Havana Charity Kitchens Serve Thousands as Inflation Strains Households

Hundreds of residents arrive before dawn each day to stand outside the Asociación Quisicuaba in Havana, waiting for the facility’s doors to open at 7 a.m. Many sleep on the sidewalk to secure a place in line for what may be their only hot meal of the day. Once inside, they present numbered plastic containers to volunteers who wash the vessels and call out numbers to hand out portions of food.

The routine reflects a growing reliance on charity-run kitchens across the island. Fernando Fernández, a 71-year-old retiree and former cook, said he often must queue the day before to receive assistance. “We’re having a really rough time,” Fernández said. He now visits alone because his wife, Josefa, is ill. The couple relies on her monthly pension of 3,200 Cuban pesos, roughly $3, and the support from Quisicuaba.

Other visitors include Marelys Ponce, a 34-year-old single mother who brought two of her five children to the pantry recently. Her other three attend school and receive lunch there. Ponce said she began visiting the kitchen about a month ago because her income is no longer sufficient. “At least with this, they get something to eat,” she said.

The Quisicuaba organization identifies approximately 12,500 vulnerable people in Havana. Its kitchen uses more than 20 large cauldrons to prepare rice, eggs, pasta, and occasionally chicken. Volunteers also bottle chocolate milk for distribution. The group is supported by United Nations agencies and European aid organizations.

Enrique Alemán, a physician and president of Quisicuaba, described the situation as a new dimension of vulnerability. He noted that the people receiving aid are not typically illiterate or marginalized in traditional ways, but are products of Cuban society facing financial and food insecurity. “You only need to walk through the streets of Havana and Cuba to see a new dimension of vulnerability,” Alemán said.

The strain on local resources coincides with a deepening economic crisis driven by U.S. energy restrictions, inflation, and dwindling government resources. Tourism, a major source of revenue, has declined sharply. The government has struggled to maintain its previous annual spending of about $2 billion on food imports for the rationing system. As a result, many households experience delayed or missing subsidized rations of staples like beans, powdered milk, and cooking oil.

Inflation reached 28% in September compared to the previous year. This rise has eroded purchasing power for many workers. A carton of eggs now costs 3,200 pesos, equal to a retiree’s monthly pension. A bottle of cooking oil costs 2,700 pesos, or just under $3. A doctor’s monthly salary can reach 15,000 pesos, which is equivalent to about $18.

Luis Carlos Battista, a Cuban American lawyer and analyst based in Spain, attributed the growing poverty to a mix of domestic and external factors. These include rising global food prices, the collapse of tourism during the pandemic, and the impact of U.S. energy restrictions on food production. Private businesses have expanded, creating a wider gap between those who earn well or receive remittances and those who depend on state salaries.

Religious groups and international aid organizations have filled the gap left by the state. Centers like Quisicuaba, often housed in religious buildings, have proliferated in recent years. They provide a reliable hot meal for retired doctors, teachers, and government workers who previously relied on the socialist system for basic needs.

Researcher Lisbeth Moya González wrote in a recent essay for La Joven Cuba that daily life increasingly operates under an individual logic rather than state guarantee. Families now depend on private markets, remittances, or community support to obtain food. The state continues to provide free education and healthcare, but the cost of living has outpaced the wages of many Cubans.