Sell ​​food by day and survive on the streets at night

Matanzas/He jabao –as he is known in the market– is a food seller who travels to Matanzas from a rural area in Limonar, about 28 kilometers from the city. He leaves at dawn in the hope of selling enough to cover basic expenses and the return ticket. But his routine depends on calculations that almost never add up.

“If I sell well, I return the same day. But there are times when the ticket costs more than 400 or 500 pesos and it’s not enough for me. A year ago I thought that private machines for 200 pesos were expensive; imagine now,” he tells 14ymedio. “Then I have to stay. There is not always night transport and, if it appears, the price goes up more. Sleeping on the street is not safe, but I cannot throw away the merchandise either.”

In today’s Cuba, marked by chronic fuel shortages, the collapse of transportation and job insecurity, the province of Matanzas has become a mirror of the tensions experienced by those who arrive from rural areas in search of income to survive, but do not always find a way to return to their homes or a safe roof over which to spend the night.

Every day, the provincial capital attracts men and women from nearby municipalities and bateyes who try to sell agricultural products, carry out informal work or collect raw materials. However, the deterioration of inter-municipal transportation and the increase in ticket prices have complicated the daily return, turning a day of “solving” into a night spent outdoors.

For those who live from day to day, the margin is minimal. A bad streak of sales can mean not only financial losses, but also spending the night away from home in unsafe conditions. difficult and dangerous. The seller himself admits that he is already prepared for that scenario.

“I already come with a sheet to cover myself if I have to sleep on the street. And on cold days I have to stop selling, because if a cold front catches me outside it can kill me,” he explains.

Another visible face of this reality is that of the raw material collectors. Given the lack of formal employment, many people – including internal migrants – travel around the city looking for recyclable materials that they then sell to state recovery centers.

Kike, a native of Sancti Spíritus, has been surviving like this in Matanzas for years. He lives on the street with his dogs and spends his days collecting cans and bottles. His testimony paints an increasingly competitive landscape.

“You walk kilometers every day. Sometimes what I take out is not even enough to eat well. And more and more of us are searching in the same containers, because many neighbors already go to the garbage dumps to look for cardboard and wood for fuel,” he comments. “They have become the places where you see the most people on each block; there are even those who eat directly from the waste.”

According to the official rates disclosed by the Raw Materials Recovery Company in different territories of the country, public purchase prices remain at low levels in the face of inflation and the effort required to gather the materials.

Aluminum (cans) is paid between 70 and 100 pesos per kilogram; Copper can exceed 400 or 500 pesos, depending on type and quality. Plastic bottles (PET) cost around 20 or 30 pesos per kilogram; Cardboard and paper are purchased between 10 and 20, while glass generally does not reach five pesos per kilogram.

Although these figures vary by province and availability, the reality is that gathering a kilogram of some materials involves long hours of searching, sorting and moving. For those who live on the streets, like Kike, that difference determines whether they can feed themselves – and feed their animals – or if they must entrust themselves to charity.

The problem is not limited to income. For many low-income people arriving from the countryside, securing temporary shelter is another challenge. Private rental houses are unaffordable: a room can cost several thousand pesos per night, out of the reach of those who barely make minimal profits.

Some turn to distant friends or family; others improvise shelters in public spaces. The lack of accessible shelters or transitional housing solutions compounds the vulnerability of this floating group that moves in and out of the city depending on the season and opportunity.

Social workers consulted in Matanzas recognize that the constant flow of people from the interior responds both to the lack of stable employment in rural areas and to the relative attractiveness of the provincial capital to “resolve something” during the day. But they also admit that the city does not have the capacity to absorb that pressure.

The situation reveals an increasingly fragile balance between the countryside that does not offer enough employment and the city that does not guarantee stability either. Those who sell food depend on irregular and expensive transportation; Those who collect raw materials compete for waste whose value barely covers basic needs.

Between sacks, crates of cassava and bags of crushed cans, survival is no longer a metaphor: it is a concrete task that begins before dawn and, too often, ends in some random doorway waiting for the next day to arrive.