In the heart of Cuba, beyond the familiar names and the tourist trails, there lies a province that does not shout to be seen. Ciego de Ávila, with its calm lakes, fertile plains, and resilient people, has long embraced the quiet work of harmony — not only between human and nature, but between past and possible.
To walk here is to walk in balance. The earth is flat but full. The skies are vast but sheltering. And somewhere in the air, one can always sense water — lakes, canals, and distant tides — as if the whole province breathes with the rhythm of the sea.
A Landscape Shaped by Generosity
Geographically central, Ciego de Ávila is a land of abundance. Its flatlands produce citrus fruits, rice, sugarcane, and many of Cuba’s root vegetables. But what gives the province its particular pulse is its intimate relationship with water.
To the north, the Cayo Coco and Cayo Guillermo islands rise like poems from the Atlantic, offering stretches of white-sand beaches bordered by mangroves and coral reefs. These islands are part of the Jardines del Rey archipelago, a region of profound biodiversity — flamingos, sea turtles, manatees, and marine gardens that breathe blue life into the Caribbean.
Further inland, La Laguna de la Leche, Cuba’s largest natural freshwater lake, tells a different story. Its name — the “Lake of Milk” — comes from the unique white color caused by high calcium levels in the water. Around it, birds nest, fish thrive, and locals have long found ways to live with rather than against its natural cycles.
🌿 Innovation Idea: “Laguna Viva” — Community Water Stewards & Floating Gardens
Inspired by the interconnected wetlands of Ciego de Ávila, imagine a local program called Laguna Viva — or “Living Lake.” It would focus on water-centered ecological harmony through:
- Floating gardens made from repurposed natural materials like bamboo and coconut fiber, growing herbs and vegetables while cleaning lake water through root filtration.
- Community “agua-escuelas” (water schools) where elders, biologists, and farmers co-teach children about wetland ecology, sustainable irrigation, and native aquatic species.
- Solar-powered water testing stations, built by local students, to monitor lake health and provide real-time updates to the community.
- Seasonal eco-festivals by the lake, celebrating the return of migratory birds with music, food grown through sustainable aquaponics, and youth art about water and belonging.
With Laguna Viva, water becomes more than scenery. It becomes teacher, partner, healer — and the people, its joyful stewards.
Living with Earth, Not Just on It
The people of Ciego de Ávila carry a particular grace. Farmers here have long understood the land’s rhythms. Many now adopt agroecological practices: intercropping to protect soil, using natural compost, planting trees along fields to cool the air and protect against storms.
A quiet agro-renaissance is blooming. Local cooperatives are swapping chemical-heavy inputs for indigenous knowledge. Beekeeping is thriving, with native flowers giving rise to delicate honey. And more young people are choosing to stay, to build livelihoods that feel meaningful — not just profitable.
Even traditional fishing families now experiment with mangrove restoration and sustainable netting, balancing their harvests with the health of the ecosystem.
Art, Joy, and the Wisdom of Slowness
In Morón, the province’s second city, artisans repurpose discarded wood into toys and sculptures. Community murals speak of rivers and roots. Schoolchildren paint birds on their walls, naming them not as ornaments but as neighbors.
In the rural areas, music carries the wisdom of work: guajira rhythms blend with laughter in the evenings after long days in the field. Elders dance barefoot on dirt patios. And always, the presence of slowness is cherished — not as delay, but as devotion.
This is a place where meals are not rushed, where people listen with their eyes, and where joy is gentle, not grand.
Toward a Harmonious Future
Ciego de Ávila offers a model not often highlighted: the wisdom of the ordinary, the power of persistence, and the potential of ecosystems where people and nature are not in conflict but in chorus.
In a world that often prizes speed, this province invites us to imagine:
- Stillness, as strength.
- Water, as wisdom.
- Community, as climate solution.
If we listen — to the birds, to the farmers, to the lake that shimmers like milk under moonlight — we may remember how to live again.
Not as conquerors of nature.
But as kin.
Ciego de Ávila reminds us that the most beautiful places are not always the most famous. They are the ones where people and land co-create futures, patiently, joyfully.
Where what is good is also what is green.
Where what is helpful is also what is hopeful.
And where the earth does not need to be saved — only respected, restored, and rejoiced in.
Let us walk quietly, then.
Let us plant with care.
Let us build floating gardens and floating dreams — in Ciego de Ávila, and wherever water still waits to be loved.
