Matanzas: Havana Club for export, rum with water for Cubans

Matanzas/At mid-morning, Rodrigo crosses the La Plaza bridge with a thirst that cannot be quenched with water. He is 57 years old, he is a mechanical engineer and works at the Matanzas Electric Company, but he maintains a habit that neither blackouts nor inflation have managed to break from him: stopping at the Lluvia bar to have a few drinks. The establishment, next to the bridge, seems to have seen better days. Five tables, several empty chairs and a wooden counter survive under some old images of the San Juan River. “It seems like people are short of money today,” he says as he enters.

He freezer It’s been broken for so long that no one expects to find a cold beer. Bulk rum rules here, occasionally supplied by the Municipal Commerce Company, although it almost always appears along the informal market paths. “Give me a double to take advantage of the fact that the drink still costs 70 pesos,” asks Rodrigo. The clerk takes an unlabeled bottle, measures the liquid into a small aluminum cup, and pours it into a glass container. The operation has something of a pharmaceutical ceremony, although no one could be sure what proportion of alcohol that mixture contains.

In the Lluvia there is no need for price cards. Regular customers know by heart how much each drink costs and how many they can afford before running out of money. A full bottle is a luxury out of reach for many state workers. “It is true that the fish dies through the mouth and they are killing us with inflation,” says Rodrigo while greeting a friend. They both occupy their usual table, near the window, from where they can see the calm waters of the San Juan.

“The clerk is my partner and I understand that he earns what he deserves, but he is getting out of hand by making a fool of himself”

Before drinking, they let a few drops fall to the ground for the saints. Next comes the trial by fire, although this time the rum barely seems to burn. “The clerk is my partner and I understand that he earns what he deserves, but he is getting out of hand by making a fool of himself,” protests the engineer. His partner finds an unexpected advantage: “The good thing about this is that you don’t get drunk. My wife is even happy because she thinks I’ve stopped drinking. This watery stuff leaves almost no trace on your breath.”

The scene sums up a national paradox. Cuba boasts its rums in international markets, where the Havana Club competes for consumers willing to pay for a prestigious drink. Within the Island, however, a good part of the clientele must settle for cheap products, mixtures of uncertain origin or discounted drinks. Rum is still Cuban, but quality rum has become a distant item for those who charge in pesos.

The sugar collapse doesn’t help either. The 2025 harvest produced only 127,300 tons of sugar, while By 2026, 229,500 were projected. In March, the Melanio Hernández plant in Sancti Spíritus, then the only mill in milling, had to stop due to the energy crisis. Without enough cane, the availability of molasses and alcohols that feed the rum industry also suffers.

In the midst of this shortage, a family MSME from Taguasco Don Gener has just launched, a 34 proof refined rum, packaged in plastic bottles. Its producers announce the capacity to produce a thousand liters a day. The news contrasts with the panorama of the Lluvia bar, where the customer does not even see a label that allows him to know what he is drinking.

There is a rumor around the bridge that an MSME will take over the management of the premises. No one confirms it, but Rodrigo fears losing one of the last places where he can still drink without going bankrupt. “If they take this place away from me I have to attack the street vendors and they don’t care about making any kind of strange league in order to make money.”

There are several days left to collect. Last month he had to borrow 500 pesos from his friend. They both remember when a double drink cost ten pesos and they could stay up until eleven at night telling stories about Angola, with their tongues dulled by alcohol. Now the glasses are emptied without even causing a stumble in the words. Rodrigo accepts another round and gets up: “I’ll treat you in the afternoon.”