Shrug if you’ve ever tried the internet in Cuba
A shot of an iPhone trying to connect to the ETECSA wifi, at a government-approved internet park. When the public wifi works, Havana residents can catch up on news of friends and the world. But the connection can be finicky. (Vangmayi Parakala/MEDILL)
HAVANA – If you ever had a dial-up computer connection in the mid-1990s, you’ll know the trials and tribulations of connecting to the internet from home in Cuba. A screech, another screech, a dial tone, a few beeps. A few minutes later, you’re on line.
But spend time in Havana’s “internet parks”- a playground, a street corner or a public square with a government-provided modem – you might learn more patience than dial-up internet ever prepared you for. When it works, it goes something like this.
At the WiFi park near the Melia Cohiba hotel, an employee of ETECSA, the Cuban telecommunications agency, sitting in her little porta-cabin with a desk and chair, will sell you a prepaid WiFi card. The official cost is about $1.15 per hour in a country where the median monthly wage is about $25. But if she isn’t there and you don’t want to stand in line at a phone company store, a freelancer will sell you one for $2.30 or $3.45, depending on your bargaining skills.
Then, you activate the WiFi on your phone or laptop and wait for it to detect the ETECSA network. You meander through the park, waiting, as your Fitbit buzzes in joy at meeting the last step of your daily goal. When the signal is weak, you find yourself raising your phone, Lion King style, hoping it catches something.
You punch in the 12-digit username and 12-digit password and tap acceptar. A blinking wheel-icon starts to turn, as does your hamster brain, racing with everything on your to-do list of emails, follow ups, checking in with family. You may even indulge in the fantasy of a little social media time.
“No,” you tell yourself. “Focus.”
An error message pops up. “Unable to connect to ETECSA.” It has been 20 minutes since you bought the card.
A family of three-father, mother, and son have joined you in the little park now, with a tablet and a smartphone.
They go through the same motions. The little boy gives up, and starts playing with pebbles instead. Mom and dad, though, are trying to instill in him the values of not surrendering.
“Por favor,” you say, sticking your phone and limited Spanish into the ETECSA official’s cabin. She points nearby, to a place with better reception .
“Gracias,” you say.
As you leave the cabin window, a 17-year-old boy named Mauro joins the line. He tries to convince someone buy him an hour of wifi. He can’t buy one till he’s 18. “Please?” he says in English, pushing back long curls that fall into his eyes. He needs to get on his social media.
Mauro is holding a skateboard. His lithe frame radiates a sense of speed. Even when he’s standing still, in a queue, to get a WiFi card that may not even connect him to the slow WiFi signal.
Another 20 minutes later, there is no signal and you give up.
“It works, but somewhat, sometimes,” Mauro says. He shrugs, just like the lady inside the ETECSA cabin, and crosses the road to leave. ▪️
This piece was first published here.