My first trip to Cuba happened unexpectedly. I was in Mexico working on a photo project when a friend from San Francisco, who is a great travel companion, asked me if I would go to Cuba with him. In less than a few hours, we purchased our tickets.

That was back in 2015, when a large number of US citizens weren’t permitted to travel directly to Cuba. Today, restrictions still exist, but “journalistic activity” is one of 12 valid reasons for Americans to travel to the island.

We flew in a modern aircraft, but when we landed, it felt like we had taken a time machine back to the past. Vintage American and Russian cars filled the streets of Havana. There was little internet access. People played dominoes on milk crates and old international news headlines spread by word of mouth. A few times, I felt like a fortune teller after using my satellite phone because I knew what was happening a few days ahead of everyone else.

For $25 a night, we rented a huge house that used to be a bank. For us, that was cheap, but it’s what a Cuban doctor earned in a month. Water pressure was weak, making it hard to take a shower. Shampoo, like many other household items, was a luxury.

Because of this scarcity, Cubans took good care of what they had. If something broke or got lost, they knew it would take months for it to be repaired or replaced. They learned to take good care of their lives and their communities, too.

As a result, the people we met seemed truly happy. Despite having so little, they had so much. This layered culture intrigued me, so I returned four more times to document the life of contemporary Cubans, which you can see a glimpse of in this book.

Moe Zoyari
Photographer and author