Cuando Donald De Castro era un niño en la década de los 1940s, los manglares bordeaban la costa y los cayos frente a la pequeña casa familiar frente al mar en las Islas Vírgenes Británicas.
Hoy, la mayoría de esos manglares no existen. Han sido reemplazados por relleno de terreno (ganado al mar) para expandir la capital de Road Town, que ahora cuenta con un poblado para recibir cruceros, marinas con cientos de yates anclados y edificios de oficinas que albergan la efervescente industria de servicios financieros de este territorio.
Email exchanges, meetings with key personnel from the Puerto Rico Electric Power Authority (PREPA) and the discussion of a Memorandum of Understanding to renegotiate AES Puerto Rico’s (AES-PR) contract with the government of Puerto Rico six years before it expires. This all has happened over the past 11 months, away from public scrutiny. However, a letter from Natalie Jaresko, executive director of the Fiscal Control Board, to PREPA’s Governing Board uncovered what until today had been a secret between AES executives and members of Pedro Pierluisi’s administration: that the coal energy producer is going through its worst economic crisis and to get out of it, is demanding that the government of Puerto Rico come to its rescue. “The cash flow problem at AES-PR is dire,” AES President Jesús Bolinaga Serfaty said in a letter written on March 24, 2021 to PREPA executives that had been kept secret, but that the Center for Investigative Journalism (CPI, in Spanish) and La Perla del Sur obtained after months of requests and the filing of a request for Mandamus for access to public information. Screenshot of the communication.
porKayla Young (Centro de Periodismo Investigativo y Cayman Current) |
Pocos lugares en Gran Caimán ofrecen vistas tan amplias del mar Caribe como las que se ven desde el último piso de los condominios The WaterColours.
Para empezar, la mayoría de los edificios carecen de esta altura. En una isla con una altitud promedio de seis pies, es un lujo disfrutar de las aguas turquesas y las playas de arena blanca desde la perspectiva de un décimo piso.
byKayla Young (Centro de Periodismo Investigativo y Cayman Current) |
Few places in Grand Cayman offer the expansive, open views of the Caribbean Sea like those seen from the top floor of The WaterColours condominiums.
To start, most places lack this elevation. On an island with an average altitude of six feet, it’s a luxury to take in the turquoise waters and white sand beaches from a 10th-story perspective.
Until recently, only this complex, a 2014 creation of luxury developer Fraser Wellon, and Kimpton Seafire Resort by the Dart group, the islands’ largest private landowner, had achieved such heights. That’s soon to change, but for now, this particular sea view, from the top-floor penthouse of the late Jamaican tourism mogul Ernest “Ernie” Smatt, remains one of Grand Cayman’s most elite. The complex is just one of dozens of luxury condominiums that have filled in Grand Cayman’s vulnerable coastline over the past decade. During the COVID-19 crisis, construction of such projects has accelerated, exposing the local population to serious climate change threats in exchange for properties most Caymanians cannot aspire to own in a lifetime.
byKayla Young (Centro de Periodismo Investigativo y Cayman Current) |
The Beach Club Colony days were a different era for Cayman. In 1970, the Cayman Islands had just over 9,100 residents and many of those, in particular young men, spent their time at sea, working ships with the National Bulk Carriers, a multinational shipping company. The financial services industry was in its nascent days, as was tourism. In 1968, a stay at the Beach Club would have cost between US $10.50 and US $15.50 a night — a rate that included two meals a day. The 36-room resort was among Seven Mile Beach’s earliest accommodations, alongside the Coral Caymanian, Galleon Beach Hotel and La Fontaine, all since redeveloped.
Muchas de las madres de las víctimas de feminicidios ignoran su propio trauma y su pérdida para hacerse cargo de los nietos que quedaron huérfanos por culpa de la violencia machista.
“Where’s mom?,” asks Sgt. Roberto Mercado at the doorway of the light green house, located in the La Fuente neighborhood, in the town of Florida.
Behind the window, a 2-year-old boy responds by looking down at the floor next to him.
“For me, it was a sign that his mom was dead,” says the Puerto Rico Police negotiator about the femicide that he had to handle on the afternoon of June 30, 2018.
“¿Dónde está mamá?”, pregunta el sargento Roberto Mercado a la entrada de la casa verde claro, ubicada en la urbanización La Fuente, en el municipio de Florida.
Detrás de la ventana, un niño de 2 años responde dirigiendo la mirada hacia el suelo, a su lado.
“Fue, para mí, una señal de que mamá estaba muerta”, cuenta el negociador de la Policía de Puerto Rico sobre el feminicidio que le tocó atender la tarde del 30 de junio de 2018.
Emmanuel Córdova Vendrell había asesinado de un disparo a su pareja Loren Figueroa Quiñones, de 30 años, frente al hijo menor de ella, tras horas de haberla mantenido como rehén. Otro hijo de la mujer, de 8 años, había escapado corriendo de la residencia durante la discusión. Luego de cometer el crimen, el asesino se suicidó. Todo ocurrió frente al más pequeño, que fue quien, con sus pies mojados en la sangre de su mamá, vestido con pantalón corto y sin camisa, abrió la puerta de la casa a los agentes. Mercado lo cargó al hombro, mientras lloraba, y lo entregó a su abuela materna.
