Goodwill or Good Marketing? The Contradiction Of U.S. Aid To Cuba

“Good news for us here in Cuba: the United States is here to help,” said Yohan Rodríguez, a reporter with Belly of the Beast.

“I want to tell you what we, in the U.S., are offering to help you not only alleviate the current crisis, but also to build a better future,” said Marco Rubio.

“A better future delivered in cardboard boxes,” said Yohan Rodríguez.

“This is the first of a $100 million humanitarian aid package promised by Secretary of State Marco Rubio.”

The U.S. government is donating 700 boxes of food and hygiene products. Each one is supposed to last 10 days. That’s nice. Although it might be even nicer if they had simply lifted the oil blockade.

“We spend 20, 24 hours without electricity,” said a resident of Bejucal.

“We spend the whole day cooking with charcoal,” said a resident of Bejucal.

“It’s been three and a half months since I’ve had running water,” said a resident of Bejucal. “How are you, Pucha? Do you remember me? My love.”

The boxes of aid are welcome because people here are desperate. If someone breaks your legs and then offers you aspirin, you take the aspirin. But when it wears off, your legs are still broken.

Bejucal is on the outskirts of Havana. It was one of the first two towns in Cuba to receive U.S. humanitarian aid.

“The Caritas Bejucal group brings you this aid. It’s a gift from the U.S. people to the Cuban people.”

“Inside the food kit are canned tuna, beans, a gallon of cooking oil, spaghetti, two five-pound bags of rice, sugar, salt, and canned sardines.”

“What do I think? It’s like heaven has opened up!”

“Soap! This is wonderful. We have no way of buying any of this. We don’t have the words to thank them for everything they do for us,” said Lázaro Nieto López, an aid recipient in Bejucal.

The Catholic Church is in charge of distributing most of the aid.

“Caritas Cuba gives us a set of parameters and conditions to help us identify vulnerable people. It’s a very difficult, very complicated task to determine who qualifies,” said José Luis Sánchez Escalona, pastor of the church in Bejucal.

“It comes with a rechargeable lamp with its own little charging cable.”

“Look, I really need that!”

“Among vulnerable people, we’re providing emergency aid to the most serious cases. That means people over 65 years old, although not all of them. Disabled people, single mothers with children under five, and women with high-risk pregnancies. We’re doing really in-depth work because we’d truly like to help everyone, but we can’t help everyone,” Sánchez Escalona explained.

“Of all the vulnerable people whose information we collected, you have been selected to receive this assistance.”

Each aid kit is supposed to provide a family of four a meal a day for 10 days. But Cuban families are often bigger.

“Obviously, we are now in a very critical situation in Cuba,” Sánchez Escalona said.

“A limited number of boxes arrived. But in Bejucal, thousands of people are in need. We had to prioritize, to choose the most critical cases from among so many people in need.”

“Every box being distributed today already has a name and a family attached to it.”

“There are so many vulnerable people, even in my own family. There are five of us sisters, and we’re all over 65. So what do I do? I share what I have,” said Nora Emilia Arias Llanes, a retired teacher and aid recipient.

“How do you feel about the aid?” Yohan asked Mariela Herrera González, an aid recipient.

“Excited. Really good.”

People here are grateful for the aid. But there isn’t enough for everyone.

If you don’t know God, you’ll pray to any saint.

Twenty-two thousand people live in Bejucal. The church here is distributing 380 boxes of aid.

“We don’t have enough for everyone. It’s for vulnerable people in really critical situations.”

“I found out through a relative of mine who lives in Cienfuegos that they were delivering aid to the most vulnerable, so I came to see how it worked.”

“I had an accident at a sugar mill in 1995, and I receive a pension of 1,540 pesos, about two dollars a month.”

“The priest told me that the aid was for the most vulnerable, people who didn’t have family support or were bedridden.”

“He said to come to the church and give my name so they could go to my house and evaluate my situation. And if I meet the criteria, they’d give me the aid,” said Jorge Félix Quesada, a retired sugar worker.

“People came to deliver donations, and I wasn’t there because I had my child hospitalized. I didn’t know that they’d come.”

“They explained to me that there’s no guarantee of more aid coming soon, but that I was on the list for the next time,” said Marilenis Campos, a housewife.

“When people talk about the vulnerable, it’s not just two or three people. The truth is, almost everyone is vulnerable now. It’s practically an entire country struggling to get by,” said Danoy Díaz Pérez, a clerk at La Cubanita grocery store.

Humanitarian aid isn’t needed without a humanitarian crisis. So why is there a crisis in Cuba?

“Oil isn’t coming in because the U.S. has Cuba under blockade.”

“Since January, everything has gotten much worse.”

“We spend 20, 24 hours without electricity.”

“And what do they tell you about that?”

“They say there’s no oil.”

The U.S. has imposed an oil blockade on Cuba for the last seven months. With no fuel, Cuba’s economy has ground to a halt. Food production is down 60%. Factories are shut down. There’s no public transportation. Universities are closed. The oil blockade came on top of years of economic warfare that cut Cuba off from investment, trade, and credit. We tried to ask Mike Hammer, the U.S. Embassy’s chargé d’affaires in Havana, about the aid package and the impact of U.S. sanctions, but he didn’t want to talk to us.

“Mr. Mike, can we do a short interview with you?” Yohan asked Mike Hammer, the U.S. Embassy’s chargé d’affaires in Havana.

“Not right now,” Hammer replied.

“My God, everything is so difficult in Cuba.”

“It’s been three and a half months since I’ve had running water,” said María Hernández Rizo, a retired economist.

“With so many blackouts, they can’t pump the water regularly like they used to. So we’re affected by the water situation as well,” Hernández Rizo explained.

“We spend the whole day cooking with charcoal.”

“Something has to happen so there can be a radical change.”

“Look over here. This is my reality. I’m not making this up. You can see it for yourselves.”

“I can’t get by with my pension of 3,160 pesos, about $4.70. Right now, I’d like to buy a pack of ground meat, but I can’t. It costs more than 500 pesos.”

“A hot dog costs 100 pesos. I’m barely surviving. It’s not easy. It really isn’t,” said Reinaldo Alcázar Martínez, a retired security guard.

Around the world, humanitarian aid is typically distributed in coordination with national governments. Cuba is no exception. Other countries sending aid work with the Cuban government to distribute it through state-run institutions. But the U.S. has cut the Cuban government out of the distribution process. It says Cuban officials would steal the aid, but has presented no evidence to support that claim.”

“It really is cooperation that is essential to being able to distribute humanitarian aid in the most sensitive and direct way,” said Francisco Pichón, the United Nations Resident Coordinator in Cuba.

“I can’t really think of a situation where UN agencies could work without recognizing the need to cooperate with the government, non-state actors, and NGOs to ensure that aid is delivered effectively,” Pichón continued.

After Hurricane Melissa last October, the U.S. pledged $3 million in aid. It took more than two months for the aid to begin to arrive.

“The UN says the oil blockade is making aid distribution more difficult.”

“The most urgent challenge is obviously the fuel shortages. The UN system itself is being directly impacted by scarcities and the lack of fuel,” Pichón explained.

So far, three months after the State Department announced the $100 million in aid, only 700 aid kits out of 200,000 promised have been delivered.

“We know the people we have identified will receive this aid, and that they need it. We also know many people will be left out. We put it in God’s hands,” said Sánchez Escalona.

“Most of the things in the aid package — rice, beans, cooking oil, soap — the Cuban government used to provide all that and more every month.”

“Every Cuban has a ration card called a libreta.”

“But these days, the shelves of the state-run bodegas are mostly empty.”

“The government gives me assistance for being a mother of three.”

“What does that assistance include? Is it money?”

“It’s food.”

“And do they give it to you every month?”

“Every two or three months.”

“What kind of food?”

“Now it’s only rice and cooking oil,” said Tanisleydis Cordero, a doctor.

“Since I’m diabetic, they used to give me milk and meat. They took all that away. And the bodegas are empty because there’s nothing available,” said Mercedes Gutiérrez Silva, a retired teacher.

The Cuban government estimates that U.S. sanctions cost the island $8 billion last year. And that was before the oil blockade.

“Is the bodega still operating?”

“Yes, it is, but with very few products.”

“What are you distributing?”

“We’re distributing milk for the children.”

“Before, we gave rice, sugar, oil, soap, yellow peas.”

“What changed?”

“Honestly, I can’t tell you. I’m not the one in charge of those things.”

“What have you been told, for example, when it stops coming in? What have they told you?”

“That it’s out of stock.”

“The shortages began in 2019, when Trump first started ramping up sanctions. Scarcities have gotten much worse since then.”

Washington says it’s helping Cuba. In Bejucal, a few hundred families received food that may last days. But even as the Trump administration sends humanitarian aid, its oil blockade and escalating sanctions are causing even greater suffering.

“It’s a publicity stunt, because how are you supposed to impose a blockade and at the same time give us humanitarian aid?”