack Obama moved to restore diplomatic relations with Havana in a historic — but ultimately short-lived — thaw. Hardliners within the Cuban government warned at the time that Obama’s outreach still aimed at regime change, albeit through softer means. For many ordinary Cubans, however, that diplomatic opening felt markedly different from the confrontational approach now in place.

Next month marks the tenth anniversary of the landmark visit by Barack Obama to Havana — the first time in nearly a century that a sitting US president set foot on the island.

Standing beside Cuban leader Raúl Castro, Obama delivered a rare address broadcast live on state television, declaring he had come to “bury the last remnant of the Cold War in the Americas” and to “extend the hand of friendship to the Cuban people.”

The diplomatic opening was overseen in part by then-US envoy to Havana, Jeffrey DeLaurentis. Asked whether the Cuban Revolution now faces an existential threat, he offered a measured response.

“That will depend on what some other countries might do,” DeLaurentis said.
At its peak, Venezuela’s support provided Cuba with roughly 35,000 barrels of crude per day. There have been broad signals that Russia could step in with supplies, and Cuban Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez Parrilla recently travelled to Moscow for talks with his Russian counterpart and with President Vladimir Putin. So far, however, no Russian fuel tankers have docked at Cuban ports.

Rodríguez has also visited China, Vietnam and Spain in a bid to rally additional support.

Source: BBC

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