“When you arrive at a country person’s house, you can’t start taking photos until the dogs stop barking.”
In a Cuba suspended between nostalgia and resilience, Roger Trabas Mesa has discovered in photography a way to embrace his country from within—not as a distant observer, but as someone who walks alongside it, who listens, who shares coffee and meals before he ever raises his camera.
Born in Havana in 1974 and raised in the outskirts of the city, in the neighborhood of San Agustín, Roger grew up surrounded by traces of creative expression: a cubist-painting uncle, stories of rural musicians, and old issues of LIFE and National Geographic that captivated him as a child.
“I often visited my maternal grandmother’s house, where one of my uncles lived—he was an architect by profession and very drawn to art. He painted cubist works and made excellent reproductions of Van Gogh,” he recalls.
There weren’t any artists in Roger’s immediate family, “except for my mother’s brother—but indirectly, yes, and it’s a story that fascinates me,” he tells. Roger’s uncle had a massive bookshelf that he guarded carefully, filled with about twenty LIFE and National Geographic magazines. I remember asking him to look through them—I would be completely mesmerized by the photographs inside. I think that’s where it all began.”
Roger’s maternal family is from a place called Tacajó, in the province of Holguín, and they were all musicians—the town’s musicians, Los Mesa. “My mother told me some very funny and colorful stories about them. In general, Los Mesa were cheerful, mischievous people who traveled from town to town making a living playing music at parties and dances.”
Looking back, Roger remembers his grandparents’ home where he spent a large part of his childhood along with his sister and cousins—”It was a deeply revolutionary home, very much in support of the social process that began in our country after 1959.”
Reflecting on the early roots of his love for photography, he says, “it began many years before I ever owned a camera. Every time I had the chance to look at photos or hold them in my hands, I took it. I’ve always loved looking at old photographs—family photos, printed images from the past. It wasn’t until cell phones became common that I really started down this path.”
His passion for photography deepened when he discovered the connection between hiking and the art form. Roger shares, “something happened then that has had a huge impact on me and my photography—my passion for hiking. I have a group of friends I go on excursions with; we travel to the most remote places in Cuba. In those places, we’ve come into contact with people who live far from any kind of civilization, and I love photographing those places and those people.”
Recalling his first equipment he mentions his first camera. “It was a Nikon D3200. I bought it in 2020, already into the COVID-19 pandemic. I’ve taken my best photos with that camera. This past January, I finally managed to buy a much better one, which I’m still exploring and learning to use.”
When it comes to meaningful photos, he says “the first significant photo—amazingly—was from my very first outing with some friends. It happened in a barbershop in Old Havana. Suddenly, someone inside leaned out the door, and just at the moment I pressed the shutter, the person stepped into the frame. It was completely accidental, but I really liked the result.”
Long before he owned a camera, Roger was already trying to get one in his hands. “As a teenager during Cuba’s Special Period in the 1990s, I left school hoping to enroll in a cameraman course at the Cuban Institute of Radio and Television, where one of my aunts worked. I tried, but it never happened.”
Entirely self-taught, Roger’s journey into photography was shaped by observation, online courses, and community workshops. A turning point came in 2022, when he joined the first Photoworkshop Cuba led by the Witness agency.
There, he studied under major documentary photographers like Erika Balestra and Raúl Cañibano. More than just technical skills, he says the workshop offered something more profound: “They taught us that more than being photographers, we must be humble people. That’s the only real way to connect with the lives we’re trying to photograph.”
Reflecting on his journey, he shares, “When I finally made the conscious decision to become a photographer, I started looking at a lot of images, searching for photographers to draw inspiration from—especially Cuban ones.”
In December 2022, Roger took part in the first Photoworkshop held in Cuba by the Witness agency. “That’s where I met true masters of documentary photography like Erika Balestra, Alain Pantaleón, Rikky Azarcoya, and Raúl Cañibano, along with a great community of photographers that has grown out of this initiative,” he remembers.
“The workshop was incredibly engaging. In addition to the masterclasses, we completed two fantastic exercises: the first was to document the pilgrimage to the San Lázaro sanctuary, and the second was to hit the streets and find a story to tell. The best part was the feedback and exchange with fellow photographers—and most importantly, meeting these masters who, beyond teaching us about photography, shared vital life lessons,” he asserts.
What Roger learned went deeper than technique shaping his character as well. “When we go out to take photographs, we should carry our cameras—not our egos.”
This approach has also influenced his journey in learning and perfecting his craft through his own efforts. “I’m self-taught—just like with everything else in my life. During the pandemic, I enrolled in a couple of online courses offered by the Escuela de Fotografía Creativa de La Habana (EFCH), one on camera handling and another on composition. They were excellent and highly recommended for anyone just starting out in this world.”
He applied all these lessons to photographing Cuba’s remote areas. “I focus on the countryside and the people who live there. My passion for hiking has taken me to some of the most remote mountain locations, places where few, if anyone, can reach.”
The beautiful isolation draws him in, as do the warmth of the people who inhabit the mountains. “The people who live in these places are the kindest you can meet. They give you everything they have without question. They are very rich, but not rich in the way that city dwellers conceive of wealth. They are rich in soul, in spirit—very noble people. When you spend several days living in these places, you realize that we live surrounded by imposed needs that really aren’t decisive in life.”
The opportunities to connect with these communities have brought Roger deep joy. “I greatly enjoy taking photographs in these places because it’s possible to capture the essence of these people, their way of life, their environment, how they are able to provide for themselves and get from nature exactly what they need to live. On top of that, there are the landscapes—areas full of woods, rivers, mountains, starry skies at night, sun, rain, and colors.”
When contemplating other sites to photograph Roger confesses he would miss it. “If I imagine myself outside of Cuba, I would feel a great nostalgia for not being able to take these types of photographs, especially because it’s the combination of my two great passions: photography and hiking.”
In terms of the heart of his photos he says, “I try to capture the essence of people. Living with them in their homes, in their environment, makes it much easier for me to take their photos, as a trust is built that makes them not feel invaded by me or my camera.”
His respectful approach and patience lead to trust. “Before taking the first photo, many things have already happened. The first thing is an invitation to have coffee or even lunch. Conversations arise about various topics. I show interest in how they live, the family members, if they have children—they offer you everything. Once this somewhat familial atmosphere has been created, I then have a much better perspective of what photos to take and how to take them.”
A photographer friend once told Roger, “When you arrive at a country person’s house, you can’t start taking photos until the dogs stop barking.”
Part of his series is one called “Hands of the Mountain,” which he developed specifically in the countryside, “it is, so far, the project I hold most dearly,” he says.
“Hands are a window into the lives of men. They speak of who we are and what we do, in a way, they tell our story. In recent years, I have immersed myself in a small community called Cinco Pesos, in the Sierra del Rosario. When I am there or in any other remote area, my gaze focuses on the hands of these men who work in the field. Humble men, with strong and rough hands sculpted by time and hard labor.”
Roger also enjoys documenting religious or popular festivals. “It’s like fishing in a stirred river; total frenzy is created, and people enter a sort of trance, giving you the opportunity (without much protocol) to get quite close to them, capturing unrepeatable moments, expressions, gazes, gestures, laughter, tears—something interesting is always happening around you, it’s total madness.”
As part of his work, he also does street portraits. “I search for faces that I find interesting, attractive, or simply stand out for some particular feature. If you have an Afro hairstyle, it’s very likely that I’ll ask to take your portrait.”
Another theme he enjoys is night landscapes, “which I also do in the countryside, where there is no light pollution from the city. I love the process: I walk through the forest at night until I find a place that gives me a good perspective, set up the tripod, adjust the camera settings, and then comes the long wait of thirty seconds to see the result—simply fascinating.”
With all he has accomplished there are some moments he wishes he could go back and capture. “I can tell you the story of the photo I didn’t take. Sometimes I think about those opportunities I let slip by, and I feel truly sad.”
He is referring to a family from Cinco Pesos. “I have a very beloved family that has adopted me as one of their own. At one point, I thought about gathering everyone together to take a family photo, but I kept putting it off, not giving it much importance. Unfortunately, the emigration that we are experiencing today in Cuba and death took away key members of this family, and I will never have the chance to take the photo the way I would have liked.”
Missing that moment is something that has really marked Roger. “I’ve learned that I cannot let opportunities pass by that may end up being unrepeatable.”
With that said, he has several favorite photos, almost all of them related to the countryside. “If you ask me for one in particular, I’d say “Pupi’s Hands,” a man over 70 years old who lives in the community I mentioned earlier.”
“Pupi’s Hands” is a photo that I hold dear because Pupi is a special old man, very hardworking, like a vine that gets tangled in the mountains. Whenever I had the chance, I would visit him and spend time talking with him, sometimes helping him with his work. I speak in the past tense because he has had to leave the mountains; now he lives in the village, as his health and age no longer allow him to work in the field.”
Roger remembers an anecdote that took place in Cinco Pesos, involving Pupi and others. “Pupi and Tomás, well-known among Havana hikers because he’s been welcoming people into his home for over thirty years, live at a distance of about six kilometers between their houses. One time I asked Pupi to come with me to Tomás’ house. He gladly accepted.”
“Needless to say, it’s very fun and rewarding when two people of such advanced age (80 and 76) get together and begin reminiscing about stories from their youth, like one where they recount the rescue of an army officer and his brigade of fighters in the Santa Cruz river, in a rising flood after several days of rain, back in the distant 60s, at the beginning of the Revolution. That afternoon, we shared some pork with sauce and many photographs.”
Roger also treasures other photos including some he took at a family’s home in a place called Boca de Jaguaní, where the Jaguaní and Toa rivers meet, in Guantánamo. From that, he created a series titled, “The Most Beautiful Place in the World.”
“I can tell you that my hiking group and I arrived there after spending about 12 days in the mountains, crossing rivers, climbing mountains, all soaked, hungry, and even wounded from the dense vegetation in the area we were in. This family welcomed us, and we spent a couple of days with them before heading down the Toa River to the town of Baracoa.”
“We returned the following year and spent a week with them. That’s when I had the opportunity to bring them printed photos I had taken the previous year. It was a very beautiful and special moment, and now I have to go back to bring them the photos I took during my last visit.”
A photo that marks a before and after is the photo he took while participating in the Witness Photoworkshop when documenting the procession to the Sanctuary of San Lázaro in December 2022.
“There was a group of people around this man, all drunk, in complete chaos. I took several photos until the guy threw himself in front of me, stretched out his hand, and looked directly at me. I was also at ground level, right next to him, and I knew it would be a good shot.”
Analyzing the shot he says, “what makes it different is the perspective, the light, the shadow. It’s a striking photo, and I feel it has been an important turning point in my budding career as a photographer. Moreover, it’s a significant photo for me because it was used for the promotional poster of the exhibition that took place the following year and inaugurated the second Witness workshop in Havana.
Regarding the intention behind taking photos, Roger shares, “First of all, I take photos for myself. It’s very relaxing, and I really enjoy the process, from the moment I head out with the camera, whether in the countryside or the city, to selecting the ones I consider best, editing them, and finally publishing them. I truly feel that it’s something very rewarding.”
From there, he believes his photos have a social background, “or at least that’s my intention,” he says. “In that sense, I’ve received very good feedback from people who see my photos, especially the ones I’ve taken in the countryside. Showing the life of people who live miles away from civilization can be quite striking for those who have never even been close to such a place.”
In general, he feels the need to focus his work on the people of the countryside, “to show society as I see it, but always with respect for the people, never using poverty with the aim of taking a “good photo” for personal gain.”
Looking back, Roger says he didn’t start taking photographs with a defined purpose; it was more about the desire to take them. “But several years have passed,” he says, “and I’m starting to see a clearer path ahead of me: Taking photos of Cuba, of the people, how they live. Since I have this opportunity, I want to tell it from my perspective.”
As Roger puts it, “today, we have the ease provided by social media and the internet. We no longer have the urgent need to present our work in an art gallery, although personally, I would love to exhibit in galleries; that’s a higher level.”
Describing the artistic scene in Havana from a photography perspective, Roger reflects,
“Speaking specifically about photography, there has been a boom. For example, a community of photographers has emerged from the workshops held by the Witness agency. Additionally, there are several initiatives by other photographers to organize photowalks, which I believe are important for consolidating the community of photographers in the city.”
Roger says that the city itself, “Havana is unique. It has a special charm,” but for Roger each environment has its story and its photographers. “I believe creators and artists depend greatly on their environment, on their own experiences and circumstances. Therefore, each community of artists and creators is unique in its own environment. The key is to develop a personal talent that allows us to show that environment to others in a way that can be understood through art.”
Life in Cuba can be full of challenges, he says. “from natural disasters to resource shortages. We all suffer, to a greater or lesser extent, from the precariousness of basic services such as transportation, health, education, access to water, electricity. All of this has resulted in the degradation of society.”
“I face these difficulties like everyone else around me, I suppose, and photography, as I mentioned before, is a relief, a balm, a cure for all the obstacles we face in our daily lives, and a way to express my point of view about the moment we are currently living through,” he reflects.
For Roger, 2024 was a complicated year, “one of those years you wish you hadn’t lived through, and as a result, I distanced myself quite a bit from the camera and, in general, from my inner world.”
Despite challenges, visions for the future continue. “I have a dream: to be a war correspondent. I’m not even sure if I could really be one; it takes a lot of courage for that. But it’s something that attracts me—not war itself, I want to clarify this, because wherever there’s war, innocent people are dying unjustly, and we see that every day in the news. But when I see photos from iconic photographers like Sebastião Salgado, Ed Kashi, John Stanmeyer, Christopher Morris, among many others, I feel a great admiration for their work and career. But this is just that—a dream, my utopia.”
Reflecting on 2025 he says, “On a more earthly level, I have many ideas that rush through my mind, and I need to organize them. This 2025 will be very important for me in terms of photography because I’ve been exploring new areas, like taking more photos in the cities, especially in Havana. We are living through a very complicated time, and we photographers, especially those of us who focus on street and documentary photography, have a kind of mission: to tell the story of our country, its difficulties, precariousness, shortages, and resilience. To leave a documentary legacy that will allow future generations to understand the history told directly by its protagonists.”
Thinking about Cuban culture, Roger shares, “Cuban culture is in the festivities, in the customs of the people, in the traditions, in the food, the coffee, and I’m part of this because it’s what I’ve always lived. I don’t feel like my view of the world has changed because of it; it’s simply within me.”
In terms of lessons learned in the field he says, “Not just in Havana, photography in general has given me great opportunities, especially to meet wonderful people, whether they’re other photographers, subjects I’ve photographed, or families I’ve lived with.”
“Being a photographer requires virtues that go beyond being technically good. That’s of no use if we don’t treat the people, the environment, or whoever our subject is with humility,” he says.
If he could speak to his younger self, he knows exactly what he’d say: “I’d tell him to insist more, to push harder for that cameraman course back when I first wanted it. By now, I’d have 30 years of experience.”
For Roger, photography is not only a calling—it’s a way of healing. It is a balm, a mirror, and a tool for memory. It is, above all, a way to live. “Thanks to photography, I’ve met people I now carry with me wherever I go.”
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Soledad Quartucci, CEO, Latina Republic
Latina Republic envisions a world where the beauty and resilience of Latin American and Caribbean cultures are recognized and appreciated globally. By amplifying the voices of artists and cultural custodians, we strive to cultivate a deeper understanding of the region’s challenges and triumphs. Our goal is to inspire greater appreciation for the arts as a tool for empathy, unity, and transformative social change. Through our work, we aim to equip all stakeholders with essential insights for addressing regional challenges, ultimately enriching the global cultural landscape and portraying the victories and hardships of everyday life in Latin America.
