On October 29, a DANA caused the overflow of the Poyo ravine in Valencia, and more than 20 towns suffered lethal floods. The relentless water claimed 222 lives and currently, there are four missing persons. The majority of the fatalities are from Paiporta (45), a municipality we visited a month after the events to check on the daily routine of its residents, who spend their days with rubber boots glued to their feet. A bakery, a hair salon, and the first bar have opened. It's a start.
Mud and more mud; cars stacked in grim sculptures; makeshift stalls giving out anything from lentil packages to diapers for free; bleach everywhere; and lines of people waiting for hot meals at the World Central Kitchen tents, the NGO of chef José Andrés deployed in the area. These are the elements of the still prevailing scene in Paiporta, a territory trying to return to its past with clean streets.
The residents themselves, the thousands of volunteers armed with shovels, brushes, and all the Kärcher devices they could find, along with the forces of the State Security Forces and Corps, are taking care of this. During any given round, we see representation from the UME (Emergency Military Unit), Civil Guard, Navarra Police, Getafe Local Police... Heavy machinery, much requested by the affected at the beginning of the catastrophe, now occupies the streets, pumping out mud, clearing streets and sewers, pushing aside fallen trees, and whatever else is needed, which is a lot.
Women of different generations give voice and face to the narrative of this reconstruction.
Some low houses may seem normal from the outside, but inside, they harbor a dystopia of collapsed walls, precarious lighting, and marks on the walls indicating how far the water reached that Tuesday. In one of these houses, in the town center, Mara lives with her brother, father, and grandparents. At 21, her life is currently on hold. On the afternoon of October 29, she was in Masanasa, at her partner's house. She looked out the window and saw the ravine overflowing. She warned her father over the phone about what would soon happen in Paiporta, and when she looked back out the window, her car had already disappeared. She tried to contact him again, but it was impossible. It took two days to find out that all her family members had survived. Against all odds, her father was at home that afternoon. Without him, it's reasonable to think that the grandparents would have had a worse fate.
"My room is still uninhabitable. I have set up in my grandfather's room and sleep on a mattress on the floor. I know that at my boyfriend's or a friend's house, I would have hot water and food, but I feel the need to be in my home, rebuilding and cleaning," she says firmly. Volunteers from all over have helped them, and she denounces that on the second day, there were already fights in supermarkets over food: "We didn't know what help we would receive because we were alone."
She is studying a higher degree in Social Integration, but her school in Catarroja is about to collapse. She doesn't know if there will be online classes or if she will return to work as an assistant to a child with autism. "We are in a temporary layoff, and I couldn't go even if I wanted to because I lost my car. My life is on hold, but at the same time, I am working non-stop. Right now, the priority is to recover everything," she states.
Her father is very resourceful and has set up an impossible engineering feat of cables that provide them with some light. They have been given a dehumidifier and a heater to dry the walls, so for the past few days, she admits, she feels "fortunate." "There are people going through mourning now," she concludes.
Carmen and Mar: they have lost their clients' fallera dresses
Carmen Moya is 52 years old and for the past 12 years, this technical architect has dedicated herself to her hobby: sewing fallera dresses. In Valencia, she is known as an "indumentarista." On October 29, she was "very happy" in her workshop, which had not even been open for a year. After much struggle, investment, and working ahead in the summer, sweating profusely, she was about to reap the rewards of so much effort. "It was my moment," she laments. At the beginning of November, the falleras' presentations were scheduled, and their dresses were almost ready. The flood in her shop on the 29th caught her by surprise: "If the water hadn't wet my feet, I wouldn't have even noticed," she protests.
In the photo, you can see how far the water reached. Those marks explain that out of almost 100 dresses, half of them were not even seen, swept away by the water. Of the other half, she took eight to the dry cleaner, but "only five will be saved." With the help of volunteers, she managed to salvage the muddy fabrics lying in the landfill. The numbers represent an absolute ruin. In her workshop, she had an employee and another contract planned for December. None of that remains now. "Now, I only receive bills for materials I no longer have. Since the DANA, I have already paid over 2,000 euros. The other day, digging in the mud, I found a hair comb," she says.
Carmen is pained by the dresses she had made (the average price is between 1500 and 1700 euros, not including accessories), but even more so by the dresses her clients brought to her for alterations: "They are family memories that cannot be replaced."
Mar is her daughter. At 19, in addition to studying Arts in high school through an online program at a Valencia institute, she helped her mother with sewing. She doesn't know how the Paiporta students preparing for the university entrance exams this year will manage... They will now allocate a room in their house for the new workshop, where they will try to start from scratch. It's a time for paperwork, insurance claims, and managing assistance, while they continue to clean and recover garages and storage rooms in the building where they live.
Andrea is 37 years old, and Marta is 35. They are friends, each with two children of similar ages. The little ones, 8 and 9 years old; the older ones, 13, prefer not to be in the photo. You know how teenagers are. One is a cleaner, and the other is a vendor in a street market. For now, both have been left jobless.
Four or five days after the floods, Marta was evacuated from her home. Although she lives on the 4th floor, one of the pillars of her building suffered a crack, and the risk of collapse led to all the residents being evacuated. They grabbed four things and are displaced at Andrea's house until further notice. There, they have formed an improvised family.
On the day of the interview, they have pasta with fried tomato for lunch. It is what they have been given at the food distribution points. "Since we lost the cars, the other day we went to Picaña to buy more food for the children. It took an hour and a half to get there and there wasn't much either," laments Andrea. Marta is one of many in Paiporta with a missing or broken car but with many pending bills: "I still have 15,000 euros to pay and I only have 400 in the bank plus whatever I will be receiving from the ERTE...".
The mothers say that the children, even though they may seem happy without school, are not having a good time: "The other day they told me they were left without a park. We live on the 1st floor and from the window we saw waves of water. I stuck my arm out the window and when I touched a floating car, I grabbed my children and went up to a neighbor's house. It sounded like the sea and they covered their ears," she recalls.
On the day of the interview, she went down to the street for the first time and decided to put on red lipstick to brave the bad weather. She can't believe what her eyes see because it's not the same to look from her balcony and the TV as it is to step on the mud with her own feet. She survived several weeks thanks to volunteers and neighbors who brought her food to get by. "When I bought the apartment, my parents said any floor except the ground floor, whichever I wanted. The third floor was available and that's the one I chose," she sighs in relief.
On October 29th, she wanted to buy food for her rabbit. It was 6:30 p.m. Beers being carried away by the water alerted her and she didn't make it to the store. "I returned home as best as I could and lost my wallet and purse by holding on wherever I could. No one warned us," she denounces. "That night I spent on the couch, sitting and dressed, with my ID card in a plastic bag and some other things. I wanted to be prepared in case I had to flee somewhere," she says tearfully.
María Luisa is happy because she can tell the story, but: "This has been a disaster, like the tsunami movie, but worse, because this is like a war without bullets."