In her diary, Cuban writer Irina Pino expresses the agony of writing about her country, plagued by health crises, blackouts, and emigration. She describes everyday conversations at a private video library that reveal widespread hopelessness. Pino compares the current situation to the Special Period crisis of the 1990s, stating that today's hardships are unprecedented.
In a diary entry published on Havana Times, Irina Pino confesses that writing about Cuba has become an agony. Her hands refuse to capture the numerous calamities afflicting the country. Recently, she visited a private video library where she copies movies, but discussions did not revolve around films or series, but rather viruses ravaging the population and frequent blackouts.
A woman around seventy, with swollen feet from the Chikungunya virus, sought distraction outside home. Without embarrassment, she shared private life details, including her son's story—a surgeon who emigrated to the United States. There, he performs nurse duties in a hospital, faces discrimination, and lacks sufficient weekly hours to boost earnings.
Another speaker recounted acquiring an apartment by caring for an elderly woman. The old lady's son left for Miami a decade ago with his wife and children, sending only a hundred dollars monthly. He refused to return or engage further, relinquishing the property to the caregiver as inheritance, even while his mother lives. Pino questions if this stems from lack of maternal love or abandonment.
Lately, Pino barely communicates with friends on WhatsApp; she finds them more distant and quieter. She portrays Cuba as paralyzed, where hope and goals fade daily. She admits to unprecedented depression, unlike the 1990s Special Period when, young, she found ways to enjoy life. Now, Cubans endure fierce survival, with food and disease concerns compounded by chronic sadness.