Lucia and her son Mario are sitting in their living room, watching a cultural show on state television in their modest apartment in Vedado, an upscale Havana neighborhood. They have a visitor: Arnold, a retired American professional musician who works with the biggest names in Afro-Cuban music and who has known them for more than 15 years. They will have a delicious rice and chicken dish for dinner to celebrate the occasion.
Arnold has put 20 Cuban convertible pesos (US$20) on the table to help them buy the necessary ingredients.
After dinner, Mario accompanies Arnold to the downtown Havana, a few streets away from the center of the city. Then, discreetly, he returns home, where he says he'll have to care for his diabetic mother.
Behind this everyday scene hides one of the greatest social scandals in Latin America.
A few days later, after several conversations with Mario, I realized that he returned home not because his mother needed his help, but because he was afraid of disappearing into a Cuban prison, like many of his compatriots.
"If the police see me with a stranger, they'll believe that I am a prostitute and they'll throw me in jail," he said.
Mario, 39, is neither a prostitute nor a seller of fake cigars. He is a public servant and a student at the University of Havana.
Mario's concern over being arrested for simply walking the street with a foreigner is justified, as such a phenomenon repeats itself often everywhere on the island. With the economic crisis following the fall of the Soviet Union in the 1990s, the government has wanted to ensure that jineteras and jineteros (terms used to describe those who prostitute themselves to survive) do not cater to tourists who often approach young Cuban women for sex.
In Havana, a Cuban woman or man found in the company of tourists could be returned to his village by the police or be jailed if he has already received prior warnings.
Often referred to by Fidel Castro as a common "imperialist army" in the pre-revolutionary era, prostitution in the 1990s became an uncontrollable phenomenon in Cuba and is attributable to the extreme poverty of its residents.
Today, with a salary average of $30 a month, it is practically impossible for Cubans to survive without any other income. Many resort to illicit means to procure money from tourists, including the contraband of clothes and hygiene products, and the illegal sale of cigars, and prostitution.
In Havana, jineteras amble along the Malecón, a boulevard where the sea and the city converge, in search of clients. Indeed, this form of prostitution has become so widespread on the island that jineterismo has become a term to describe sex tourism between Cuban women and foreigners.
While this situation has recently become rarer in more populated spots such as Varadero and Havana, it is a common phenomenon in many cities where poverty is more present.
"Even for a Cuban man, it is very difficult to find a Cuban woman who will sleep with him without getting paid," said Alex, a soccer player who lives in Cardenas, a small town a few miles from Varadero.
"It's a question of survival," said Yarelis, a young black student who, at 18 years old, became a prostitute to make ends meet. "I have to feed my family."
Most of the experts and media who report on Cuba agree that the strict Castro policy has reduced the prostitution levels since the end of the 1990s. But at the same time, the policy alienated an entire generation of young Cubans.
In the 1990s, Lucia and Mario owned a small hostel where they welcome tourists for about $30 a night. For health reasons, Lucia had to sell the house and buy an apartment in Vedado. She and her son kept up many of their friendships with their former clients, but since they do not work in the tourist industry anymore, they have to exert a certain amount of caution.
Mario cannot stroll in the street with his American, Argentine, Mexican, German, and Canadian friends as he used to do. He has to welcome them in his apartment and close the curtains, since many members of the military live in surrounding buildings. If he must go to Old Havana with his foreign friends, he has to walk a few steps ahead of them so he does not seem suspicious.
"My heart stops every time he takes a walk with his friends," said Lucia.
"Call me before knocking on my door," said Mario to an American friend before returning home, his voice tinged with worry.
The new comandante, Raúl Castro, has committed to lifting restrictions on cell phones as well as other electronic devices, and he now allows Cuban citizens access to hotels. These and other reforms, demanded vociferously by the Cuban people, are only a beginning in a series of hoped-for changes to the communist nation. But there still remains many more political and economic reforms to adopt if Cuba is to remake its identity in the international community.
Fictional names were used order to protect the identity of individuals.
Feeds