Thursday 30 June 2011

Anywhere else would have put up the white flag by now...

The more I delve into and discover about Cuba, the further I realise I still have to go to understand. I’m making some gains (that I’m enjoying sharing) but I’m not pretending to be making revelatory progress. It’s particularly hard because there just doesn’t seem to be a precedent, a similarity or a point of reference between Cuba and the rest of the world:

Where else do you find this political situation, which, though pronounced to be an ‘independent socialist republic’, is really neither socialist, nor communist nor capitalist. Where else do you face this level of need, with 80% of the population living in poverty, alongside this wealth of educational opportunities? How can the population be 99.8% literate but without the opportunities to a free and unadulterated education? How can the streets be unlit and unmaintained but mostly safe?  How can people be working as doctors, nurses and teachers without the right to strike or voice any discontent? How can it be legal to drive an un-serviced falling apart Chevrolet but illegal to eat potatoes, beef and lobster? How can the only coffee you find be made by Nestle and more than $2USD in a country that produces excellent coffee and the monthly salary accounts to what most of us earn in a couple of hours? And how can a country tolerate such hardship with so little complaint and ill humour? Why in short have they not put up the white flag yet and surrendered like the rest to the West?

To answer all these questions you need a lot more time, knowledge and understanding than I can offer here. If you’re looking for an easy way out however you could blame the embargo. It’s not going to give you all the answers but it is a beginning, and perhaps more of a clue to the situation than first meets the eye…….

Since the 1960s Washington has clamped a strict, though contradictory, trade embargo on Cuba with the aim of creating such economic distress that Fidel would relent and magically welcome western style democracy to the county. “The fundamental goal of US policy toward Cuba”, writes the government as it enshrines the embargo in US law in 1962, “is to promote a peaceful transition to a stable, democratic form of government and respect for human rights. Our policy has two fundamental components: to maintain pressure on the Cuban government for change… and working to aid the development of civil society in the country.”

It might have sounded like a cleaver plan (to some) at the time but it must be clear 50 odd years later that it’s not working so well. In fact you could go as far to say that it has completely backfired. The government today is no closer to ‘democracy’ (Castro denounced Western democracy as “complete garbage”) than The DRC and Cuban society remains far from free. In fact, the bloqueo (as Castro calls it is demounced by many Americans and Cuban’s alike as a complete farce. Why?
a)     It’s far from a full embargo. Whilst Cuba cannot sell anything to the USA, Uncle Sam can still flood Cuba with its goods, last year to the sum of US$700 million.
b)     It’s played right into Fidel’s hands. First year students learning about the creation of nations know that the greatest unifying force for a nationalistic society is normally the presence of a powerful external force against which to rally. America has painted itself as the evil imperialist leaving Castro to pick up the mantel of idol and knight in shining armour. The embargo provides the perfect answer as much for the country’s economic woes as a rationale for the suppression of human rights of its citizens as they support a city under siege.

The effects of the bloqueo have been much debated, especially as it’s particularly hard to separate the effects of the embargo from any failings of Castro’s government. Facts and figures would go so far (Cuba’s annual GDP is US$110bn but it is currently facing a $19bn trade foreign debt) but if you want to get an idea of the impact you need to go down to the everyday – and this is where Koral is a source of illustration and inspiration.

Koral is a friend from the Organopónico whose conversation and good humour turned around three otherwise monotonous days in the agroindustrial area. A mother of one she lives with her husband, son and mother in a (very) small flat uptown in Alamar. She earns $350 a month (Moneda nacionale) - about $15 US. When I arrived at her house for dinner on Saturday with 6 beers I realised I’d spent one third of her salary on a few empty calories. And whilst you can’t make a direct comparison, not least because Cuban’s don’t pay rent or taxes on the whole, my heart dropped when she asked me about my wages.

Even accounting for the difference in cost of most products and services here for Cuban people, many things are beyond her reach and that of the majority.  She can’t buy toilet roll, soap or coffee and regularly has to choose between having a proper meal and buying new clothes for her son. She is currently studying at the university but these qualifications will neither guarantee her a more skilled job nor a better paid one. She’s unlikely to be able to travel around the island and even less so to be able to leave it. In short she lacks both the rights and possibilities that I have, and for no fair or justifiable reason.

Rights and possibilities are the most important and most commonly confused words in the Cuban language. When citizens talk about the opportunities to read a free press, to strike against poor pay and unfair treatment, to travel and to learn freely, they’re talking about rights. Cuba may be a signatory of the UN covenants on human rights but it’s just for show; in 2009 Amnesty International named it as the worst offender in Latin America. Whether you’re talking about access to facebook or rights to a fair judicial hearing, there is a painful absence of them in this country, linked both to the political system and the foreign embargo. And even if Raul were to suddenly legalise everything from travel to internet access, the situation would still not be resolved as many Cuban’s like to think. Why? Because rights and possibilities are not the same thing.

The continuance of the dual currency is perhaps the single most important reason for the lack of possibility here. “Whilst both exist”, she says, “things will never change.” Whilst neither currency is recognised beyond the country’s watery border, the Cuban convertible peso trumps the national one hands down. The simplest way to describe it would be one for tourists and one for nationals; one prized and one shunned. Only like most things it’s not so simple. As tourists the government does indeed want you to trade in CUC, but it’s not impossible to get hold of national pesos and they come in pretty handy to buy mangos, hop on and off the busses and go to the cinema. But whilst for tourists having moneda nacionale is novel – it saves you money and allows you to get a bit closer to Cuban life at minimal cost - for Cuban’s having access to CUC is a hundred times more important; it’s a question of living well.

Tobacco, clothes, alcohol, condiments, toiletries, cupboard essentials (and I could go on) are only accessible in CUC. Even then they’re hardly accessible in though, since many are hugely expensive because of the embargo and thus considered luxury items. A further complication is that Cuban’s are paid in moneda nacionale and whilst the government permits changing money to CUC it offers the service at an unfavourable rate. This dual system excludes almost all nationals from participating in everything from a night on the town in Havana to enjoying ketchup with their omelette. And of course it also means you’re about as likely to be able to afford a flight out of here as the government is likely to permit you the visa to travel. Both rights and possibilities are far away.

However frustrated you expect Cuban’s to be as a result of this situation and many other seeming absurdities, they face each battle with admirable resolve.  People are more likely to blame the embargo than they are to blame Castro, of whom it’s difficult to gauge how people really feel. Koral did open up slightly when I asked her: “Castro is a god, an idol. Do you understand? But he is crazy.” People can see that now, but there is nothing that they can do, and there is little hope for improvement. “Things are not going to improve under Raul either.”

So “it’s not easy”. That is a phrase I hear a lot. “You cannot mix politics and economics”, her husband said, “it just doesn’t work”. This concoction has created a situation where Cuban’s cannot live off their salaries and are forced to turn to break the law to survive – either turning to the black market or robbing directly from the state in the tourist and transport industries for example. As goes the joke here, if the punishment for robbing in Cuba was cutting off your hand, everyone would be wandering around single handed.

Again a joke to turn the situation around. Not for nothing was Cuba ranked seventh on the New Economics Foundation Happy Planet Index. A country with no access to the internet, next to no adverts (except for political propaganda), no pornography, slim opportunities for people to travel, lack of the kind of ‘choice’ as have come to know and expect, ‘disposable income’ as a concept has not really been invented, consumerism is not the be all and end all and notably they’re not dripping in the black stuff. But Cuban people are, by and large, pretty happy. Very happy when you compare the 7th to the 114th of the USA, and the 115th of Nigeria. Spot the countries with the oil….

Monday 27 June 2011

¨If you want to lose weight, go to Cuba¨

As writes a guide book written on Cuba in 1993 – perhaps the ‘most special’ of the years of the ‘special period’ - when hunger was prolific, BMI dropped 1.5 units, obesity fell from 14 to 7%, diabetes deaths fell by 51%, heart disease by 35%, stoke by 20% and waiting in a queue was all you could do to (attempt to) secure a meal. The year before the embargo had been intensified and almost overnight 750 million dollar’s worth of food and medical supplies to Cuba were halted.  The result? As well as having to walk and bike more they also had to eat less. More specifically: more vegetables and less fat. Vegetables ceased to become weeds as necessity forced people to broaden their horizons. By 1994 the average Cuban had lost 20 pounds.
Back to 2011 though and I’d say a modest majority – perhaps 75% of the woman and 50% of the men (completely unverified percentages of course) - are plump bordering on being safe to call overweight. Yet in a country where food is still rationed, staples continue to be difficult to find, salaries don’t go too far and tropical fruits and vegetables are produced in abundance – how exactly is this happening?
As always the answer isn’t simple. At first it’s easy to blame it on sugar but food is such a loaded socio-politico-environmental issue that often you can’t isolate one from the other. Perhaps sugar is to blame but why do people load up on sugar? Because they don’t necessarily have a choice. Some observations that could be to blame are:  
1.     History. Years of severe rationing and insecure food access induced the ‘eat it whilst you can’ mentality – a bit like living in a family of four and not wanting to miss out, though obviously a million times worse. The shock of the special period could explain the speed and functionality of meals: the average lunch at the organopónico is eaten in 3 and a half minutes (personal observation again) and dinner at home is served as and when, and if two people happen to sit together at the same time, bonus.
2.     A sweet tooth. Cuba is traditionally a sugar producing country (exporting at its peak in the 1980s over 7.5million tonnes), and even though it doesn’t produce sugar for export any more, this is another tradition they’ve acquired a taste for. Spoonful’s (at least three) go into a small espresso as standard, to otherwise fairly sweet fresh fruit juices a few more, and the same to milkshakes. Then for snacks, stick of rock are offered by wandering sellers on every corner, and sweet sickly ice creams, caramelos and fluffy sponge cake when available are the perfect treat. If you’re ploughing all day then these snacks come in handy. If you’re sitting down sowing seeds you’re probably ingesting a fair few more empty calories than you can use up.
3.     The notorious white carb. Only it’s not so notorious here. Carb phobes don’t exist in the way they do in the West – mostly I guess because there is no possibility of the opposite; a low carb diet. Diets such as the Atkins or Dukan diet that rely on an abundant supply of protein would sound absurd here, and would of course be impossible on even a high salary. Indeed it seems ridiculous to consider such self-indulgent diets here where the only colour that bread, pasta and rice comes in is white. And it’s not of a high quality: Che famously asked why the country can’t make good bread. Whether people like it though seems to be neither here nor there; it’s make do or go fend.
4.     The obligatory oil pan. Again, this practise will have arisen out of necessity; ovens seem to be rare and even if you’re lucky enough to have one you may not have the experience or desire to use it. Add to this the evaporation of much of their former food culture at the beginning of the revolution, the absence of a roaring trade in celebrity cookery books and the lack of internet to check the glycemic index of your average cassava for example, you can see the predicament - frying your plantain, chicken, pork, fish, potatoes, eggs etc becomes the default option.
5.     Quantity. This still various enormously so it’s difficult to call on this one. I was quite shocked when lunchtime came on the first day at the Organopónico – it consisted of an army style tin tray with 5 or so areas to stow food - a bit like the plastic ones we used to have at school – only it had about half the amount of food!  A cup full of yellow rice mixed with some grisly meat and a few pieces of shredded cabbage. How could this sustain a clan of farm labourers? Dinner, at least in this 3-boy household is another matter – plates of rice, plantain, beans, chicken and a little side plate of veg come later.  That and the variation of sugary snacks keeps one going I guess.
6.     Export. Tall palm trees, lush greeny-yellow mangos, fresh pink papaya – despite seeing them growing here and largely being able to lay your hands on them they’re not cheap or ubiquitous. Why? Because virtually all leaves the country to feed us either whole or in fruit juice. This drives the prices up and makes it harder to find. Mango’s are in season at the moment and I’m totally addicted. Interestingly though I keep being warned about how fat eating mangos can make you. I know they’re one of the more sugar laden fruits but they’re also rich in fibre and vitamins and minerals. It’s curious – no one’s mentioned anything about how sweets and ice cream go to your bum!
Whatever the cause, the result is familiar: high cholesterol and heart disease are beginning to claim lives here and it seems the return of oil has brought about the return of the flab - just as Ian Roberts hypothesises in The Energy Glut (which was a very good book to bring!)
What happens then? This is where it gets really interesting.
Remember la libretta? Well, if it transpires that you’ve eaten over your fair share of the libreta food – and then some – you’re given la dieta. No need to translate here. If your six monthly mandatory blood test shows high cholesterol or high percentage of triglycerides, the doctor will prescribe you a state approved diet. The two key changes here are the exchange of whole milk powder (if you were entitled to it) to skimmed and the chance to eat fish instead of chicken - as long as there is some obviously. And they also hand out some rules: only eat beans twice a week (since they’re usually cooked in oil), don’t eat too much sugar and stick to rice, root veg, fruit, and vegetables, which are in theory unlimited – if you can afford / find them at all that is.
Ironically, as a sure fire way to get fish instead of chicken, this is the diet that everyone wants to be on. So much so that people will pay their doctors to skew their results and put them back on the diet after their six months is up. This might sound ridiculous but I’ve plenty more examples like this to share…

Saturday 25 June 2011

When ecology gives the economy a helping hand

The organoponico has 6 brick containers (2m wide, 15m long and 60cm deep) dedicated to transforming oxen, goat and rabit poo (plus kitchen scraps) in 2-3 months into high quality compost ready for applying to the soil or selling that would otherwise take years; all with the help of the humble earthworm.
The circle of life is quite simple: plants take energy from the sun and nutrients from the soil to form a biomass which can then be eaten by animals. In order for this cycle to continue, organic residues have to return to the soil in their simple forms – nitrogen, carbon, phosphorous – so that the plants can absorb them. Whilst this is simple enough (again you’ll have to forgive me for going back to basics), the process of decomposition is not so easy.  Of course, you can bypass this process by applying chemical fertilisers to the soil, but that’s not an option here.
Decomposition can be achieved either physically or biologically. To achieve the latter you need life; millions and millions of microorganisms all taking on a different job. Of all of these microorganisms, worms are the most prolific, making up about 70% of the invertebrate biomass in the soil, and in this case the most important because what they excrete is a special compost full of microorganisms which help plants to grow strong and tall.
Worms, unsurprisingly, come in all shapes and sizes and dedicate themselves to different jobs in different parts of the soil as well as different types of soil. I can’t/won’t go into these differences now but we happen to be working with the Californian Red variety – the best suited to this soil and location.     
Why use worms above a standard composting system?
They decompose organic matter using a very simple process (which also destroys dangerous residues) to produce humus with a higher proportion of macrobiotic organisms than normal compost which in turn improves the composition and structure of the soil.
Meanwhile they can reproduce and multiply within the soil, and if you have too many you can sell them on either to work as above or as a protein source.
Above all they’re happy to hang out in s**t all day without complaining one bit.
The worm life cycle (in brief/as I understand it)…
…starts with a capsule, which can hold between 2 and 9 eggs. They hatch after 14-21 days of incubation in the compost and within 45-90 days they pass through youth into adulthood and full sexual maturity. Curiously they’re incomplete hermaphrodites. This basically means they have both sexual organs but do still need two to tango. So, when worms want to reproduce, one lines up with the other (the lighter coloured ring close to their noses has to be touching), and produce sperm to help form the capsule in each worm. When that is released, the cycle starts again. Amazingly, adult worms can live up to a quarter of a century, working 24 hours a day 365 days a week.
More often than not worms are hardy and get on with the job. They live in an area set up permanently for their work; somewhere without any water contamination, with good drainage and easy access. The containers are also now fitted with roofs to maintain shade and temperature, and keep hungry birds from picking. Nonetheless, since the temperature, humidity, pH, light, air and food has to be maintained carefully each day to make a business out of them, you do need someone in the know, and some hard workers  to make up for the lack of mechanisation. The organoponico has one expert and 3 labourers who work in this area to:
-        apply new compost (i.e. food) daily to the containers,
-        water containers to maintain the necessary 80% humidity,
-        conduct tests to check the pH - put 50 worms in a box with new manure, wait one day, if there are less than 49 the next day, it’s not ready yet to go into the containers & other worms
-        extract the worms once the process is complete – to achieve this you need to apply a line of nets along the container, which has onto of that a new layer of food. Removing the worms means the vermicompost is now ready and the worms are hungry for something new, so they make their way to the top to start on the new layer. Leave the nets on for 2 days or so and when you come to lift them off, millions of worms will have made their way up through the nets and into the manure. Simple but very effective.
-        then extract the vermicompost – hand of course.
Producing compost like this is arguably the most important part of the work at the organopónico. Without high quality humus, the soil quality would be abysmal and they wouldn’t be able to grow even half the quantity of fruits and vegetables. Jodi Scheckter, founder of Laverstoke Park Farm, has a/the motto:
Healthy soil = healthy plants = healthy animals = healthy people.
(I hope that’s right – I can’t check the bloomin’ internet!)
And that formula lies at the heart of our very existence.
But in addition to the huge ecological benefits of working with worms lies the exciting business case that Salcines is keen to exploit. 1m2 of worms produces 1 tonne of compost per year (the Organoponico produces over 300 tonnes) from natural waste. Compare this to the 250 tonnes of chemicals that are needed to produce 80 tonnes of artificial fertiliser, and it sounds like you’re onto a good thing. In time the plan is to double the area dedicated to producing vermicompost and start selling it a bit more seriously. Given that vermiculture is likely to be the fastest and most efficient means of recuperating soils in the future, hopefully they can’t go far wrong.

Friday 24 June 2011

Rabbit soup?

It could have been the extreme heat (at 35ºC its even hotter than it should be at this time of year), or it could have been the humidity (at almost 90% because of the severe lack of rain). Alternatively it could have been the realisation of that the rabbits were here for more than their compost contribution - when I ran into the team killing, skinning and gutting a row of rabbits. Either way, I had my first crash in the Caribbean; nothing a lie down in the air conditioning didn’t sort but nonetheless not the most pleasant of mornings.
Don’t think me a wimp; I’m not super squeamish. I’ve been in and out of working abattoirs, watched our slaughterer do the same with sheep at home and attended the odd bull fight or two… And I wanted to learn so watched along for a good while, but something about the smell of rabbit guts and suffocating heat don’t mix too well. And I guess they just didn’t look like bunnies for soup – they were white and fluffy and not at all like the mxymaetosis-ridden (I have no hope of spelling this without the internet!) mousey-brown rabbits that get shot in the fields behind our home.
Naturally, within half an hour word had spread like wildflower that I was unwell. Being western and a woman makes me doubly likely to suffer from the heat, apparently. And the prognosis offered by Salcines? “It’s the sugar. In those cold countries you’re used to eating lots of protein and lots of fat but not lots of sugar. Sugar helps you in the heat.” And despite my protests he gave me a sweet as he walked away.
Anyway, we found out that rabbit is eaten here. Unsurprising really now I come to think of it. Given the set up at the farm it’s fairly low maintenance and cheap to produce, as well as being one of the healthiest meats around; rich and gamey as I seem to remember. We’re yet to have it here but I’ll take a guess at how it’ll be cooked. Either a) fried up to sit alongside rice and plantain, or b) thrown in to give some flavour to a tasty soup, perhaps together with some turmeric – condiment of the moment here due to its immense health properties. Either way there isn’t much flesh on a bunny, even when it’s a big one like those at the organopónico, so it’ll definitely be stretched out and made the most of.  
Looking forward to it already?!  

Thursday 23 June 2011

The notorious ´square´ meal

As things currently stand, feeding the 5000 would be a bit tricky in Cuba, and you certainly couldn’t do it a-la-Tristram Stuart off supermarket throwaways, because they just don’t exist. Sometimes feeding a family of 4 is a struggle enough. Indeed, a long standing joke in Cuba is: What are the three failures of the Revolution? Breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The Revolution induced the exodus of many of the upper and middle class restaurant clientele and with them knowledgeable chefs and restaurateurs.  What was left became part of the state and it was said to be all downhill from there. However, survivors born and bred, Cubans are incredibly resourceful and will do both anything and everything to get something onto the table.
Food is one of those mega issues – partly because it just is, but also because it’s me wanting to write about it – which deserves a few semi-coherent blogs rather than one large report. I suggest before we get into the intricate details and contradictions, however, that we cover the basics; the four ways I’ve observed to get a meal or snack in Cuba - some cheaper than others, some more legal than others, but none of them as easy or pleasurable as it can be for us. There is no Waitrose here. 
1.      La libreta: the legal rationing system controlled by the state.
 Think WWII style ration books which give you access to very cheap staples; one per house with a note of the number of inhabitants, their age and their health status. The book begins with utilities – gas, electricity, soap, toothpaste, (only the latter two have now been scratched off both the book  - both finding and affording soap and toothpaste is now up to you) and continues with foods such as rice, beans, bread, chicken, fish, oil and milk. Your houses’ quota of each of these is delivered to a central depot at various points during the month (except bread which is delivered daily by hand, a bit like the post), where it’s your responsibility to check what has arrived because. Leave it 4 days without collection and it’ll be lost.
Despite this being a universal service, however, it doesn’t actually guarantee you to anything. Sometimes (or almost always) fish doesn’t appear, for example, and in which case they give you chicken - though only the leg. Breast never appears and no doubt goes straight for hotels or export. The contradictions don’t stop there. Milk for example, which comes powdered and is very hard to find, is only available for children under 7 years old - after this point one can only conclude, as the government has done, that you’ve finished growing and have no need for calcium?! Of course, there are ways of getting around things like this, but most of them are illegal and a bit hit and miss.
2.      Peso eateries
These are stalls, (farmer’s) markets and fast food outlets selling produce in national pesos for Cubans. Not to say they would reject tourists, but I doubt you’d get many western clientele here. The roadside stalls and café’s-cum-bottom floor flats typically sell staple offerings/what they have in stock. This could be anything from fried chicken to pork or cheese sandwiches and sweet fluffy cakes. Sometimes the stalls will have large display areas but literally nothing but a limp bread roll inside. My experience of the farmers markets has been much better, particularly the one which sells the Organoponico produce. Here you can buy 5 large mangos for about 50p and an array of salad items, again when they’re in stock. The problem with fruit and vegetables however is that they are comparatively expensive, and they’re not much liked either.
Note well: there are no McDonalds or Starbucks in Cuba - bar Guantanamo Bay that is. I hear there are some imitations though which I’ll no doubt see in the bigger cities.
3.     Supermarkets, private restaurants and other CUC outlets
CUC stands for Cuban Convertible Pesos / aka tourist currency, and these are private food outlets which offer slightly more choice and food of less dubious quality, though only just. Occasionally they will actually be supermarkets as we know them (sort of) but more often than not they’re permanent stalls displaying products which you’ll then ask for.  As with the above however, you can’t rely on food that was there one day being there the next – both beer and ketchup had sold out in town last weekend for example.
The private restaurants are called paladares – heavily taxed and regulated private restaurants with all sorts of restrictions on them, including a ban on serving things like potatoes, lobster or beef due to the state monopoly on some such products and for others I’ve no idea. I’ll report back on the paladares when I’ve had the pleasure (!)
4.     The black market (national pesos)
In a country where so much is impossible, anything becomes possible with the black market. As the sun starts to go down (or even before), men or women carrying bags or wheeling barrows will shout slurred adverts for what they’re selling – almost always something you can’t legally/easily buy anywhere else. Out of the window of your flat you can decide whether anything takes your fancy, run down and grab it whilst it’s there. I’m talking everything from soya yoghurt to bags of chicken, eggs to fish and beef. It’s a risky business, selling on the black market, considering the fines and imprisonment you could be subjected to. However, it seems to be part and parcel of    life for those living without the chance to buy what they should be entitled to, whether they have the money or not.

Tuesday 21 June 2011

I´ll swap you my house for yours...

sorry the photos are not coming out!
Every Sunday those looking to move house congregate in Alamar’s central square (half grass half red soil, around 500m squared, mas o menos) to talk business. In the few hours you’re there you’ll question everyone...some will live in the wrong part of town, won’t have the right number of rooms - three is the coveted number), and many will live on the wrong floor. However, you may be lucky. If and when you find the perfect/sufficient one (remember you can’t easily up or downscale, and the person you find has got to like your house, or you need to work in a trio), then you get a lawyer involved and legally transfer ownership.
This isn’t the only interesting quirk of owning a house in Cuba. There are quite a few more, though it’s definitely worth remembering my experience is so far limited to Alamar; a quiet city (10km2) to the east of La Haban built in the 1970s. It consists of 4-11 story prefabricated concrete apartment blocks, long prized by Castro as an example of the achievements of socialism. It’s fair to say it’s not super attractive, but it’s not the “slum” that my guidebook describes it as. That it has a high unemployment rate and is notoriously difficult to navigate, I’ll grant, but for those that live here it’s still a vibrant and close community. In fact, if you live in one of the apartment blocks, it’s almost like being in halls – families live generally in very close confines, people will stop by unannounced, sometimes getting the wrong flat – though that’s OK as you’ll know who lives in the equivalent flat below or up one. I guess the main difference is that this is real life; and it’s not all plain sailing.
As is the case in the majority of apartments, (and ours) there are three generations under one roof; grandma, parents and kids in the most part. This seems to be the custom and I haven’t heard anyone moan about it. On the plus, there is always someone to help with the cleaning and babysitting, but on the other hand, in this heat and humidity, having to share rooms/beds isn’t ideal and privacy is very limited - for mum and dad in particular.  
When it comes to utilities, most houses I’ve visited so far are well equipped. Dated fans litter homes and are very well used. Our washing machine seems to go on at least once a day as well - with two young boys and a city consisting of red soil and dust it is understandable. The telephone seems to ring off the hook (family and friends) and TV and hifi’s, at least one of each, are standard. Cuba has 5 TV channels – all state run, without adverts and including two educational channels. Despite what seems to be a mediocre choice of viewing, the tele seems to be on almost constantly, with telenovelas (soap operas) being a national obsession. It reminds me of Neighbours in its hey-day - when it was on the BBC. When the tele isn’t on what sounds like the Buena Vista Social Club or similar blares out of the stereo.
Isis, Miguel Eduardo and myself playing dominos
When it comes to kitchen appliances, blenders are vital to whip up ‘batidos’ (milkshakes) or jugos (juices) when you have a glut of mangos or other exotic fruits, and fridges and cookers are not in short supply either - though not without a fight. Four years ago the government realised that the poor efficiency of household appliances in the county was costing it both money and its dear goal of energy self-sufficiency. To tackle this it launched a programme of obligatory refits – to include fridges, light bulbs and in some places gas cookers, which were swapped for pressure cookers. I can’t quite make the last one out but if you were issued a pressure cooker (and don’t confuse ‘issued’ for ‘given’), your gas was taken away and you were forced to buy it more expensively on the hit and miss black market. Despite being an obligatory swap, no discounts were offered and this was an expensive programme. Obviously energy efficiency is a good idea but Isis has been paying for her fridges for 4 years and will be doing so for another 2 at least.
Water is either cold for washing or boiled up for drinking. It isn’t as scarce as I’d imagined given the BBC reports I tuned into before leaving which told of the three year drought Cuba is suffering. This is partly because we get rain here that comes down from the hills and keeps the water table topped up. The rains have also come now so everyone is being fairly positive about it. I expect the situation is quite a lot like the UK though; some places are being hit more than others. Each house also has a water tank, much like a rain butt; only inside the house – for times of scarcity, including the middle of the day when there doesn’t seem to be any water. When it comes to showers, (and I never thought I’d say this) it’s amazing what you can do with a bucket of warm water and a jug – though given the bathroom is perfectly comfortable, warm and clean, it’s unsurprising the make do shower has been a hit.  
Homes are comfortable and functional but they are not luxurious.  At the moment there is much talk of the ´casa nueva´ that belongs to Isis´ mother and father in law. It´s not actually new but recently renovated and thus still very novel. But it depends on luck really as to whether you get to live in a good spot or on a good floor. If not the situation is like that of many apartment blocks; depending on who lives above you hanging your washing outside is sometimes risky and peace and quiet is a rarity. Luxury as a concept is of course very relative and here, what definitely matters the most, is living close to your family.
Sunday was father’s day and we went from house to house eating, playing dominos and treating dads with (luxury) gifts of beer, coffee and cake. I was particularly touched to have been invited to lunch at Miguel Salcines house (president of the Organoponico/Isis father) where I sat with him and his wife watching videos on Cuba’s ‘green revolution’ and talking (food) politics in the country and worldwide. Considering this (Cuba’s) is one of the hardest accents I’ve encountered I didn’t do too badly (and if in doubt rely heavily on facial expressions) but you tend to get to the end of the day and, as you can probably tell, neither Spanish nor English comes out that well!
The bedroom I’ve kindly been given whilst I’m here
Isis with husband, father in law and son playing dominos

Sunday 19 June 2011

the famous organoponico

Despite quite wanting to write about worms and their role at the very centre of this farm (since they’ve been my main occupation for the last few days) I think I should resist - at least until I’ve explained a little more about the Organopónico We’ve already covered (albeit briefly) the social, political and economic reality that surrounded the birth of urban agriculture in Cuba (as much attributed to the country’s economic collapse as the change of mind-set ‘from large scale technical agriculture depending on imports to small scale highly organic cooperatives) , but I’d like to paint a picture of what actually goes on here day to day before going into the particulars. (It might be quite a long one but hey, it’s the weekend right?!) 


The UBPC (Unidad Básica de Producción  Cooperativa)  ‘Organopónico Vivero Alamar’ at its most basic is an extensively farmed highly diversified organic farm. it starts with rabbit, goat and cattle manure, produces (vermi)compost of the highest quality, uses this to grow seeds which when tended to and harvested turn into over 400 tonnes of vegetables, 30 000 units of fruit and 120 000 kg of dried herbs (amongst other things) a year. Obviously there are some stages in between though, including: 
  • A (small) animal farm. Oxen for manual work, goats for milk and rabbits for sale. Poo being the most valuable contribution from all three however. 
  • Vermicompost and regular compost production. Fascinating stuff, and, in the case of a completely organic farm, one of the most important elements. Also strictly man’s work – will touch upon gender division of labour soon.  
  • Preparation of the soils. Sometimes oxen are used, never chemical fertiliser. Otherwise as above.  
  • Greenhouse and propagation house. Yet to learn about these but, as explained later, they’ve revolutionised production here. 
  • Irrigation via a network of wells and sprinklers which serve everything from fruit trees to maintaining compost humidity. (I also haven’t touched on the drought here…another day) 
  • Biodiversity biodiversity biodiversity. Not only do you get more of this when you can’t spray insecticides and pesticides, you also need it desperately to help you fight any pests and plagues. Maize line the vegetable isles to act as edible barriers for pests and flowers attract butterflies and other beneficial insects. Biodiversity is abundant.  
  • Medicinal plants. This area seems to be pretty important – either for religious reasons or the desire to steer away from conventional drugs. Either way there is much expertise here  
  • Ornamental plants. Either for homes and for show; one of the most productive parts of the business.  
  • Fruit production. Mangos, avocados, coconuts, pineapples, papaya’s, guava…Those that don’t get eaten for snacks get sold to the public. So not much.  
  • Vegetables, of course. At this time of year the vegetable production is low but you still get beetroot, lettuce, tomato, pepper, sweet potato, carrots, cucumbers etc, just in smaller quantities.  
  • A kitchen industry – which uses a solar cooker and lots of elbow grease to turn over/ under ripe and unsold produce into products with an extended shelf life. 
  • A small laboratory where pests are studied and biological controls grown. (Isis works here). 
  • Finally, a produce market – less like any farmers market we’re used to and more like the small roadside egg/vegetable sellers you find in the UK. They sell what there is and sometimes that isn’t much – some spinach, onions, plantain. Sometimes a pineapple or mango. But nothing more exotic than that so far. The rest of the produce as I understand it is collected and delivered to hotels and other locations in the city.  Despite the quantity however, they’re rightfully proud of what they produce to sell to the community, and as they should be.   

And if you’re still following, a bit of context… 
In 1994 ‘Agro Acción Alemana’ (a German NGO) started supporting the development of a decentralised urban agriculture network in the country; helping to select,  start up and develop over 100 cooperatives located in areas of dense population close to the capital. It started helping the  Vivero in 1998, just a short while after its founding, and the effect seems to have been revolutionary. The propagation house, irrigation system, greenhouse, classroom etc were made possible with its support.  
Today UBPC  (Unidad Básica de Producción  Cooperativa) Vivero Organopónico Alamar works exactly like any other cooperative. The president is elected every 5 years by the assembly, and then forms a plan for its strategic development. In this case the president has been re-elected thrice, and it’s no co-incidence that he – Miguel Salchines - is also the charismatic founder of the organisation.  

Furthermore, the salary varies as you would expect depending on your expertise,  but not overly I’d expect. As far as I can gather, this is by and large a financially successful cooperative. Some parts are more economically productive than others, particularly the ornamental plants for example. As for the exact salary, I can’t be sure, though apparently it’s not an off limits topic. (Give me a bit more time perhaps). I do know however that the average salary here is $250 pesos (Cuban) a month, which is about £7. So, not much. But I’m sure I read/heard that wage offered here in Alamar is greater than the average. And as well as this the extras add up to make this work an attractive one;  
  • In the summer months of June, July and August, when the sun is oppressively hot, work commences at 7am and finishes at 1pm. 6 hours of hard work as opposed to 7 during the rest of the year. This makes sense given the heat and must be an attractive proposition. Whether the pay decreases as a result, however, I don’t know. Everyone also works either Saturday or Sunday. But when you think it’s only a half day, it doesn’t seem so bad.   
  • The morning snack (bread and fresh pineapple juice) and lunch (rice, sometimes beans, salad, meat of some description) are also prepared here and distributed for free at 9am and 1pm. Both are quick affairs and with little ceremony to them. The portion size is also quite curious; male labourers and female office workers get exactly the same, and either way it wouldn’t carry you through to dinner. (Around 11am local women arrive to sell frozen mango juice and small coconut sweets as well).   
  • Interest free loans 
  • And curiously, as well as a distributing the uniform and wellies, it also offers a hair dressing and manicure service. (blog post to come on my manicure experience…) 
But for Salchines, the social element of this cooperative is perhaps the most important. The environmental impact is vital of course, and economically it has got to wash its face – and some – but Salchines, like much of the world facing the need to get more people working with the soil - is battling the lack of enthusiasm for manual farm work. He wants to turn the situation around; not only to create jobs for people but for there to be enjoyment and pride in the work.  The community he has created is just one element of what people see when they come around though – and boy do people come. Some day’s there may be no tour but others they’ll be hundreds of people – Mexicans, Germans, Belgians, English, Canadians, even Americans on an educational visa – all clicking away. What he has produced with the help of a hard working community is a model of success for other cooperatives and producers. But to think this is just about the food would be a mistake.