Cuban-Americans traveling to Havana from Miami International Airport now routinely carry suitcases packed with survival goods, from chemotherapy drugs to cans of beans, according to a Wall Street Journal report. The squeak of plastic-wrapping machines echoes through the terminal as travelers secure packages for the journey.
Arsenio García, a local handyman, carefully guarded a carry-on holding $7,000 worth of chemotherapy drugs for his sister in Havana, who has ovarian cancer. “I travel with her chemo every six months,” García said, adding that he has spent about $20,000 since her diagnosis to keep her alive. His story is one of many that illustrate how the burden of Cuba’s economic collapse has fallen squarely on relatives in Miami, home to the largest Cuban diaspora.
The Trump administration has tightened sanctions and blocked oil imports to Cuba, stacking new restrictions on top of a decades-old embargo. Cubans now face intermittent electricity for as little as 45 minutes a day in some areas, causing food to spoil in the heat. The once-thriving tourism industry is all but dead, and hospitals, once a point of national pride, are taking only the most critically ill patients.
With legal channels for cash remittances restricted, many Cuban-Americans have turned to informal service providers known as money runners, or “mules,” and to shipping cargo on planes and ships. “People are using more merchandise delivery than cash transfers,” said Manuel Orozco of the Inter-American Dialogue, a Washington-based think tank. “Historically, during periods of duress, societies turn to material goods instead of cash.”
Total remittances and material goods to Cuba amounted to $3 billion last year, according to Emilio Morales of the Havana Consulting Group. Cash accounted for $1 billion; the rest was physical goods. Roughly 90% of these shipments and transfers originate in the U.S., primarily from Miami.
Multiple countries, including Mexico and China, and charity groups also ship aid, primarily staples such as rice, but distribution on the island is often less effective than direct family shipments, according to Cuban residents.
The informal supply chain developed by the diaspora presents a conundrum. Most Cuban-Americans favor regime change, yet the aid they send slows the economic collapse that some hope will trigger it. “It’s a test over how much a humanitarian crisis can bring political change,” Orozco said of Washington’s actions. “We’ll find out soon.”
Secretary of State Marco Rubio, the son of Cuban immigrants, has often described Cuba as a “failed state” and a threat to U.S. national security. In a video message to Cubans last month, Rubio said, “The real reason you don’t have electricity, fuel or food is because those who control your country have plundered billions of dollars, but nothing has been used to help the people.”
The economic fallout is absorbed by families across Miami-Dade County. At a branch of the cargo-shipping agency CubaMax in Hialeah, Fla., residents pushed shopping carts filled with goods ranging from cans of Spam to expensive solar-powered generators. Janet Vigo, a nail-salon technician, prepared four boxes of adult diapers and a rechargeable fan for her 84-year-old bedridden grandmother, who recently broke her hip. “They’re using their hands or pieces of cardboard to fan themselves,” Vigo said.
Logistics delays compound the difficulties. Once packages arrive in Havana, they often sit at the port for two weeks or more because fuel shortages prevent local delivery trucks from operating.
Reynaldo González, who had driven from Clewiston, Fla., to take advantage of a $1-a-pound shipping special, sent rice, beans and baby essentials for his relatives. “In Cuba, hunger, misery and humiliation are the order of the day,” he said.