And yet... it's for sale

María wrote a "for sale" sign and hung it on the crumbling balcony of her house in Havana. A few weeks ago the neighbors would have thought her crazy, and the police would soon have arrived. However, since the new Decree 288 on purchase and sale of houses, her action has become a common one.

For decades, Cubans have been awaiting a law that would allow conveyance of real estate property, adapting or cheating in the meantime. In the absence of a real estate market, they had to share a space with relatives, divide the paternal house, or emigrate to rent a room in another country. The dearth broke up marriages, inflamed family conflicts, swelled the abortion rate, and made a place to live the dream of millions of Cubans, second only to that of a residence visa in another country.

The most adventurous disguised what was really the exchange of a domicile for a sum of money as a swap, and lived in fear of discovery. But a few weeks ago the Official Gazette published, in 16 pages, the new norms for acquiring a house. It's Raúl Castro's most daring reform so far, affording hope not only for those who want to sell their house, but for those thousands of people who did under-the-counter operations and can now take the chance to legalize them.

There are many who wanted this greater flexibility, in order to sell off their property and leave the country. The measure may well cause a certain exodus among the emerging middle class - those who have a home, but located in a land where they don't want to live. The cost of leaving the country can fall with cash from such transactions.

There are still a lot of obstacles, which Cuban ingenuity will have to find a way around. Though the decree does not expressly allow sale to persons permanently residing outside Cuba, this will be hard to prevent. Exiles will use relatives as a façade for buying a house to use when "things change." For many this is the time to buy cheap. There will be a reshuffling, where those with families possessing capital abroad will be at an advantage. Those who once left the island to jeers of "traitor" may be about to acquire the balconies from which rotten eggs were thrown at them.

The epoch of forced equality seems to be coming to an end, the existing system being clearly unsustainable. There will be a redistribution of affluence between the districts of each city, showing up the huge contrasts between those who have a little small change in their pockets, and those who have amassed some capital. The latter, of course, are those who hold high posts in the regime, and are now jockeying for positions before the inevitable change arrives. The decree goes to some lengths to give these people a suitable legal framework in which to share out the best properties among themselves, before the transition comes.

Article 110 provides that "The Council of Ministers shall be empowered to decide on properties located in certain areas of the country." In order to prevent new-rich, self-employed or exile-related people from slipping into these enclaves for the nomenclature, the Decree mentions that perhaps to live in them you will "require complementary authorization" (payable, no doubt, in an unmarked envelope).

Meanwhile, a four-percent tax will weigh upon each transaction, so the regime can get its cut; and the money for the transaction must be placed in a bank account until the authorities decide that its origin is "licit." This, in a country where mere survival has long involved illicit dealings. The money will, of course, be sanctified or not, depending on who it comes from - another filter that will favor the regime's trusties, at the expense of dissidents. Even so, the island is likely to become a chessboard, full of those autonomous, self-moving pieces that the regime so abhors.

Yoani Sánchez is a Cuban journalist, author of the award-winning blog Generación Y.

© Yoani Sánchez / bgagency-Milán.