"Every part was worse than the one before. I was torn between the urge to leave or to scream," reflects Cuban creator @ledyhr92 as she navigates the remains of her old school in Santa Clara. Thirteen years after leaving Fajardo, she returned only to find it in ruins: overgrown weeds swamped the corridors, the floors were shattered, roofs had collapsed, and classrooms were swallowed by neglect.
In a video shared on TikTok, she laments, "This school where I spent five years of my life... seeing it in such a state of disrepair is like losing a part of all our stories among these fallen walls." The footage has sparked a wave of reactions from Cubans who not only recognize the place but also the pattern: places that once defined an era now reduced to rubble.
Her narrative strikes a deep chord. "Now we're entering the gym, and brace yourselves, because what you're about to see is harsh, sad, and devastating," she warns, her voice quivering with emotion. "My mind couldn't process what my eyes were witnessing," she adds, showing the collapsed court surrounded by debris.
The Emotional Toll of Neglect
As she moves through the site, she notes, "Today, only the front part of the school, which belongs to the Central University Marta Abreu and houses the physical culture faculty, is somewhat functional." Her emotional turmoil is palpable. "I felt I owed it to myself and many of my friends," she confesses, pausing before her former classroom. "You can't imagine the mixed feelings I had seeing it... They've taken everything from us, destroyed our country, and our memories," she expresses, voice tinged with sadness.
The video not only documents the physical decay of Fajardo but also reveals the emotional scars of an entire generation. Within hours, it went viral, resonating deeply with many. Former students responded with disbelief and anger.
Collective Grief and Outrage
Social media erupted with reactions, especially from former EIDE students and Cubans who see in these ruins a fragment of their own history. Many commented, moved by the scene, recalling their school days and lamenting the neglect. "Champions were made here, and look at what they've left," one commented, while another admitted they couldn't watch without tears, saying, "It was my home too... I couldn't see it without crying."
The video provoked not only nostalgia but also ire. Some users remarked that "our history is falling apart and no one does anything," while others spoke of the heartbreak of returning to a place that no longer exists. "Coming back is like burying a part of oneself," read one of the numerous comments.
Others noted that the impact of abandonment goes beyond the physical. "What hurts isn't the concrete, it's the lost memories," one woman wrote. "It's not just a school; it's what shaped us, taught us, and now it's gone," another user added. "Every corner was alive. Now, it's dead," summarized a former student, shocked by the complete deterioration of their old school.
A Broader Decay Across Cuba
Some felt betrayed, expressing, "We were taught to love sports, and then they let the places where we learned die," a young man shared. For those who had idealized a reunion after so many years, the disappointment was even more bitter: "Thirteen years waiting to return for this... it's cruel."
The consensus was clear: the video depicts not only the physical collapse of a school but also the symbolic downfall of an entire system of shared values and memories. "It looks like a bombed site," one user commented. Another, with resignation, reflected, "Better to hold onto the memories. Now there are only ruins."
The post by @ledyhr92 underscores that the pain extends beyond a mere structure; it's about everything that structure represented for those who grew up, studied, competed, and dreamed there.
Disturbingly, Fajardo in Santa Clara is not an isolated case. In Bahía Honda, the San Pedro campsite crumbles amid vandalism, power outages, and illegal occupations, with only half of its cabins operational. In Marianao, the former Oriental Park Racetrack, a symbol of Havana's heyday, ended as a state warehouse amidst debris. In Guanajay, the Carlos Baliño Museum, declared a National Monument, remains closed after six years.
Elsewhere in Cuba, holiday villas for workers have been abandoned or transferred without consultation, the National Aquarium of Cuba is languishing with leaks, mold, and few animals, and Lenin Park, once a family leisure emblem, has been reduced to ruins and overgrowth.
In buildings like Riomar in western Havana, homeless families survive in dire conditions amidst graffiti and corroded structures. In places like Baracoa, empty streets and closed hotels contribute to the silence of a vanishing city.
Even playgrounds have ceased to be: rusted structures, dangerous swings, and ruins greet the few children who still visit. And in former recreational centers like El Dorado, the pool is filled with trash, and the concrete is on the verge of collapse.
What were once places of recreation, study, or culture for thousands of Cubans are now ruins that evoke shame, nostalgia, and helplessness. And what @ledyhr92 shows in her video is just one symbol among many—a country where even memories seem doomed to fade away.
Understanding Cuba's Structural and Emotional Decline
What did the video shared by @ledyhr92 reveal about her former school?
The video showed the physical decay of the school, with overgrown corridors, shattered floors, collapsed roofs, and neglected classrooms, alongside the emotional impact on former students.
How did the public react to the video of the ruined school?
The video went viral, eliciting reactions of disbelief, anger, nostalgia, and grief from former students and Cubans who associate the ruins with their own history.
What does the state of the Fajardo school symbolize for many?
The state of the school symbolizes not just physical decay but also the collapse of a system of shared values and memories, representing a broader decline affecting Cuba.