Matanzas Suffers as Heat, Power Outages, Water Shortages, and Censorship Persist

With temperatures feeling like 106 degrees Fahrenheit, power outages lasting up to three days, a prolonged lack of potable water, and overwhelmed services, the city of Matanzas resembles more a geographical punishment than a Cuban province. Its residents endure life without electricity, gas, mobile coverage, or even the right to publicly vent their frustrations. While official propaganda boasts of "uninterruptible" circuits, Matanzas residents experience over 20 hours of continuous outages, as confirmed by the provincial Electric Company director.

However, firsthand accounts paint a different picture, with reports of extreme 30, 40, and even 72-hour blackouts, particularly in municipalities like Jovellanos, Unión de Reyes, and Cárdenas, where outages seem unending. Zea Gisselle, a young Cuban from Havana visiting the western province, shared these dire conditions on her Facebook profile.

"If it were only about electricity, one might say people in Matanzas 'live', but it is far worse... it's pure agony," she emphasized. She highlighted the unrelenting water shortage that has plagued the area for months, questioning, "How do people bathe, wash, cook? How do they find the will to rise each day and endure the same torment?"

The daily struggle involves residents hauling water up and down the hilly city using carts, bags, and containers to gather enough water. Walking a few blocks, it's common to encounter buckets of water shared among neighbors. Many households have been without liquefied gas for six months, turning cooking into a daily challenge without electricity or water.

During blackouts, there’s no mobile or phone service, leaving the community isolated, uninformed, and without a real platform to voice their dissatisfaction. Matanzas residents can't even vent on the provincial Electric Company's Telegram channel, where comments are disabled, allowing only likes or dislikes. Screenshots are also banned, forcing users to photograph posts with another phone to share them.

The only way to learn when power will return is through word of mouth, as there's no official bulletin or timely notice. Neighbors rely on street rumors when someone manages to connect briefly and check announcements.

The stories emerging from the city are devastating. People talk about enduring rather than living. When asked how they survive, the responses are a mix of resignation and defeat: "We have to adapt or die," "There's nothing else we can do," "We're like sheep."

In the comments, anguish becomes a cry. "How sad all of this makes me. And the worst part is, there's no light at the end of the tunnel, not of any kind," lamented a former resident. Another user urged breaking the imposed routine: "Stop everything. Don't work, don't send children to school without sleep or food. Stop the damn country before everyone dies." Yet another replied, "They go to work because there’s power there, fans run, they can recharge lamps, phones... it's senseless."

Another cybernaut lamented the situation that her family "suffers daily; my mother and aunt have lost significant weight but still don't see the point in denouncing anything." Yudlema confirmed the information blackout: "The only Telegram channel of the Electric Company where exchange is still possible is in the capital. It’s been like this for a long time. In Artemisa’s channel, you can't: interact, forward what’s posted, take screenshots... Nothing, it's national security information."

Fernando bluntly summarized, "When people from the capital visit the province... until you experience it, you don't understand the true extent of the misery." Meanwhile, Rouslyn described her short visit as "a tour through hell. Because I return to my home in Havana and leave behind all this drama to live my own, which, by comparison, is light."