In a year when global rice prices have tumbled to their lowest levels in eight years, two countries on opposite sides of the world—Cuba and Bangladesh—are grappling with very different, yet equally troubling, rice crises. While Cuba turns to foreign investment to revive its collapsed rice sector, Bangladesh faces a baffling surge in rice prices despite record production, robust imports, and overflowing reserves. The stories unfolding in Havana and Dhaka offer a revealing look at how local realities can defy global trends, with millions of households caught in the crossfire.
Just outside Havana, in the rural expanse of Los Palacios, a combine harvester emblazoned with Vietnamese lettering trundles through the fields. It belongs to Agri VAM, a subsidiary of Vietnam's Fujinuco Group, which recently became the first private foreign company permitted to farm Cuban land directly. The Cuban government’s decision, announced on August 15, 2025, granted Agri VAM 1,000 hectares (2,470 acres) in a bold bid to address the island’s acute food shortages. According to data from the Center for the Study of the Cuban Economy at the University of Havana, Cuba’s overall agricultural production plummeted by 52 percent between 2018 and 2023, with rice production alone collapsing from 300,000 tons in 2018 to just 55,000 tons at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2021. Though there are signs of a slow recovery, the crisis remains urgent—especially for a country where the average person consumes a hefty 60 kilos (132 pounds) of rice each year.
Agri VAM’s arrival marks a turning point. During a media visit in May 2025, a company representative shared that their current harvest yield reached seven tons per hectare, a staggering improvement over the 1.5 tons per hectare typically managed by local Cuban growers. "But we want more," the representative told reporters, underscoring both the progress and the ambition driving the project. Vietnam, once itself a nation haunted by food shortages in the 1980s, is now the world’s third-largest rice exporter and a sought-after consultant for rice-growing nations. Its expertise is now being put to the test in Cuba’s parched fields.
Yet, even as the Vietnamese team celebrates promising yields, they’re running up against a thicket of obstacles. "The climate and the temperature are very good for agriculture," the Agri VAM representative noted, "but Cuban growers lack necessary farming products such as fertilizers." The company can import some materials, but faces chronic fuel shortages, unreliable transportation, and—perhaps most frustratingly—frozen assets. According to Cuban economist Omar Everleny Perez, Agri VAM and other foreign firms may be making profits, but "they cannot transfer them abroad because the banks have no liquidity, no foreign currency." In May, Agri VAM formally asked the Cuban government to unfreeze $300,000 sitting idle in its account at the state-owned International Financing Bank, as reported by independent Cuban media outlet 14ymedio. The problem is not unique to Agri VAM; it’s part of a broader liquidity crisis that continues to stymie foreign investment on the island.
Vietnamese officials have taken note. In May, Vietnam’s deputy agriculture minister Nguyen Quoc Tri publicly urged Havana to "eliminate investment barriers that Vietnamese companies encounter." The stakes are high: for Cuba, a successful partnership could mean a lifeline for its food security; for Vietnam, it’s a chance to showcase its agricultural prowess and strengthen diplomatic ties.
Meanwhile, halfway around the globe, Bangladesh finds itself in the throes of a rice conundrum that has left both experts and ordinary citizens scratching their heads. Despite global rice prices hitting an eight-year low, retail prices in Bangladesh have soared to record highs, persisting for what analysts say may be the longest stretch in the country’s history. Since August 2024, rice prices have surged in waves—by Tk5–17 per kilogram over the previous year—defying bumper harvests, steady imports, and government stockpiles that have swelled to unprecedented levels.
For families like that of Zahidul Islam, a caretaker in Dhaka, the relentless rise is both bewildering and punishing. "Before, prices went up and came down again. Now, even with good harvests, they only go up. Who is taking the extra money?" he asked, echoing a question on many lips. According to The Business Standard, rice accounts for about 10 percent of Bangladesh’s overall inflation basket, but for poorer households, the share is over 40 percent—magnifying the pain of every price hike.
What’s behind this paradox? Economists and market analysts point to failures in market management, unreliable data, and the growing dominance of large corporate mills. Farmers, they say, are forced to sell their paddy cheaply right after harvest, but prices quickly rise as millers and stockpilers—especially the big corporate players—buy up supplies and withhold them from the market. "If harvests and imports are at record levels, there should be no shortage. If supply is fine, hoarding is the obvious cause. The government has the legal tools to act, but they are not used," said Professor Mohammad Jahangir Alam of Bangladesh Agricultural University.
Bangladesh’s rice market is now dominated by conglomerates like ACI, PRAN, City Group, Rupchanda, and Meghna, which have the capacity to buy in bulk and store rice for months. Critics, such as SM Nazer Hossain of the Consumers Association of Bangladesh, argue that this concentration of power allows them to manipulate prices. "A Tk1 per kg price hike means Tk10 crore extra a day for traders," Hossain said. "They buy from farmers and raise prices within a week. This is why prices have risen even during peak harvest. The government has failed to check this power."
Corporate representatives, however, reject these accusations. Kamruzzaman Kamal, marketing director for PRAN-RFL, insisted, "Rice cannot be stored for more than two to three months without loss. We regularly share stock data with the government." He attributed the price rises mainly to higher paddy costs during harvest, not to market manipulation.
The government, for its part, has scrambled to respond. Food Secretary Md Masudul Hasan partly blamed seasonal heavy rains for the latest spike, but also announced that from August 10, 2025, the government would begin open-market sales of rice through the Trading Corporation. On August 17, the Food-Friendly Programme was launched, promising 30 kg of rice per month at Tk15 per kg to 5.5 million families for six months. Food Adviser Ali Imam Majumdar acknowledged the challenges: "The Food-Friendly Programme will help, but bringing down open-market prices will be difficult." The government still subsidizes rice production at about Tk25 per kg, but with prices 15–20 percent higher than a year ago, the relief may feel like a drop in the bucket for many.
For both Cuba and Bangladesh, the struggle over rice is about much more than food—it’s a test of governance, market power, and the ability to adapt to a shifting global landscape. As Cuban fields hum with the promise of Vietnamese expertise and Bangladeshi markets bristle with tension, the world is reminded that the journey from paddy to plate is never as simple as it seems.
