I spent much of January in Havana. In truth I was waiting not for Trump but for the 40th edition of Jazz Plaza, Cuba’s famed international jazz festival. But in Cuba as in many other parts of the world, in January the return of Donald Trump to political power in the US was never far from view. Perhaps more than in other parts of the world.
In 2016 I had the good fortune to be in Havana when Barack Obama and Raul Castro announced steps towards what could have been a reconciliation between Cold War adversaries. The US economic blockade continued but important initiatives towards “normalization” in travel and other areas began. The coincidence of witnessing Trump’s ascent from Havana in 2025 could not have been more powerful or painful.
The Cuba of 2025 has been battered by an almost incalculable list of problems. Inflated grocery prices are an issue everywhere. In Cuba a carton of eggs costs half the monthly salary of a pensioner (not that much less than the wages of any state employee). Fuel shortages and hurricanes have caused multiple national power failures and scheduled blackouts continue. Basic state functions like garbage pickup barely exist. Broken pavement always made walking the streets of Havana a challenge, now piles of rotting garbage add to the obstacle course.
The authoritarian state response to the July 2021 protests continues to create a climate of frustration and resignation about a Cuban government which has, to use a word I heard repeatedly from Cuban friends, “abandoned” social responsibility.
“I’m still a revolutionary,” declared a friend in her 80s, “but these guys are disgraceful.”
Another told me that watching Cuban leaders’ constant downward spiral was as painful as the current living conditions themselves. As a widely circulating social media post from a University of Havana professor put it, where does the US blockade stop and the Cuban government’s bad administration begin?
While a majority of Cuban Americans in Florida (58 per cent) famously voted for Trump, the Cubans of my acquaintance in Havana have no faith in Trump either, and there is a palpable concern for what he and Secretary of State Marco Rubio are planning.
While I was there a false news story circulated rapidly, claiming that the US government was announcing an end to all commercial flights, remittances and the ability of selected Cuban migrants to return home. Given that all these policies have previously happened or been championed by US politicians, they were not difficult to believe.
As right-wing US politicians such as Congressman Carlos A Giménez threaten further sanctions of “biblical proportions” against the Cuban government, it is widely understood among Cubans that it is people, already living precariously, who will bear the brunt of further US actions. What are the chances of reconciling the polarization among Cubans on and off the island, and forging a Cuban future without US government intervention? Most people looked at me like I was crazy when I posed that question.
But I saw glimpses of reconciliation and the possibilities of mutual understanding in every musical event I attended. The Jazz Plaza Festival is an extravaganza that brings Cuban and international musicians together for a week of concerts, workshops and jam sessions in concert halls, bars and outdoor community centres. The presence of the Cuban diaspora returning to the Island to make music is a striking feature of this Festival. What a treat it was to see feminist rapper Telmary return to town to perform for a huge audience of loyal fans at Vedado’s Casa de Cultura.
Because of the heightened global tensions created by Trump’s America, tributes to the power of cultural exchange were sounded on every stage. One night before the festival started, I went to a beautiful restaurant in a boutique hotel in Vedado. They were featuring musicians I admire, Fabio and Diago Abreu, “Los Hermanos Abreu,” teenage children of popular conga player Yaroldy Abreu. This talented family is worth following into even an expensive venue, though it was clear from the start that my Cuban friend and I were among the few people there just for the music. (To their credit, the waitstaff left us to nurse our domestic beer for the concert.)
In a restaurant full of foreigners, one table caught my eye: a group of 20/25 white middle-aged English speakers, clearly celebrating something. Before the music started some at the table rose to offer toasts and thanks, and I learned this was an American tour group. One of their Cuban guides congratulated them on “moving out of their comfort zone” by visiting Cuba. He continued with a tribute to people-to-people ties.
“It’s not just about the Pope’s visit, or Obama’s,” he said. “It’s about people like you coming here and meeting ordinary Cuban people.”
I smirked at the thought that they would find many ordinary Cubans if they were hanging out in bourgie restaurants but then as if on cue, Los Hermanos Abreu began a phenomenally Cuban version of Duke Ellington’s “Take the ‘A’ Train.”
The American table paid rapt attention, filming and clapping. So did mine. Later I approached the speechmaker, telling him I taught a Canadian university course on Cultural Diplomacy and was really moved by his words. The group was an alumnae travel tour from a US university.
“I work for this travel company, this is my job,” he told me. “But I’m Cuban, I live here, and I really mean that.”
Almost every time I saw American performers on stage in Havana, similar thoughts were expressed. Orbert Davis, leader of the Chicago based Jazz Philharmonic Orchestra spoke strongly of the ties between US and Cuban musicians. Referring to his own country he said “I don’t know what’s going on up there” but vowed to continue his Cuban connections.
New Orleans jazz pianist Jon Clearly assembled a group of Cuban horn players, as well as Cuban pianist Ernan Lopez-Nussa, to join his “Absolute Monster Gentlemen” band, illustrating on one stage the historic cultural ties between New Orleans and Havana. These relations were on display before the festival at another extravaganza, “Getting Funky in Havana” which included many well-known New Orleans and Cuban performers, some US based who returned to the Island for the event.
Cuba’s cultural influences through Europe was also on display through the festival. Bas Van Leir, a Dutch jazz pianist, brought his high energy style to several venues, playing with his own trio as well as a Cuban group from Santa Clara, the Raptus Ensemble. Several other Dutch groups were a part of the program, including Maite Hontelé, a Dutch trumpet player who performs with Holland based Cuban pianist Ramon Valle.
Another set of concerts focused on a musical between Havana and Munich, featuring Cuban trumpeter Yasek Manzano. Two dynamite Montreal based Cuban musicians, saxophonist Nestor Rodríguez and drummer Michel Medrano, accompanied Quebec based French pianist Simon Denizart, and Cuban-trained Montreal sax player Rachel Therrien made a surprise appearance on stage with Cuban American Arturo O’Farrill’s lively ensemble.
It was especially striking to witness the proficiency and professionalism of young Cuban performers. It is not surprising that Cuba’s current economic and political crisis has also produced an emigration crisis, and – at least until Trump took power – some musicians were in a decent position to move through the immigration system, to the US, Europe and Canada.
That musical careers are also being established in Cuba, under such precarious conditions of daily life, is in some ways the bigger story. The Abreu brothers, who I also saw perform with sisters Adriana y Andrea López- Gavilan; Sintergia, a new jazz collective formed by students at Havana’s arts university, lead by saxophonist Gabriela Muriedas; and finally, the explosive talent of Espirales, another group of young jazz players, who just launched their first single En Busca de un Espacio (In Search of a Space). I have seen the five-piece Espirales grow over the years. This time at an unforgettable jam session at the Abdala recording studio, (where it seemed that half of Cuba’s jazz royalty was jumping in on songs) as well as their concert at the Fabrica de Arte Cubano, they showed a level of sophistication musicians twice their age would envy.
Last year I compared the Jazz Festival to a great party while the Cuban house was burning down. This time it seems more accurate to say while the planet is burning down. The world is on edge as fascism attempts to normalize itself (not only in the US), migrants are demonized everywhere, and maybe we should dispense with “burning” as metaphor. As Trump treats the planet like his Monopoly board, Cuban friends joked that I might become an involuntary American and face the US government travel ban when I try to return to Cuba. The chances for Cuban-made solutions to Cuba’s tremendous problems may be slim. But the relationships that have developed over the years, at the popular and cultural level, among Cuba, its diaspora, and the rest of the world, won’t be so easily extinguished. During the festival, Havana photographer Lilien Trujillo launched a new exhibition of photos of Cuban jazz musicians, entitled “In Jazz We Trust.” In it she cites Nina Simone: “music is my God.” Not such a bad place to put one’s faith.
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