I'm Susan Lee. I'm a researcher and fact-checker with The Daily. What I do is make sure details in our episodes are accurate. For us, every single fact in an episode matters. The Daily is part of The New York Times. We do everything we can to make sure we get the facts right. Subscribers make it possible for us to do that. If you want to subscribe to The New York Times, go to nytimes.com/subscribe.
From The New York Times, I'm Natalie Kitroeff. This is The Daily.
Is the Cuban government the Trump administration's next target, Mr. Secretary?
For the past 6 months, the Trump administration has been carrying out a maximum pressure campaign against Cuba.
Well, the Cuban government is a huge problem. Yeah, the Cuban government is a huge problem.
So is that a yes?
I think they're in a lot of trouble, yes.
Yeah, Cuba's going to be next. Cuba's going to be— Cuba's a mess. It's a failing country, and they're going Who's going to be next?
That campaign has included an oil embargo, an indictment against the country's former president, and economic sanctions.
What we're seeing now is a whole new level of punishment. Will you make a public commitment today to rule out U.S. regime change in Cuba?
Regime change?
Yes. Oh, no, I think we would love to see the regime there change.
And as Cuba's oil has dried up, island-wide blackout following— the country's blackouts have gotten longer and longer.
Cuba is a country running on fumes.
The country will run out of aviation fuel today.
And fears have grown about a spiraling humanitarian crisis.
The island nation's power grid completely collapsed today, leaving the country with little to no access to basic services like water, food, and medical care.
Doctors here say across the country people are dying because of the fuel crisis. No power has led to women delivering babies in dark hospitals. And then— Well, earlier Cuba's energy minister said the island had completely run out of fuel, oil, and diesel. Cuba reported it had officially run out of oil.
Cuba has essentially run out of oil. Not essentially, they have run out of oil.
Cuba's at the end of the line. They're very much at the end of the line. They have no money, they have no oil. Cuba's in its last moments of life. I do believe I'll be the honor of having the honor of taking Cuba. That'd be good. That's a big honor.
Taking Cuba.
Taking Cuba in some form, yeah. Taking Cuba. I mean, Whether I free it, take it, I think I could do anything I want with it.
Today, my colleague Lindsay Garrison talks to one Cuban about how his life has been completely transformed under Trump's pressure campaign and what the future holds for the Cuban people. It's Friday, July 10th.
Gustavo Torres Armas is 25 years old. He lives in a residential neighborhood in Havana, just across the bay from the capital center. He lives in an apartment with his mother and father, and every day he commutes to his job at a contemporary art gallery in the city. He told me the pay is pretty bad. But he loves the work, so he writes articles about Cuban art on the side for real money. We could have talked about so many things. We could have gone back generations through his family's story and Cuba's decades-old conflict with the U.S. Or we could have talked about how Cuba's energy crisis, which started around the pandemic, has only gotten worse since the U.S. blockade in January. But instead of going back years or even months, Gustavo thought the best way to explain this current crisis was to walk me through a single typical day in a city under siege.
Yeah, so basically I wake up early in the morning. Maybe I have water, maybe I don't. So if I have water, I can get ready like normal and go to the bus stop. And if I don't have water, I have two choices. So if I don't have water, it's more likely than not that I have some stored water, right? Because whenever we get water, we quickly store it and, you know, we're always prepared. But in the rare case that we didn't prepare water, I basically have to carry water. So I live in 5th floor in a building.
Uh-huh.
And if I don't have water, I have to go all the way down go to the cistern. It's like, like the water tank. Yeah, it's like the building's water tank.
Okay.
And there's usually like a person in the building that takes care of it. So I ask him, hey, can you open the system? I have no water. And there's usually like not enough water to pump into the building, but enough water that you can throw a bucket and bring it up as if it was a well.
Okay.
So he'll tell me, oh, it's empty, or no, we have some. And if we have some, he will open the system I will throw a bucket and I will bring it up to the 5th floor and I repeat the process at least 5 times so I can have enough water for that day.
Have you ever gone down there and the person who kind of mans the tank says, "We don't have any today"?
Yeah. But in that case, we're just like, "Oh, well, I mean, what can you do?" And just get ready with what we can or try to get ready in other ways. You know, right now everybody here is struggling more or less in the same way. So if I go to my job and I couldn't wash my teeth, I'm going to tell him, listen, I couldn't wash my mouth in my house, can I do it here? And he's to be like, oh, sure. And I just wash my mouth in my job. If I have water in my job, maybe I don't have water in my job. Maybe my building doesn't have any water, but maybe a neighbor does and he'll lend me some water. So I can wash my mouth.
I see.
But basically, as you can imagine, it's kind of, let's say, annoying having to carry 5 buckets of water to your 5th floor house just to wash your mouth, your face, and get ready to go to work. But we do that.
How often would you say that you wake up without water? Um, like in an average week, how many days?
Out of 7 days of the week, maybe 6.
Wow. Okay. That's a lot.
Yeah.
It's basically never I open and have like actual water coming out in the mornings.
Okay.
Wow.
And, you know, everything in Cuba is— there's usually more than it seems at first sight. So in the case of water specifically, it is a combination of, you know, we're in the middle of a drought. So basically we don't have, you know, the rains that fill the water preserves. And that's one issue. Another reason is that the piping, the underground piping that pumps the water to the buildings and the houses, this piping system is extremely old. It's very fragile. It hasn't been properly maintained since from the '30s, the '40s, you know, like long time ago. And so another thing that affects this, and this is more relevant to the whole Trump thing, All of this water piping, like the pumping of the water, needs electricity. And if we have like an energy crisis when you have 24 hours or 20 hours with no power, you can't pump water because you have no energy. So all of these things combined, you know? Yeah. And so after all of this, to get ready to work, I got to the bus station. So the problem is, and this is like a specific problem to me and people who live where I live has.
Basically, in Havana, we have kind of like an underground tunnel that connects the main city with the rest of the city, right? That tunnel, you can't cross it by walking, and you can't cross it in like a bike. It's illegal to walk in the tunnel because the tunnel doesn't have the infrastructure for regular people walking. You can only cross it on a car, on a bus.
Okay.
Not even a motorbike. It can only be one of those two things.
Got it.
And the problem is, since we have a fuel crisis and we have no buses and we also have no cars, how do you cross the tunnel?
Hmm.
That's like my main everyday struggle to go and to come back of work. I cannot cross the tunnel walking. A little pause. But Cubans tend to exaggerate to make a point. So when I told you that we have no cars, it's an exaggeration. We do have cars. You will see cars, but it's very low traffic.
Okay, got it.
Now, the problem is that the only bus that we actually see— because, I mean, this is not an exaggeration now. We do not have any buses. Like, there is no public transportation. That system has basically collapsed. Since January, you don't see any bus, never. So we have a bus in this side of the city. In Spanish, it's called the ciclobús. So the cycle bus. And this bus exists at least since the '90s. And it's not for people, it's for bikes. It's basically like a hollow bus that carries the motorcycles and the bikes through the tunnel.
So this is the one bus that comes to that bus station?
Yes. That's the thing that I take every day to go to work.
Okay. Are these buses crowded when you get into them?
Yes. Yes. It's very crowded, but I mean, it's not crowded to the point that it won't be able to close the doors.
Okay.
But it is crowded. So when I get into the bus, the cyclobus, and in my everyday commute to work, it's like you're getting into the bus with zombies. The Cuban people look so drained, you know. And again, I probably have looked like that. At some point too. People are just so, so, so tired. You can see a lot of people with like, you know, hollow faces, eye bags, you know, the woman don't wear makeup. And I'm not saying this to be like— yeah, to sound like women have to wear makeup or whatever. I'm just saying it in like, you know, people just stop caring. Or you see that people are like very, very irritated. Ah, you know, something that in another moment would have been just like, you know, a small misunderstanding could turn into a whole fight because they suddenly got very angry. You know, they just had problems and they've taken it on that day with, you know, it's like that. Yeah. So it usually takes me like the whole ride, usually like half an hour. And I really like looking through the window in that specific bus ride because it's mostly just empty road with coast area.
Because I live very, very, very close to the coast. And so that bus ride is like, I don't know, maybe 15 minutes of going through an empty road that only has a lot of palm trees and coconut trees, the grass, the rocks, and the sea. So it's a really pretty view. I really like it. And then you get into the tunnel, which is like darkness. And when you emerge from the other side of the tunnel, it's like walking through a portal. There is so much trash, so much trash. So after every block, you will see a huge landfill, basically. We have so many— there is so, so, so much trash. Trash to the amount that it covers the street. This is because there is no fuel for the garbage truck, so the garbage truck can't come and collect the trash. So we're just drowning in it. And one of the things that you notice in this— this actually really shocked me. So In the part of the city where I live, it is very common to just burn the trash.
Okay.
So the neighbors would put all the trash in this huge landfill and they will just burn it. But this is very common in this side of the city because again, it's very open. So if you light a fire, it will burn all the trash, die out, and nothing will happen.
I see.
But something that I really noticed is that right now they are also burning the trash in the city. And it's awful. It's so awful because you have all of these cramped apartments and very narrow streets with burning trash and smoke everywhere. And it is like this very pungent trash smoke smell. It stinks so bad. And it is actually like really bad for your health. Like a lot of people are having like breathing problems because of it. And this is something that really shocked me when I saw it, because I didn't thought that people would get to the point of burning trash in the main city. But what choice do they have? Like, if they don't burn it, the trash is going to eat them. There are so many mice, there's so many mosquitoes. You know, Cuba has like a whole menagerie of mosquito-related diseases, like mainly chikungunya.
Okay.
We have a lot of dengue.
Yeah.
I mean, we just got out of basically a pandemic of mosquito-related viruses.
Uh-huh.
That, you know, it doesn't get reported because who cares about us? But basically, if you didn't get sick, you knew at least 5 people who were sick.
Wow.
It's— yeah, it was really difficult. And now we have no medicine. There's no pills anywhere and no fuel for like You know, the exterminators?
Uh-huh.
Like, you know, there's no fuel for the garbage truck. There's not going to be fuel for the machine that kills mosquitoes.
Oh my goodness.
Keeping with the whole my everyday experience, I take my little bus and I walk to my job, and my job is relatively close. So it's not like a long walk. I just walk through the streets and this is like the historic side of Havana. So they are usually like rather tight streets. It's like a small maze or like a labyrinth because if you aren't familiar with it, you may get lost. So yeah, I just walk through all of these alleys and you usually hear like, when you're walking down the street, Cuban music. You know, like salsa, charanga, reggaeton. And well, some people will tell you that, you know, salsa is not Cuban music, salsa is Puerto Rican, but the bass is Cuban. Anyway. And then I get to like the alley in which the gallery is and The gallery is a huge, very modern style gallery, you know, like very tall ceiling, a great open space, great lighting, white walls. And at work, I do— my work is kind of office related, but I also have other parts of my job, basically giving tours to the gallery. You know, visitors come, they may have questions, I answer.
But we have no tourists. We have maybe 1 or 2 a day, which again, I don't know how it is over there, but here in Cuba we usually would have way more visitors. But right now we have no foreigners who were another main source of income. There are some businesses that are very, very dependent on tourism that are basically basically have been destroyed because of the crisis. So we don't have anyone.
What is that like for the gallery to be so empty? What does that make you feel?
Well, at least for me, the first feeling that you feel is that you're there for no reason, right? You know, like I have so much difficulties going on in my house, in my everyday life, the commute. And, you know, I went through all of that to just sit all day here doing nothing because we have no visitors, because maybe the office work that I am doing in the gallery, I could have done it at my house. So you kind of get like this frustrating feeling of like, I came to work for no reason today. But the one visitor you had at the day, like the one and only that you have, Yeah. We usually thank you for being open. They will be like, "Oh, you're like the only gallery that is like open every day." Because that's the other thing. We are basically one of the few galleries that are open basically every day. Most galleries are open like once a week. And I kind of— it did make you feel like at least you did something with your day. Maybe not much, but you know, you did something. It wasn't all for nothing. But it, it only makes you feel, let's say, good for like maybe an hour, because the rest of the day still went on and nobody else came.
And then at the end of the day, when I finished doing whatever I was doing at work, I have to do like the real struggle. Of going back home, because that's the difficult part, not going to work. We'll be right back.
I'm Paul Tenorio. I cover soccer for The Athletic.
And I'm Amy Lawrence. I cover football for The Athletic.
Whatever you call it, the biggest competition in the sport is happening right now. And the Athletics World Cup coverage has everything you need to follow the tournament.
There's 48 countries taking part, from the tiny island of Curaçao to the 5-time champions, Brazil. Even if you don't know your offside from your onside, if you're eager to know more about the teams, the matches, all the stories on and off the pitch, we've got you sorted.
Maybe you're the kind of person who's already up early every weekend, waking the neighbors when your favorite club scores. We'll make sure you get equipped with more information, more insight than anyone you know.
We've got more than 70 obsessive reporters on the ground covering the ins and outs from every game.
I almost forgot to mention the best part, Amy. Free access to The Athletic's World Cup coverage in our app.
Download The Athletic app and see you there.
So going back home, that's the difficult part, not going to work. So if I end work at like 5 PM, At that hour, I just go to the bus station for the cyclobus. But a lot of the time, maybe the cyclobus is so filled with people, or sometimes there is a bus in the morning, but there is not a bus in the afternoon because they run out of fuel midday.
Oh, really?
So there is no cyclobus. Or maybe after work I decided to visit a friend, or maybe I decided to go to a new art show. And that is something that impacts your everyday life because you have to be like, well, do I visit my friend or do I go to my house? Because, you know, it's not sure that I could get into the bus if I visit my friend now.
I see. Yeah. Because you might end up stranded somewhere depending on the choice you make.
Yeah. And so there's people that I haven't seen in months. Hmm. Like, there's a feeling that a lot of young people have that you're wasting your youth. You know, because you can't really do the stereotypical things that someone your age would do. Hmm. But anyways, so for whatever reason, I couldn't get into the bus. I had to improvise. I will basically hitchhike.
Oh, wow.
So I go to the streetlight that is like in a very busy area. And there's usually quite a few people who are doing the same. You know, we are just there, all of us hitchhiking. And most of the cars that go through that street light are probably crossing the tunnel because they're going to the other side. And they don't charge you or anything, you know, it's just hitchhiking.
Because how much, just to compare it, how much would a taxi be? Like if you took a taxi home, how much would that cost you?
To put it into perspective, my monthly salary is 3,600 in Kywan peso. Now, a taxi that crosses the tunnel, if I take it during the day, it will charge me 700. And if I take it after 7 PM, it will be 1,000.
Oh, wow.
So basically a third of my salary. So that's like the last choice because after the measures that Trump took, that same car ride costed me $300.
Wow.
And suddenly in January, it's $1,000.
Is that when you started to hitchhike? Like around that time, were you doing that more often?
Yeah.
Wow. Yeah.
I don't really like hitchhiking.
Yeah.
Because, you know, you're basically counting on the charity of strangers and it's kind of humiliating for you. You know, it's kind of like begging. Do you feel that way sometimes? Right now? No. I felt like that in the past, you know, when things were better. But right now things have gotten so low, so bad that I'm just like, you know, whatever. I have to do whatever it takes. And by the way, the drivers right now, see how everything is and they are like genuinely trying to help you.
I see. And, and when you get home, what does that look like normally?
Well, I mean, something that you have to understand throughout this whole story.
Yeah.
Is that my house? Because I just realized that I didn't tell you. My neighborhood is in a part of the city that has power all the time. It's not because some important person lives there or whatever. It's because the electric system is underground.
Oh, okay.
And a lot of places here in Cuba have electric posts, and so those get power outages constantly. But the underground systems, that are very few, need to consistently have power because if you cut the electricity to that system, it can get moist from, from the ground. And when you put it back, it creates, you know, like an electric cut and it could destroy the whole system. And to repair the system, it would be so insanely expensive and difficult that it genuinely is more effective for the government to just let them have power all the time.
Got it. Interesting. Okay.
So we technically always have power. That makes me extremely privileged right now in Cuba. And I'm telling you this because there is people that wake up with no power, get ready to work, and they will come back to work, there is no power. I mean, my aunt lives in Camagüey. Which is like, you know, a different province of Cuba. And on average, my aunt has 2 hours of light a day. Wow. By the way, this is not like a rigid thing. I tell you 2 hours because that's on average. Sometimes she has 4 hours.
Mm-hmm.
Sometimes she only has 1. It has happened that she has none. So sometimes she has been like 24 or 48 hours with no power.
Oh, wow.
But in those 2 hours, which by the way, they're not like scheduled. She doesn't know when the light is going to appear. And it has happened that she has been sleeping and the light suddenly comes at 2 AM. And at that hour she gets up and she starts washing her clothes. You know, she puts the washing machine and she starts doing her stuff because she has to take advantage of whenever she has power. Hmm. So yeah, it's really bad.
Are you, are you pretty close with your aunt? You sound, you sound like you're pretty close.
Yes, yes, yes. I am very close to my aunt. She's like my— I mean, she is my godmother, you know, by the church and stuff like that. And so, yeah, I honestly— and this is going to sound a little bit depressive, But I'm kind of thankful that my grandmother died before all of this, because it would have been so difficult for her and for my aunt to, to go through all of this, you know?
Hmm.
When did she pass?
In 2021.
It just would have been too hard.
Yeah, I mean, with how difficult it is to get medicine and stuff like that, it would have been really difficult for us. It would be really hard in general. So depending on how tired I arrived, like, at my house, Sometimes I have to do something like, sometimes you get from work and your mom is like, "Quickly, they deliver the rice. We have to go buy it." So this is one of those things that I have to explain. So basically, you know, we have our bodega. And right now you're seeing that there's always a product that is missing. And some of these products like, rice, for example, are delivered to the store randomly and late, like extremely late. It could be that you didn't see any rice in January or in February or in March. So you will see that there are people waiting for the rice. Like, we live literally like across the street from the bodega, so we can see when the truck bringing the deliveries arrives. Sometimes my mom just watches through the window, "Oh, did the truck deliver? Oh no, not yet." And you know, after years of doing this, housewives become kind of like good at it.
Like they know at which times of the month usually the truck arrives. So, you know, they will listen to a truck noise and you'll be like, "Oh, could it be?" And she will be like, "No, not yet. It's next week." And yeah, she'll be right, it's next week, not now. So, you know, she'll see that the truck is there and she'll start calling all the neighbors like, "Oh, Juanita, the rice is here. Tell this other person." And, you know, it's a whole event. And my role in the grocery shopping area is basically I help my mom carrying the shopping.
You go with her to carry?
I go with her, yes. And so we go and buy those stuff if we can find them.
I see.
And rice is not so much of a problem because in general rice is pretty cheap, and most people have rice like saved up. So you can usually get a neighbor to loan you some rice or to sell it to you or to just gift it to you. But there are some products that you use a lot, like cooking oil, that if it gets lost like that, then you really feel it because you have to spend a lot of money buying it from a private business.
Do you know how much cooking oil is costing people?
Well, cooking oil specifically, I can't really tell you right now. I don't know. I can tell you how much is sugar right now.
Oh, okay.
Because my dad had to buy some sugar literally today. And it actually increased price. Um, it's more expensive now than it was last week. So remember my salary that I told you, like 3,600 pesos? Yes, that's my salary. My dad's is like 4,000.
Okay.
And my mom's is 6,000.
Okay.
Because my mom works as a chemistry and biology teacher in a sports Oh, cool. So basically, £1 of sugar is 800 pesos. So for sugar to be 800 pesos is like pretty expensive right now.
It's like—
Compared to other food stuff.
I just did the math. It's roughly like 6% of your total household income.
Yeah, it's quite a bit. And that's like, that's just sugar. You know, like maybe oil. I don't have to think how much is oil right now, but you know.
Yeah.
Without cooking oil, you can't cook. So it's like my household, usually by the end of the month, it's still okay. Like we are not like maybe the last week of the month we can't eat anymore. We are not that bad, but we are very much like ready for the next pay. Soon because food is really, really expensive here in Cuba. It's really expensive.
Yeah.
There's people who pick food from the trash can. There's people who are having a very, very hard time right now.
Do you see people pick food out of trash?
Yes. Yes. And it is something that shocked me a lot because, and maybe you won't believe this or maybe your audience won't believe this, But 10 years ago, it would be really, really difficult to find a beggar, a homeless person, somebody eating out of a trash can, stuff like that. That's like inconceivable 10 years ago. And so imagine going from never seeing a homeless person in your life to seeing like people, like lots of people, okay? Like 10, 20 people sleeping on the ground in the night, picking food out of a trash can and eating it. That's really shocking because you never saw that before. And that's what we're seeing right now. So yeah, food is really expensive. There's a lot of people who don't eat. And again, there is always some product that is missing. Cigars, for example, are missing. No, not cigars, because you guys call cigars other things. Cigarettes are missing. Yeah. Right now is the worst time to have any kind of vice here in Cuba. Coffee. And here in Cuba, we drink like black hard coffee. We don't have the whole Starbucks thing.
Like the lattes.
Yeah, no. Most of the people that I know, and certainly myself, hate American coffee. It's so watery for our taste. Some people here, they'll tell you like, "Oh, American coffee is ass water." Because it's just like some brownie water that tastes like nothing. We drink like black strong coffee that is, you have to drink a little because a lot of it is like bad for you. And coffee is missing. And a lot of people miss their coffee, especially older people, because older people are used to drink a lot of coffee.
Yeah.
And you know, it's kind of, People will be probably more capable of resisting all of this if you at least had the little things, you know? Because you're like, oh well, I can't even drink my little cup of coffee that I'm used to doing for the last 50 years. Like, I know old people who tell you that they're okay with not eating yesterday, but that they're missing their coffee.
Mm.
It is always the little things that hurt you the most. So after that, we all get together in the kitchen. So I will get home, I will change, and I help my mom cooking if she needs it. And in the case of cooking, like, this is one of the areas where the privilege is the most evident. Because since we usually have power, we usually have electricity here, we just use our electric oven for cooking. But there are many people who are feeling it. A lot of people are basically cooking with wood, you know, with like firewood. It's like a very primitive thing. You have to cook in the street or you have to cook in like your backyard using like a campfire basically. And you put your like a cooking pot on top of it. It's— Yeah. And I know a lot of people who are like that. One of my coworkers, he has a house, so he basically uses the backyard to create this kind of campfire, and that's where he cooks. He also uses the campfire to heat water for bathing or for boiling the water to drink it. But yeah, people are saying that we are devolving to, like, Neanderthal times.
And then my dad goes watch the news, my mom starts making the dinner, and we all have dinner. Like, this is not, like, necessarily, like, a Cuban tradition or whatever, It's more like a my household tradition that, you know, we set the table and everyone sits down at the table and we eat together. And my mom is very strict with that.
So. Do you ever talk about with your family why this crisis is the way it is? Like who, who or what you blame?
Yeah, we usually talk a lot about the crisis because it's something that is like an everyday thing. On the one hand, my family in particular, it's very anti-Trump because Cuba and the United States were starting to have better relations. We were starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel with Obama and Trump blocked that. And so it was kind of sad. Because a lot of people thought that maybe we will see relations with Cuba and the United States. But this is by far the worst crisis that Cuba has had in its existence. For me at least, it feels worse than anything that I have ever lived. And most importantly, unlike many other crises, We don't really see a solution or an endpoint to this one.
Yeah.
In the past, people were like, "Well, maybe we have this small fuel crisis right now that will get solved when we get more fuel." Right? So with this one, it's like, we don't see that we'll get more fuel. We've had recently some fuel donations from Mexico, some from Russia. And it's like, that's great, that's fine, but that's only going to last for a while. After that, we're going back to the beginning. So we don't see an end to this. And most people feel, me included, feel rather hopeless about it. We're like, things are only going to get worse from here. There's no way out. So, you know, maybe we'll end up like Haiti, you know, like completely collapsed. People don't really see an end to this. I don't know, but I would say that most people here in Cuba, even if they understand that Trump is making the crisis worse, a lot of people think that the problem at the end of the day is the Cuban government, not Trump. And that's why some people say, "Oh, Trump should bomb us." Some other people are like, maybe we should sell the country to China or to Russia.
But people just in general feel like there is no future with this government. And I see, I understand all of these positions. I get it.
Where would you say you fall?
I don't know, because one thing is what you think is right. And another whole thing is what you think is possible or more likely to happen. Yeah. Honestly, the ideal thing for me would be that the United States lifts the embargo, lifts the blockade, and the Cuban government gets completely changed. Completely changed. Some new government comes around and we finally have some form of democracy. I don't know. At the end of the day, it's kind of difficult to be thinking in this kind of like higher things like democracy and all of that when you have more pressing things to be thinking about, right? So a lot of people are like, listen, I don't care about dictatorship or democracy. I want food and water and to live a little. When you have been in a crisis with a lot of scarcity for 67 years, there's a point in which you're like, "Let's do whatever it takes for us to finally breathe and have things." Yeah. So at around maybe, I don't know, 10 PM, if basically fate has been generous with water, like if we have water to spare, I would take a bath to go to sleep, you know.
And my room is kind of windy because we're pretty high, you know, the 5th floor. Uh, from my window I can see the sea. And right now I have like my windows open to get some wind, which is— that's like a blessing. But yeah.
And when you, when you go to sleep, do you, do you have anxiety about the next day or is it something you don't even think about because it's normal or like?
Yeah, I think it's the latter.
Yeah.
Because at some point, all of these difficult things that we're going through become normal. You just get used to them and they get normalized. So, you know, so for a lot of Cubans, it's kind of hard to give you a detailed what's going on in Cuba thing, because for us it's like as normal as it is to you to just go to Walmart and grab a soda. For us, that's normal. It's normal to not have power. It's only when you stop and you, like, look at it, it's like you say, "Oh wait, this is not how most people live. This is, like, not normal." But for all of us, struggling is normal. Like, I go to my work, for example, and, you know, the doorman, the guy that works at the door of the gallery.
Yeah.
I will go to work and the doorman will tell me, 'Oh, thank God you came because, you know, I feel like fainting. I couldn't eat anything yesterday.' It's normal. I will be like, 'Oh, that sucks.' If I have some money, I try to buy him something. But if I don't have any money, I can't do anything. I can just say, 'Oh well, you know, maybe sit.' I can't even tell him to go home because the walking back home is going to be really tiring. So he just has to wait. And, you know, I'm like talking to a friend and the friend will tell me, oh, you know, we have to pay like X amount of money to get some medicine for my grandma. And I will be like, oh, wow, that's really bad. Do you know what I mean? It sounds like I'm an insensitive person, but it's just basically that we are extremely used to this. It's normal. If somebody tells you, I couldn't feed my child yesterday, Obviously you feel bad for that, but also you're used to it. And if you have a child, you know how difficult it is. So you're basically saying, oh yeah, no, I know what that is too.
Like, it's— we're constantly sharing stories of this, which is kind of crazy when I see sometimes like this— well, not TikToks because we don't have TikTok, but the Instagram Reels of like American saying things like, you know, like, cut out that friend that is always complaining. You have to take care of your own, you know, like, mental health and stuff like that. And I'm like, that's, that is so impossible for us. I can't cut the person that comes to me venting every day because I will cut every person in my life and they will probably cut me out too. We are constantly complaining. It's the only way that we can let go of steam. But yeah, instead of being like this dramatic thing of like, oh my goodness, it's basically no, it's like an everyday conversation that you have at the bus stop with a stranger, you know?
Your small talk is basically like, I didn't eat yesterday.
Yeah, basically. Basically. Yeah, basically. The small talk is venting.
Hmm.
But again, you're kind of used to it here. It's, you know, for us that's normal. So yeah, I go to sleep like, yeah, I don't have trouble sleeping because right now there is a lot of heat in Cuba. It's a very hot and humid climate that we have right now. So I at least can put on, you know, my fan and open my windows and sleep. I may have to buy another fan soon because this one is, you know, he has been at least 10 years, but you know, at least I have one. Who am I to complain, right? ¡Hola!
On Monday, Cuba suffered its third nationwide blackout since January. Protests broke out in the streets of Havana, and the country's energy minister said officials were working to restore power to the island. The darkness has hit Gustavo's home too. His building is now experiencing blackouts that stretch 12 hours at a time. We'll be right back. Here's what else you need to know today.
Did he talk about what he had done? Uh, didn't go into detail.
He just—
I just asked him in person if what he said was true the night before, and he said it was.
During a preliminary hearing for Tyler Robinson, the man charged with killing Charlie Kirk. Prosecutors presented evidence showing that Robinson had told his then-romantic partner that he regretted what he'd done.
Uh, he started crying a little bit and said he wishes he hadn't done it.
The prosecutor's evidence included messages that Robinson had sent to his friends confessing to the crime, saying, quote, "Look at the photos from the surveillance footage. It was me." Robinson hasn't yet entered a plea, and he could face the death penalty. And on Thursday, the Department of Homeland Security said that the Mexican man that ICE agents had killed during a traffic stop this week was not the target of their investigation. The agents were actually looking for two people from Guatemala, and they thought that one of them was in the van driven by Lorenzo Salgado Araujo. Araujo, the man that they shot in Houston on Tuesday. Araujo had lived in the United States without authorization for 35 years. Homeland Security officials said that he tried to use his vehicle as a weapon, though no video or other evidence has emerged to back up that claim. Today's episode was produced by Lindsey Garrison. It was edited by Michael Benoit, fact-checked by Susan Lee, and contains music by Marian Lozano, Leah Shaw Dameron, Pat McCusker, Elisheba Ittoop, and Diane Wong. Our theme music is by Wonder League. This episode was engineered by Alyssa Moxley. Special thanks to Emiliano Rodriguez-Mega and Elda Cantu.
That's it for The Daily. I'm Natalie Kitroeff. See you on Sunday.
I'm Gilbert Cruz. This week on The Book Review Podcast, author and classicist Madeline Miller gives us a primer on The Odyssey.
They are flawed characters.
Who try and fail and try again, who get angry and make mistakes.
Plus, Times critic-at-large Tony Scott on all the genres inside The Odyssey. It has tons of its own action, some of which is quite gory. Is it a sexy story?
Well, yes, it is.
Listen to the book review wherever you get your podcasts.
Isn't that beautiful?
In January, after the capture of President Nicolás Maduro of Venezuela, the Trump administration turned its attention to Cuba. In the months since, the White House has used every tool at its disposal to unseat the Communist government.
In May, sparking fears of a humanitarian crisis, Cuba reported that it had officially run out of oil as a result of the U.S. oil blockade.
Today, Lynsea Garrison, a senior producer for “The Daily,” talks with one Cuban about how his life has transformed under President Trump’s pressure campaign, and what the future holds for Cuban people.
Guest: Lynsea Garrison, senior producer on “The Daily” for The New York Times.
Background reading:
Cuba’s already-struggling schools are ending the academic year early because of the crippling fuel shortage caused by the U.S. oil blockade.
The blockade has deepened a humanitarian crisis, forcing Cubans to lean on the island’s long tradition of community solidarity.
Photo: Lisette Poole González for The New York Times
For more information on today’s episode, visit nytimes.com/thedaily. Transcripts of each episode will be made available by the next workday.
Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. You can also subscribe via your favorite podcast app here https://www.nytimes.com/activate-access/audio?source=podcatcher. For more podcasts and narrated articles, download The New York Times app at nytimes.com/app. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.