Iván García, Translator: Unstated
After 6 in the evening, Carlos, 48, looks distractedly at his fold
Seiko, and takes a swig from a large Corona beer. He's dressed in light
blue vented Bermudas, Nike shoes that cost $120, and a shirt with the
face of Messi, the Argentine star of the Barcelona football team. Right
now, from his iPhone, he's bargain shopping for a Willy jeep made in the
USA in the '50s.
Daily, Carlos meets at a downtown cafe near the Paseo del Prado, with
the five contract drivers who work for him. He waits there for each
driver of the 3 jeeps to give him 1,000 pesos (40 dollars) and 550 per
capita for the two drivers who drive "almendrones," — the old American
cars — faded, but strong as tanks, and while he waits he drinks half a
dozen beers with Gouda cheese cubes.
In one day, Charles took home 4,200 pesos (170 dollars). The five
drivers who work for him usually earn between 400 and 1,000 pesos a day,
a wage unimaginable for a state employee. Although it is true that their
work shifts sometimes exceed twelve hours.
Carlos doesn't spend all the money he earns he earns on beers or nights
with expensive whores. "I have to invest in tires, fuel and spare parts.
Also pay the mechanic that maintains my cars," he says.
Like Carlos, there is a growing legion of successful small
entrepreneurs. The most profitable sectors are transportation, paladares
(private restaurants), and trading in agricultural products.
In Havana there are not only newly minted entrepreneurs who own a fleet
of 5 or 6 cars. In the services there are other types, people who run
several rental houses, a couple of cafes, or own a dozen trucks in any
corner of the city where prices are going through the roof, offering
fruits, vegetables, beans and even apples.
After October 2010, when General Raul Castro kick started new forms of
self-employment, and the army of his state inspectors got a little more
flexible, a number of Cubans who kept their money under the mattress
were ready to invest that money in businesses that offer good short-term
benefits.
Not without a certain trepidation. Anyone who has lived in Cuba knows
how the regime goes. At times, when the economic situation is extreme,
they let out the line for private initiatives. But if they see that the
boat is no longer taking on water, they make up a lot of regulations and
send people behind bars for their little initiatives.
Now, Castro II has promised to respect certain rules as long as people
can demonstrate that their money is from legal sources and they pay
their taxes on time.
People like Rene, 60, who all their lives they have scrounged to find
money on the black market, initially had misgivings. He is one of the
old foxes can be found in the underground world of business.
"When the artisans began in the Cathedral Square, there I was. In the
80s, I also sought money in agricultural markets. I've been in jail
twice on charges of illicit enrichment. So I do not trust them. It's
like a chess game. I have to have an exit strategy in case of danger,"
said Rene, owner of two retail clothing stands and eight fruit and
vegetable trucks.
Rene takes in just over 150 dollars a day. After a cup of strong coffee
at home, starting at 4 am, on one side of the Joseph A. Echevarria City
University (CUJAE), in the Rancho Boyeros municipality, he awaits the
arrival of trucks packed with agricultural products, to buy in bulk and
cheaply.
Others like Yosniel, 36, one day asked his relatives on the other side
of the pond for a loan, and he got $4,000. And with the money he set up
a home repair business. It has a crew of masons and plumbers. "The thing
was doing well for me. I even get construction materials at bargain
prices then resell to people who need to repair their homes," he says.
Among these new native entrepreneurs, a particular interpretation of the
regulations of self-employment predominates. They think the State does
not allow control of those businesses — whether one or several — that
encourage a lot of money in the hands of one person or family.
But Havanans like David, owner of two auto repair shops, manages in his
own way. He is used to finding money under the pressure from a
government that sees a threat in the entrepreneurial types." We've been
playing cat and mouse for 53 years, we try not to be the hunted," says
David with a broad smile.
Rightly, the regime feels that if their retailers do not offer raw
materials, they can assume that they go out through the back doors of
the state workshops.
But we all know in Havana, including the government, that behind this
growing mass of vehicles that came out of the workshops of Detroit six
decades ago, there are a handful of ingenious mechanics and body guys
who keep the fleet of 6,000 'almendrones' rolling in the capital.
And the question of how far a State with a grudge will go in allowing
those given to individualism and the good life to make money, is
something that is always latent in these post-Fidel businessmen.
"That depends on the General. If our businesses don't affect the wallets
of the military corporation, I think they'll leave us alone. But
otherwise, they'll give a turn of the screw to certain regulations to
suffocate us," says Carlos, the flamboyant entrepreneur, who owns five
cars. It wouldn't be the first time.
February 11 2012
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