SANTA CLARA, Cuba. – At noon, a truck loaded with beer stretches its hose and begins the process of bottling one of the tankers placed in the middle of the street, near the “Augusto César Sandino” Stadium, in Saint Clare. A group of people waits desperately for the sale of drinks to finally begin, waving bottles cut in half, plastic gallons and small handmade buckets in front of the shop assistant. Profanity takes over the queue, which goes from being an organised queue to becoming a mob of people shouting for their containers to be filled.
The area adjacent to the sports facility has been one of the favourite places to organise the so-called “popular festivals” in this city since the 1980s.
Dozens of stalls are scattered along the avenue, filling the air with the smell of fried food, burnt corn and barley. Near the stadium are the “public bathrooms”, consisting of four poles covered by a nylon bag. Neither pleasant nor hygienic are adjectives that can be attributed to these annual events that coincide with the days before and after the game. National Rebellion Dayan event celebrated by the regime.
Under the almond trees, the attendees gather to protect themselves from the steam and the heat. The soundtrack of that afternoon is a recorded concert by The Van Van Although in some particular businesses the hits of the moment are heard over and over again: Axe and The total, of BabyshitoA pair of police officers clear away two drunks who had started a silly argument and a woman takes the opportunity to report that her husband was “pickpocketed” in the beer queue.
A street vendor of popcorn who introduces himself as Horacio carries a sack in which he carries about 500 packages of this merchandise and sells them for 50 pesos each. “I have been packing for a week and I have not been able to sell much,” he laments. “There is a lot of competition and the kids are already preferring those pellys spicy foods that people bring from abroad.”
Further on, towards the area of the improvised mini-children’s park, are the most extravagant and unusual offers in previous carnivals: Pringles and Takis at almost 1,000 pesos, glasses with grapes at 200 and apples at 250. “They are expensive, but parents who can afford them give them the pleasure [a sus hijos]”I’ve already sold more than 100 apples in the hour I’ve been here,” confirms one of these hardware store owners. “You come here to spend money, otherwise don’t come here,” she says with a certain apathy.
The carnival areas are also divided between those who can and those who can’t. Many Santa Clara residents usually save up for months for these dates due to the minimal possibilities for recreation that exist in the province. “My children never go out anywhere and I brought them so that at least they would have something to talk about when school starts, but my salary isn’t even enough to put them on the electrical devices,” explains Maritza González, a divorced mother. “I feel a tightness in my chest every time they pass by the candy stands and stare.”
Each ride on a carousel, on the so-called “sacatripas” or 10 minutes of jumping on the privately operated bouncy castle costs 50 pesos, as do horse rides. “It seems like a lot, but you can’t buy anything with that money,” explains one of these self-employed people who sleeps there on a mat to take advantage of “the situation.” “I’m not leaving here until I make enough money for my daughter’s 15th birthday,” he says.
Another vendor selling bread and ham agrees that carnivals “are for making money,” but complains that they charge her 450 pesos a day to stay there, plus the payment for the electricity they use. “These transformers have not been able to cope with the demand and the power has gone out many times. Yesterday there were children with panic attacks because they got stuck in the rubber castles that started to deflate.”
Given the limited food offerings in the state-run tents, which are full of liquor, vodka and rum in bulk, private vendors have taken advantage of the carnival as a good place to do business. Vendors of cold drinks and light food also flock there, as well as those selling perfumes, backpacks, sunglasses and hats.
“This is a rental, you have to come with a bag of big bills,” he tells CubaNet Victor Aguirre brought his entire family from Hatillo, a nearby town. “I spent months fattening a pig and I already lost half of my money in two days. To eat anything you have to die with private individuals, because what the State sells is also quite hot.”
With the afternoon drowsiness, many areas of the carnival clear out to make way for another crowd of people who prefer to spend the night there. Also at this time, sales of stew made in the street and roast pork snacks soar. A man selling pergas Creole girls warn that the day is over: “Those used to be carnivals. This is a joke,” he mutters and leaves.
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