Puerto Escondido, Cuba, from Paradise to Health Risk
In this small paradise turned into a major energy hub with the participation of Canada’s Sherritt, the 500 residents are forbidden from talking about the incidence of cancer.
HAVANA TIMES – “It’s true that the power almost never goes out here, but at what price?” The Puerto Escondido (Mayabeque) resident who makes this observation raises a hand to her throat. A short distance from the town, a flare burns constantly above the oil facilities, turning the sky red when night falls. The smell of sulfur varies in intensity depending on the direction of the wind, but it never disappears.
Puerto Escondido was an almost secret paradise until oil and gas arrived a quarter of a century ago. Located between Havana and the spectacular beaches of Varadero, this town of barely 500 inhabitants suffers in silence. No one dares to publicly denounce the devastating effects of oil extraction. Everyone fears the informants of the political police who are everywhere, reporting those who dare to speak about illnesses attributed to the Energas plant, operated by a state company in partnership with Canada’s Sherritt, which specializes in the extraction of nickel, cobalt and hydrocarbons.
Energas has become a key component of the national energy system. In addition to producing gas, it transports it to Havana through a pipeline some 80 kilometers (50 miles) long and distributes it to nearly 300,000 customers. Even more important is its contribution to the stability of the electrical grid, since it operates a power plant that supplies the capital and the numerous hotels in Varadero.
In Puerto Escondido, Oil Destroyed a Paradise
Early in the morning, the lights on the porches of homes remain on. In some houses, even air conditioners are running, an extraordinary sight in a country subjected to blackouts lasting more than 20 hours per day.
Before the expansion of the oil industry, Puerto Escondido depended to a large extent on its scenery. Visitors came to the small beach with its white sand and crystal-clear waters, both Cubans and foreigners who stayed at campgrounds or in private rooms. Today, the tourists have disappeared, and residents want to leave a place where life becomes more difficult every day. But leaving is not easy either. One resident shows the room she once rented to tourists: she has turned it into a storage room for broken furniture and water tanks. She tried to sell her house, without success. Two potential buyers backed out because of the smell: “It gets into the sheets, the clothes and even the animals,” the woman laments.
“You’re constantly thinking that at some point you’ll have to leave here so you don’t keep exposing yourself to contamination,” confesses a resident who asks that his identity not be revealed. In Puerto Escondido everyone knows one another, and the presence of outsiders prompts looks and questions. Talking about the oil industry, surveillance or health conditions can have consequences.
“Almost all the small children have asthma,” says a local worker, pointing to her chest as she talks about the ailments that also affect many adults. The few residents who dare to speak mention numerous cases of cancer among relatives and acquaintances. They also say pregnancies are uncommon and that respiratory problems appear at an early age.
Amelia (a pseudonym), a family doctor who worked in the area for more than a decade, says that over the years consultations for allergies, respiratory illnesses and asthma attacks increased. She even reached the point, she says, where she could anticipate which part of town patients would come from based on the direction the wind had blown in the preceding days.
Among those who suspect that the emissions have affected their health is a 62-year-old woman, born in the town, who is undergoing treatment for lung cancer. She says she never smoked or worked around toxic substances. Before her diagnosis, she suffered from throat irritation, coughing and episodes of shortness of breath that worsened when the wind carried the smoke toward her home. When doctors asked whether she had been exposed to any source of pollution, all she could say was that she lived “in a place where there is a lot of smoke and the stench of oil.”
That concern had already been documented in a 2023 investigation by the Naturpaz organization. Dr. Berta Cabrales Acosta estimated at the time that 10% of the native population suffered from chronic respiratory illnesses and called for the installation of sensors—which were never installed—to measure pollution at different points throughout the area. The study also warned of an increase in deaths from several types of cancer, although it did not present conclusive epidemiological evidence that would allow them to be directly attributed to Energas operations.
The Cuban Government ignored the study, and Sherritt did not acknowledge it either. The Toronto Stock Exchange-listed company has limited itself to stating in its annual reports that “the health and safety of workers and communities” located near its facilities “are of paramount importance.”
The industrial flare takes on its most unsettling appearance at dusk. The fire casts orange and pink hues across the clouds that might seem beautiful in another context. On some nights, the flame grows larger and the noise increases without the population receiving any explanation. Residents say they have never been given a clear protocol for what to do in the event of a leak, explosion, fire or major breakdown. “If there’s a smell, we close the windows. If the flame gets bigger, we pray,” summarizes a mother of two children.
One of those pipelines surrounds the baseball field. It carries gas, residents explain, although the homes in the town have no access to the fuel. “They ran the pipeline through here and gave gas to the neighboring towns of Jibacoa and Canasí. But not to us, even though we’re right next door,” one man protests.
The town does, however, benefit from a more stable electricity supply than Havana, although its television signal is poor. In numerous homes, homemade antennas can be seen, which residents use in an attempt to pick up Tele Rebelde and Multivisión. Cellphone coverage is also unreliable, even near an antenna installed on one of the nearby hills.
On the other side of the river mouth lies the former Puerto Escondido campground, reached by a route residents call Camino del Chivo (Goat Trail). Residents accustomed to the terrain can cover it in a few minutes, but for a visitor the journey involves climbing, walking along the shoreline and navigating a difficult passage beside the water.
At the end of the route is an area managed by the state-run Flora and Fauna agency, with lawns and camping areas. Farther on, following the coastline, stand the ruins of the campground. The site, which residents say was among Fidel Castro’s favorites, is completely abandoned.
A former worker who participated in establishing the Popular Camping program in the area recalls that the facilities provided jobs and income for numerous families. After it closed, vandalism accelerated its destruction. All that remains of the lookout point is rubble, while the cabins have been stripped of their windows, bathroom fixtures and tiles. “The State lost interest in promoting tourism here. Now all it cares about is the gas,” he concludes.
Over the course of an entire day, hardly anyone appears except a few fishermen, the security guard, three Flora and Fauna workers, a couple who arrive to go diving with an instructor, and a bus carrying about ten young people. The deteriorating buildings contrast with the beauty of a coastline that, under different circumstances, could attract hundreds of visitors. The hills, river and sea form an almost untouched landscape, but amid them the pipelines, oil wells and glow of the flare impose themselves.
Residents are not demanding the closure of an industry they consider vital to the electrical system. They want to know what substances they are breathing, what risks they face and what measures they should take in an emergency. They are also asking for some benefit from the wealth extracted in their municipality, in the form of roads, transportation, healthcare, water, communications or recreational spaces. So far, they say, Energas and its Canadian partner have not maintained a transparent dialogue with the community.
As evening falls, the lights in the houses come on again without fear that a breakdown in the national electrical system will leave them in darkness, as happens every day in the rest of the country. Above the rooftops, the sky retains the pink reflection of the flare for a few minutes.
In Puerto Escondido, there is electricity. What its residents wonder is how much they are paying for it with their health.
First published in Spanish by 14ymedio and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.