Darkness, heat and a train that does not arrive: the night at the Matanzas terminal

Matanzas/The afternoon slowly fell on the impromptu Railway Terminal of Matanzas, an old merchandise warehouse reconditioned to replace the lack of a station in conditions. There, between mosquitoes and gloom, dozens of travelers premiered on Monday the new schedule that, until next September 30, will have the four national trains with departure from Havana.

According to reported The Ministry of Transportation, the readjustment responds to “the low availability of cars” and the need to “have more trains throughout the summer”, which will leave every four days. These additional convoys, said the agency, “will guarantee the transfer of students, workers, participating athletes in sporting events, such as school games, and other sectors”, while the rest of the population can acquire capacities “as usual during this period.”

However, in the Yumurine terminal travelers confirm a very different reality. “I had to come early, because this place is so set that it can only be rented by some vehicle,” Georgina explains to 14ymedio, While remembering that he already spent “2,000 pesos by bicitaxi” without even knowing if he will address the train to Holguin. “In the morning I scored on the waiting list. Then I went to my daughter’s house, who lives in René Fraga Park, to look for luggage,” he says resigned.

The Havana-Holguín train used to go through Matanzas around 10:00 pm, but the new schedule implies that passengers should wait for midnight. “I reserved the tickets for several days. I thought the stay at the terminal was going to be relatively short, but now they tell me that he will leave Havana at 10:05 at night. That means we will come to take it after 1:00 in the morning. What lack of respect,” Reidel protest, accompanied by his wife and his little son.

Accustomed to the blackouts, at the close of the bathroom and the absence of drinking water in the terminal, Reidel regrets that not even street vendors dare to cross the cast Camilo Cienfuegos at night. “We bring food from the house because here, when it darkens, one does not see even hands,” he says. The young man remembers that “last month I could hardly travel by waiting list, because the train came with five cars nothing more. Now that I buy the passage with time, they change the schedule. They do nothing to benefit the people.”

Within the main hall, which also serves as national bus terminal, heat and mosquitoes make the wait unbearable. Metal banks, tight against each other, barely leave space to move between luggage. Some, like Isabel, who return to the Tunas, prefer to sit down, on cement walls. “Employees also spend work; they have to light themselves with the flashlight of the phones to rectify tickets or score on the waiting list,” he says.

With his briefcase between his feet, Isabel calculates that, hopefully, he will arrive at his home in 12 or 13 hours. “My son wanted me to stay a few more days and go on one of those extra trains they announced, but if they do not meet the established routes, I do not think they put anything additional,” he says, aware that the transport crisis will take his next reunion with the grandchildren.

While the faces blur in the dark, resignation grows. An older man stretches on a cement wall and heads in a restless dream. Others improvise conversations to scare the wait, as if talking could shorten the night. In the Matanzas terminal everyone knows, even if no one says it, that the train will hardly leave punctual not even under the new schedules. Between blackouts, heat and bites, they await the moment when the metallic rumble of the locomotive breaks the silence.