In the U. S. it’s called recycling. In Cuba it’s survival. Every morning this gentleman walked to the Malecon with his sacks of plastic that he pulled from trash cans and dumpsters. He washed all his cups, forks, and spoons in a puddle so that he could turn them in for a few pesos. Everyone has to earn something extra because the government doesn’t provide enough wages or rations for basic survival.
He was full of life though and never begged for money. He told us he used to be a boxer and always wanted to pose in his fighter stance. I got him to show me what he was smoking. It was no Cohiba. It was a working man’s cigar, a Moya.