Cuba suffered a widespread power cut on March 16, 2026, according to the national electricity company, against the backdrop of a serious crisis on the island caused by the American energy blockade.
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The White House cut off oil supplies to Cuba and threatened to “friendly takeover” of the communist-ruled island, against a backdrop of military operations in Venezuela and Iran.
US President Donald Trump suggests he owns this country next targetsaying: “Whether I release it or take it, I think I can do whatever I want with it. It’s a very weakened nation right now.” THE oil shortage puts the Cuban economy on the brink of collapse. But I found myself thinking back to the time, not long ago, when it briefly looked like the two nations would normalize relations after decades of hostility.
I first landed in Havana in March 2012 to cover the visit of Pope Benedict XVI. The airport was small. I had to explain several times to immigration officials that we were there as journalists, that we had permission and that everything had been cleared in advance. I was grateful that my team spoke Spanish to help me with the process.
Parts of the city seemed strangely familiar from the images I’d seen of faded pastel buildings and old American cars that still ran on patched parts.
Cuba and the United States had been geopolitical enemies for over 50 years. Cuba became communist when the 1959 revolution brought Fidel Castro to power and the island nation, located just 90 miles from Florida, strengthened its ties with the Soviet Union. The Cuban government has seized U.S. property and U.S. businesses in response to a growing U.S. embargo. In response, President John F. Kennedy formalized a comprehensive embargo in 1962. Supplies of food, fuel, and consumer goods quickly became scarce.
But as I stood there, I felt that something was starting to move.
CNBC’s Justin Solomon, in production in Cuba, with correspondent Michelle Caruso-Cabrera
CNBC
Between 2012 and 2016, I made 10 production field trips for CNBC with international correspondent Michelle Caruso-Cabrera. Almost every visit seemed to correspond to something important – moments that seemed like they could mark a turning point. But in the end, this momentum suddenly seemed uncertain.
During my first visit, Havana was trying to appear ready to welcome a pope. Fresh paint covered parts of the Malecón, still drying in places along the route the pope was expected to travel. In a country shaped for decades by communism, his presence felt like more than a religious event. It seemed like a signal, subtle but unmistakable, that Cuba might open up.
After that, things started moving quickly.
Less than a year later, the government invited a small group of journalists, including us, to see what it called “reforms” up close. We spoke with the central bank governor and with small business owners who were trying to adapt to a system that was changing, but not all at once.
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We strayed from the official route and headed to Hershey, Cuba, a town built by Milton Hershey to obtain sugar for his chocolate company in the early 20th century. It was one of many reminders of Cuba’s American past before its revolution. A former Coca-Cola factory has been converted by the State. A Western Union building housed the country’s telecommunications company. A Woolworth’s store had become a local discount store.
In July 2015, President Barack Obama announced the restoration of diplomatic relations. We quickly left New York for Miami, then took a charter flight to Havana. On the ground, there was real excitement. But it wasn’t unsupervised. People were hopeful, but cautious.
A month later, the American embassy reopened for the first time in more than 50 years. I watched the flag go up from the balcony of a crumbling building across the street. For young Cubans in particular, this seemed like a turning point: more opportunities, more access, more choices seemed within their reach.
Obama’s visit the following March only added to this feeling. Travel restrictions for Americans were eased and limited commerce began to restart. The embargo was still in effect as written into U.S. law, but it was eased slightly.
U.S. President Barack Obama (L) and Cuban President Raul Castro meet at the Palace of the Revolution in Havana on March 21, 2016. U.S. President Barack Obama and his Cuban counterpart Raul Castro met at the Palace of the Revolution in Havana on Monday for unprecedented talks aimed at ending the impasse between the two neighbors. PHOTO AFP/ NICHOLAS KAMM / AFP / NICHOLAS KAMM (Photo credit should read NICHOLAS KAMM/AFP via Getty Images)
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That week saw a Rolling Stones concert and a Major League Baseball game, the first on the island in years.
Even then, there was restraint. Cubans have learned not to get ahead of themselves. For many, optimism came with the memory of how quickly it could fade. After all, not everyone thought the United States should reopen relations with that country. Many argued that normalizing ties would reward the communist government without imposing significant reforms.
However, things were changing. In 2016, Carnival Cruise Line, under its Fathom brand, docked in Havana, the first American cruise ship to visit the island since 1978. In November, JetBlue had direct flights from New York. For a while, it felt like the barriers were falling in real time.
Reporting has never been easy. Permits could fail without warning. Telephones rarely worked. Wi-Fi was hard to find. Restaurants handed out long menus, but when you asked, you were often told that the only thing available was rice and beans. I passed buildings with elegant facades, only to enter to find them hollowed out, in ruins, little more than dust and debris.
And yet, with each trip, one could see small signs that the transformation was continuing. Family restaurants started opening in people’s homes. Airbnb listings started to spread. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was there.
My last trip was in November 2016, just after the death of Fidel Castro, 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 huge moment.
This time Havana was calm.
Thousands of Cubans filled 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, former Prime Minister and President of Cuba, died late on the night of November 25, 2016, at the age of 90. (Photo by Artur Widak/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
Nuphoto | Nuphoto | Getty Images
The music stopped. The alcohol is gone. The city entered a period of official mourning. People lined up to sign condolence books.
From the outside, it looked like a clear ending. In Cuba, it didn’t seem so simple.
Standing there, it was hard not to feel the energy of previous years evaporating. The same questions kept coming up. What is happening now? What happens to the reforms? About the relationship with the United States?
When I left for the last time, I felt like I had witnessed something rare, a brief period when history seemed to accelerate, where long-held patterns relaxed, if only slightly, and where the future seemed, for a moment, open.
In the years since, much of this momentum has slowed, and in some cases reversed. The United States withdrew embassy staff, new travel limits were imposed in November 2017, and the flow of American visitors reduced. The openness that once seemed within reach has given way to more familiar tensions, erupting as if the changes I saw never happened.
The story doesn’t always come with a clear beginning or end. In Cuba, she tends to withdraw into herself.
The sequence of events between these two neighbors is not yet written.
