Lonely  Havana

 Few hours after Fidel Castro’s death

 

 

 

 

Lonely Havana

Few hours after Fidel Castro’s death

Lonely Havana (part 1) : A night in la Havana

November 2016, La Havana, just after Fidel Castro’s death. Nine days of national grief were announced. Administrations and state services remained closed, alcohol sale was forbidden.

A shockingly high number of Cuban are part of the country’s extensive secret services. Without knowing who’s who, you have to be carefull of everybody: your neighbor, your friend, your uncle. You never know who’s watching or who’s listening…

In these days of grief it’s better to stay at home, mouth shut, with visible sadness.

Lonely Havana (part 1) : A night in la Havana

November 2016, La Havana, just after Fidel Castro’s death. Nine days of national grief were announced. Administrations and state services remained closed, alcohol sale was forbidden.

A shockingly high number of Cuban are part of the country’s extensive secret services. Without knowing who’s who, you have to be carefull of everybody: your neighbor, your friend, your uncle. You never know who’s watching or who’s listening…

In these days of grief it’s better to stay at home, mouth shut, with visible sadness.

Lonely Havana (part 2) : National tribute to Fidel Castro

Two days after Fidel Castro’s death, under close surveillance, people of la Havana is invited to the “Plaza de la Revolución” to pay a last homage to his Commandante.

Lonely Havana (part 2) : National tribute to Fidel Castro

Two days after Fidel Castro’s death, people of la Havana is invited to the “Plaza de la Revolution” to pay a last homage to his Commandante under close surveillance. 

These kind of meetings with twelve hours speech under the sun, Cubans are used to it from childhood. It’s like visiting an old aunt you don’t want to see. They go there because they have to, and you have to search a camera or an accredited photographer to find a tear in front of it.

Time is slow in la Havana when you’re 25, dreaming of Miami, with no job to do, no money to spend in this island under embargo. Sometime you drink to forget, but the city run dry with the National Grief and you can’t do it anymore, so days become longer and longer and you find yourself bored to death.

© Rémy Soubanère / Studio Hans Lucas

These kind of meetings with twelve hours speech under the sun, Cubans are used to it from childhood. It’s like visiting an old aunt you don’t want to see. They go there because they have to, and you have to search a camera or an accredited photographer to find a tear in front of it.

Time is slow in la Havana when you’re 25, dreaming of Miami, with no job to do, no money to spend in this island under embargo. Sometime you drink to forget, but the city run dry with the National Grief and you can’t do it anymore, so days become longer and longer and you find yourself bored to death.

© Rémy Soubanère / Studio Hans Lucas