My daughter recently arrived back home after a trip meeting with Christians trying to survive in a rural community in communist Cuba. Below is her report. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Life in Communist Cuba
By VALERIE VAN PELT
Have you ever gone somewhere expecting to encourage others… only to realize they were the ones who changed you? That was my experience in Cuba last Wednesday. I traveled there on a mission trip to support pastors’ wives and women who carry the weight of their churches on their shoulders—and what I witnessed shocked me, inspired me, and opened my heart in ways I never expected.
I have always carried a deep desire to go to Cuba on a mission trip—rooted partly in my Puerto Rican heritage and partly in the fascination that began years ago in Dr. René Prieto’s Spanish literature class at SMU. So, when I learned that my church would be traveling to Cuba in November to support women in a small rural town, I asked if I could join, and they welcomed me onto the team. Each year, our church hosts a conference for about 70 women who serve tirelessly in their congregations—pastors’ wives, ministry leaders, and women who carry the emotional weight of entire communities. We bring with us a “boutique” filled with basic items: toothpaste, toothbrushes, spices, underwear, Band-Aids, and other essentials. But the greatest gift we offer is simply being there—creating a space where these women can finally exhale, share their struggles, and let someone pour into them for a change.
The reality of their daily life is heartbreaking. In the rural towns, electricity is controlled entirely by the government and is often available for only two to three unpredictable hours a day. Families wake at 3 a.m. to cook and wash clothes before the power disappears again. Water pressure is so low that showers turn into cold sprinkles. Mosquitoes spread viruses that cause severe joint pain. Food is scarce, heavily rationed, and grocery stores don’t exist. Many women have never tasted chocolate cake or taken a single vacation. Doctors earn about $30 a month, everyday workers $10–$20, and hospitals lack the most basic medical tools—one GI doctor told me she hasn’t been able to perform a colonoscopy in years because the equipment is broken.
At one point, I asked one of our translators, “How did Cuba get like this? It used to be the jewel of the Caribbean—thriving, beautiful, full of life.” She explained that before the revolution, Cuba was indeed a vibrant, flourishing country. But when the new regime came in, the government began promising free things—housing, food, services, benefits—and someone eventually had to pay for those promises. The people did. The economy collapsed. Freedom disappeared. What was once thriving became oppressed, controlled, and broken.
And that’s when something inside me broke too.
What troubled me the entire trip—and even more intensely after I returned home—is the haunting question: How can we be living in the same world? How can I have so much, and these women have so little? It’s mind-boggling. I take air conditioning for granted. Running water. The ability to eat whenever I want to. Access to doctors, a variety of foods, safety, and comfort. Meanwhile, these women—kind, faithful, generous—go without necessities every single day. I felt guilty even mentioning that I’ve ever taken a vacation or enjoyed simple comforts. It felt wrong, like I was describing another universe entirely. The contrast is so extreme, so unfair, that it has stayed heavy on my heart.
One of the things that struck me most was something I didn’t expect: the street dogs. I kept noticing dogs wandering everywhere—thin, sick, and ignored. I asked whether they were anyone’s pets, and they said, “No. They just roam. No one really cares for them.” They were diseased, limping, hungry, and completely overlooked.
And instantly, I thought of my two huskies, Kaya and Sydney—how they sleep in my bed, how we take walks together, how they are a source of joy and companionship. I realized what an incredible privilege it is to have pets, to love them, to care for them. In Cuba, dogs are simply nuisances that people try to avoid. That contrast pierced me. It was another reminder of how much abundance we live in without even realizing it.
My days there were filled with tears. I wanted to give these women the shirt off my back. The poverty and lack of resources were so overwhelming that I often stood there stunned. One woman told me her children rarely have peanut butter and are always asking when they may have some again, so I handed her an entire container. That night, she sent me photos of peanut butter sandwiches she made on bread she baked herself because there are no stores to buy it from.
Another young woman shared that she had recently married but couldn’t afford a church wedding—no dress, no cake, nothing traditional. When I returned home, still processing everything, I opened my Bible study and read the “Parable of the Talents. It moved me so deeply that I reached out to her and asked what her wedding would cost. When she told me, I immediately said, “Done.” I sent the money, and now she will have the church wedding she’s dreamed of on November 20th. I wish I could have done even more. I had no idea the depths of what these women endure daily. I was truly shocked.
And yet—these women radiate joy. They don’t complain. They wake each day, knowing life will be hard, and still they worship, they hope, they believe. Their faith is the one constant they cling to, trusting that one day life will be different.
This trip revealed the depth of oppression in Cuba—how a beautiful people have been forced into needless suffering—and it left me heartbroken, humbled, and profoundly changed. I went hoping to encourage them, but they became the ones who inspired me. I will never forget their strength, their resilience, and their unwavering hope in God.
TW3
November 27, 2025 – Thanksgiving Day
John Whitmore Jenkins
