Cuba suffered a widespread power outage on March 16, 2026, according to the national electric company, amid a serious crisis on the island caused by the US energy blockade.
Yamil location | Afp | Getty Images
The White House has cut off Cuba’s oil supplies and threatened a “friendly takeover” of the communist-ruled island amid military operations in Venezuela and Iran.
US President Donald Trump hinted that the country was his next target, saying: “Whether I liberate it or take it, I think I can do whatever I want with it. They are a very weakened nation at the moment.” The lack of oil is bringing Cuba’s economy to the brink of collapse. But I’m reminded of the time not long ago when it briefly looked as if the two nations were normalizing their relations after decades of hostility.
I first landed in Havana in March 2012 to report on the visit of Pope Benedict XVI. to report. The airport was small. I had to repeatedly explain to the immigration officers that we were there as journalists, that we had permission and that everything had been arranged in advance. I was grateful that my team spoke Spanish to assist with the process.
Parts of the city seemed strangely familiar to me from the pictures I’d seen of faded pastel buildings and old American cars, somehow still in patched together pieces.
Cuba and the United States have been geopolitical enemies for more than 50 years. Cuba became communist when the 1959 revolution brought Fidel Castro to power and the island nation just 90 miles from Florida cemented its ties with the Soviet Union. In response to a growing U.S. embargo, the Cuban government confiscated U.S. property and American-owned businesses. In response, President John F. Kennedy imposed a complete embargo in 1962. Supplies of food, fuel and consumer goods quickly became scarce.
But once I was there, I felt something start to change.
CNBC’s Justin Solomon, field producer in Cuba, with correspondent Michelle Caruso-Cabrera
CNBC
Between 2012 and 2016, I traveled 10 times and produced on-site for CNBC with international correspondent Michelle Caruso-Cabrera. Almost every visit seemed to be accompanied by something significant – moments that felt like they could mark a turning point. But at the end, that momentum suddenly felt unsteady.
On my first visit, Havana tried to appear ready for a pope. Parts of the Malecón were covered in fresh paint that was still drying in places along the route the pope was expected to take. In a country marked by communism for decades, his presence felt like more than a religious event. It felt like a subtle but unmistakable signal that Cuba might be opening up.
After that things progressed quickly.
Less than a year later, the government invited a small group of journalists, including us, to take a close look at the so-called “reforms.” We spoke to the governor of the central bank and to small business owners who are trying to navigate a system that is changing, but not all at once.
We left the official itinerary and headed to Hershey, Cuba, a town founded by Milton Hershey in the early 1900s to secure sugar for his chocolate business. It was one of several reminders of Cuba’s American past before its revolution. A former Coca-Cola factory was converted by the state. A Western Union building housed the country’s telecommunications company. A Woolworth store became a local discount store.
In July 2015, President Barack Obama announced the restoration of diplomatic relations. We quickly left New York, drove to Miami and then boarded a charter flight to Havana. There was real excitement on site. But it wasn’t unguarded. People were hopeful but cautious.
A month later, the US Embassy reopened for the first time in more than 50 years. I watched the flag being raised from the balcony of a dilapidated apartment building across the street. For younger Cubans in particular, it felt like a turning point: more opportunity, more access, more choice seemed within reach.
Obama’s visit the following March only reinforced that feeling. Travel restrictions on Americans were eased and limited trade began to resume. The embargo still applied, as enshrined in U.S. law, but was slightly relaxed.
US President Barack Obama (l.) and Cuban President Raul Castro meet at the Revolutionary Palace in Havana on March 21, 2016. US President Barack Obama and his Cuban counterpart Raul Castro met at the Revolutionary Palace in Havana on Monday for groundbreaking talks aimed at ending the standoff between the two neighbors. AFP PHOTO/ NICHOLAS KAMM / AFP / NICHOLAS KAMM (Image credit should read NICHOLAS KAMM/AFP via Getty Images)
Nicholas Comb | Afp | Getty Images
This week there was a Rolling Stones concert and a Major League Baseball game, the first on the island in years.
Even then there was reluctance. The Cubans had learned not to outdo themselves. For many, optimism came with the reminder of how quickly it could fade. After all, not everyone believed that the United States should resume relations with the country. Many argued that normalizing relations would reward the communist government without forcing meaningful reforms.
Still, things changed. In 2016, Carnival Cruise Line docked in Havana under the Fathom brand, becoming the first U.S. cruise ship to visit the island since 1978. In November, JetBlue began offering direct flights from New York. For a while it felt like the barriers were falling in real time.
It was never easy reporting there. Approvals could fail without warning. Telephones rarely worked. WiFi was difficult to find. Restaurants handed out long menus, but when you asked, you were often told it was just rice and beans. I walked past buildings with elegant facades only to enter to find them hollowed out and crumbling, little more than dust and rubble.
And yet on every trip you could see small signs that change was continuing. Family-run restaurants began to open in people’s homes. Airbnb listings began to proliferate. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was there.
My last trip was in November 2016, shortly after Fidel Castro’s death, to cover his funeral. He had ceded power to his brother Raoul years earlier, but the death of the man who symbolized the revolution was a big moment.
This time it was quiet in Havana.
Thousands of Cubans lined the streets of Havana to say goodbye to Fidel Castro as a caravan carrying his ashes began a four-day journey across the country to the eastern city of Santiago. Fidel Castro, the former Prime Minister and President of Cuba, died late in the evening of November 25, 2016 at the age of 90. (Photo by Artur Widak/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
Photo only | Photo only | Getty Images
The music stopped. The alcohol disappeared. The city entered a formal period of mourning. People stood in long lines to sign books of condolence.
From the outside it looked like a clear ending. Things didn’t feel so easy in Cuba.
As I stood there, it was hard not to feel the energy of the past few years waning. The same questions kept coming. What happens now? What will happen to the reforms? About the relationship with the United States?
When I left for the last time, I felt like I had experienced something rare, a brief period of time in which history seemed to accelerate, in which long-standing patterns loosened, if only slightly, and the future seemed open for a moment.
In subsequent years, this dynamic has largely slowed and, in some cases, even reversed. The US withdrew its embassy staff, new travel restrictions were introduced in November 2017 and the influx of American visitors decreased. The opening that once seemed within reach has given way to more familiar tensions that flare as if the changes I saw never happened.
The story doesn’t always start with a clear beginning or end. In Cuba there is a tendency to refocus on oneself.
What comes next between these two neighbors is still unwritten.
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