They Call It “Vida”: A Community Project Helping Kids in Cuba’s Crisis

“Hello,” several children greet the camera.

“Why does the screen make us look like we’ve got makeup on?” a boy asks, holding a camera in selfie mode.

“Teacher, an interview. Hi, how are we doing?” says Natalia Quintana López, a meteorologist and founder of the community project Vida in Havana.

“What’s your name?” a child asks.

“Natalia,” she replies.

“And your last name?”

“Quintana López.”

“I’m a meteorologist by profession. I work at a pediatric hospital in the city of Havana, and I also coordinate the community family project ‘Vida,’” Quintana López explains.

“Since 2010, Natalia has hosted the ‘Vida’ project in her own home,” the report opens. “A space dedicated to the education and recreation of children in her neighborhood.”

“We work with children in groups that include crafts, visual arts, music, dance, and permaculture,” Quintana López says. “It’s been very helpful for us, because we all know something, and we all lack knowledge in something else.”

“One of the girls showed me how to stitch a towel,” she recounts while interacting with a child. “But she told me I had done it wrong. What did you tell me?”

“That it was wrong,” the girl responds.

“That it was poorly done,” Quintana López continues. “So now I have to undo it and make it again.”

“The community family project ‘Vida’ is based here in Alturas de La Víbora, Vieja Linda, in the municipality of Arroyo Naranjo, Havana, Cuba,” she explains. “It emerged from a need we felt in our community. Every time we talked with our neighbors, we’d say: we’re on the outskirts of the city, there are many difficulties with transportation to reach different cultural spaces. There are no sports facilities, and there are family issues that we often don’t know how to manage.”

“Life showed us that, as a community, we were capable of first coming together, then organizing ourselves, and finally taking action on the problems that affected us,” Quintana López reflects.

“But also, the children have a place where they meet, where they socialize, where they express their talents and abilities,” she adds.

“Cuba, how beautiful Cuba is; whoever defends it loves it more. How beautiful Cuba is,” a group of girls sing.

“Hello,” Quintana López says, greeting a neighbor.

“Living in this community is much more difficult than in downtown Havana,” she explains. “There are many limitations, many dysfunctional families, and also many households living in vulnerable conditions.”

“She is a completely empowered woman,” Quintana López says, referring to a neighbor working the land. “And with those beautiful hands, she grows food for the community.”

“We have tomatoes, which are already flowering and bearing fruit,” she notes.

“When we first started organizing ourselves, beyond producing for our own consumption, we took on the responsibility of sharing food with those who don’t have land to grow, with vulnerable elderly people, and with institutions that may need it,” she continues.

“Let me ask you something, Mary. Are you cooking right now?” Quintana López asks.

“No, right after I finished cooking, the power went out,” Mary responds.

“Living in Cuba is truly difficult,” Quintana López states.

“Gilbe, I need the lighter to start this here,” she calls out while preparing a fire.

“I was born in 1964, under the effects of an embargo or blockade, however you want to call it,” she says. “But for some time now, since [Trump] took power of the U.S. government that imposed this blockade, life has become much more difficult. And right now, it’s a moment close to desperation.”

“We live in a completely blocked country, where food is scarce, where there is no fuel,” Quintana López continues.

“My mother cooks with charcoal every day,” a child says.

“Do you do the same in your home?” she asks.

“What is that?” a girl asks.

“A pot,” Quintana López replies.

“No, I mean what are you putting in it?”

“I haven’t put anything in yet. We’re going to make a stew to eat,” she explains.

“Teacher, aren’t you afraid of getting burned?” another girl asks.

“No, because it’s not the first time I do this.”

“And how many times have you done it?”

“Since there’s been no gas,” Quintana López answers.

“One of the impacts of this fuel shortage has been the blackouts,” she explains. “These blackouts are affecting the mental well-being of the Cuban people. It isn’t easy to come home from work and have no electricity, or to leave for work and have no electricity.”

“It’s very difficult to prepare food. It’s hard to get the children’s uniforms ready, to study, and to prepare a class for the next day,” she adds.

“I invite those watching to try this: turn off all the power in your home, then come back after a full day of work and try to live through that time without electricity and without being able to turn on your stove. Then you’ll experience what women, men, children, and young people in Cuba are going through today,” Quintana López urges.

“Tuti, there are classes tomorrow,” a grandmother tells her granddaughter.

“We’re truly grateful for the collaboration and solidarity of people in different countries around the world,” Quintana López says. “Thanks to them, we received solar panels. We call them ‘solidarity panels’ because they allow us to charge phones, tablets, and computers for children, young people, and families.”

“Remember, seeds are planted according to their size, twice their size in depth. Not deeper, otherwise we lose the seed,” she instructs the children.

“We try to find alternatives because, as you can see, food is scarce. We grow food. We don’t have medicine, but we grow medicinal plants,” she explains.

“The oregano plant is an antibiotic, as you all know. Oh, it smells so good. We’re also used to drinking this as a tea, and it helps you sleep well,” Quintana López says.

“Our society is not perfect, but it’s ready to improve everything that can be improved,” she reflects. “But that’s something we Cubans must do ourselves. We don’t need anyone from anywhere to tell us what to do or how to do it.”

“Have you cleaned the area well?” she asks a group of children.

“Yes. We’re old,” they joke.

“You’re almost old already.”

“Of course!” a child responds.

“I’d like those who call for tightening the blockade or for military intervention to think about the Cuban people,” Quintana López states.

“This one needs a little more water,” a voice says as they tend to plants.

“I’d never wish bombs and bullets for you, but I’d also not wish hunger,” she concludes. “Defeating a people through hunger is not victory.”

“I want a country in peace. A country where our children grow up without limitations, where they don’t have to see their mothers looking for firewood to cook because we don’t have fuel, where they can have access to everything they deserve and should have.”