In today's Cuba, even the most seemingly trivial acts carry a significant political weight. Simple gestures like distributing food on the streets are not just acts of kindness in a country where basic necessities are scarce; they're also indicative of the broader systemic failures.
Recently, Sandro Castro, the grandson of the infamous dictator Fidel Castro, has been attempting to craft an image of solidarity by distributing food to the vulnerable in Havana. "We want them to know they have us," the influencer said while handing out treats to impoverished children in the capital.
Social media videos show him smiling, interacting with the elderly and needy, and pledging to continue this "social work." However, a deeper look into these videos reveals a much more complex narrative.
The "Vampires" of Varadero
A recent Instagram post by Sandro congratulates a close friend, referred to as the "vampire of Varadero." The seemingly benign photo shows them in a relaxed, nighttime setting, sharing laughter and camaraderie.
This friend, Andy Biart Corzo, is not widely known to the public, but his social media activity and digital ventures offer a glimpse into the world surrounding the dictator's grandson. A world dominated by Castroist elites, mafia-like families, frontmen, and corrupt leaders who wield power and treat Cuba like their private estate.
Biart Corzo is linked to "Animal Nocturno," a sales platform that ships food, beverages, hygiene products, and even appliances to Cuba. This catalog, priced in dollars, includes essentials from chicken and beef to whisky and refrigerators, catering to those with access to foreign currency.
A Tale of Two Cubas
While Sandro plays the philanthropist offering free meals in certain neighborhoods, his inner circle operates within an economic ecosystem where those same goods are sold at prices beyond the reach of most Cubans reliant on meager state wages.
The offerings of "Animal Nocturno" starkly contrast with the average Cuban salary. For example, ground beef costs $7.90 per kilogram, a carton of 30 eggs is priced at $8.90, and a kilo of powdered milk at $9.35, all while the average monthly salary is just $12.80 (6,930 CUP).
Survival in Cuba increasingly depends on remittances sent from abroad by family members who fled due to the lack of opportunity and poverty perpetuated by a predatory, authoritarian regime.
The Illusion of Charity
The so-called philanthropy becomes part of a more intricate narrative, where those with privileged access to goods and currency occasionally distribute the excess from their well-stocked warehouses, perpetually out of reach for most impoverished Cubans.
The issue is not merely the act of offering help; in a nation in crisis, every meal counts. The problem lies in the context.
Cuba is experiencing one of its worst economic crises in recent history. Food shortages, extended blackouts, inflation, and deteriorating basic services have pushed much of the population into increasingly precarious living conditions.
This has given rise to a parallel, dollarized economy sustained by private imports and small businesses operating outside the confines of the average salary. This new reality has exacerbated visible inequality.
On one side, a majority struggling with Cuban pesos and limited access to essentials. On the other, a minority with connections, remittances, or businesses accessing a dollar-market where everything—from a liter of oil to a box of chicken—is available and priced accordingly.
The Symbolism of Social Media
In this second space lies the social circle of Sandro Castro, a new media darling, eager to speak about his grandfather's humanism and the need for change in Cuba.
Images on social media, both from Sandro and those like Biart Corzo, depict a lifestyle marked by parties, imported drinks, cars, homes with pools, and consumption without the restraints faced by the average Cuban. While not new, this phenomenon has become increasingly visible.
Thus, the scene of food distribution gains symbolic weight. It is not the same when solidarity arises from shared scarcity versus when it emerges from a place of privilege. When such acts are documented, published, and turned into content, the line between genuine aid and performance becomes blurred.
The question isn't whether Sandro Castro can distribute food—he can, and likely those who receive it are grateful. But what does this gesture mean in the context of current Cuba?
Is it a sincere act of empathy or a strategy to manage his image amidst privilege? Is it charity or a symptom of a system where access to basics increasingly depends on the ability to pay in dollars?
The use of "vampire" to describe his inner circle may unintentionally reveal more than intended. Not as an insult, but as an inadvertent metaphor for a dynamic where a few appear to live above the struggles of most Cubans, essentially "draining their blood."
Ultimately, the issue isn't that someone is distributing food in Cuba. The problem is that it needs to be done, especially by those who have inherited the responsibility for ruining the country's economy and impoverishing its people—the same ones now negotiating with the United States over the spoils.
Understanding the Cuban Economic Crisis
What is the current economic situation in Cuba?
Cuba is facing one of its worst economic crises, characterized by severe food shortages, inflation, prolonged power outages, and a deteriorating infrastructure, pushing many into precarious living conditions.
How does the parallel dollarized economy affect Cuban citizens?
The dollarized economy creates a stark divide between those with access to foreign currency, enabling them to purchase essential goods, and the majority who rely on limited state wages, exacerbating inequality.
What role do remittances play in the Cuban economy?
Remittances have become crucial for survival in Cuba, as many depend on funds sent by relatives abroad to access goods and services unavailable through state provisions.