What one day was, will not be. A song by José José says it and it was repeated this Tuesday by a peanut vendor looking nostalgically at the remains of the DiTú located on Zapata and C, in Havana. The decline of these establishments, which once shone for their wide range of convertible pesos, has been visible for a few years, but the Planning Task has given them their final coup de grace.
There were hundreds of establishments belonging to the Empresa Extrahotelera Palmares SA that toured the country and that in the past were popular for their sale of fried chicken, croquettes, sausages, carbonated soft drinks, ice creams, beers and cigarettes of different brands. Now, those that remain standing only sell few offers in Cuban pesos.
The bottles of water of the national brand Ciego Montero are practically the only product that is repeated on the DiTú counters. They rarely sell cigarettes and only in the most central ones are pots of ice cream or bottles of rum sold, generating huge lines and selling out instantly. A few sell natural juices and even “Cuban timba” (guava bar with cheese), at the initiative of the same clerks who are looking for an extra.
Workers spend long hours sitting, surfing the internet or making video calls with their families. “It’s horrible having to spend all day here doing nothing,” alleges a DiTú vendor on Calle 23, between 28 and 30, in the capital’s El Vedado neighborhood. “Hours go by without anyone coming to buy and it’s very boring having to be here just to sell sparkling water and a brand of cigarettes that no one smokes,” she lamented.
“The days of fat cows are over for us,” he tells 14ymedio Rafael, a former worker at another DiTú, who adds that they used to make very good profits thanks to the variety of merchandise in their inventories. “In good days we could make up to 60 CUC, but now everything has changed, and inventions can be expensive,” he says.
At the beginning of the pandemic, Rafael decided to use the money he had collected to leave the country. “I had two paths: go to another country or invest my money and thus not spend it.” But the flights were suspended and he never liked the idea of crossing the 90 miles of the Florida Straits in a rustic boat. “I opened my electric motorcycle repair shop, and to this day I make a living from it,” he adds.
In the midst of the economic crisis that the country is going through, the Government has transferred many of the products that used to be sold in the DiTú to dollar stores, which has caused discomfort and protests among the population, who longingly remember the “abundance” that could be found in these small premises.
In Havana’s early mornings and especially on weekends, the DiTú were very frequented by night owls who came to get a cold beer and something to snack on, since they offered 24-hour service.
“Before, I would go at any time and with 3 CUC I would buy cigarettes, an assortment of croquettes and sausages, a Tukola, and they would give me change,” recalls Adrián, a resident of the municipality of Marianao. “Even so, before we used to complain because no one was paid in that currency, but at least one could go to the bank and buy it with Cuban pesos. We were rich and we didn’t know it,” he lamented.
With its metallic structure painted white and red, the DiTú became the lifesaver of countless lunches. On Tulipán street in Nuevo Vedado, one of them supplied its products to parents who came looking for something cheap to add to their children’s snack at the José Luis Arruñada school, but shortly after it was inaugurated the quality of the offers plummeted. .
“They used the frying oil countless times to be able to steal the rest,” laments the mother of two girls who was a regular customer of the place that was disarmed several years ago. “The croquettes were good at first, but later they were pure flour and gave tremendous acidity. People made jokes about it: that you had to go with a little baking soda in your wallet if you were going to buy them.”
Among the most demanded products of these striking kiosks was the canned beer produced on the Island, which consumers accompanied with the freshly fried food that came out of their stoves. In the DiTú that had more space, the tables located outside were often full of groups of friends who, not infrequently, provoked the annoyance of the nearby neighbors by talking loudly until late at night.
The DiTú name was one of the first to appear in a family of state-owned stores that also brought the DiMars, specializing in fish and seafood, and the DiNos, which offered pizzas and sandwiches. There is not much left of those relatives either, converted into other types of cafeterias, closed or with a very poor offer.
Now rust has taken over the metal plates that make up the few DiTú that remain in operation in the Cuban capital. That smell of fried food that came from them disappeared, the side tables took time with their deterioration and the pandemic finished them off with its distancing measures. The croquettes that were once the target of ridicule now populate the nostalgia of those who tried them.
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