Cuba had welcomed them, trained them, shared everything. Now it was time to give back.
En los últimos días de mayo de 2026, casi doscientas personas se reunieron frente a la embajada cubana en Harare para afirmar, con presencia y voz, que la solidaridad entre pueblos no se extingue bajo la presión de las sanciones. Zimbabuenses formados en universidades cubanas, funcionarios de gobierno y residentes cubanos en África austral se unieron en un acto que no era solo protesta, sino memoria y gratitud recíproca. En un año marcado por el centenario del nacimiento de Fidel Castro y por la escalada de tensiones entre Washington y La Habana, el evento llamado "Sí por Cuba" recordó que las relaciones construidas sobre décadas de cooperación médica y educativa generan vínculos que las presiones geopolíticas no borran fácilmente.
- El endurecimiento del bloqueo económico estadounidense y la amenaza de intervención militar han colocado a Cuba en uno de sus momentos de mayor presión externa en años recientes.
- La convocatoria en Harare reunió a médicos, ingenieros y maestros zimbabuenses formados en Cuba, convirtiendo la sala de la embajada en un espejo de cuatro décadas de cooperación concreta.
- Discursos, una monologue teatral sobre el impacto cotidiano del bloqueo y el canto colectivo de Guajira Guantanamera transformaron el acto en una afirmación cultural tan política como emocional.
- La embajadora cubana Susellys Pérez recibió las firmas de apoyo con visible emoción, mientras detallaba las órdenes ejecutivas de Washington y la determinación de La Habana de resistirlas.
- El acto forma parte de una campaña global coordinada que busca demostrar que el aislamiento de Cuba en el Sur Global es menos sólido de lo que Washington proyecta.
El último día de mayo, casi doscientas personas se congregaron ante la embajada cubana en Harare para un acto deliberado de presencia: decir, en voz alta y con firma, que Zimbabwe está con Cuba. Entre los asistentes había zimbabuenses que habían cruzado el Atlántico para estudiar medicina, ingeniería o pedagogía en la isla y habían regresado como profesionales. También estaban funcionarios gubernamentales, representantes universitarios, miembros de organizaciones juveniles y cubanos que llevan años viviendo en Zimbabwe. El evento, llamado "Sí por Cuba", nació como respuesta a lo que sus organizadores describieron como una amenaza en escalada: el bloqueo económico estadounidense y la posibilidad de una intervención militar.
El programa combinó discursos con actuaciones culturales que le dieron al acto una textura más íntima que la de un mitin convencional. Un actor llamado Cadric ofreció un monólogo sobre cómo el bloqueo penetra en la vida diaria —la salud, la alimentación, la energía— mientras que una joven llamada Michelle condujo al público en el canto de Guajira Guantanamera. La embajadora Susellys Pérez recibió las firmas recopiladas durante la jornada y habló con emoción visible sobre las presiones que enfrenta la isla, sin ocultar la determinación cubana de resistirlas.
La reciprocidad fue el hilo conductor de los discursos. Ernest Nyatanga, secretario general de la Asociación de Amistad Cuba-Zimbabwe, planteó el momento como una oportunidad de saldar una deuda: Cuba había formado a miles de profesionales africanos durante décadas, sin calcular el retorno. Lazarus Dokora, exministro de Educación y él mismo graduado en Cuba, habló de la vocación humanista de la isla. María Eugenia García, jefa de la brigada médica cubana en Zimbabwe, recordó que los médicos cubanos llevan cuarenta años con presencia ininterrumpida en el país —no un gesto simbólico, sino un compromiso sostenido a través de crisis y cambios de gobierno.
El acto se inscribió además en el año del centenario del nacimiento de Fidel Castro, lo que añadió una dimensión histórica a la jornada. Las firmas recogidas en Harare forman parte de una campaña global coordinada que busca mostrar que Cuba mantiene relaciones genuinas en el Sur Global. Si esa solidaridad se traducirá en apoyo diplomático tangible frente a Washington es una pregunta abierta. Pero durante una tarde en la capital zimbabuense, la respuesta al título del evento fue unánime.
On the last day of May, nearly two hundred people gathered at Cuba's embassy in Harare to say something simple and deliberate: we stand with you. The crowd included Zimbabweans who had studied in Cuba and returned home as doctors, engineers, teachers—professionals shaped by the island's universities and medical schools. They came alongside government officials, university representatives, members of youth organizations, and Cuban residents who had made Zimbabwe their home. The event, called "Yes for Cuba," was framed as a response to what organizers saw as an escalating threat: the decades-old American economic blockade tightening around the island, and the possibility of military intervention from Washington.
The gathering moved through speeches and cultural performances, each one a small assertion of presence and solidarity. An actor named Cadric delivered what witnesses described as a vibrant monologue about the blockade's reach into daily life—how it touched health, education, food, energy. A young woman named Michelle led the crowd in singing Guajira Guantanamera, the song so associated with Cuba that it has become almost a synonym for the country itself. These were not abstract gestures. They were people choosing to be counted.
Cuba's ambassador to Zimbabwe, Susellys Pérez, received the signatures and statements of support that had been gathered throughout the day. She spoke with visible emotion about what the solidarity meant, then detailed the pressures facing the island: the executive orders from Washington, the energy blockade, the decision to defend the nation at any cost. Her words acknowledged both the difficulty of Cuba's position and the determination to maintain it.
The reciprocal nature of the relationship surfaced repeatedly in the speeches. Ernest Nyatanga, general secretary of Zimbabwe's Cuba Friendship Association, framed the moment as a chance to repay a debt. Cuba had welcomed Zimbabwean students, trained them as professionals, shared resources without calculation. Now, he suggested, it was time to give something back. Lazarus Dokora, a former education minister who had himself studied in Cuba, spoke about the island's humanistic vocation—its willingness to educate thousands of African students across decades, asking little in return.
María Eugenia García, who heads Cuba's medical brigade in Zimbabwe, reminded the gathering that Cuban doctors had maintained a continuous presence in the country for forty years. That was not a temporary gesture or a publicity campaign. It was a commitment sustained through multiple administrations, multiple crises, multiple shifts in global politics. The medical brigade represented something concrete: lives saved, skills transferred, a relationship built on practice rather than rhetoric.
Maria Mhere, a Cuban resident in Zimbabwe, spoke of her own country's gratitude and reaffirmed the willingness to defend it. The event took place in 2026, a year marking the centennial of Fidel Castro's birth, and that historical marker seemed to give the gathering additional weight—a moment to reflect on what the revolution had built and what it was now being asked to protect.
The signatures collected that day were part of a larger global campaign, a coordinated effort to demonstrate that Cuba's isolation was not as complete as Washington might hope. Zimbabwe's participation, the presence of government officials and educators, suggested that the island retained diplomatic reach and genuine relationships in the Global South. Whether such displays of solidarity would translate into material support or diplomatic protection remained an open question. But for one afternoon in Harare, the answer to the question posed by the event's title was clear and unanimous.
Notable Quotes
Cuba had welcomed Zimbabwean students, trained them as professionals, and shared resources without calculation—now it was time to repay that debt.— Ernest Nyatanga, general secretary of Zimbabwe's Cuba Friendship Association
Cuban doctors had maintained a continuous presence in Zimbabwe for forty years as an expression of solidarity.— Dr. María Eugenia García, head of Cuba's medical brigade in Zimbabwe
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did Zimbabwe choose this moment to organize a public solidarity event? Was there a specific trigger?
The timing matters. The U.S. was escalating pressure—new executive orders, tightening the blockade, and there were real fears about potential military intervention. Zimbabwe's government and civil society decided that silence would be complicity. They wanted to be on record.
But Zimbabwe has its own problems. Why spend political capital on Cuba?
Because many Zimbabweans saw Cuba as having spent capital on them first. Nearly two hundred people at that embassy had studied in Cuba. Thousands more had been trained by Cuban doctors and teachers. This wasn't abstract solidarity—it was reciprocal. You don't forget who educated your children.
The event included government officials, not just activists. That's significant, isn't it?
Very. When a former education minister shows up and speaks, when current government representatives attend, it signals state-level support, not just grassroots sympathy. It raises the diplomatic stakes.
What about the cultural performances—the singing, the monologue? Why were those important?
Because solidarity needs to be felt, not just stated. A monologue about how the blockade touches daily life makes it real. A song everyone knows creates collective emotion. These performances made the abstract concrete.
The ambassador spoke about defending the nation "at any cost." That's strong language. Did people understand what that might mean?
Yes. In 2026, with military threats on the table, "at any cost" wasn't metaphorical. People understood they were endorsing a position that could lead to conflict. That's why their presence mattered—they were choosing a side knowing the stakes.
What does this event tell us about Cuba's global position?
That isolation is incomplete. Cuba still has genuine relationships, not just transactional ones. Zimbabwe's response suggests the island retains soft power in the Global South—the power that comes from having actually helped people, not just talked about it.