Translating Cuba – English Translations of Cubans Writing From the Island

Castro and Chávez, a Criminal Association

The teachings of Castroism have led the Venezuelan autocracy to implement a social control very similar to that of Cuba.

There have been many complaints about the control exercised by Cuban Armed Forces officers over Venezuelan armed forces / ‘Cubadebate’

14ymedio, Pedro Corzo, Miami, 18 January 2025 — The deaths of several dozen Castro henchmen in Caracas irrefutably testifies to the close alliance between the dictatorial systems of Cuba and Venezuela, a league in which the Nicaraguan dictatorship of Ortega-Murillo is directly involved, despots who have decided to release political prisoners in an attempt to alleviate the pressure that the current hemispheric conditions allow us to appreciate.

It is true that Venezuela has provided invaluable support to Cuban totalitarianism in the form of oil, the hiring of slave laborers, and international backing, but the Castros have also passed on, first to Hugo Chávez and then to the thankfully imprisoned Nicolás Maduro, their vast knowledge of activities related to repression, espionage, and a little-discussed aspect: the strategy to develop such that the majority of the politically dissatisfied population emigrates with the aim of reducing the opposition and obtaining income from abroad.

There have been numerous reports of the control exerted by officers of the Cuban Armed Forces over Venezuelan military institutions. Personnel of various ranks hold authority at Fort Tiuna, the most important military center, while instructing intelligence and counterintelligence services on how to neutralize and even arrest potential conspirators within military units.

Castroism is equally responsible for drug trafficking as are Maduro and Diosdado Cabello.

It must be pointed out that the teachings of Castroism have led the Venezuelan autocracy to implement a social control very similar to that of Cuba, characterized by sectarianism, discrimination and citizen distrust, culminating in a generalized hopelessness, in my opinion, the most tragic legacy of any dictatorship. continue reading

The links between the despots of both countries have been so deep that the most devastating butcher of Castroism, Ramiro Valdés, has been a frequent visitor to Venezuela with the aim of setting up the logistical base that Chavismo needed to survive, so it is easy to infer that the Castro agents located in that country have had a notable participation in the management of the drug trafficking that was handled by the Soles cartel.

Castroism is just as responsible for drug trafficking as are Maduro and Diosdado Cabello, especially if we recall the accusations of Fidel Castro’s close relationship with several of the drug kingpins of the eighties and nineties and other recent ones, which allege that the totalitarian regime tried to cover up its criminal activity with the execution of General Ochoa and other high-ranking officers.

It is widely known that the Americas Department, one of the totalitarian regime’s agencies dedicated exclusively to the subversion and destabilization of democracies, throughout its existence and under the direction of Manuel Piñeiro, alias Barbarroja, sought the necessary resources in drug trafficking when it was short of funds. Carlos Lehder, imprisoned for over thirty years in the United States for drug trafficking, told Radio Marti: “I was invited by the communist government of Cuba, by the Castro dictatorship, to Cuba, to establish a conduit, a line, a route for trafficking cocaine to the United States.”

The Castro henchmen who died on January 3rd in Caracas were not the only ones of their kind to be killed in defense of the worst

Furthermore, I believe it necessary to remember that the Castro henchmen who died on January 3rd in Caracas were not the only ones of their ilk to be killed defending the worst. Fidel Castro always longed to subjugate Venezuela, although it was Hugo Chávez, a traitor to his country, who handed it to him on a silver platter.

The first known Castroist hitman killed in that country was Antonio Briones Montoto, one of the invaders of Machurucuto.

Castro’s interest in imposing his fundamentalism on the hemisphere was constant, but two countries, unfortunately for them, exerted a fatal attraction on the Cuban despot: Venezuela and Colombia.

Castro’s interest in Venezuela was evident in his trip to Caracas in January 1959, when he tried to convince the esteemed democrat Rómulo Betancourt to align himself with his proposals, an objective he failed to achieve because Betancourt saw through him completely, while millions of Cubans were captivated by the tyrant. From the very beginning of the Cuban Revolution, hundreds of Venezuelan insurgents were trained and equipped with weapons and money from the island; however, the Castros’ support did not destroy democracy. It was Hugo Chávez and Nicolás Maduro who brought it down, and all of them together have been involved in drug trafficking.

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The Cuban Regime Is Not Honoring Its Dead, It Is Using Them

The glorification of the fallen allows them to impose a forced pause on internal debate.

The regime turns the dead into symbolic shields to protect itself from its own fractures. / Cubadebate

14ymedio, Yunior García Aguilera, Madrid, 17 January 2026 — “Propaganda works by appealing to emotions, not reason.” This phrase, attributed to Noam Chomsky, sums up the political moment in Cuba following the deaths of 32 Cubans in Venezuela. More than a tragic event, the episode has been transformed by the regime into a carefully orchestrated display of pathos to regroup, silence dissent, and revive an internal obedience that had been eroding for some time.

The political events celebrated on the island in honor of the fallen are not conceived to convince the outside world. Nor do they seek international credibility or aspire to whitewash a narrative that much of the world has already dismissed. The “performance” is directed inward, at the Party structures, the mid-level cadres, the weary militants, and the officials who in recent months have begun to waver. Hence Miguel Díaz-Canel’s call to “close ranks,” a new battle order.

Michel Torres Corona and Gabriela Hernández, presenters of the propaganda program Con Filo, have barely managed to conceal their enthusiasm for the current situation. In a Facebook Live broadcast, they both boasted about the regime’s supposed ability to mobilize its supporters and hailed Díaz-Canel’s speech as “the best he has given” to date. The scene was completed by the systematic blocking of users whose opinions differed from their own. Far from any sign of restraint, the two appeared exultant, as if the tragedy had arrived at the perfect moment to revive a political optimism that had been waning for some time.

The regime enters this period after one of its worst years in terms of internal cohesion. The accelerated deterioration of the economy, persistent inflation, the collapse of basic services, and the energy crisis have undermined not only social support but also morale within the apparatus itself. Added to this were corruption scandals and political blunders that were difficult to conceal, such as those involving Marta Elena Feitó, the fall from grace and subsequent conviction of Alejandro Gil, and the mysterious continue reading

resignation of Homero Acosta—episodes that opened unprecedented cracks in the discourse of unity and discipline.

The capture of Nicolás Maduro revealed not only that the regime was lying, but also that its military apparatus was incapable of fulfilling the mission that, in theory, justified its presence on foreign soil.

For the first time in a long time, criticism was coming not only from exile or the open opposition, but also from areas traditionally aligned with the system. Officials, state economists, academics close to the government, and long-time activists began to express reservations, unease, or disillusionment. The combination of material hardship, endless blackouts, and the spread of disease in a country lacking medicine finally eroded the “revolutionary” mystique.

In this context, the deaths of the 32 Cubans in Venezuela appear as a political opportunity. Outside of Cuba, the impact has been minimal. The international community knows that Havana repeatedly denied the presence of Cuban troops on Venezuelan soil. The capture of Nicolás Maduro revealed not only that the regime was lying, but also that its military apparatus was incapable of fulfilling the mission that, in theory, justified its presence on foreign soil. For most external observers, the Cuban casualties are just another chapter in the opaque and deeply discredited relationship between Havana and Caracas.

Within Cuba, however, pathos does work. The glorification of the dead allows the regime to impose a forced pause on internal debate. “This is not the time for criticism,” is repeated, as if mourning demanded obedience and emotion nullified the right to think. Sacrifice, elevated to a moral category, thus becomes an argument to justify repression, reinforce control, and delegitimize any questioning as a lack of respect for the “heroes” or an act of treason.

Abel Prieto has even confessed, without shame, how they use pathos for the benefit of official propaganda.

At the same time, the intensive use of pathos offers a mobilizing cause, something the regime had lost. When there were no more credible achievements or promises to rally the masses, the cult of the fallen provides an epic narrative of emergency. It matters little that the facts are uncomfortable or that the narrative rests on omissions and contradictions. In the logic of propaganda, emotion supplants reason.

Another official who has shamelessly confessed how they exploit pathos for the benefit of official propaganda is Abel Prieto. In statements to the press, the former advisor to Raúl Castro described how he was at the memorial “from early on,” how he saw “the families crying” in front of the coffins, and how the people “crowded together, even in the rain,” before drawing an explicit political conclusion: “This profound pain strengthens our anti-imperialism, our anti-fascism.”

It is clear that his words contain neither private grief nor respect for silence, but rather a classic agitprop operation, dedicated to collecting, displaying, and transforming emotions into ideological fuel. The melodramatic scene—tears, coffins, rain, crowds—is not narrated to understand a tragedy, but to demonstrate that suffering produces “unity.” When Prieto concludes by asserting that Cuba is “stronger” thanks to the loss, the attempt at manipulation is blatantly exposed.

The Cuban regime is not honoring its dead: it is exploiting them. It is turning them into symbolic shields to protect itself from its own internal divisions. And in that gesture lies an implicit admission of weakness, because only those who lack solid results or legitimacy need to repeatedly resort to pain and sacrifice to maintain their grip on power.

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The Cuban Regime Prepares for the ‘War of the Entire People’

Instead of dialogue, Havana bets on the rhetoric of confrontation and updates its “plans and measures for the transition to a State of War”

By turning neighborhoods, communities, and citizens into an active part of the defensive apparatus, the doctrine transforms civilians into legitimate targets under the rules of war. / Facebook / Central Army

14ymedio, Havana, January 18, 2026 — The approval of the “plans and measures for the transition to a State of War,” announced tersely by the Cuban state press, marks a new turn in the regime’s confrontational rhetoric at one of the most fragile moments in the island’s recent history. With no details, no dates, and no public explanations, the National Defense Council once again resorted to one of the most extreme notions of Cuba’s political-military apparatus, historically associated with scenarios of external threat and, above all, with the suspension of any margin of civilian normalcy.

The note published by Cubadebate merely reports that the decision was taken “in compliance with the activities planned for Defense Day” and as part of the “War of the Entire People.” There is no reference whatsoever to the practical implications of this step, nor is it indicated whether this is a theoretical exercise, a partial drill, or a scenario the government considers plausible in the short term. It is also unclear whether it is being formally instituted or whether it is simply a review of protocols to be applied if and when a decision is made.

Cuban law formally reserves the declaration of a State of War to the National Assembly or, failing that, to the Council of State, while the president and the National Defense Council concentrate the real and operational direction of the process. This legal architecture allows the regime to activate states of exception with scant parliamentary oversight and no public transparency, reinforcing the centralized and militarized nature of power in times of crisis. It implies the highest degree of militarization of the country, the subordination of civilian structures to defense bodies, and the possibility of restricting rights and freedoms that are already quite limited.

The so-called War of the Entire People, according to the definition found in EcuRed and in official Cuban military doctrine, is a strategic conception formulated by Fidel Castro that deliberately blurs continue reading

the boundary between combatants and civilians. Under this approach, in the face of a large-scale military aggression, not only would the Revolutionary Armed Forces and the Militias act, but the entire society would be incorporated into the war effort, with functions assigned by territory and no clear distinction between military defense and civilian life.

The forced militarization of the civilian population contravenes the principle of distinction set out in the Geneva Conventions

From the perspective of international humanitarian law, this conception is problematic. The forced militarization of the civilian population contravenes the principle of distinction enshrined in the Geneva Conventions and reiterated by bodies such as the International Committee of the Red Cross, which establishes the obligation to protect the civilian population and separate it from military objectives.

By turning neighborhoods, communities, and citizens into an active part of the defensive apparatus, the doctrine not only exposes civilians to direct combat risks, but transforms them into legitimate targets under the rules of war, effectively nullifying their civilian status and shifting onto society the human cost of a strategy designed by the political-military power.

The term State of War has appeared since the early years of the revolutionary regime and is linked to moments of greatest international tension. During the October Crisis of 1962 [called in the United States “The Cuban Missile Crisis”], although it was never formally proclaimed, the country was de facto placed in an equivalent situation: general mobilization, absolute control of information, and the total suspension of ordinary civilian life.

Later, the notion reappeared explicitly in Cuban military doctrine and in legislation associated with national defense. The National Defense Law and the regulations of the Defense Council establish that, in the face of a scenario of external aggression or imminent threat, the country may transition to a State of War, which activates a strictly military chain of command and grants extraordinary powers to the Executive.

In practice, this figure serves to justify exceptional controls over the population, the economy, and internal mobility. It is not merely about preparing for an armed conflict, but about reinforcing political control in contexts of crisis.

The announcement by the Defense Council comes amid a regional escalation following the capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. troops in Caracas, a strategic blow that has left Havana without its main political and financial ally. The official confirmation that dozens of Cuban military personnel and agents were operating in Venezuela, even within the security ring of the deposed leader, revealed an involvement the regime had repeatedly denied.

Cuba’s population faces a daily emergency that already resembles a state of war, with prolonged blackouts, crumbling infrastructure, extreme shortages of food and medicine, and outbreaks of preventable diseases

Since then, Cuba’s top leadership has reappeared in public wearing military uniforms, intensified its anti-imperialist discourse, and revived a besieged-fortress narrative that seemed worn out even to its own propagandists. The Defense Council itself, chaired by Miguel Díaz-Canel, has remained in permanent session since the onset of the Venezuelan crisis.

The tutelary presence of Raúl Castro, who “was kept informed” of the meeting and described it as “good and efficient,” reinforces the idea that key strategic decisions continue to pass through the historic military apparatus, beyond formal titles.

While the regime speaks of war, the population faces a daily emergency that already resembles a state of war, with prolonged blackouts, infrastructure in ruins, extreme shortages of food and medicine, outbreaks of preventable diseases, and inflation that devours wages and pensions. The repatriation of the remains of 32 Cuban military personnel killed in Venezuela during the capture of Nicolás Maduro was used as an emotional catalyst to reactivate an epic discourse that contrasts brutally with the precariousness of daily life.

The State of War, in this context, functions more as a political instrument than as a response to a concrete threat. It serves to rally the elite, justify closing ranks, divert attention from economic collapse, and warn citizens that any protest can be interpreted as an affront to national defense.

It is unknown which sectors would be mobilized, what economic measures would be activated, or what impact it would have on civilian life. That lack of information is part of the design, because keeping the population in uncertainty is also a form of control.

At the same time, the regime insists that it is willing to engage in “dialogue” with the United States, as long as it does not entail political concessions. However, the recourse to a State of War suggests the opposite: a bet on confrontation and on the survival of power at any cost.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Bitchat, the Cuban Network That Doesn’t Go Through the State Monopoly Etecsa

The rise of the application in contexts of censorship raises the question of its possible role in a Cuba with expensive, unstable and monitored internet.

Can the offline app Bitchat alleviate the limitations Cubans face due to censorship and poor infrastructure? / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Natalia López Moya, Havana, January 17, 2026 – On a dusty sidewalk in Kampala, Uganda, a young man says there’s something that can connect him with his friends even if the government shuts off the internet: an app that works without mobile data or Wi-Fi. It’s called Bitchat, it was created by Jack Dorsey, the co-founder of Twitter, and it has gone from being a virtually unknown tool to a digital lifeline for many people living under governments that increasingly resort to internet blackouts as a response to internal crises.

What is happening in Uganda is similar to what recently occurred in Iran, where Bitchat downloads surged after massive internet outages during popular protests. Both cases raise questions about the tool’s usefulness in countries like Cuba. On the island, web browsing is also plagued by high costs, a deteriorating infrastructure, and recurring censorship.

Unlike apps like WhatsApp, which rely on an active internet connection, Bitchat operates through a Bluetooth mesh network. If one phone doesn’t have internet access, it can send messages to a nearby phone, which in turn relays them to another, and so on, until the message reaches its destination. There is no login, no phone numbers that can be blocked by the government, and no direct dependence on phone providers. This technology is reminiscent of old community radio stations, but adapted to the digital age.

That same pattern of blackouts to control information at critical moments for the regime is repeated in Cuba

In Uganda, this tool has become especially valuable in the lead-up to the elections held this Thursday. The government cut off web access, limited mobile services, and restricted communication precisely when citizen organization was crucial for monitoring potential fraud. In that country, Bitchat has rapidly climbed the download charts, with thousands of users turning to the app to continue reading

exchange text and voice messages, while social media has been silenced by the authorities.

A similar phenomenon was observed in Iran starting in late December, where internet blackouts during social protests forced citizens to seek alternatives to conventional platforms. Reports from several data researchers indicate that Bitchat downloads tripled in the Persian nation, according to Reuters, precisely during the days when the web browsing block was tightened.

That same pattern of blackouts to control information at critical moments for the regime is repeated in Cuba.

Internet access on the island has been, from its inception, a territory of political control, but also an unstable and expensive service. In 2025, following a price increase imposed by Etecsa, the country’s sole telecommunications company, many Cubans saw the cost of connecting skyrocket. The price hike meant that access to data packages went from being a moderate economic barrier to a serious obstacle for large segments of the population.

Beyond the costs, the infrastructure remains inadequate. Telecommunications towers suffer frequent outages; the signal degrades easily, and the browsing experience is often disrupted, even without direct state intervention. On key days, such as December 10, Human Rights Day, or immediately after the mass protests of 11 July 2021, the authorities implemented deliberate internet shutdowns that affected activists, independent journalists, and ordinary citizens.

Technically, Bitchat works well in environments where phones can get close to each other and form small community networks.

During those days, digital communication became intermittent or disappeared altogether, complicating the transmission of information and the coordination of those seeking to share photos, videos, or simple messages to reassure their families outside the island. In this context, the emergence of tools like Bitchat offers a glimmer of hope. Can this offline application alleviate the limitations Cubans face due to censorship and inadequate infrastructure?

The answer isn’t simple. Technically, Bitchat works well in environments where phones can be close together and form small community networks. In street protests, neighborhood meetings, or small towns dense enough for devices to relay messages to each other, its use can be effective. A student in El Vedado could send a text to a friend in the El Cerro neighborhood if there are enough intermediaries. A group of activists could coordinate the points of an agreement without relying on data or Wi-Fi.

But the app has clear limitations: physical distance remains a factor. The Bluetooth signal has a range of between 10 and 100 meters, depending on the power of each device. In sparsely populated urban areas, such as many neighborhoods on the outskirts of Havana and Santiago de Cuba, it would be impractical without a large concentration of users or a deliberate community strategy of “nodes” to relay messages.

Even so, Bitchat’s appeal lies in its simplicity: it doesn’t require personal accounts, it isn’t easily registered on servers that can be blocked, and its decentralized network makes it harder for a government to disrupt it through conventional internet censorship mechanisms. It is, in essence, digital resilience.

Perhaps Bitchat’s true value lies not in replacing the large global networks, but in rewriting the map of what is possible.

For many Cubans, however, the challenges aren’t limited to being able to exchange texts during a blackout or an intentional service interruption. The established groups and relationships on social networks like Facebook and Instagram make most of the population highly dependent on these channels for communication and less inclined to explore other options. In computer and gaming communities, the search for independent and less crowded paths is common, but activism and independent journalism need to explore less controlled tools more effectively and consistently.

On the other hand, while Bitchat might be useful during periods of total internet outages, it doesn’t replace more established methods for live video streaming and reporting on protests, which require higher bandwidths. “Being able to send messages without internet is better than nothing,” says a reporter from Havana, “but to document abuses, record interviews, or transmit visual evidence, we still depend on connections that are often unavailable.”

However, the examples of Uganda and Iran show that where authorities block the internet in response to political tensions, Bluetooth networks become part of the citizen response. In Cuba, with its combination of prohibitive costs, fragile infrastructure, and tactical censorship, tools like Bitchat could serve as a complement to maintain basic communication among close-knit groups.

Perhaps Bitchat’s true value lies not in replacing the major global networks, but in rewriting the map of what’s possible when the fragile threads of the conventional internet break. For a mother who wants to know if her son is alright in Marianao when the internet goes down across Havana, being able to send an offline text can be the difference between a night of anxiety and one of relief.

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With Tourists Gone, Bookstores in Matanzas, Cuba Are on Life Support

In the “Athens of Cuba,” as in the rest of the country, “you can’t think about books when there isn’t enough for food”

Sparse foot traffic and shelves left untouched for days are the norm. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Matanzas, Pablo Padilla Cruz, January 19, 2026 — The collapse of tourism and the erosion of purchasing power have left Matanzas’ bookstores, especially those aimed at foreign visitors, on the brink of disappearance. Empty book stalls, nonexistent sales, and permanent closures paint a picture in which the book has become a dispensable item.

In the central Plaza de la Vigía, where imprints such as Ediciones Vigía and Ediciones Casa de las Américas converge, the scene repeats itself. There is little foot traffic, and the shelves remain untouched for days. Workers confirm that sales depend almost exclusively on tourism, which is now practically absent.

María Elena, who runs a mobile stall selling magazines and books from Casa de las Américas, explains that her offerings are designed for foreign visitors. “The drop in tourism affects me a lot. Sometimes small groups pass by, but the guides don’t let them stop,” she says. According to her, many tour operators prevent visitors from buying in places where they don’t receive a commission. “It’s normal to go a whole week without anyone even looking,” she adds. The worker fears that a possible closure of the plaza would leave her “in a kind of job limbo.”

The crisis has also hit long-standing private initiatives. / 14ymedio

A similar scenario played out until recently in Varadero, where a small bookstore specializing in foreign-language titles steadily saw its sales decline until it closed. Today, on Google, the business appears with an unmistakable notice: “closed indefinitely.” Two different places, but the same cause. The audience they catered to has vanished. continue reading

The crisis has also struck long-standing private initiatives. In 2012, Bayón, a retired professor, opened a bookstore in the living room of his home, one block from Parque de la Libertad. He sold books on consignment and managed to turn his passion for literature into a supplementary income. After his death, the living-room bookstore closed forever, though even before that it had been going through a steady decline.

“I hardly sell anything anymore. You can’t think about books when there isn’t enough for food,” he said shortly before he died. After the forced closure during the pandemic, the situation did not improve. “People look, they want to buy, but they can’t afford it. We all lose: them, me, and culture,” he summed up at the time. That day ended with the sale of a volume of poems by Rabindranath Tagore, the only one of the day and the last he would personally make.

Public libraries have not escaped the deterioration either. With intermittent closures and minimal attendance, many have had to reinvent themselves as venues for fairs, occasional sales, or activities unrelated to reading. Flor, a regular at the gatherings dedicated to Carilda Oliver Labra, recounts that after the poet’s death they managed to keep a monthly literary meeting going at the provincial library. “We always talk about what it means to be from Matanzas and spend a pleasant afternoon. Carilda is gone, but her spirit is with us,” she says.

Public libraries have not escaped the deterioration. With intermittent closures and minimal attendance, many have had to reinvent themselves. / 14ymedio

“It’s sad that such a great source of knowledge is empty. When a library’s main activity is selling bonsai trees or holding one discussion group a month, something isn’t working,” Flor laments. In Matanzas’ historic center there are at least five bookstores, all of them practically deserted. The contrast is stark when compared to grocery stores, gas distribution points, or any space tied to daily survival.

The problem, workers and readers agree, goes beyond culture. In a province and a country marked by precariousness, reading is seen as a luxury or a waste of time. Buying a book is, for many, an unjustifiable expense. Under that logic, libraries become symbolic spaces, and bookstores, even those in the best locations, turn into empty premises that serve only as landmarks when giving directions.

Matanzas continues to present itself as the “Athens of Cuba,” but reality contradicts the slogan. Without readers, without sales, and without policies to restore the value of books, literature is relegated to nostalgia, and the bookstores point, one after the ofher, to the sign that says “closed indefinitely.”

Translated by Regina Anavy
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Cuban Journalist Henry Constantin Is Released After Being Missing for 44 Hours in the Hands of State Security

His arrest coincided with the funerals of the soldiers killed in Venezuela and a large police deployment in Havana.

For almost two days, neither his family nor his colleagues knew his whereabouts. / Screenshot / Instagram

14ymedio, Havana, 17 January 2026 — Independent journalist Henry Constantín, director of the digital news outlet La Hora de Cuba, was released this Friday after being detained and held incommunicado for 44 hours by State Security. He described the incident as “arbitrary” and “unjustified.” For nearly two days, neither his family nor his colleagues knew his whereabouts, in yet another case of enforced disappearance against a member of the critical press in Cuba.

Constantín was arrested in Havana amid a large police operation linked to the official funeral of 32 Cuban soldiers killed in Venezuela, an event the regime turned into a political demonstration and a show of control. According to the journalist himself after his release, his presence in the capital was used as a pretext to detain him, without a warrant, without a formal explanation, and without access to a lawyer.

“They took me to a cell and I simply disappeared,” the journalist recounted in a message posted on his social media. During that time, he was unable to communicate with anyone, and the authorities offered no information about his legal status. The official silence contrasted sharply with the swift reaction of colleagues and organizations who denounced his disappearance and demanded his release. continue reading

“I don’t plan to leave Cuba. I’m going to continue working here, doing journalism for the freedom of Cuba.”

From the outset, La Hora de Cuba reported on the arrest, and its colleague Alejandra García—whom Constantín expressly thanked—documented the case from Havana, keeping the public eye on the situation while the journalist remained incommunicado. Pressure on social media grew as the hours passed without news.

The arrest occurred in a particularly sensitive context for the regime. The transfer and funeral rites for the soldiers killed in Venezuela were accompanied by mobility restrictions, a reinforced police presence, and surveillance of activists and independent journalists.

Constantin has been arrested multiple times, subjected to interrogations, threats, movement restrictions, and constant surveillance. In previous incidents, State Security has attempted to justify its harassment by resorting to ambiguous criminal charges such as “contempt,” frequently used to criminalize critical opinion.

After his release, the journalist not only denounced what had happened, but also took the opportunity to send a direct message to his captors. “I don’t plan to leave Cuba. I’m going to continue working here, doing journalism for the freedom of Cuba,” he stated. This is not the first time the journalist has made clear his decision to remain on the island despite systematic harassment.

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Mourning, Propaganda, and a Survivor’s Version That Doesn’t Fit the Regime’s Epic Narrative

Colonel Pedro Yadín reveals that the officers were asleep and were attacked with “bombs and drones”

The survivor’s testimony paints a different picture: an opaque mission, with insufficient weapons, on foreign territory. / Juventud Rebelde

14ymedio, Havana,January 16, 2026 –- Havana once again deployed its political liturgy this Friday following the death of the 32 Cubans who fell in Caracas during the capture of Nicolás Maduro. At the Anti-Imperialist Tribune, facing the Malecón, the tribute ceremony functioned as a platform for ideological reaffirmation and political warning at a moment of evident internal fragility for the regime.

From the stage, the First Secretary of the Communist Party, Miguel Díaz-Canel, insisted that there would be no negotiation with the United States “on the basis of coercion.” Cuba, he said, is willing to engage in dialogue, but only “on equal terms and on the basis of mutual respect.” The speech, reported in excerpts by the official press, relied on a rhetoric of epic resistance, threats of external aggression, and closed calls for unity.

According to the president, the January 3 operation opened “a new era of barbarism, plunder, and neo-fascism” and was a hard blow to the Cuban government, which experienced “very bitter hours” of “indignation and impotence.” Venezuela, Havana’s main political ally and commercial partner for more than two decades, once again occupied the symbolic center of the official narrative, now under the banner of sacrifice.

However, the martial tone of the ceremony clashed abruptly with one of the most widely cited testimonies by the state press itself. It came from Colonel Pedro Yadín Domínguez, one of the survivors. His account, published by the State newspaper Granma and broadcast in a television interview, introduces fissures that are difficult to reconcile with the heroic version the regime continue reading

is trying to impose.

The statement is uncomfortable for a narrative that insists the 32 Cubans “fought back with gunfire” and died in combat

“We were sleeping, resting in the early morning hours,” the colonel told the cameras. “We barely had any weaponry,” he added, explaining that the group was performing support functions for the security of the Venezuelan president and was not in a combat posture. The attack, he said, was “disproportionate,” involving planes, bombs, drones, and Apache helicopters against a group that was neither on alert nor armed to resist.

The statement is uncomfortable for a narrative that insists the 32 Cubans “fought back with gunfire” and died in combat, as stated in the first communiqué announcing their deaths and declaring a period of national mourning. The image of heroic combat dissolves when the speaker is a senior officer of the Ministry of the Revolutionary Armed Forces, seated in a wheelchair, describing a night of rest interrupted by a bombardment.

While Díaz-Canel evoked the Sierra Maestra, Africa, and even Caracas as stages of a single historical feat, the colonel’s testimony sketched another picture: that of an opaque mission, without sufficient weapons, on foreign soil, and an attack that caught the personnel while they were asleep.

The propaganda machinery has tried to compensate for that void with overacting. On State TV’s Mesa Redonda official commentator Oliver Zamora raised the tone to the point of boasting. He claimed that the United States “had to kill” the 32 Cubans with a “tremendous” display of brute force, and that it even took hours to do so. For Zamora, the fact demonstrated Washington’s inability to “understand” a country like Cuba, hardened by decades of confrontation.

The profusion of images from the events and ceremonies has also served to expose numerous repressors

While the propagandist speaks of fierce resistance and enemies incapable of subduing Cubans, the surviving colonel insists they were practically defenseless and without adequate weaponry. One sells epic heroism; the other describes vulnerability.

The rift also spilled into the digital space. On YouTube, under the interview with the colonel, a user identified as @Jcontre3000 wrote: “We saw that coward in the videos of Venezuelan soldiers crying and running away; that’s why he’s alive. A coward dies a thousand times, and this one is a coward.” The comment, far from anecdotal, exposes the level of polarization and distrust that surrounds even official testimonies.

The profusion of images from the events and ceremonies has also served to expose numerous repressors. Several Cuban activists have identified among the crowd agents of State Security responsible for interrogations, harassment, and episodes of direct repression. This is significant, because these individuals rarely show their faces on social networks or on official media.

Among those who have identified these officials is activist Laura Vargas, who has documented and denounced episodes of surveillance and unauthorized access to her accounts as part of the digital repression exercised against critical voices. The artist Hamlet Lavastida has done the same; he is known for his cultural and political opposition to the regime and for having been detained and sanctioned as a prisoner of conscience due to his works and public actions. The images have also revealed former power figures fallen from grace, such as former foreign minister Felipe Pérez Roque.

At the event, Díaz-Canel again called for “closing ranks” and warned that if attacked, Cuba would defend itself “fiercely.” “They would have to kidnap millions or wipe this archipelago off the map,” he said. But beyond the slogans, the tribute laid bare a tension the regime has been unable to resolve: the distance between the rhetoric of permanent war and the reality of silent, poorly explained, and deadly missions, whose details emerge only when a survivor steps outside the script.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Second Shipment of US Aid for Those Affected by Hurricane Melissa Arrives in Santiago de Cuba

This shipment includes 528 non-perishable food kits and 660 personal hygiene kits.

The arrival of aid from the United States has generated reactions and controversy. / Caritas Cuba

14ymedio, Havana, January 16, 2026 — The city of Santiago de Cuba received on Friday the second shipment of humanitarian aid from the U.S. intended for families affected by Hurricane Melissa in several provinces in the eastern part of the country. On this occasion, the cargo includes 528 kits of non-perishable food and 660 personal hygiene kits, according to Cáritas, the Catholic Church organization in charge of distributing the aid. In its statement, the institution described the shipments as “a gesture of charity and solidarity whose goal is to alleviate some of the needs in the communities that suffered the greatest impact from the weather phenomenon.”

As warned two days ago by Secretary of State Marco Rubio, when the first plane carrying the aid promised to the Island departed from Miami after the cyclone, the U.S. is coordinating the assistance through the Catholic Church “to ensure that the aid reaches the Cuban people directly, not the illegitimate regime.” The supplies received this Friday will initially be transported to the community of El Cobre, from where their distribution to prioritized families will be coordinated, with the support of local volunteers.

The U.S. is coordinating the aid through the Catholic Church “to ensure that the aid reaches directly to the Cuban people.”

Both this shipment and the previous one, which arrived on Wednesday in the province of Holguín, are part of the Trump administration’s pledge to provide three million dollars’ worth of assistance to those affected by the cyclone. The shipments are expected to reach about 6,000 families, or 24,000 people. continue reading

International organizations such as Catholic Relief Services and Caritas Germany have participated in both operations, supporting the logistics and financing of the aid.

The arrival of assistance from the U.S. has generated reactions and controversy. From Havana, Cuban authorities have reiterated their rejection of any political use of the aid, although they have said they do not oppose receiving donations. At the same time, they have resented “learning about it” through Cáritas, even though the information has been public at all times.

Hurricane Melissa caused severe damage in the eastern part of the country, affecting tens of thousands of homes and basic service networks such as electricity and water supply. Although no fatalities were officially reported, the region has not been able to recover. The arrival of these aid shipments seeks to alleviate, at least partially, the situation of families still facing the consequences of the cyclone. The provinces that will benefit from this assistance are Santiago de Cuba, Holguín, Granma, and Guantánamo.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Several Cubans Recruited by Russian Intelligence Accused of Terrorism in Lithuania

Among those charged with attacking a company that sells equipment to the Ukrainian Armed Forces are Spaniards and Colombians, in addition to a Russian and a Belarusian.

Image released by the authorities involved in the investigation of the fire started by the group on 24 September 2024. / Europol

14ymedio, Madrid, 16 January 2025 — Two Cubans were charged with terrorism in Lithuania on Friday for participating, among other things, in activities against the company providing military support to Ukraine, following instructions from Russian intelligence. The case also involves a Spanish citizen, a Spanish-Colombian citizen, a Belarusian citizen and a Russian citizen, all of whom are in preventive detention, but there are also three other Cuban suspects who are currently being sought.

The Lithuanian Prosecutor General’s Office and Criminal Police Bureau sent the findings of more than a year of investigation to the court on Friday and held a press conference to explain the details of the case. According to the investigation, the target of the activity was TVC Solutions, a company located in Siauliai, in the north of the country.

The defendants unsuccessfully attempted to set fire to the facility twice, where radio equipment intended for the Ukrainian Armed Forces was stored. The ringleaders of the plot are believed to be a Colombian and a Cuban residing in Russia. “The evidence gathered in Lithuania provides reasonable grounds to suspect that the acts of sabotage attempted in Siauliai were carried out on the orders of the GRU (Russian military intelligence) and for its benefit,” the Prosecutor’s Office said.

The ringleaders of the plot are believed to have been a Colombian and a Cuban residing in Russia.

The events took place in September 2024, when an arson attack was reported at one of the company’s depot stations. The prosecutor then warned that the incident had no business motive and was not linked to organised crime groups.

On that day, the Spanish and Colombian nationals travelled to the company with incendiary material, but were spotted continue reading

by passers-by, which thwarted their plan. They then fled to Riga, the capital of Latvia, where they were arrested and extradited. This attempt was followed by another on 22 September. On this occasion, a Russian and a Belarusian, both residents of Spain, travelled to Siauliai and managed to start a small fire, but left before checking whether they had achieved their objective: the fire did not affect the company’s equipment.

On 23 September, a Cuban woman living in Russia went to check on the effects of the attack and was arrested by the authorities. An intermediary – a Colombian living in Spain – with financial responsibilities was also identified, arrested and transferred to Lithuania in May 2025.

Four more suspects must be added to this list, one of whom has been arrested in Colombia and whose extradition is underway. The other three are two 35-year-old Cubans – one of whom also has Russian nationality – and a Spanish-Cuban woman born in 1965. The Lithuanian authorities, in coordination with other European countries, suspect that the same group has attempted to commit similar acts in the Czech Republic, Poland and Romania.

The investigation maintains that the objective was “to intimidate society, disrupt and hinder support for Ukraine in its defence against the Russian invasion, and encourage fear and mistrust within Western societies”. The underlying motivation, according to the Public Prosecutor’s Office, was entirely economic.

The underlying motivation was, according to the Public Prosecutor’s Office, entirely economic.

Saulius Briginas, deputy chief of police, said that during the preparation stage, some of those involved were sent to Lithuania to gather data on the company, its facilities, schedules and any other information that would facilitate the crime. “During the next stage, two people arrived in Lithuania. One of them is a Spanish citizen, the other has Spanish and Colombian nationality, with the task of setting fire to the aforementioned radio wave spectrum analysis stations,” he added. That was the first failed attempt.

The Lithuanian press has identified most of the accused by their initials, including the alleged Cuban ringleader, Y.L.C., but there is no information on the other Cuban citizens involved. The European police cooperation agency (Europol) and judicial cooperation agency (Eurojust) are working to arrest the rest.

Translated by GH

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A Cuban Court Confirms a Six-Year Prison Sentence for José Gabriel Barrenechea for Protesting During a Power Cut

Five other people were convicted for the same offences, two of them to eight and seven years respectively.

The court accuses Barrenechea of associating “with people of poor moral character and social conduct”. / Article 19

14ymedio, Madrid, 16 January 2026 — Four months after the trial, the Provincial Court of Villa Clara has handed down its sentence for intellectual and independent journalist José Gabriel Barrenechea. The court has upheld the six-year prison sentence sought by the prosecution for the 14ymedio contributor, whom it considers guilty of public disorder for his participation in a peaceful protest against power cuts in November 2024 in the town of Encrucijada, Villa Clara.

In the ruling, dated 15 January and accessed by this newspaper, Yandri Torres Quintana was also sentenced to eight years in prison – the highest sentence – Rafael Javier Camacho Herrera to seven years, Rodel Bárbaro Rodríguez Espinosa and Marcos Daniel Díaz Rodríguez to five years, and Yuniesky Lorences Domínguez to three years. All of them, like Barrenechea, were convicted of the same single offence of public disorder, with the usual additional penalties, mainly of loss of voting rights and expulsion from the country.

The court, in the chamber for crimes against state security, considers it proven that the five defendants took to the streets on 7 November 2024 in Encrucijada during a power cut that “affected almost all provinces in the country due to the serious energy situation the country was experiencing, caused not only by the economic blockade imposed on us by the United States, but also by the damage caused by Hurricane Rafael.”

The text concludes that all the defendants arrived at the protest site “on their own”, joining a group of about 300 people who “began shouting that they wanted electricity”.

The text concludes that all the defendants arrived at the protest site – which took place in front of the headquarters of the Party and the Municipal Assembly of People’s Power – “each on their own”, joining a group of about 300 people who “began to shout that they wanted electricity”. Barrenechea is specifically singled out because continue reading

he “encouraged others to join the march, not to leave the scene and to continue demanding their rights”.

According to the account of events, the defendants began banging on “pots and other objects” of a similar type but made of stainless steel, which they struck incessantly and with great force against other metal objects such as spoons and pieces of steel rod, thereby producing a great deal of noise and commotion. According to the court, this “disturbed the peace of the village,” adding as an aggravating factor that the defendants obstructed traffic by walking in the middle of the road.

The document goes on to state that despite the fact that the highest authorities in the municipality were trying to communicate the situation of the national electricity system and that electricity service was already being restored, several of the defendants continued to “disturb the peace by ringing the devices” and preventing the population from hearing the information that officials were providing them verbally. The court considers that what prevailed among them was “the intention to destabilise civic order and cause insecurity among the population” and that such acts deserve the long prison sentences that were ultimately imposed.

As usual, the ruling also considers the conduct and relationships of the defendants, noting in particular that Barrenechea “associated with people of poor moral character and social conduct” and “had no recognised employment relationship,” as the writer and journalist worked independently.

It also points out the personal relationships of Rodel Bárbaro Rodríguez Espinosa, whom it also accuses of consuming “alcoholic beverages with great frequency,” and gives a positive assessment of one of the defendants for participating “in activities organised by mass organisations” and reserves the lightest sentence for the defendant who “worked for 15 uninterrupted years in the Ministry of the Interior,” where he stood out, receiving “distinctions and recognitions.”

The ruling is not final and may be appealed before the Supreme Court, although the family members have not disclosed what they plan to do in the face of such a bleak outlook.

The ruling is not final and may be appealed before the Supreme Court, although the family members have not disclosed what they plan to do in the face of such a bleak outlook.

José Gabriel Barrenechea faces, for the moment, almost five years in prison, minus the year and two months he has already spent in provisional detention. There, he has suffered the usual poor conditions of Cuban prisons, including restrictions on visits, obstacles to receiving medicine and food, and isolation that has had repercussions on his health.

In addition, the journalist had to endure a particularly painful event during his stay at La Pendiente prison: the loss of his mother, who died of cancer in May 2025, without being allowed to say goodbye to her. The Madrid-based Cuban Human Rights Observatory described the prison authorities’ decision as part of a pattern of “systematic psychological pressure” with which the authorities seek to break the accused and send a warning message to other intellectuals and activists. The organisation had repeatedly called for Barrenechea and his co-defendants to be acquitted: “This is a political case from start to finish.”

Amnesty International’s researcher for Cuba, Johanna Cilano, expressed a similar view, saying of this case: “Protest is a right; no one should be imprisoned simply for exercising their human rights.”

On Thursday, Prisoners Defenders – also based in Madrid – put the total number of political prisoners in Cuba at the end of 2025 at 1,197, five more than in November. The organisation added ten names to its list of political prisoners, while another five were released after “serving their sentences in full”.

In 2025 as a whole, a total of 134 new prisoners were registered, with an average of more than 11 per month.

Translated by GH

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Hope and Fear Mingle in Cuba With the Loss of Maduro, and Oil

New York Times, Opinion, Guest Essay, Yoani Sanchez, 16 January 2026.

The first messages in Havana about Nicolás Maduro’s capture, sent through WhatsApp before they reached official channels, were intermittent and contradictory. People felt hope and fear. Was something going to change here? many wondered as they waited in bread lines, at the bus stop or beneath the yellowish light of a rechargeable lamp during a blackout. The downfall of one of Cuba’s most important allies wasn’t a remote event for Cubans; it was a wave hitting us full on.

The most frequent question now heard by my colleagues at the 14ymedio news site, which I direct, is about what will happen to the Venezuelan oil, which Cuba relies on so much. Many Cubans have been overwhelmed by the particular worries of not knowing whether there’ll be electricity tomorrow, whether the refrigerator will shut off again, whether the struggling public transportation system will collapse. In markets, parks and hallways, they say, one comment is repeated over and over, with the same resigned cadence: “If there’s no more oil, things are going to be even worse.”

It’s not paranoia. In the fourth quarter of 2025, Venezuela sent Cuba about 35,000 barrels of oil a day. While that isn’t enough to keep all the island’s lights on, its industry functioning and its transportation flowing, it has kept the essential gears of our nation in motion. Losing that fuel, or having it drastically reduced, would be a severe shock to an economy that is exhausted, low on foreign currency, and increasingly constrained by American sanctions. Already a U.S. blockade of tankers has cut off some of the supply, and Mr. Trump on Sunday declared that Venezuela would send “no more oil or money” to Cuba.

It is true that Havana does not depend solely on Caracas. Mexico has kept up its fuel shipments, Russia sporadically lends a hand and we have low-quality local oil. But islanders aren’t kidding themselves. The Cuban regime has always been clear about its hierarchy of needs. If it is a choice between keeping the lights on in a hospital or guaranteeing fuel for police patrols, the balance will unerringly tip toward retaining a grip on society. A whole city will go dark before the state security headquarters does.

That is why the atmosphere among Cubans right now is not one of euphoria but anxiety. Some see Mr. Maduro’s capture as a spark that could set off a blaze on our island. “If the Venezuelan dictator can be removed, what’s keeping Castroism in place?” a young friend who has never known any other political system asked me.

In the opposition and in the Cuban diaspora, what happened in Venezuela is being interpreted as a sign that the unchangeable might change. Mr. Trump fueled that feeling by adding on Sunday, referring to Cuba’s government, “I strongly suggest they make a deal, before it is too late.”

Yet that desire comes up against an uncomfortable reality: After 67 years of the same regime and a mass exodus of those most opposed to it, Cuba does not have a well-articulated opposition group on the island that would be capable, in the short term, of vying for power.

Repression and banishment has largely dismantled the Cuban dissident movement. Its leaders are in prison, in exile or subjected to constant harassment. Emigration has sharply reduced the number of potential protesters for a popular revolt such as the one that erupted on July 11, 2021. Although widespread fear has waned, it remains a powerful deterrent in a country with nearly 1,000 political prisoners.

The regime has proved remarkably capable of surviving even greater cataclysms, such as the fall of the Soviet Union, its patron, and the abrupt loss of almost all its foreign trade in the 1990s that ensued. Its strategy, when it feels up against the ropes, is to radicalize its public statements, appeal to nationalist sentiment, sharpen its anti-imperialist slogans and make some timid economic reforms that serve as an escape valve. Granting amnesty to political prisoners, as brokered by the Vatican and Spain in the past, is another way to buy time.

However, Cuba is quite different from what it was after the dissolution of the U.S.S.R. There is no Fidel Castro to turn privation into heroism, no believable ideological narrative to seduce younger generations. Leadership of the Communist Party is disconnected from the people and deeply unpopular. President Miguel Díaz-Canel lacks charisma and the capacity to mobilize society in moments of crisis.

Furthermore, Mr. Maduro’s capture has made it clear that Cuban troops are not invincible, as the party line asserts. The death of 32 Cubans who the Cuban government said died during the operation and the speed with which Washington extracted Mr. Maduro were harsh blows to the image of Castroist security forces. Throughout the island, the powerful symbolism of that failure undermines the power of the regime to intimidate.

The next few weeks will be critical. If Chavismo manages to reorganize under Mr. Maduro’s vice president, Delcy Rodríguez, and Venezuela maintains its fuel commitments to Havana, the Cuban regime will breathe a sigh of relief. If, on the other hand, the negotiations between Caracas and Washington entail cutting the oil supply to the island and ending Cuban medical missions (one of Cuba’s main sources of foreign currency) in Venezuela, the fragility of the Cuban system will become even more manifest. That weakness does not guarantee a change but it could create visible fractures in the power structure, and cracks are always very dangerous to the survival of closed regimes.

On the streets of Cuba in recent days, my colleagues and family haven’t heard talk about revolution or transition. It’s been all about survival. But now, that talk of survival comes with a question that no longer sounds completely naïve: What if the time has come? It isn’t a gushing, radiant hope. It is something much more fragile and more real: the feeling that, finally, the future is no longer completely shut down.

Yoani Sánchez (@yoanisanchez) hosts the podcast “Cafecito Informativo” and is the director of the digital newspaper 14ymedio. This article was translated by Mara Faye Lethem from Spanish.

Transport in Cuba “Is Guaranteed”… Only for the Tribute to Those Who Died in Venezuela

There is fuel for political theatre, but not for everyday life.

When the calendar marks a sensitive political date, fuel miraculously appears. / 14ymedio

Transport “is guaranteed.” This is what official communiqués issued in Santiago de Cuba announce, in bombastic tones and administrative language. The authorities report that several buses have been assigned, with specific departure points, early schedules and guaranteed routes. However, this is not a structural improvement to the system, nor is it a relief for the thousands of citizens who are stranded every day at bus stops with no service. The available fuel is earmarked for the “funeral tribute to the Cuban combatants who fell in Venezuela”, scheduled for Thursday in the Plaza de la Revolución Antonio Maceo and, hours later, in the Santa Ifigenia cemetery.

The Provincial Transport Company of Santiago de Cuba announced that it has arranged a “special assurance” to transport the population en masse to both venues. Starting at 5:30 a.m., basic units will pick up attendees at at least twelve points in the municipal capital—Abel Santamaría, Ciudamar, Punta Gorda, Caney, Boniato, Versalles, Altamira, among others—with the aim of ensuring massive attendance at the political-funeral ceremony in the square. For the second ceremony, scheduled for four in the afternoon in Santa Ifigenia, buses will be provided at Prolongación de Martí.

This display contrasts sharply with the situation experienced by the people of Santiago – and Cubans in general – in their daily lives. Just one day earlier, official notices and posts on institutional social media accounts had announced the suspension or reduction of suburban and inter-city routes due to a “lack of fuel”.

The scene is repeated across the country, with routes cancelled without prior notice.

In Guantánamo, local authorities bluntly acknowledged the magnitude of the problem on Tuesday. The Provincial Administration Council reported that urban routes 2, 5, 6, 8, 9 and 10 would be completely suspended “due to fuel shortages,” leaving thousands of Guantanamo residents without public transport for their daily commutes. In the brief announcement, the government merely recommended the use of “alternative means” and asked for “understanding,” a now-familiar formula that shifts continue reading

the cost of a crisis that the state itself admits it cannot manage onto its citizens.

Also in Havana, local authorities acknowledged that almost all of the “GACela” minibuses are out of service and that only a small group of these vehicles are operating with restrictions and unable to complete all planned journeys. The GACelas – a key part of public transport in the capital – will operate “as long as fuel allows”, according to the brief official statement, which apologised for the inconvenience and promised to keep the population informed.

The scene is repeated across the country with routes cancelled without warning, buses that do not run, frequencies reduced to the extreme, and workers who must walk miles to get to their workplaces. Fuel shortages, acknowledged on an ongoing basis by the authorities and exacerbated following the US intervention in Caracas, which resulted in the arrest of Nicolás Maduro, are the standard explanation given to justify the collapse of public transport.

However, when the calendar marks a politically sensitive date, fuel miraculously appears. The Plaza de la Revolución Antonio Maceo does not fill itself. Neither does Santa Ifigenia. Spontaneous attendance at these events requires planning, logistics and, above all, a lot of fuel. Thus, buses that do not run the rest of the week are put into service to ensure the image of a people accompanying the government in its heroic and sacrificial narrative.

Translated by GH

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Patriotic-Military Display on the Arrival of the 32 Cubans Who Died in Venezuela

Activists and independent journalists denounce State Security operations to prevent them from leaving their homes.

As the motorcade passed, shouts of “glory,” “down with Trump,” “homeland or death,” and other revolutionary slogans could be heard./ 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, 15 January 2026 — The remains of the 32 Cuban soldiers killed in the US attack on Venezuela to capture Maduro landed shortly after 7 a.m. on a Cubana de Aviación ATR 42-500 aircraft, where six military vehicles were waiting to transport them to the headquarters of the Ministry of the Armed Forces.

The welcoming ceremony was very brief, but surrounded by all the pomp and circumstance expected for such grand occasions. Soldiers dressed in full dress uniform carried down, one each, the urns containing the ashes of the deceased, all of them metal and covered with a Cuban flag.

Unloading of the remains upon arrival at the airport. / Canal Caribe

At the foot of the plane, former president and army general Raúl Castro and current president Miguel Díaz-Canel stood in formation alongside the rest of the government and military and Communist Party authorities.

With a military funeral march playing in the background, Interior Minister Lázaro Alberto Álvarez Casas gave an opening speech praising the fallen and rejecting the words of the US – which he referred to as “the enemy” – about “precision operations”. “We talk about faces,” he said, in the middle of a harangue that ended with shouts of “glory” and the familiar “Until victory, always.”

The 32 urns were placed in jeeps and driven to the centre of the capital along Rancho Boyeros Avenue. Once in the capital, numerous roads were closed, including some major ones such as 23rd Street towards the centre of El Vedado and Ayestarán Avenue in the municipality of Cerro. As the convoy passed, shouts of “glory,” “down with Trump,” “homeland or death,” and other revolutionary slogans could be heard. Numerous demonstrators continue reading

carried the Venezuelan flag and wore red sweaters. Police horses, patrol cars, and officers from the Ministry of the Interior could be seen throughout the city.

At the foot of the aircraft, former president and army general Raúl Castro and current president Miguel Díaz-Canel stood to attention. / Minfar

The day of tribute also dawned with State Security operations. Thus, the editorial office of this newspaper, in the municipality of Plaza de la Revolución, from where Reinaldo Escobar was not allowed to leave. Nearby, there is at least one plainclothes officer and a police patrol. Activist Yamilka Lafita, known on social media as Lara Crofs, has been reporting harassment since Wednesday.

“Since yesterday, they have cut off my internet access. I haven’t had it since 4:30 pm and then from two in the morning until now, when I was able to connect through an alternative route,” Lafita explains in a Facebook post published today. “Just 30 minutes ago, I heard loud shouting from outside my house, and it was a State Security officer yelling at me that I couldn’t leave the house. They left a patrol car with two police officers on the corner so that if I dared to leave, they could arrest me.”

Independent journalist Camila Acosta reports the same thing. “He looks like a vagrant, but he’s the security guard on duty on the corner of my house to prevent us from going out on the street,” she says in a post on her social media accompanied by a picture of the plainclothes officer.

Image of a State Security agent shared by activist Yamilka Lafita. / Facebook/Lara Crofs

Meanwhile, La Hora de Cuba reports that its director, Henry Constantín, is missing. According to the independent media outlet, his last communication with his team was yesterday at around 6:50 p.m. “Henry was at his home in Havana and yesterday afternoon he alerted his colleagues about his poor connection,” they explain in a post. “This morning, the gate and door to his flat were found open, there was no one inside, and his mobile phone is turned off or out of range. Outside his building, a State Security agent is keeping watch.”

All the pro-government front pages are focused on the same topic this Thursday, the tribute to the “fallen”, which, however, has been dampened very early on. Heavy rain fell at midday in Havana on the crowd brought in by state agencies. To this end, the authorities have mobilised a number of transport vehicles that are not normally available on a daily basis due to a lack of fuel.

On Wednesday night, a group of soldiers from the island who were wounded during the US operation on 3 January to capture Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, landed at José Martí Airport in the capital on a Cubana de Aviación Ilyushin Il-96-300 that has been flying back and forth from Caracas since last week, probably to bring doctors on a mission to Venezuela.

The number of members in the group, as well as their names and state of health, are unknown at this time. In the images broadcast by Canal Caribe, at least two could be seen in wheelchairs – one of them with a leg in a cast – but apparently in good physical condition. Among those who descended the aircraft steps on their own, some were limping.

The curious thing is that the aircraft did not arrive directly from Caracas. According to the flight tracking website Flightradar24, the IL-96-300 departed from Havana in the morning heading east of the island, although the destination airport did not appear on satellite tracking, which is common with this aircraft, used by the regime for special operations. It was from Santiago de Cuba or another nearby area that it departed again to arrive in the capital with the wounded.

Translated by GH

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Sánchez Joins Pagés and Estrada in Declining to Play for Cuba in the World Baseball Classic

The Toronto Blue Jays told Sánchez he must start in Triple-A, with Buffalo

14ymedio, Havana, January 15, 2026 — Ballplayer Rafael Sánchez will not be with Cuba in the World Baseball Classic. The Toronto Blue Jays, who signed him in 2023 for $350,000, suggested that he focus on having a strong spring training for the upcoming season. According to journalist Francys Romero, the Holguín native must report to the Triple-A level of the minor leagues with the Buffalo affiliate. His agent, Carlos Pérez, informed him of the decision.

Sánchez had a brief stint this winter with the Cangrejeros de Santurce in Puerto Rico. He pitched five innings in which he did not allow a run, gave up only three hits, and struck out seven batters.

The Holguín pitcher thus joins Andy Pagés and Lázaro Estrada, weakening the core roster of manager Germán Mesa. The specialized outlet Pelota Cubana USA noted that the pitcher from the Canadian team “was one of the possible starters” for the so-called Team Asere at the event, which will take place in March with the participation of the top Major League stars.

For its part, Al Bat magazine warned that Pagés’s absence was a trigger for other athletes. The Artemisa native had expressed his intention to join the Cuban national team, but the Los Angeles Dodgers denied him permission. “His absence is a hard blow for Cuba. His ability to continue reading

‘clear the fence’ and his defensive skills are qualities anyone would want to have in an event of this magnitude.”

The absences have also revealed a lack of communication by official federation officials with the players who were called up. Pagés himself, before the refusal, said he did not know what the coach’s plans were. The same is true of Emmanuel Chapman, another player on the list, who said late last December that no one had asked him whether he was “available.”

In an attempt to put together a core team, Cuba will take part in the Americas Series in Venezuela from February 6 to 13, with a roster made up of several players from the list of 35 submitted to the World Baseball Classic organizers.

That will be followed by a stay in Nicaragua, where the team will play exhibition games against opponents yet to be determined. In addition, the preparation schedule includes two more games during spring training in Arizona: the first against the Kansas City Royals on March 3, and the next day against the Cincinnati Reds.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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Hundreds Line Up for Chikungunya Aftermath Consultations in Cuba

After long waits, patients are given appointments more than ten days later

Most of those waiting outside Havana’s Institute of Neurology and Neurosurgery were over 60. / 14ymedio

14ymedio, Havana, Juan Diego Rodríguez / Darío Hernández, January 15, 2026 — Berta has just managed to get an appointment, after trying for almost a month, at Havana’s Institute of Neurology and Neurosurgery, one of the places where the government has launched a specialized clinic for people recovering from the chikungunya virus. She will be seen in ten days.

Infected in early October, the woman, a resident of Centro Habana, spent several weeks bedridden, immobilized by pain. When the fever subsided, she still couldn’t go outside and had to borrow a wheelchair. More than three months later she is better, but she continues to suffer many aftereffects. “I can’t sleep; I spend my nights awake with pain in my hands and knees,” she told 14ymedio.

Since the Ministry of Public Health announced on December 22 the start of care for patients with chikungunya sequelae at the Neurological Institute, Berta’s husband had been trying to get her a spot, but he only succeeded two days ago.

“The first time the doctor sees you in the clinic, they give you medication, but if you then need physical therapy, they send you somewhere else”

Every day, hundreds of people relentlessly form a line to request appointments at the institution, located in El Vedado on 29th Street between F and D. This Wednesday, 14ymedio witnessed two lines: one to request an appointment and another for consultations. The first moved along fairly well; the second barely budged. “I’ve been here since 7:00, and from 8:00 when they opened until noon only four people had gone through,” said an elderly woman who was waiting. “This is far too slow.”

Appointments are being scheduled for roughly 15 days out. “The first time the doctor sees you in the clinic, they give you medication, but then, if you need physical therapy, they refer you elsewhere,” explained another woman, younger than the first. Most of the doctors observed were young and foreign. By contrast, most of those waiting were over 60. continue reading

“I’m hopeful they can help me, even though my husband doesn’t believe it,” Berta says. “At least on the news they say this actually works.”

Indeed, the information disseminated by official media could not be more optimistic. They promise the design of “personalized physical therapy programs to promote rehabilitation and a rapid return to daily and work activities.” The service, the Ministry of Health explained, is intended “for the management of neuropathic pain, joint disorders, and paresthesias,” some of the consequences suffered by chikungunya patients, in some cases chronically.

A crowd outside the doors of Havana’s Neurological Institute. / 14ymedio

“Our objective is to evaluate and treat each case individually, facilitating a path toward functional recovery and an improvement in quality of life,” promised Orestes López Piloto, director of the Institute of Neurology. The project is being carried out by a multidisciplinary team made up of neurologists, neurosurgeons, anesthesiologists, and physical therapists, the Ministry also assured.

In addition, health authorities painted a picture that included sophisticated studies such as CT scans, ultrasounds, and even “specialized anesthetic interventions” to relieve aftereffects. Asked about this, López Piloto said they could not know the exact number of people who would seek care, but that the Institute had the necessary resources. “The strength of our health system allows us to organize this kind of response,” he asserted.

The long wait outside the facility seems to contradict that claim.

“At least they have a clinic,” objects Amauri, a resident of Ciego de Ávila. “Here, those of us who had the virus are left with nothing but patience.” He, his partner, and his mother contracted the disease in November and still suffer its consequences. “In the mornings I wake up with numb hands; I have to move them a lot just to function halfway decently,” he confesses.

“In the mornings I wake up with numb hands; I have to move them a lot just to function halfway decently”

According to the Pan American Health Organization, based on official Cuban statistics, a total of 65 people have died from chikungunya and dengue. However, statistical calculations by the Cuban Observatory of Citizen Auditing and Cuba Siglo 21 place the figure at 8,700 people.

Most of the deaths in the official registry are minors. Within this age group, the most vulnerable are newborns, whose lives are at risk if they fall ill.

In 2025, 51,217 cases of chikungunya and 30,692 of dengue were recorded. The epidemic, as happened with covid-19, has exposed the fragility of the health system, once an emblem of the Revolution. In addition to the lack of medications and the deterioration of health facilities, there has been a 27% decrease in the number of doctors in just five years, from 103,835 in 2020 to 75,364 in 2024.

The challenge, wrote Periódico 26 this Thursday, is to find “the keys through a sound line of research in order to impact the recovery of patients experiencing aftereffects” of arboviral disease. Authorities still do not see things clearly. One of the measures has been to promote trials with Jusvinza, also known as Cigb-258, a drug created more than a decade ago by the Center for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology (CIGB) as an immune system modulator, originally intended for autoimmune diseases such as rheumatoid arthritis, and which has not yet proven effective for those recovering from chikungunya.

Translated by Regina Anavy

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