‘We can’t take it anymore’: How Trump is pushing Cuba to the brink
We can’t take it anymore: How Trump is pushing Cuba to the brink
A Cuban man approached me on the street, his voice barely audible as he confided in a hushed tone. “Let the Americans come, let Trump come, it’s time to get this over with,” he said, his words carrying a weight of desperation. This sentiment is risky in Havana — particularly now, with a U.S. president vowing to intensify pressure on the island in a manner reminiscent of Cold War tactics. I scanned the surroundings, wary of eavesdroppers, as my cameraman captured the scene for a report on the worsening transportation crisis. The man, a bicycle-taxi driver, continued: “We can’t take it anymore. People can’t feed their families.”
A Legacy of Struggle
Over six decades since Fidel Castro led a group of revolutionaries into Havana, the nation has endured relentless challenges: failed CIA attempts, missile crises, and large-scale departures. Yet now, the focus has shifted to Donald Trump. In a recent interview with CNN’s Dana Bash, Trump declared, “Cuba is going to fall soon,” a claim that feels less like a new strategy and more like a recycled warning from past administrations. What sets this apart, however, is the swiftness with which Trump’s oil embargo has crippled Cuba’s already fragile economy.
During his second term, Trump has escalated efforts to oust leaders in Venezuela and Iran. Now, he’s targeting Cuba, a country that has weathered decades of U.S. sanctions and its own government’s missteps. The absence of a naval blockade, which once symbolized Cold War confrontation, doesn’t diminish the practical toll. With oil shipments from Havana’s remaining allies disrupted, the effects are stark. Once-bustling hotels, funded by public resources, stand vacant. Employees are laid off. Tourists have disappeared, leaving no fuel for planes to depart.
The Toll of Energy Shortages
Blackouts, once brief, now stretch for days. When power flickers on during the night, Cubans rise to prepare meals and iron clothes, their routines dictated by the unreliable grid. During a 36-hour outage, I witnessed a group of men cooking a pot over burning tree limbs on a Havana street. “We have returned to the Stone Age,” one man remarked, his tone unexpectedly upbeat.
With no fuel available, vehicles are scarce. Government rentals for tourists, the only cars regularly refueled at state stations, are now stripped of their gas for resale on the black market. A single tank sells for over $300 — more than the average Cuban earns in a year. Scavenging through trash for food has become a daily reality, often involving children.
A Government Unbowed
Despite the strain, Cuban officials remain defiant. When asked about the government’s eagerness to negotiate, they dismissed the idea, insisting the U.S. will never again impose its will on the island. “The homeland or death. We will be victorious!” echoes through speeches, a rallying cry that underscores resilience. Yet, for many, the slogan sounds hollow. Exhausted by years of hardship, some Cubans simply yearn for change — no matter the cost.
When my cameraman finally reappeared, I asked the taxi driver if he wished to share his thoughts for the story. He hesitated, then walked away, content to voice his grievances in a whisper for now. The city hums with quiet defiance, its people waiting for the next chapter in a story that has spanned generations.
