Holguin/In front of the El Cobre winery, on Calle Antonio Moreno, between 12 and 14, in the Hilda Torres neighborhood of Holguín, the neighbors coexist with a river that does not appear on any map. It is not freshwater nor does it have fish: it is a dark thread of sewage that runs in the open, crossing the neighborhood and bordering the door of the state premises where a few rationing products are sold every month.
The scene, under the sun of this Sunday, has something of routine. Women with umbrellas wait their turn in line, children play on the edge of the mud, a motorcyclist maneuvers to avoid splashing. For years, the pestilent river has accompanied the day of those who must wait in line to buy rice, sugar or children’s compotes.
“These are sewage waters and one has to be here, at the end of the warehouse, next to that rot,” says a neighbor. “This has been going on for a while, we have reported it and nothing.”
/ 14ymedio
The water runs slowly, thickly, leaving black stains in the dust of the road. It mixes with soap residue, grease and household garbage. “Every time it rains, this grows and the plague gets inside the houses,” says an elderly woman, while holding a plastic bag.
The deterioration of the sewer is not new. In the last decade, wastewater overflows have become common in peripheral neighborhoods of the city, coinciding with the materials and fuel crisis that affects hydraulic services. According to recent reports, the province is among the hardest hit by arbovirus outbreaks, aggravated by the lack of sanitation. In October, health authorities also admitted a rebound in gastrointestinal infections in several municipalities, including Holguín and Banes.
The neighbors of the El Cobre winery say that the smell intensifies with the heat and that the mosquitoes “are already part of the families, so many of them.” The stream of sewage continues its course downhill for about 200 meters, crossing the street, until it accumulates in a dark lagoon that spreads its stench everywhere. A boy, barefoot, throws a stone into the puddle and laughs. In this corner of Holguín, time seems stagnant, just like that nameless river that everyone looks at but no one cleans.
