Escape From Cuba

Roger García Ordaz has tried to flee Cuba 11 times. He’s used boats made of wood, Styrofoam, and resin. Three of his trips ended in boat mishaps. The eight other times, the U.S. Coast Guard picked him up at sea and sent him home. He has a tattoo for each of these failed attempts.

García, 34, lives in Baracoa, a fishing village west of Havana. Last year, hundreds of homemade, rickety boats took off from the village’s shores.

“Of course, I am going to keep on throwing myself into the sea until I get there,” he says. “Or if the sea wants to take my life, so be it.”

Living conditions in Cuba have been rocky for a long time. Now, deepening poverty and hopelessness have driven many to leave the country. It’s the largest exodus from the nation since Fidel Castro rose to power and established Communist rule more than 60 years ago.

Cuba has been hit hard by tighter U.S. economic sanctions and the Covid-19 pandemic. Covid gutted one of Cuba’s lifelines, the tourism industry. Food has become even more scarce and more expensive. The lines at pharmacies, which have few supplies, begin before dawn. Millions of people endure daily hours-long blackouts. And all that comes on top of a long history of a government that represses its people and offers few personal freedoms.

Over the past year, about 250,000 Cubans, more than 2 percent of the island’s 11 million people, have sought refuge and opportunity in the United States, most of them arriving at the southern border by land, according to U.S. government data.

“The exodus is huge,” says Ted Henken, a Cuba expert at Baruch College in New York City. “Actually, people have been fleeing for the past 25 years, but since the pandemic, the numbers have been off the charts.”

Over the past year, about 250,000 Cubans have sought refuge and opportunity in the United States. That’s more than 2 percent of the island’s 11 million people. Most of them have arrived at the southern border of the U.S. by land, according to U.S. government data.

“The exodus is huge,” says Ted Henken, a Cuba expert at Baruch College in New York City. “Actually, people have been fleeing for the past 25 years, but since the pandemic, the numbers have been off the charts.”

The U.S. and Cuba sit just 90 nautical miles apart, but they have long been separated by deep ideological, political, and economic differences (see timeline slideshow, below) dating back to the Cold War. In 1959, Castro and his band of armed guerrillas overthrew U.S.-backed Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista.

Soon after, Cuba aligned itself with the Soviet Union’s Communist government, and Castro started cracking down on political dissidents. In 1960, he began seizing the assets of American companies such as Coca-Cola without compensation, and in response, the U.S. severed ties and imposed an economic embargo that’s still in place.

For more than 50 years, relations remained frozen. Then in 2014, under then-President Barack Obama, the U.S. and Cuba began to slowly normalize relations. But the thaw was short-lived.

Arguing that engagement with Cuba, including increased tourism and trade, only rewards a dictatorship, the Trump administration replaced Obama’s policy with a “maximum pressure” campaign that ratcheted up sanctions and severely limited how much cash struggling Cubans could receive from their families in the U.S., a key source of revenue.

The U.S. and Cuba sit just 90 nautical miles apart. The countries have long been separated by deep cultural, political, and economic differences (see timeline slideshow, below). This divide dates back to the Cold War.

In 1959, Castro and his band of armed guerrillas overthrew U.S.-backed Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista. Soon after, Cuba aligned itself with the Soviet Union’s Communist government. Then Castro started cracking down on political opponents. In 1960, he began taking control of the assets of American companies such as Coca-Cola. In response, the U.S. cut ties and put in place an economic embargo that’s still in effect.

For more than 50 years, relations remained frozen. Things began to change in 2014, under then-President Barack Obama. That year, the U.S. and Cuba began to slowly repair ties. But the thaw was short-lived.

The Trump administration argued that engagement with Cuba, including increased tourism and trade, rewarded a dictatorship. So his administration replaced Obama’s policy with a “maximum pressure” campaign. The new campaign increased sanctions. It also put strict limits on how much cash struggling Cubans could receive from their families in the U.S. This had been a key source of revenue.

The current exodus is the largest in Cuba’s history. Experts say this migration has no end in sight and threatens Cuba’s stability. The flood of Cubans leaving has also become a challenge for American officials. Cuba is now one of the highest sources of migrants to the U.S. after Mexico.

The Biden administration has lifted the cap on the amount of money that Cuban Americans can send to relatives on the island. But two years after Biden entered the White House, many Trump-era policies toward Cuba remain in place. Among them are severe restrictions on travel to Cuba and the nation being listed as a state sponsor of terrorism. Many experts say that U.S. policy toward the island is helping fuel the influx of Cuban migrants that the U.S. is now struggling to address.

“This is not rocket science: If you devastate a country 90 miles from your border with sanctions, people will come to your border in search of economic opportunity,” says Ben Rhodes, an Obama administration official who worked on Cuba policy.

Cuba’s free fall has been accelerated by the pandemic: Over the past three years, Cuba’s financial reserves have dwindled, and it has struggled to stock store shelves. Imports—largely food and fuel—have dropped by half. The situation is so dire that the government electric company boasted in December that electrical service had run uninterrupted that day for 13 hours and 13 minutes.

In 2021, fed up by the economic decline and the lack of freedom, tens of thousands of Cubans took to the streets in the biggest antigovernment protests in decades. A crackdown followed, with nearly 700 people still imprisoned, according to a Cuban human rights group.

The pandemic sped up Cuba’s free fall: Over the past three years, Cuba’s financial reserves have dwindled. The nation also has struggled to stock store shelves. Imports, largely those of food and fuel, have dropped by half. The situation is so dire that the government electric company boasted in December that electrical service had run without a hitch that day for 13 hours and 13 minutes.

In 2021, fed up with the economic decline and the lack of freedom, tens of thousands of Cubans took to the streets. Those antigovernment protests were the biggest in decades. A crackdown followed. Nearly 700 people are still imprisoned, according to a Cuban human rights group.

The poorest Cubans try to leave by building makeshift boats, and at least 100 have died at sea since 2020, according to the U.S. Coast Guard. In just two months last year, the Coast Guard intercepted about 3,000 Cubans at sea heading for Florida.

But these days most Cuban migrants fly off the island, with relatives abroad often paying the airfare, followed by a tough overland journey. (Cuba lifted an exit visa requirement to leave by air a decade ago.)

The floodgates opened in 2021, when Nicaragua stopped requiring an entrance visa for Cubans. Tens of thousands of people sold their homes and belongings and flew to Managua, paying smugglers to help them make the 1,700-mile journey by land to the Southwestern U.S. border. Thanks to a 1966 law that gives Cubans special immigration protections, the U.S. gives asylum to most Cubans who make it to U.S. borders and fast-tracks them for residency. Migrants intercepted at sea, however, are sent back to Cuba.

Katrin Hansing, an anthropologist at the City University of New York, notes that many Cubans are seeking alternative places of refuge. Thousands, she says, have left for other countries, including Serbia and Russia.

“This is the biggest quantitative and qualitative brain drain this country has ever had since the revolution,” she says. “It’s the best and the brightest and the ones with the most energy.”

The departure of many younger, working-age Cubans is nothing short of “devastating,” says Elaine Acosta González, a research associate at Florida International University. “Cuba is depopulating.”

The poorest Cubans try to leave by building makeshift boats. At least 100 of them have died at sea since 2020, according to the U.S. Coast Guard. In just two months last year, the Coast Guard caught and turned away about 3,000 Cubans at sea heading for Florida.

But these days most Cuban migrants fly off the island. Their relatives abroad often pay for the airfare. (Cuba lifted the need for an exit visa to leave by air a decade ago.) Then migrants endure a tough overland journey.

In 2021, Nicaragua stopped requiring an entrance visa for Cubans. After that, the floodgates opened. Tens of thousands of people sold their homes and belongings and flew to Managua. Then they paid smugglers to help them make the 1,700-mile journey by land to the Southwestern U.S. border. The U.S. gives asylum to most Cubans who make it to U.S. borders and fast-tracks them for residency. That’s because of a 1966 law that gives Cubans special immigration protections. However, migrants who are caught at sea are sent back to Cuba.

Katrin Hansing, an anthropologist at the City University of New York, notes that many Cubans are seeking other places of refuge. She says that thousands have left for other countries, including Serbia and Russia.

“This is the biggest quantitative and qualitative brain drain this country has ever had since the revolution,” she says. “It’s the best and the brightest and the ones with the most energy.”

The departure of many younger, working-age Cubans is nothing short of “devastating,” says Elaine Acosta González, a research associate at Florida International University. “Cuba is depopulating.”

Just a few years ago, the country’s future seemed far different. With the Obama administration loosening restrictions on travel to Cuba, American tourists pumped millions of dollars into the island’s fledgling private sector.

Now travel is again severely limited, and years of economic downturn have extinguished the last embers of optimism for many Cubans.

Joan Cruz Méndez, a taxi driver who’s tried to leave three times, looks out to the sea in Baracoa and explains why so many boats that once lined the town’s shores are gone, along with their owners.

“The last thing you can lose is hope, and I think a large part of the population has lost hope,” says Cruz.

Last March, Cruz, 41, bought a plane ticket for his wife to fly to Panama and tapped his savings to pay a smuggler $6,000 to get her to the U.S., where she claimed political asylum. She’s working at an auto-parts store in Houston.

Just a few years ago, the country’s future seemed far different. The Obama administration loosened limits on travel to Cuba. American tourists then pumped millions of dollars into the island’s emerging private sector.

Now travel is again very limited, and years of economic challenges have put out the last glimmers of optimism for many Cubans.

Joan Cruz Méndez, a taxi driver who’s tried to leave three times, looks out to the sea in Baracoa and explains why so many boats that once lined the town’s shores are gone, along with their owners.

“The last thing you can lose is hope, and I think a large part of the population has lost hope,” says Cruz.

Last March, Cruz, 41, bought a plane ticket for his wife to fly to Panama. Then he tapped his savings to pay a smuggler $6,000 to get her to the U.S., where she claimed political asylum. She’s now working at an auto-parts store in Houston.

Back in Baracoa, people are busy building more boats, using motors stripped from cars, electric generators, and lawn mowers. When the sea is calm, they wait for the local Cuban Coast Guard crew to clock off its shift, then they carry the makeshift vessels on their shoulders through town and over craggy rocks before lowering them into the water.

In May, Yoel Taureaux Duvergel, 32, and his pregnant wife set out along with four others in the wee hours. But their motor died. They rowed until the U.S. Coast Guard intercepted them a few miles from the U.S. and sent them back to Cuba. He intends to try again.

“Once you start, you can’t stop,” he says.

Maikol Manuel Infanta Silva, 19, sold his family’s refrigerator to build a boat that sank. He, too, will try again. By law, he’s supposed to be serving in the military, but he fled and tries to make a living catching fish with a harpoon.

In Cuba, he says, “everything keeps getting worse.”

Back in Baracoa, people are busy building more boats. They’re using motors stripped from cars, electric generators, and lawn mowers. When the sea is calm, they wait for the local Cuban Coast Guard crew to clock off its shift. Then they carry the makeshift vessels on their shoulders through town and over rugged rocks before lowering them into the water.

In May, Yoel Taureaux Duvergel, 32, and his pregnant wife set out along with four others in the wee hours. But their motor died. They rowed until the U.S. Coast Guard stopped them a few miles from the U.S. and sent them back to Cuba. He plans to try again.

“Once you start, you can’t stop,” he says.

Maikol Manuel Infanta Silva, 19, sold his family’s refrigerator to build a boat that sank. He, too, will try again. By law, he’s supposed to be serving in the military, but he fled and tries to make a living catching fish with a harpoon.

In Cuba, he says, “everything keeps getting worse.”

Ed Augustin is a journalist based in Havana. Frances Robles covers the Caribbean for The New York Times.

Ed Augustin is a journalist based in Havana. Frances Robles covers the Caribbean for The New York Times.