CubaTrade-May2017-Flipbook

REMITTANCES
Another
Chinese
Connection
In Miami, the informal trade
with Cuba in clothing and
accessories from China thrives
By Ariana H. Reguant
Photo by Matias J. Ocner
Chinese-owned warehouses in Miami-Dade County cater to Cuban wholesalers
Just a few blocks off Florida's Palmetto
Expressway in the northwestern Miami-
Dade County, blocks of gray, sleepy
warehouses suddenly yield to hustle and
bustle. Cuban timba and reggaetón blast
through the lifted warehouse gates. Large
Cuban flags and sales signs wave in the
air: USB drives $3.45, nail paint $3.00.
The potholed driveways are crowded with
parked cars. Food trucks offer guarapo and
pizza cubana to passersby.
This slice of greater Miami is known
as “Los Chinos” after the Chinese owners
and managers of the no-name warehouses
that sell cheap clothes, shoes and wares
mostly to Cuban wholesalers. Cuban
residents with multi-entry tourist visas periodically
fly to places like Florida, Mexico
or Panama’s Colón Free Zone to stock up
on merchandise for personal use or sale
back home. Similarly, Cubans residing in
the U.S. buy in bulk to export to Cuba,
either by taking it themselves as personal
luggage or by paying others, called “mulas”
(mules) to do so. Economists estimate
36 CUBATRADE MAY 2017
that, all told, this influx amounts to more
than $3 billion in goods annually.
What makes Los Chinos unique is
the source: Chinese-made goods. China is
already Cuba’s second biggest trading partner
after Venezuela. According to Reuters,
last year Cuba imported $1.8 billion in
goods directly from China, just slightly less
than 2015’s record $1.9 billion. Most of
these imports were Chinese buses, trucks,
tractors and domestic appliances such as
Panda color TVs and Haier washing machines,
along with IT infrastructure gear.
In Miami, however, the play is
for clothing and personal accessories
mass-produced in Chinese factories.
Bypassing official state channels, Miami’s
chinos are thriving. The warehouses are
huge; inside, under bright neon lights,
there are rows of tables with perfectly
folded T-shirts, lycra pants, nylon panties,
and men’s underwear. Nothing costs more
than a few dollars, and prices drop when
buying by the dozen. The shirts seem
very small, and there are no sizes to the
clothes: “One size fits all,” says a Cuban
employee at one of the outlets. Another
man pushing a supermarket cart says that
every couple of weeks he comes to buy
merchandise for his niece, who then sells
it out of her apartment in Havana. He
has precise instructions in terms of items
and colors, and he takes it there himself as
personal baggage.
Out in the street, a man smoking
a cigarette behind a guarapo truck says
he's from Holguín, in Miami for his
monthly shopping trip. Back home, he
resells to a few neighbors who run stores
out of their homes. He is retired and
has a five-year multi-entry visa because
his children live in the Miami suburb of
Hialeah. He comes to visit and shop, and
lives amply thanks to the business. More
stores dot the next couple of blocks––a
parade of grimy, industrial husks staffed
by Spanish-speaking Chinese and Cuban
employees.
“This is an ugly place,” says the man
from Holguín. “I much prefer Cuba.” H