By Kamil Kenders
HAVANA TIMES — The electricity went out in the morning and didn’t come back all day. No one in the neighborhood asked too many questions—what for? No one knows the exact answer, but what’s always said by the state electric company is “low generation levels,” “deficit,” “service rotation.” Words that explain little yet get repeated all the same.
With the power off, the neighborhood shifts its rhythm. Not all at once, but as if everything slowly loosens. Fans stop spinning, refrigerators fall silent, and the houses begin to heat up from within. When there are no classes, by mid-morning the children are already out in the street. There’s no other option. Inside the houses the heat becomes thicker, more stagnant. Outside, at least a bit of air moves through the shade.
They gather on the sidewalk, in the same spot as always. There are no toys, no screens, no music. Some ride bicycles, others play hide-and-seek, and sometimes they even end up arguing, “kids’ stuff,” my grandmother used to say, and even they are upset by the absence of electricity. The playing isn’t organized. It just forms on its own. They run, stop, run again. The heat imposes its own order.
From the doorways, some adults watch without intervening. Others fan themselves with whatever they can find. There are brief conversations about the electricity, but no one goes into depth. It’s a subject repeated too often to dwell on.
On one corner, someone comments that “they split the circuit again today.” No one responds. There’s no need. The problem isn’t just that there’s no power. It’s everything that comes with it: the food spoiling in refrigerators, the interrupted rest, the routine that falls apart for hours no one can predict.
The children, however, carry on as if the interruption were normal. They play until the afternoon begins to fade and the heat becomes a bit more bearable.
When it gets dark, some go back home. Others stay out a little longer, until they’re called from inside. There’s no clear transition between playtime and the blackout in the neighborhood. Both seem part of the same condition.
The electricity doesn’t return. The neighborhood no longer waits for an exact hour. Only the habit of enduring remains.
Read more from the diary of Kamil Kenders here on Havana Times.
