Libre

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By Kenn Taylor:

Those 1950s American cars are a key symbol of Cuba under Communism, giving a bit of old glamour to all those Lonely Planet images and travel documentaries. They’re real enough, seen all over Havana. Many however are like ‘Trigger’s Broom’ - having had so many parts replaced they’re more new than old. There’s no denying though that they’re still cool. In Cuba, they are a key part of that desire for ‘difference’ that attracts people to a place. And their owners are only too keen to earn some extra cash taking visitors for a ride along the sea drive, the Malecon, under the sun and close to the spray of waves.

Less well photographed though are the Ladas. The reason the old American cars are still there of course, has largely been the lack of something to replace them, due to the ongoing economic blockade. Though now they’re so famous they are likely to always remain, as visitors will always want something of the past that meets their expectations. The Ladas from Mother Russia though, were the main replacement car for all those decades after the Revolution. They were popular locally for their ruggedness and relative modernity, though of course the Ladas themselves are now also ancient. While less well known as a symbol of Cuba, Ladas are a big part of the modest traffic that runs around Havana, in particular being used heavily as taxis.

I had little naivety about Cuba’s ‘alternative’ system. While there’s a general lack of the hunger and homelessness that marks much of the UK, in turn you are faced with a Government which tolerates no alternative political parties or dissent and heavily restricts its citizens. While basic needs are generally met, the standard of living is also low. Those old cars may have a certain romance and now a tourist income for their owners, but having to constantly repair a forty year old refrigerator has less allure.

The famous free education in Cuba also doesn’t always translate into liberation. In my final Lada taxi to the airport I spoke at length with the driver. He had a master’s degree in IT but saw little point in using it in Cuba when he could make more money by driving. As well as have more freedom, not having to work for the state. He talked about how he felt his education was wasted and how, like many, he wanted to leave. In turn he asked me about IT work in the UK. I said as far as I knew, it was well paid, but highly competitive. And that a lot of IT jobs were now being ‘offshored’ to other countries where labour was cheaper. He was aware also that we had to pay for university and asked how much it would cost to study for an IT masters. It took me a bit of time to work out the maths and then convert it into to Cuban currency. He was aghast at the expense. “Yes, it’s a real problem,” I said. “Especially if you’re from a poor background.” 

We were pretty quiet after that as we did the final leg towards the airport, pondering the madness of our two systems. Neither of which anyone really believes in anymore, both slowly falling apart. 

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Kenn Taylor is a writer and arts producer. He was born in Birkenhead and has lived and worked in Liverpool, London, Bradford, Hull and Leeds. His work has appeared in a range of outlets from The Guardian and CityMetric to The Crazy Oik and Liverpool University Press. www.kenn-taylor.com 

Five Questions for... Yuri Segalerba

By Sara Bellini:

These photos are taken by the series La Ciudad Nuclear by Yuri Segalerba. The Nuclear City is a semi-abandoned and never completed Cuban town built in the 1980s to house the families of the workers that were supposed to work in the new power plant. The Russians started constructions in Cuba following a bilateral agreement, but after the collapse of the USSR, they abandoned the project and its inhabitants.

Yuri Segalerba is an Italian photographer based in Berlin and Athens and published among others on Vice and art - das Kunstmagazin. His photography inhabits the liminal space between architecture and sociology and has a focus on abandoned places, geometric shapes and the personal and collective stories behind a place. At the moment he’s working on an ongoing project about Russian suburbs and a social reportage in Egypt. 

What does home mean to you?

I have been asking myself for a long time and I think home is the place where I have a family (a biological family or a chosen one) waiting for me. I realised this after years living in Berlin, when I finally found myself living with friends that I consider family and I started saying “I’m going home” not only when I was going to Genoa but also when I was coming back to Berlin.

Which place do you have a special connection to?

I’ll answer without even thinking about it: Havana, Buenos Aires and Russia in general. (You’ll also want to know why I assume…) Havana and Buenos Aires are connected to my work as a photographer, because they’re two extremely cinematographic cities. Each corner is a photo and when I go to these cities I always come back with hard discs full of material - more or less good, but always very inspiring.

Buenos Aires feels like a home away from home. I usually arrive there at the end of long periods of being in South America and getting there means breathing European air again, to me it’s the link between Europe and South America. Let’s not forget that a lot of the people there have Italian ancestry, and I often meet third-generation immigrants from my city, Genoa, so I connect Buenos Aires with the feeling of home in South America.

With Russia I don’t know, it’s a more visceral feeling. Maybe I’ve developed this interest because of my name, which I didn’t fully understand as a kid (I don’t have Russian origins, my parents are not communists and they don’t particularly love Space, so it was a random choice). Russia is an incredibly vast and unknown country, very closed-off, with a consistent language and geographical barrier. I think I’m attracted to its inaccessible and unexplored sides, the nationalism of its inhabitants, this complex culture isolated from external influences, their cinema, their architecture...

What is beyond your front door?

Oh god, that’s such a difficult question! When you say “beyond”, am I inside or outside? Is it a physical or a meta-physical door? If it’s a physical one, which one is my door to me? Because I’m not so sure about it...

What place would you most like to visit?

All of them! I usually feel a sudden urge to go to a specific place and I just go. Lately I’ve been feeling that it's time to go back to southern Africa for example… And then there are places like Havana and Buenos Aires where since the first visit, when I was leaving them I was already thinking “I’m definitely coming back”. Every time I went back, I found myself thinking the same thing. And then Siberia...

What are you reading / watching / listening to / looking at right now?

Reading: Chernobyl Prayer, written by the Belarusian Nobel Laureate Sviatlana Alieksijevič who met and interviewed the people that were living in Chernobyl at the time of the catastrophe in 1986.

Watching: A lot of movies, especially Russian movies, I really like Andrey Zvyagintsev, but lately I've started paying attention to Iranian cinema, it’s a window on a world that fascinates me and that I don’t know at all.

Listening: A bit of everything… Maybe it’s better if I don’t answer this, I’m a bit ashamed of myself!

Looking: Right now I’m in Genoa, so I’m taking this as an opportunity to look at the sea from my window, before coming back to the Spree.

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