HAVANA — Cuba’s decades-old government ration book system, the bedrock of the socialist state’s commitment to universal subsidized food, has collapsed in all but name, leaving millions of Cubans unable to obtain even the most basic goods from state-run stores and reliant on private markets where a carton of eggs costs nearly half a month’s typical salary.
In interviews with The Associated Press in late April, bodega workers and residents across Havana described state-run stores that are effectively empty, with only rice, sugar and split chickpeas available at what were once fully stocked distribution points serving thousands of families each. The ration book, known as “la libreta,” was established by revolutionary leader Fidel Castro in the early 1960s and for decades provided a reliable monthly supply of subsidized goods ranging from milk and fish to bread and cigarettes. Today, Cubans say, it provides almost nothing.
“No Cuban can truly survive on the products from the ration book anymore,” said José Luis Amate López, who works at a bodega in central Havana. He recalled that decades ago the store was so full of goods “you could barely walk.” In April 2026, the shelves were nearly bare. Two industrial freezers that once held meat and chicken now serve only to keep his water bottle cold. Of the nearly two dozen products once listed on posters still hanging in the store — yogurt, pasta, bars of soap — none were available.
Amate López said he went nearly two weeks without a single customer, not counting the scrawny brown kitten that wanders the shop. The bodega is assigned to serve roughly 5,000 clients.
The current collapse surpasses even the deprivation of the “Special Period” of the 1990s, when the loss of Soviet aid sent Cuba into an economic crisis and Cubans lost an average of 5% to 25% of their body weight, according to one medical journal study. Many Cubans who lived through that era say conditions are worse now.
Ana Enamorado, 68, said her assigned bodega provided only split chickpeas and one kilogram of sugar in April. Her combined salary and pension total roughly 8,000 Cuban pesos a month, the equivalent of about $16. A carton of 30 eggs at a private “mipyme” store costs 3,000 pesos ($6), she said; two pounds of meat hash cost 900 pesos ($2); a pound of cornmeal costs 200 pesos. Her meals are now a rotation of rice, ground meat and cornmeal — or sometimes nothing.
“We’re practically living off air,” Enamorado said. She recalled once being able to eat pork, lamb, fricassee, fried plantains and red beans with rice. “Now we have to cut back, have one meal a day and live on memories.”
Cuba imports as much as 80% of the food it consumes, including the goods distributed through state stores, and the government no longer has the resources to purchase them, according to William LeoGrande, a professor at American University who has tracked Cuba’s economy for years. “They just don’t have the money to do it anymore,” LeoGrande said. “Things come in an ad hoc way.”
LeoGrande said the government’s 2021 decision to merge Cuba’s two currencies was bungled and that the resulting inflation has persisted because the state spends far more than it takes in. A durable solution, he said, would require the government to stop printing money and balance its budget without making major cuts to social services — a difficult proposition given that the bulk of state spending goes to health, education, social welfare and food imports. “Any major cuts in state spending are going to have a profound social impact, which is why they haven’t done it,” LeoGrande said.
The government has discussed shifting its subsidy model from supporting goods to supporting people in need, LeoGrande said, which could free up money for fuel, medicine and other imports. But those discussions have not yet produced a working alternative, and Cubans remain dependent on ration books even as the books deliver less. The crisis is compounded by severe power outages, petroleum shortages and the effects of the U.S. trade embargo.
For Cubans without relatives sending money from abroad, the situation is especially dire. Lázaro Cuesta, 56, who works in food preparation and earns 6,000 Cuban pesos ($12) a month, said he and his wife, a retired nurse receiving 4,800 pesos ($10) in pension, survive on the $200 a month sent by her brother and daughter who live abroad. The remittances allow them to buy avocados, eggs and red beans and rice. “If not for the remittances,” Cuesta said, gesturing at his neck, “hang yourself.” An estimated 60% of Cubans on the island receive remittances.
Rosa Rodríguez, 54, is not among them. She earns 4,000 Cuban pesos ($8) a month, which she said is not a bad salary for Cuba, but “no matter how hard you work, it’s simply not enough.” The only product she obtained at her assigned bodega in April was a donation of four pounds of rice. “If you buy beans, then you can’t buy sugar,” she said. Most of her salary goes to a carton of eggs. “If I retire, I die.”
The bread ration, once a daily staple, has been cut from 80 grams per person at a cost of five Cuban cents to 40 grams at a cost of 75 cents, Cuesta said. “And the quality is worse.”
Cuban comedians have taken to mocking the ration book’s decline, creating a character named “Pánfilo” who sings in a video posted online: “Place the notebook in a cemetery, because it’s ready to be buried.”