From Literacy Campaigner to Homeless: María's Story of Neglect in Cuba

María's journey, which once symbolized her commitment to the Revolution, has tragically ended in destitution and neglect at the age of 80. Her story, captured by the independent organization Food Monitor Program, highlights the crumbling social safety net affecting countless elderly individuals across Cuba. Born to a sugar worker and a farm woman in central Cuba, María's early education took place in a rural school before the 1959 Revolution.

At the age of 15, María joined the Sierra Maestra as a literacy campaigner, confronting not only the harsh conditions but also the era's pervasive machismo that questioned her presence among men, wearing pants, and traveling alone. The Revolution had pledged that volunteer teachers would be allowed to pursue any career of their choice, a promise that was never fulfilled, forcing María into a teaching career out of necessity rather than passion.

For over 30 years, she taught in primary, secondary, and vocational schools until breast cancer forced her into retirement in the late 1980s. She was left with a meager pension of just 130 Cuban pesos. The Special Period hit her family hard; her brother, an alcoholic and unemployed after the closure of the sugar mill, took his own life using wood alcohol. Already in poor health, María managed to earn some money by assisting a blind neighbor who had a peddler's license, selling sponges and jewelry near the Pando Ferrer eye hospital.

As time passed, María descended further into poverty due to a lack of income and government indifference. She resorted to scavenging for food and recyclables in the trash bins of neighborhoods like El Vedado and Miramar. Eventually, the stigma and squalor of state shelters drove her onto the streets entirely. Now, she roams Havana dragging an old sack filled with items salvaged from garbage and cardboard that serves as her bed.

This narrative emerged shortly after former Minister of Labor and Social Security, Marta Elena Feitó, asserted on television that there are no beggars in Cuba, only "disguised" individuals avoiding taxes. María's plight starkly contradicts such claims, exposing a regime that has forsaken its citizens. With a pension barely amounting to 1,528 CUP—expected, according to the government, to soon reach 3,000—María can scarcely afford basic sustenance. What she receives, she insists, is not aid but a denied right. She no longer anticipates miracles or change, only survival, day after day, like many others who have lost everything.

The plight of senior citizens in Cuba underscores a systemic crisis that far transcends isolated cases. A woman in Cienfuegos, surviving by fishing and sleeping on a broken mattress by the sea, revealed she can't even afford bread with her pension, forcing her to eat plain rice and rely on neighbors' charity. In Santiago de Cuba, another elderly woman lamented the blackouts, shortages, and state neglect that compel her to gather firewood for cooking while her medications are scarce and she can't afford rice despite queuing for hours.

In her words, "We never went so hungry, not even under Batista," highlighting the current degradation of social services. Professional background offers no immunity from abandonment. An octogenarian scientist who contributed to Cuban technological advancements now sells coffee on the streets to survive. Despite creating products used in hospitals, he never received a dignified pension. Juan Bautista, a retired teacher and composer, also belongs to this forgotten generation. Having taught Natural Sciences for 40 years and composed music for schools, he now searches through trash for cardboard, without family or state support.