Although much less extensive and known than the Columbus Necropolisthe cemetery Ruler It sustains a good part of the memory of this overseas town of Havana. Its history is intertwined with that of the municipality itself: patriots from the wars of independence and also other combatants and prominent figures linked to the history of the town rest there.
Although its construction began in 1876, it was not until six years later, even without completing the works, that this cemetery housed its first burials. Its modest entrance, which was inaugurated in 1900, gives way to a small cemetery, structured by a central street and some streets where pantheons, family graves and anonymous tombs are mixed.
The one in Regla is certainly not a monumental cemetery, like that of Colón or the Santa Ifigenia in Santiago de Cuba, but a functional space where the funerary architecture responds more to the local economy than to the desire for ostentation.
Even though some sculptures and pantheons show a certain artistic care, most of the graves are simple, with austere tombstones and crosses without ornament, a reflection of a working-class and port community. It also has pantheons of religious societies and brotherhoods, traces of the associations and popular religiosity that have marked the life of the town since the end of the 19th century.
The present of the Reglano cemetery is marked by crisis and accumulated deterioration. Although families try to keep the final resting place of their loved ones in the best possible condition, the image of the cemetery today is not the best: damaged tombs and pantheons, walls with cracks, accumulated waste and vegetation that is gaining ground in spaces where maintenance is scarce or late.
This material state contrasts with the symbolic weight of the place for Regla, also known for the Sanctuary of the Virgin and his intense Afro-Cuban religious life. The cemetery functions as an archive of that history: surnames that are repeated on the tombstones, dates that mark the future of the town, references to trades linked to the port and the industry that shaped the economic life of the municipality.
In today’s Cuba, hit by a prolonged economic crisis that reduces budgets, increases the cost of materials and complicates basic services, the situation of the Regla cemetery is no exception. It is part of a broader pattern of deterioration in public infrastructure, a reality where real limitations, apathy and the attempt to confront them are mixed.
What happens within its walls—its progressive and fatal wear and tear despite the occasional efforts of family members and workers to sustain what is essential—reflects the tension between the need to preserve memory and the profound difficulties of a country gripped by scarcity. This is what the photojournalist reveals to us today with his images of this historic site. Otmaro Rodríguez.
