A school trip to the sea-bound city of Havana, Cuba, offers a glimpse into what rising ocean levels means for coastal communities.
Havana, Cuba. Walking through the streets, we could smell the hearty fragrance of fried tostones and hear the bouncing, rhythmic sound of the clave, the wooden percussion instrument that is the heart of Cuban music. I was there with my school’s jazz band, and as we explored, we saw cars with flamboyant hues of azure sky, soft lavender, and vibrant ruby lining the broad boulevards. These cars weren’t just any old cars; they were rounded, Doc Hudson-looking cars — classy. We stood around admiring the cars until the sun’s warmth scalded our skin; we could almost see the radiating waves of heat and feel the sweat running down our backs.
Winding our way through the city, mingling with the soul-warming sounds of street musicians we heard the jewel of Cuba: the ocean. Waves beat along the seawall, crashing. The ocean’s rhythmic symphony drew us in as if we were in a trance. When it came into view, we saw the clear, royal blue water and the golden sunset slowly welding together into one. However, while charming, the waves have a dark truth behind them: The city is dangerously near the water.
Over the course of my trip to Havana, I noticed that even in calm weather, the waves could easily crash against and come over the seawall. As we traveled along these stone structures, I thought of what it means for a city to be so close to the ocean that the waves coming up and over the seawalls were an everyday occurrence. Mundane even. However, this hasn’t always been the case. I learned later that over time, many areas that were once dry are now completely covered by the ocean. According to NASA, sea level rise can be attributed to human-caused global warming which leads to melting glaciers/ice sheets, and seawater expansion. With the sea-level rise in Cuba projected to be more than an additional two feet by 2100, what feels mundane is quite startling. According to the United Nations Development Program, ocean rise projections show that “if no intervention is made by 2100, up to 21 [Cuban] coastal communities will disappear with a further 98 being severely affected by climate-related threats (flooding, coastal erosion, and saline intrusion).”
“If no intervention is made by 2100, up to 21 coastal communities will disappear with a further 98 being severely affected by climate-related threats.”
Statement from the United National Development Program
In response, Cuba has taken strides to mitigate sea level rise and climate change by establishing a National Commission on Climate Change and creating a National Strategy and National Action Plan to combat desertification and drought. In addition, in 2021, the Cuban government approved the Green Climate Fund’s Mi Costa project, which aims to revive mangroves, swamp forests, and grass swamps to improve the vitality of coral reefs and seagrass beds. It also aims to teach local coastal governments and communities about the benefits of ecosystem-based adaptation, which would lead to more eco-friendly territory management.
This gives me some hope, not only for Cuba but for larger countries like the U.S., that if a smaller country can make efforts against sea-level rise, then how much more can we do here, not only for ourselves but for others in the battle against climate change as a whole? As filmmaker and biologist David Attenborough says, “If working apart we are a force powerful enough to destabilize our planet, surely working together we are powerful enough to save it.” The roads ahead of us are mitigating human interference and adapting our lives to a changing climate. Like the unbroken sea line, extending past our limited view, the strides we could make on both fronts are endless.
Read another dispatch from a student trip to the Himalayas.
