Sugar Mill Closures End Era in Rural Cuba
By Anthony Boadle
PLACETAS, Cuba (Reuters) - The sweet smell of molasses has gone and
the shrill steam whistle that
called the shift changes is silent. All that remains are dead streets,
nostalgia and resignation.
"The smell of sugar was so good, and there was constant activity 24
hours a day," said Liliam Noriega,
who worked most of her life at the Benito Juarez sugar mill outside
Placetas in central Cuba.
"How could we not miss that? It was all we had," she said.
Six months after Cuba's communist government bit the bullet and
closed 71 of the island's 156 sugar mills
because they were no longer able to compete in today's world
market, Cuban sugar workers are still
trying to adapt to new lives growing vegetables, raising buffaloes
or going back at school.
Half the smoke stacks that dot the Cuban countryside are no longer
fired up at harvest time, and sugar
cane fields are being plowed up for other crops, forestry and
cattle grazing.
The "bateys" or villages clustered around the mills, the center
of life for generations of Cuban sugar
workers, look like ghost towns now.
"People don't realize this change is for the good," said Pablo
Gutierrez, personnel manager for 37 years
at Benito Juarez who is now teaching math to the mill's laid-off
workers.
"Sugar has no future because technological advances developed
substitutes. When people see the
results -- more tomatoes, beans, buffaloes -- they will have
forgotten about sugar cane," he said.
The full impact on rural communities of the downsizing of Cuba's
largest industry, which employed
420,000 workers, has still to be seen. A quarter of them were
left jobless overnight.
President Fidel Castro's government promised to turn 40,000 into
farmers, while another 60,000 are
studying and continue to receive their average pay.
ONCE WORLD'S LARGEST PRODUCER
Sugar was the backbone of the Cuban economy for three centuries
since colonial times when Spaniards
introduced sugar cane and worked the plantations with slaves
from Africa.
After a bloody uprising in Haiti against French colonists in 1791,
Cuba became the world's largest sugar
producer through the beginning of the 20th century. Most of the
output was sold to the United States and
many mills were owned by American companies like Hershey, the
Pennsylvania chocolate maker.
The mills and plantations were nationalized after the leftist
revolution led by Castro and his guerrillas in
1959.
When Washington broke off diplomatic relations with Havana and
imposed trade sanctions in the
aftermath of Castro's revolution, the Cuban leader turned to
the Soviet Union for new markets and got a
sweet deal.
Soviet bloc countries paid Cuba up to five and six times the going
world price for sugar and sold the
island subsidized fertilizers and cheap oil, said dissident economist
Oscar Espinosa Chepe, a former
sugar ministry official.
"It was a tremendous deal for Cuba. The government thought it
would last for ever and did not diversify,"
he said.
Castro's government dedicated additional vast tracts of land to
sugar cane and resorted to the
enthusiasm of volunteers to pull in record harvests. Even leaders
such as revolutionary icon Ernesto Che
Guevara showed up to cut cane in the fields.
Despite the effort, Cuba failed to reach the production goal set
by Castro of 10 million tonnes of sugar in
1970, peaking at 8.5 million tonnes and falling off after 1989.
When Soviet communism collapsed, Cuba lost its guaranteed market
and massive subsidies and was left
with antiquated machinery, exhausted lands and an inefficient
industry.
By 1998, according to U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization data,
the productivity of Cuban cane fields
was half the world average. With more than 100 countries producing
sugar, the price had sunk with
declining demand due to substitutes like fructose from corn syrup
and artificial sweeteners. Add to that
higher oil prices and a restructuring was inevitable.
Output fell to 4 million tonnes in 2000, the same level as 1919.
The government hopes to maintain
production at that level by keeping the most efficient mills
working.
But this year's harvest looks like it will barely reach 2.7 million
tonnes due to organizational problems,
shortages of lubricants and supplies and an insufficient supply
of cane, experts said.
Cuba has fallen to eighth place in the world as raw sugar producer,
behind Brazil, India, China, the United
States, Thailand, Mexico and Australia.
TOURISM ECLIPSES SUGAR
Last year sugar exports amounted to $440 million, four times less
than earned from tourism, an industry
that was spurned as decadent at the start of Castro's revolution
but which has become the mainstay of
the Cuban economy today.
The tourist trade outstripped the sugar industry a decade ago as the Caribbean island's top dollar-earner.
One of the closed mills has been turned into a museum where old
steam-powered trains bring tourists
from nearby beach resorts for a glimpse into Cuba's past.
Experts doubt the government can fulfill its pledge to find new
jobs for 100,000 people in a stagnant
economy that has been on the skids since the collapse of the
Soviet Union.
Dissidents such as Espinosa Chepe believe the only solution is
to open up to private initiative, small
businesses and land holdings. But they see the government going
the opposite way, suffocating the little
private enterprise that is allowed.
No economy can afford to send laid-off workers back to school
on full pay, said Luis Ramon Hernandez,
a former sugar workers union leader who was expelled for criticizing
government policy.
"If they were young men, that would work. But these are older
people. What are they going to do
afterwards, if there is no work," he said.
At the Hermanos Almeijeiras mill outside Placetas, where all of
the three local mills were shut down,
workers are resigned to planting vegetables.
In the railway yard that once bustled with steam locomotives shunting
cars loaded with sugar cane from
the fields to the mill, there is now a neatly planted garden
with rows of lettuces, cabbages, carrots,
beets, radishes, tomatoes and garlic.
"We feel awful, because the mill was like our home, but that's
life. It was pointless to continue producing.
Now I'm studying again at 60," said Ramon Castillon, a former
grinding machine operator who began
working at the mill when he was 15.
Workers said the government had done its best to help them survive the closures.
But Fermin Ramirez, selling homemade sweets for one peso a packet
after 21 years stocking the mill's
boilers, complained his 281 peso ($11) monthly wage was not enough
to make ends meet.
"It's not enough to feed a sparrow on. But what are you going
to do. There is nothing else to do around
here."