Latest news with #CubanRevolution
NDTV
14-05-2025
- Politics
- NDTV
Jose Mujica: All About World's 'Poorest President' Who Died At 89
Former Uruguayan President Jose Mujica, often called the "world's poorest president" for his humble lifestyle, died at 89. The leftist icon, known for his humility and progressive politics, died after a battle with cancer. Uruguay's current President Yamandu Orsi confirmed Mujica's death on X, writing, "It is with profound sorrow that we announce the passing of our comrade Pepe Mujica. President, activist, leader and guide. We will miss you very much, dear old man. Thank you for everything you gave us and for your profound love for your people." Con profundo dolor comunicamos que falleció nuestro compañero Pepe Mujica. Presidente, militante, referente y conductor. Te vamos a extrañar mucho Viejo querido. Gracias por todo lo que nos diste y por tu profundo amor por tu pueblo. — Yamandú Orsi (@OrsiYamandu) May 13, 2025 Mujica had revealed in 2024 that he was diagnosed with oesophageal cancer, which later spread to his liver. He chose to stop treatment earlier this year and spent his final days on his farm, where he lived throughout his presidency. Guerrilla Fighter Turned President Mujica's journey from insurgent to president was nothing short of extraordinary. Inspired by the Cuban Revolution, he became a key figure in the Tupamaros, a leftist guerrilla group that launched an armed rebellion in the 1960s and 70s. During Uruguay's military dictatorship, he was captured and spent nearly 15 years in prison, much of it in solitary confinement. In a 2020 interview, Mujica described the brutal conditions he endured: "Being tied up with wire with my hands behind my back for six months... going two years without being taken to the bathroom." He was released after democracy was restored in 1985, and later co-founded the Movement of Popular Participation (MPP), under which he won seats in the legislature. He became Uruguay's president in 2010 after securing over 50% of the vote. A Humble Leader With Big Reforms During his 2010-2015 presidency, Mujica steered Uruguay through economic growth and pushed through some of Latin America's most progressive reforms. Under his leadership, Uruguay legalised abortion, same-sex marriage, and became the first country in the world to legalise recreational cannabis. But Mujica's popularity went far beyond politics. He became a global symbol of simplicity and integrity, famously refusing to live in the presidential palace and instead staying at his ramshackle farmhouse with his wife, growing vegetables and donating most of his salary to charity. He rejected the "world's poorest president" label, saying: "I'm not a poor president; poor is someone who needs a lot. I'm a sober president. I need little to live, because I live the way I lived long before I became president." Final Days In April 2024, Mujica disclosed his cancer diagnosis. By early 2025, the illness had advanced, and he told a local news outlet, Busqueda, "I'm doomed, brother. This is as far as I go." He declined further treatment and chose to spend his remaining days in peace.
Miami Herald
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Miami Herald
Superstar Gloria Estefan was asked if she would ever leave Miami. Here's her answer
She's not leaving. Gloria Estefan recently appeared on 'The Elvis Duran Show' and was asked whether she would ever abandon her adopted hometown. 'Miami is its own being, without doubt,' said Y100's Duran. 'You could go anywhere and you don't get the same feeling.' Estefan agreed. 'We have our own foreign policy,' she said, laughing. 'We're a country, not a city!' 'From there, staying there, roots there, businesses there, career there, family there,' Crespo said. 'Home there, friends anyone ever said, 'Hey have you thought about moving?' And you said what?' Estefan's emphatic answer? Heck no. 'I live in paradise!' said the Havana native, 67. 'Look, you know what? When my parents left Cuba [in 1959 during the Cuban Revolution] they thought they were going back and we became very deeply rooted in Miami. So leaving there now to me would be like them when they left Cuba.' The music legend admitted that over the years industry people have asked why she didn't relocate to Los Angeles, where the majority of celebrities live. 'They said move to L.A. Why? I can fly to L.A. and fly back home,' explained the 'Raices' singer. 'I've gone all over the world and whenever I would see the weather report... I'd be in Europe somewhere... it'd make me cry. I'd miss it so much. I love it. I'm a tropical girl.' Commenters on the radio station's Instagram page, which showed the clip, applauded the local superstar's loyalty. 'She's always lived in Miami and she's an icon here.' '#305' 'Gloria is the definition of Miami!'
Yahoo
13-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
José Mujica, Uruguay's modest leader who transformed the country, dies at 89
Uruguay's former President José Mujica, a leftist icon known for his progressive social reforms, died on Tuesday at the age of 89. 'It is with profound sorrow that we announce the passing of our comrade Pepe Mujica,' Uruguay's President Yamandú Orsi announced on X. 'President, activist, leader and guide. We will miss you very much, dear old man. Thank you for everything you gave us and for your profound love for your people,' said Orsi, who was close to the late leader. CNN has contacted the Uruguayan presidency for more information. The folksy, former guerrilla is remembered for his modest lifestyle during his presidential term – famously shunning the presidential palace to carry out his duties from his rural farm. He had been battling cancer for more than a year prior to his death, telling reporters in 2024 that he would fight on for as long as he could. 'I'll continue to fight alongside my comrades, faithful to my way of thinking, and entertaining myself with my vegetables and my chickens,' he said. 'For the rest, I am grateful, and after all, you can't take away what I've had.' 'Pepe' Mujica, as he is more widely known, burst into the national scene in the 1960s as a leader of the leftist militant group Tupamaros, which waged an armed insurgency against the government in the 60s and 70s after being inspired by the Cuban Revolution. The uprising was put down by government forces during Uruguay's military dictatorship, and Mujica was subsequently imprisoned for nearly 15 years, enduring many forms of torture. Mujica spoke of the horror of that period in 2020. 'Being tied up with wire with my hands behind my back for six months; being thrown out of the truck for two or three days; going two years without being taken to the bathroom, having to bathe with a jar, a cup of water, and a handkerchief,' he said. He was released from prison in 1985 after democracy was restored to the country. Four years later, he and other members of Tupamaros founded the Movement of Popular Participation (MPP), a party under which he won several legislative elections. In 2009, he launched his bid for president, winning in a runoff with more than 50% of the vote. Under his watch, between 2010 and 2015, Uruguay's economy expanded, and he implemented several progressive reforms. Uruguay legalized abortion, gay marriage, and allowed the recreational use of cannabis, becoming the first country in the world to do so. Mujica's supporters regarded him as one of the humblest leaders the country has ever had, pointing to his decision to forgo the presidential palace and live in a rural farmhouse during his term. In 2012, he gave CNN a tour of his farm, showing how he toiled the fields, planted fresh fruits and chrysanthemums, and drove around in an old Volkswagen Beetle. His modest life led many to refer to him as the 'world's poorest president,' a moniker he took issue with. 'I'm not a poor president; poor is someone who needs a lot,' he said in a 2014 interview with CNN. 'My definition is Seneca's. I'm a sober president; I need little to live, because I live the way I lived long before I became president. I still live the same way, in the same neighborhood, the same way, and I'm a republican president. I live the way most of my people live.' In April 2024, Mujica announced he had been diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in his esophagus. After months of treatment, his doctor said in August that the cancer in his esophagus appeared to be in remission, but that he had developed a 'kidney disease' due to radiation therapy to treat the tumor. In January, he said the cancer had spread to his liver, telling the Uruguayan media outlet Búsqueda that he was 'dying.' He chose to forgo additional treatment and asked to be left alone in the twilight of his life. 'I'm doomed, brother. This is as far as I go,' he said. Leaders across Latin America mourned the former president, saying the region had lost a beacon of hope and humility. Alberto Fernández, former president of neighboring Argentina, praised Mujica's modesty, calling him 'an example of austerity in a society that rewards those who amass fortunes.' Former Bolivian President Evo Morales, a fellow leftist leader who was in office roughly around the same time as Mujica, called him a 'brother' full of wisdom whose teachings would continue to live on. Chilean President Gabriel Boric echoed those sentiments, saying, 'If you left us anything, it was the unquenchable hope that things can be done better – 'step by step, so as not to go off the rails,' as you used to say.' CNN's Veronica Calderon contributed to this report.
Yahoo
27-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Opinion - A visit to Cuba reveals stasis, inequality and desperation
In the late 1990s, acclaimed Cuban mystery writer Leonardo Padura captured the poignant resignation of those who chose to stay on the island, enduring hardships following both the Cuban Revolution and the Soviet Union's collapse. Padura's main character, Mario Conde, is a hard-boiled police detective who disdains ideology (despite majoring in 'dialectical materialism' at university), observing in 'Havana Red' that the city 'still retains some of its magic, as if it had an invincible poetic spirit.' Described as a noirish 'tropical Marlowe,' Padura wrote about the 'Special Period,' Fidel Castro's name for the years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Russia had been a strong supporter of the regime, trading it underpriced oil for overpriced sugar. This gritty angst that Padura described only increased after Russia cut support. For Cubans here, times are difficult — sometimes desperate. The economy is a mess. 'Life here is very, very hard,' one hears over and over. 'La lucha,' the daily struggle for economic survival, obsesses average people. Consider those who are not young or entrepreneurial or who lack access to family capital from Miami. For them, Cuba's sputtering transition from command-socialism to a mixed-market economy invites a steady exodus. In 2022 alone, 250,000 Cubans (of 11.2 million residents) left the island. Among those ill-equipped for the change is Padura's police lieutenant, Conde. In the latest mystery, 'The Transparency of Time,' he is now retired from the force, wearily approaching 60 and trying to survive as a private investigator, 'in a country whose newly cosmopolitan worship of money has made him more of a skeptic than ever,' in 'a society so focused on regimenting ethical, political, and social behaviors.' Havana, the detective observes, 'functioned as a mirror of a country whose foundation was also cracking, conquered by the weight of time, apathy, and a history of exhaustion.' And yet, like most Cubans, he stays. Fuel shortages and power outages are producing regular local and nationwide blackouts, including one recently during my fourth visit to Cuba since 1978. Food at state-operated supermarkets can be scarce. Rationing barely helps. Island tourism — down 50 percent since 2017 — suffered from Covid's unmerciful battering. Oceanside hotels, some brand new, are largely vacant. Crumbling Old Havana buildings are neither preserved nor restored. Daytime tourists attract street peddlers, musicians and beggars, replaced at night with sex workers. Sections of the Contemporary Art Museum are roped off due to lack of staff. Havana's public transportation system barely exists. Many revolutionary-era billboards are fading. Class stratification and social inequality, both roughly along racial lines, have returned, despite the revolution's goals. Since 2018, Cuba has even been forced to import sugar, long its signature national crop. Some crime exists — muggings and burglaries — but rarely against foreign visitors. More troubling is widespread, low-level corruption. Less conspicuously, upper-level Communist Party cadres are quietly sacked for larger economic crimes. To be fair, some fundamental revolutionary promises are honored. Education from grade school through university and medical care are still free. Infant mortality is low compared to other Caribbean and developing-world countries. Since my last visit in 2011, many high-rise apartments now have window air conditioning units. Rent remains free, or nearly free. Counting urban squatters and shanty town dwellers, homelessness is virtually nonexistent. But as one Cuban observed, 'the misery is inside the rooms.' Yet a new candor also exists, thanks partly to social media, which has pierced the government's information bubble. Cubans everywhere acknowledge bleak times. They freely state their criticisms, requesting only anonymity. While acknowledging the U.S. embargo, which continues to constrict and damage, people from top to bottom frankly told me hard times require structural economic reform. The economy stays afloat — if barely — thanks to foreign remittances and an incrementally growing private sector, referred locally as the 'gray market,' so far concentrated in family-owned restaurants, boutique hotels and small shops. In travel-related services, some former government officials can exponentially multiply their income as tour guides. But the state still resists change. One well-travelled, former high-ranking diplomat compared the current economic leadership's tone-deaf response to the current crisis to Mad Magazine mascot Alfred E. Neuman: 'What, me worry?' So, with the Cuban people on the ropes, a question for U.S. policy makers: Why don't you pick on somebody your own size? For 65 years, successive American administrations have tried, to no avail, to overthrow Cuba's Communist regime — through invasion, assassination attempts, an embargo and draconian sanctions. Now facing a hostile Trump administration and Cuban American Secretary of State Marco Rubio, long hostile to the Havana regime, relations could further deteriorate. Emigration, the pressure-cooker release valve, and governmental repression diminish the likelihood of domestic political upheaval. The Cuban people, indomitable, will survive, but they should be the ones to decide their form of government. Successive U.S. administrations have supported and continue to liaise with far more repressive regimes. We even have cordial commercial and military relations with former enemy communist Vietnam, which now hosts what some have termed American sweat shops and where U.S. Navy ships often call. As if to exacerbate Cuban-American relations, the Trump administration has plans to settle 30,000 refugees at the Guantanamo U.S. Naval base, at a cost of $40 million. A current Washington rumor is that the Trump administration is about to cut off all U.S. travel to and from Cuba, including by Cuban Americans. Could my recent flight to the island be among the last? U.S. cash remittances, amounting to just under $4 billion in 2024, would be banned, further crippling the economy. Already, the Trump administration has tightened visa restrictions on Cuban athletes, medical personnel and their families. Still, change from within is possible. As another of mystery writer Padura's characters observes, 'This island's historical mission is always to be starting afresh, to make a new beginning every thirty or forty years.' Mark I. Pinsky is a Durham, N.C.-based journalist and author. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
27-04-2025
- Politics
- The Hill
A visit to Cuba reveals stasis, inequality and desperation
In the late 1990s, acclaimed Cuban mystery writer Leonardo Padura captured the poignant resignation of those who chose to stay on the island, enduring hardships following both the Cuban Revolution and the Soviet Union's collapse. Padura's main character, Mario Conde, is a hard-boiled police detective who disdains ideology (despite majoring in 'dialectical materialism' at university), observing in 'Havana Red' that the city 'still retains some of its magic, as if it had an invincible poetic spirit.' Described as a noirish 'tropical Marlowe,' Padura wrote about the 'Special Period,' Fidel Castro's name for the years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Russia had been a strong supporter of the regime, trading it underpriced oil for overpriced sugar. This gritty angst that Padura described only increased after Russia cut support. For Cubans here, times are difficult — sometimes desperate. The economy is a mess. 'Life here is very, very hard,' one hears over and over. 'La lu c ha,' the daily struggle for economic survival, obsesses average people. Consider those who are not young or entrepreneurial or who lack access to family capital from Miami. For them, Cuba's sputtering transition from command-socialism to a mixed-market economy invites a steady exodus. In 2022 alone, 250,000 Cubans (of 11.2 million residents) left the island. Among those ill-equipped for the change is Padura's police lieutenant, Conde. In the latest mystery, 'The Transparency of Time,' he is now retired from the force, wearily approaching 60 and trying to survive as a private investigator, 'in a country whose newly cosmopolitan worship of money has made him more of a skeptic than ever,' in 'a society so focused on regimenting ethical, political, and social behaviors.' Havana, the detective observes, 'functioned as a mirror of a country whose foundation was also cracking, conquered by the weight of time, apathy, and a history of exhaustion.' And yet, like most Cubans, he stays. Fuel shortages and power outages are producing regular local and nationwide blackouts, including one recently during my fourth visit to Cuba since 1978. Food at state-operated supermarkets can be scarce. Rationing barely helps. Island tourism — down 50 percent since 2017 — suffered from Covid's unmerciful battering. Oceanside hotels, some brand new, are largely vacant. Crumbling Old Havana buildings are neither preserved nor restored. Daytime tourists attract street peddlers, musicians and beggars, replaced at night with sex workers. Sections of the Contemporary Art Museum are roped off due to lack of staff. Havana's public transportation system barely exists. Many revolutionary-era billboards are fading. Class stratification and social inequality, both roughly along racial lines, have returned, despite the revolution's goals. Since 2018, Cuba has even been forced to import sugar, long its signature national crop. Some crime exists — muggings and burglaries — but rarely against foreign visitors. More troubling is widespread, low-level corruption. Less conspicuously, upper-level Communist Party cadres are quietly sacked for larger economic crimes. To be fair, some fundamental revolutionary promises are honored. Education from grade school through university and medical care are still free. Infant mortality is low compared to other Caribbean and developing-world countries. Since my last visit in 2011, many high-rise apartments now have window air conditioning units. Rent remains free, or nearly free. Counting urban squatters and shanty town dwellers, homelessness is virtually nonexistent. But as one Cuban observed, 'the misery is inside the rooms.' Yet a new candor also exists, thanks partly to social media, which has pierced the government's information bubble. Cubans everywhere acknowledge bleak times. They freely state their criticisms, requesting only anonymity. While acknowledging the U.S. embargo, which continues to constrict and damage, people from top to bottom frankly told me hard times require structural economic reform. The economy stays afloat — if barely — thanks to foreign remittances and an incrementally growing private sector, referred locally as the 'gray market,' so far concentrated in family-owned restaurants, boutique hotels and small shops. In travel-related services, some former government officials can exponentially multiply their income as tour guides. But the state still resists change. One well-travelled, former high-ranking diplomat compared the current economic leadership's tone-deaf response to the current crisis to Mad Magazine mascot Alfred E. Neuman: 'What, me worry?' So, with the Cuban people on the ropes, a question for U.S. policy makers: Why don't you pick on somebody your own size? For 65 years, successive American administrations have tried, to no avail, to overthrow Cuba's Communist regime — through invasion, assassination attempts, an embargo and draconian sanctions. Now facing a hostile Trump administration and Cuban American Secretary of State Marco Rubio, long hostile to the Havana regime, relations could further deteriorate. Emigration, the pressure-cooker release valve, and governmental repression diminish the likelihood of domestic political upheaval. The Cuban people, indomitable, will survive, but they should be the ones to decide their form of government. Successive U.S. administrations have supported and continue to liaise with far more repressive regimes. We even have cordial commercial and military relations with former enemy communist Vietnam, which now hosts what some have termed American sweat shops and where U.S. Navy ships often call. As if to exacerbate Cuban-American relations, the Trump administration has plans to settle 30,000 refugees at the Guantanamo U.S. Naval base, at a cost of $40 million. A current Washington rumor is that the Trump administration is about to cut off all U.S. travel to and from Cuba, including by Cuban Americans. Could my recent flight to the island be among the last? U.S. cash remittances, amounting to just under $4 billion in 2024, would be banned, further crippling the economy. Already, the Trump administration has tightened visa restrictions on Cuban athletes, medical personnel and their families. Still, change from within is possible. As another of mystery writer Padura's characters observes, 'This island's historical mission is always to be starting afresh, to make a new beginning every thirty or forty years.'
