Survive, nothing more: Cuba’s elderly live hand to mouth

Senior citizens receive food at a public food center part of the Family Attention System in Havana, Cuba. (AFP)
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Updated 21 June 2025
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Survive, nothing more: Cuba’s elderly live hand to mouth

  • The country is finding it increasingly hard to care for some 2.4 million inhabitants, more than a quarter of the population, aged 60 and over

HAVANA: With a monthly pension barely sufficient to buy 15 eggs or a small bag of rice, Cuba’s elderly struggle to make ends meet in one of Latin America’s poorest and fastest-aging countries.
As the communist island battles its deepest economic crisis in three decades, the state is finding it increasingly hard to care for some 2.4 million inhabitants — more than a quarter of the population — aged 60 and over.
Sixty is the age at which women — for men it’s 65 — qualify for the state pension which starts at 1,528 Cuban pesos per month.
This is less than $13 at the official exchange rate and a mere $4 on the informal street market where most Cubans do their shopping.
“Fight for life, for death is certain,” vendor Isidro Manuet, 73, told AFP sitting on a sidewalk in the heart of Havana, his skin battered by years in the sun, several of his front teeth missing.
“I manage to live, survive, nothing more,” he said of his meager income that allows him to buy a little food, and not much else.
As he spoke to AFP, Manuet looked on as small groups of people walked by his stall carrying bags full of food.
They were coming out of Casalinda, one of several part government-run megastores that sells goods exclusively to holders of US dollars — a small minority of Cubans.
Most rely instead on informal stalls such as the ones Manuet and other elderly Cubans set up on sidewalks every morning to sell fruit, coffee, cigarettes, candy, used clothes and other second-hand goods.

Near Manuet’s stall, 70-year-old Antonia Diez sells clothing and makeup.
“Things are bad, really bad,” she sighs, shaking her head.
Many of Cuba’s elderly have been without family support since 2022, when the biggest migratory exodus in the country’s history began amid a crisis marked by food, fuel and medicine shortages, power blackouts and rampant inflation.
More beggars can be seen on Havana’s streets — though there are no official figures — and every now and then an elderly person can be spotted rummaging through garbage bins for something to eat, or sell.
The Cuban crisis, which Havana blames on decades of US sanctions but analysts say was fueled by government economic mismanagement and tourism tanking under the Covid-19 pandemic, has affected the public purse too, with cuts in welfare spending.
As a result, the government has struggled to buy enough of the staples it has made available for decades to impoverished Cubans at heavily subsidized prices under the “libreta” ration book system.
It is the only way many people have to access affordable staples such as rice, sugar and beans — when there is any.
Diez said she used to receive an occasional state-sponsored food package, “but it’s been a while since they’ve sent anything.”

This all means that many products can only be found at “dollar stores” such as Casalinda, or private markets where most people cannot afford to shop.
According to the University of Havana’s Center for Cuban Economic Studies, in 2023 a Cuban family of three would have needed 12 to 14 times the average minimum monthly salary of 2,100 pesos (around $17) to meet their basic food needs.
Official figures show about 68,000 Cubans over 60 rely on soup kitchens run by the state Family Assistance System for one warm meal per day.
At one such facility, “Las Margaritas,” a plate of food costs about 13 pesos (11 dollar cents). Pensioner Eva Suarez, 78, has been going there daily for 18 months.
“The country is in such need. There’s no food, there’s nothing,” she told AFP, adding her pension is basically worthless “because everything is so expensive.”
Inflation rose by 190 percent between 2018 and 2023, but pensions have not kept pace.
Some are losing faith in communism, brought to the island by Fidel Castro’s revolution, and its unfulfilled promises such as a liter of subsidized milk for every child under seven per day.
“I have nothing, my house is falling apart,” said Lucy Perez, a 72-year-old economist who retired with 1,600 pesos (about 13 dollars) a month after a 36-year career.
“The situation is dire. The nation has no future.”
It’s not just the elderly suffering.
Cuba was rocked by unprecedented anti-government protests in 2021, and students have been rebelling in recent months due to a steep hike in the cost of mobile Internet — which only arrived on the island seven years ago.
In January, the government announced a partial dollarization of the economy that has angered many unable to lay their hands on greenbacks.


Rohingya refugees hope new leaders can pave a path home

Updated 29 December 2025
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Rohingya refugees hope new leaders can pave a path home

  • Some 1.7 million Rohingya Muslims displaced in Myanmar's military crackdown live in squalid camps in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh

COX’S BAZAR, Bangladesh: Rohingya refugees living in squalid camps in Bangladesh have elected a leadership council, hoping it can improve conditions and revive efforts to secure their return home to Myanmar.
Spread over 8,000 acres in Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh, the camps are home to 1.7 million members of the stateless group, many of whom fled a 2017 military crackdown that is now subject to a genocide probe at the UN court.
In July, the refugees held their first elections since their influx began eight years ago, resulting in the formation of the United Council of Rohang (UCR).
“They are working to take us home,” said Khairul Islam, 37, who back home had a thriving timber business.
The new council has brought him a glimmer of hope amid an uncertain future.
“We can hardly breathe in these cramped camp rooms... all our family members live in a single room,” he said.
“It’s unbearably hot inside. Back in Myanmar, we didn’t even need a ceiling fan. In summer, we used to sit under tall trees,” Islam said, his eyes welling up.
More than 3,000 voters from across 33 refugee camps cast their ballots to elect an executive committee and five rotating presidents to focus on human rights, education and health.
Addressing a gathering at one of the camps, UCR president Mohammad Sayed Ullah urged refugees not to forget the violence that forced the mostly Muslim group to flee Myanmar’s Rakhine state.
“Never forget that we left our parents’ graves behind. Our women died on the way here. They were tortured and killed... and some drowned at sea,” said Sayed Ullah, dressed in a white full-sleeved shirt and lungi.
“We must prepare ourselves to return home,” he said, prompting members of the audience to nod in agreement.

A seat at the table 

“UCR wants to emerge as the voice of the Rohingyas on the negotiation table,” Sayed Ullah later told AFP.
“It’s about us, yet we were nowhere as stakeholders.”
The council is not the first attempt to organize Rohingya refugees.
Several groups emerged after 2017, including the Arakan Rohingya Society for Peace and Human Rights, once led by prominent activist Mohib Ullah.
But he was murdered in 2021.
And even before that, many organizations were shut down after a major 2019 rally, when the Rohingya said they would go home only with full rights and safety guarantees.
“Some newspapers misrepresented us, claiming we wanted to stay permanently in Bangladesh,” Sayed Ullah said.
“Many organizers were detained. The hardest blow was the assassination of Mohib Ullah.”
But trust is slowly building up again among the Rohingya crammed in the camps in Cox’s Bazar.
“Of course we will return home,” said 18-year-old Mosharraf, who fled the town of Buthidaung with his family.
“UCR will negotiate for better education. If we are better educated, we can build global consensus for our return,” he told AFP.

Security threats 

Many refugees have started approaching the body with complaints against local Rohingya leaders, reflecting a slow but noticeable shift in attitudes.
On a recent sunny morning, an AFP reporter saw more than a dozen Rohingya waiting outside the UCR office with complaints.
Some said they were tortured while others reported losing small amounts of gold they had carried while fleeing their homes.
Analysts say it remains unclear whether the new council can genuinely represent the Rohingya or if it ultimately serves the interests of Bangladeshi authorities.
“The UCR ‘elections’ appear to have been closely controlled by the authorities,” said Thomas Kean, senior consultant at the International Crisis Group.
Security threats also loom large, undermining efforts to forge political dialogue.
Armed groups like the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army and Rohingya Solidarity Organization continue to operate in the camps.
A report by campaign group Fortify Rights said at least 65 Rohingyas were killed in 2024.
“Violence and killings in the Rohingya camps need to stop, and those responsible must be held to account,” the report quoted activist John Quinley as saying.