In the mid-1800s, a young man from Taishan, Guangdong, stood on the deck of a ship bound for Havana, Cuba. He wasn’t alone—thousands of others from his hometown had made the same journey, carrying little more than hope and a fierce determination to survive. Back home, poverty and social unrest had left few options. For the Chinese in Cuba, this voyage was not just a search for opportunity but a fight for survival.

Decades later, his letters back to Wuyi painted a vivid picture of his life as part of the Chinese in Cuba: the hardships he endured, the resilience he discovered, and the deep ties he maintained with his ancestral roots. These letters, now part of a fading legacy, tell a story that’s both personal and universal—a testament to how far people will go for survival and how deeply they hold onto their heritage, even in distant lands.

The Journey: From Taishan Villages to Cuban Shores

Imagine leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. That’s exactly what thousands of young men from Taishan did in the mid-19th century. Recruiters like Li Tianpei and Wei Laoying traveled through villages, spinning tales of opportunity in far-off lands like Cuba. What they didn’t mention were the harsh realities awaiting these migrants: brutal labor contracts, racial discrimination, and a life that felt like exile.

The journey itself was grueling. Many boarded overcrowded ships in Hong Kong or Macau, packed into conditions so cramped that disease and malnutrition claimed countless lives. Mortality rates on these voyages reached 15%, comparable to those of indentured laborers sent to Peru and other parts of Latin America. “We were treated like cargo, not people,” one migrant later wrote. “The sea was endless, and so was our suffering.” Yet, amidst the despair, there was hope. These ships carried not just laborers but dreams—dreams of earning enough to send money home and one day return to their families.

When they arrived in Havana, reality often fell short of expectations. Many of the Chinese in Cuba were sent straight to sugar plantations or guano mines, where they worked under the scorching sun for meager wages. Contracts promising fair treatment were frequently ignored. But even in these dire circumstances, the Taishanese found ways to adapt. They formed tight-knit communities within labor camps, sharing food, stories, and survival strategies. Language barriers made life harder—few spoke Spanish—but they clung fiercely to their Cantonese dialects as a lifeline to their identity.

This journey was more than just physical displacement; it was an emotional rupture from everything familiar. Yet, amidst the hardship, resilience emerged. As one migrant wrote, “We left Taishan seeking better lives; though we found hardship instead, we also found strength within ourselves.”

Building Community: The Rise of Havana’s Chinatown

By the late 19th century, Havana’s Chinatown had become a vibrant hub of activity, a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of the Chinese in Cuba. At its peak, it was the largest Chinatown in Latin America, home to thousands of immigrants who transformed their struggles into opportunities.

Economic contributions were key to this transformation. After completing their labor contracts, many of the Chinese in Cuba moved to urban centers like Havana, where they opened small businesses—laundries, grocery stores, and restaurants—that became gathering places for the community. One standout figure was Ng Yuen Chan, who built a successful tobacco and rubber company that employed both Chinese and Cuban workers. His story illustrates how migrants leveraged their skills to carve out a place for themselves in their adopted homeland.

Mutual aid societies, known as huiguan (会馆), played a crucial role in fostering solidarity. Organizations like the Lung Kong Association (龙冈公所) provided financial assistance, legal support, and social connections for new arrivals. They also served as cultural centers, hosting Lunar New Year celebrations with lion dances, fireworks, and communal feasts. These events not only preserved Chinese customs but introduced them to Cuban neighbors, creating a unique cultural fusion.

Chinatown buzzed with life. Shops sold everything from herbal medicines to imported teas, while restaurants blended Cantonese flavors with local ingredients, giving rise to hybrid cuisines like chop suey and arroz frito (Cuban-style fried rice). Beyond commerce, deeper bonds were forged through shared experiences. Migrants supported one another through hardships, pooling resources for medical expenses or helping newcomers find housing. This sense of kinship became a cornerstone of their resilience.

As Havana’s Chinatown flourished, it earned the nickname “Barrio Chino,” a legacy built by the Chinese in Cuba who dared to dream anew far from home.

The Decline of Havana’s Chinatown: A Perfect Storm of Politics and Change

Havana’s once-thriving Chinatown dwindled to a shadow of its former self by the late 20th century. This decline was not caused by a single factor but by a confluence of political upheavals, economic policies, and demographic shifts that reshaped Cuba—and the lives of the Chinese in Cuba—irrevocably.

The Cuban Revolution delivered the first major blow. Fidel Castro’s socialist reforms:

While some Chinese in Cuba, like General Moisés Sío Wong, supported the revolution, many middle-class merchants fled to the U.S. or Panama, taking capital and community leadership with them. This exodus marked the beginning of Havana’s Chinatown’s decline.

Demographic Collapse: Aging and Assimilation

By the 1980s, most original migrants had died without replacement. Younger generations assimilated into Cuban identity, with over 90% of Chinese in Cuba now having mixed ancestry. Intermarriage diluted linguistic and cultural retention, leading elders to lament: “Our children speak Spanish better than Taishanese!”

Economic Crises: Special Period Hardships

The 1990s “Special Period” after Soviet aid collapsed hit Chinatown brutally:

Ironically, China’s post-2000 investments in Cuba revived some interest in Chinese culture—but as a commodified “exotic” attraction rather than organic community life.

A Legacy Worth Remembering

Today, Havana’s Chinatown stands as a paradox: a sanitized tourist zone adorned with pagoda arches, yet home to fewer than 100 elderly Taishanese. Despite this, resilience lingers among the Chinese in Cuba. Young artists reinterpret lion dance with Afro-Cuban drums, proving that survival thrives through hybridity.

For descendants, identity remains fluid. “My abuelo called himself ‘Chino’; my father said ‘Chino-Cubano’; I say ‘Cubano’… but I still keep his altar,” says Daniel Li Fernández, a third-generation Cuban-Chinese butcher in Centro Habana.

The true legacy of the Chinese in Cuba lies not in its streets but in its essence—the unbroken thread stretching back across Pacific waves to the hills of Taishan, where soy sauce still seasons black beans and memories taste like belonging.

A Story of Endurance and Hybridity

The story of the Chinese in Cuba is a testament to human resilience in the face of adversity. From the brutal conditions of the 19th-century “coolie trade” to the challenges of the 1959 Revolution and the Special Period, this community has faced immense hardships. Yet, through it all, they have preserved their identity, adapted to changing circumstances, and created a unique cultural fusion that continues to inspire.

Their story reminds us that while physical spaces may fade, the essence of a community lives on in the hearts and practices of its descendants. In Havana’s Chinatown, the past whispers through the rhythms of lion dances infused with Afro-Cuban beats, the flavors of arroz frito, and the quiet reverence of family altars. It is a legacy that transcends geography—a testament to the enduring power of memory and belonging.