From our Bureau of Perfect But Foul-Smelling Metaphors with some assistance from our Bureau of Socialist Waste Management
One would think that will all of the trash that keeps piling up on Havana’s streets no one in the city would need to trek to its landfill to find treasures. After all, dumpster diving has become a necessity in Castrogonia, a way of surviving, and there are plenty of photos online that capture Cubans foraging through the city’s dumpsters and trash heaps. But this is Castrogonia, where socialist class distinctions create two unequal kinds of trash. See for yourself. Click on slide show above, read a meditation on it below.
The trash on the streets comes from the homes of ordinary Cubans, most of whom have few possessions and even fewer scraps of food to throw away. It’s very rare to find any treasures in street trash. However, the trash in the city’s giant landfill –the only trash that gets hauled away — comes from the apartheid hotels and the homes of the privileged Cubans who run Castro, Inc. and keep it in power.
Aaah, there’s the difference. All trash is equal but some trash heaps are more equal than others. What a fitting symbol for the legacy of the so-called Revolution. A stratified wasteland, noxious, yet immensely rewarding to those who dare to live off its upper-class treasures. This hellish landscape doesn’t even qualify as Third World. It is Bottom-of-the Barrel World. And it is the ultimate gift of the Revolution to the Cuban people. Lord have mercy
From Havana Times
On the outskirts of Havana, in the area known as Las Ocho Vías, where the city’s bustle fades into the horizon, lies a place few observe up close: the capital’s great landfill. A vast expanse where mountains of waste rise as silent witnesses to the lives of over two million inhabitants. This is a place, harsh and vibrant in appearance, where misery and human resilience intertwine.
Here, trucks arrive incessantly, dumping tons of refuse that once served a purpose —broken furniture, useless appliances. Yet among these mountains of waste, human figures move: tireless scavengers who have turned the landfill into a means of earning a living. When I arrived at this place, one of them told me, “For every sack of cans I collect, they pay me 800 pesos at Havana’s Materias Primas, and today I’ve already gathered four sacks, which means I’ve made 3,200.”
These scavengers sift through the garbage in search of recyclable materials or any object with exchange value. Many live nearby in makeshift homes known in Cuba as llega y pon—precarious constructions built with materials salvaged from the dump.
Despite the penetrating smell, smoke, and unsanitary conditions, these individuals find in this landfill a space for resilience. Their daily lives reflect the inequalities that persist in a city which, from afar, might seem oblivious to their existence. In this forgotten corner, the struggle for survival unfolds with a poignant dignity.
Havana’s landfill is not merely a depository of material waste but a raw mirror of structural failures, the informal economy, and the deprivations faced by those forced to live on the fringe. Yet, it also serves as a testament to human ingenuity. Amid the shadows, some transform waste into handicrafts, others find key components to repair appliances, or collect bottles that can be recycled.
This place, laden with contrasts, cannot be ignored. It is a living metaphor of how society handles its waste —both material and social— and how those relegated to the margins find ways to resist, adapt, and, in some cases, even thrive.
The great landfill of Havana is a call to look beyond the mountains of trash, to recognize the humanity and the stories that flourish, even in the most hostile of places.
Yes, but even the best metaphor or the most obvious symbolism will be ignored by the willfully blind.