"The bus should have been here at 6:00 pm, but it could either appear at 7:00 or not come at all.”

San José de Las Lajas (Mayabeque)/In the afternoon, uncertainty takes over those who try to travel to another municipality of Mayabeque from the San José de las Lajas terminal. The city, which was once a connecting node between Havana and the rest of the province’s towns, has become immobile as the transportation crisis paralyzes it.

“When lunch hours end, there are almost never any employees left at the station,” he tells 14ymedio Silvia, a passenger who was trying to get home this Friday in Melena del Sur. With the main building of the terminal closed, the only thing left to do is take shelter under a nearby warehouse with a zinc roof and no walls.

The sky is increasingly cloudy and the smell of rain spreads through the area. Silvia becomes desperate. “Even in the Special Period there were at least five daily routes from San José to Melena del Sur. Now there are only two left,” laments the woman, while holding her briefcase with both hands.

It starts to rain and the leaks coming through the roof seem as copious as the desire to get on a bus that may not come. Sitting on a bench, a young man watches the clock while constantly turning his face towards the direction where the bus should appear.

Most of the vehicles that arrive near the terminal are of the Diana brand, assembled on the Island, which have been presented in the official media as the solution to substitute imports. Their crude bodywork and simple mechanics should guarantee that the buses have a longer useful life than the sophisticated models, which are very fragile due to the poor condition of Cuban roads.

But Diana buses also break down and, of course, they need fuel to move. The breaks and the drop in oil supply They have stopped the initial euphoria and “they no longer reach even half of what they did a few months ago,” calculates the same man who, a few meters from Silvia, assures that he frequently travels from San José de las Lajas to Melena del Sur.

“The bus should have been here at 6:00 pm, but it could either appear at 7:00 or not come at all.” The remaining options are to spend the night under the tin roof that barely manages to contain the rain or pay for a private taxi. “A trip at this time from here costs almost a thousand pesos or whatever the driver asks for, and most people cannot have that money.”

“The bus routes to Nueva Paz or Güira de Melena are practically out of circulation,” the man continues explaining out loud to a dozen passengers with increasingly longer faces. Due to the frequency with which he tries to use state bus services, the savvy customer has become a “non-transportation expert,” he ironically says.

“If the Jaruco bus is not here it is because it probably made the last shift at three in the afternoon,” he warns a young couple who appeal to his knowledge to know whether to stay and wait or go to a private taxi to look for a private taxi. In the absence of terminal employees, anyone with any information becomes the improvised guide for those arriving.

At that moment a bus appears turning the corner heading to the stop. The passengers jump like springs moved by desperation. The blurry sign on the front glass does not allow you to read the destination of the route. “This is going to Melena del Sur. Up, going up with 50 pesos in hand!” shouts the driver, asking five times more than the original price of the ticket. No one protests the sudden rise. Getting out of the stop is imperative.