“It’s much better,” says a volunteer who arrived from Teruel to clean mud, pointing to the destroyed cars piled up on a roundabout at the entrance to Paiporta. Locals and volunteers from other places agree that the situation has improved in recent days at ground zero of the catastrophe, after the massive arrival of army, police and firefighters machinery. The streets are now passable but the destruction remains widespread from the moment you cross the bridge that separates Valencia from its Horta Sud. For kilometers, everything is mud and mountains of cars and garbage.
The impact is even greater because the capital lives in absolute normality. A dazzling sun shines this November 12 that seems more like April, and life goes on in Valencia with the lightness of each day. In a hardware store, a customer points out some wellies: “This is like masks in the pandemic, now that there is no mud, there are boots.” But a few kilometers from there there is mud, so much so that it is difficult to calculate how long it will take to return to normal. “A year, a year and a half,” estimates Loli, a resident of Paiporta, at the doors of an improvised veterinary clinic in a parish building.
A collection point for different goods. / PC
On the only bus that connects Valencia with Paiporta – until a few days ago, it could only be reached on foot or by bike – a young woman asks her mother who it is her turn to help today. It is what is talked about most in this town, mostly working class: helping. Many have not left the town in these two weeks, first because there was no way, then because they are too busy helping to clean. All the people consulted agree on two ideas: infinite gratitude to the volunteers and distrust towards the administrations, towards all of them.
The streets of Paiporta are still full of mud. In the background, a banner thanking volunteers and neighbors. / PC
The normality with which the neighbors act contrasts with a panorama that remains absolutely desolate: orange groves covered in mud, mountains of chairs, pallets, cars, broken glass, burst shop shutters, parks buried under mountains of mud, mud , mud everywhere.
The atmosphere in Paiporta continues to be one of war. The UME soldiers work side by side with national police, the municipal police of Pamplona, firefighters from León and many others, in addition to the groups of volunteers who swarm with brooms in hand. Today there are few because it is Tuesday and the authorities have greatly limited who enters the town, so that they do not hinder the machinery. The State is late, in the opinion of many. “The following Tuesday [a la riada] There began to be more politics and army. Seven days, which is said to be soon,” protests Loli, giving voice to the feeling of abandonment that many residents of Paiporta continue to suffer. Excavators and cranes work to finish clearing the streets, while the green army trucks circulate to the indifference of those who have already become accustomed to the emergency. At the door of a church, a volunteer cleans the boots with a karcher of those who want to enter. Suddenly, the green belly of a low-flying military helicopter appears in the sky, drowning out conversations for a few seconds.
Heavy machinery works to clear the streets of Paiporta. / PC
Everywhere there are hot food stalls set up by volunteers: a woman offers tea and Moroccan bread, a man from Girona has brought food from his restaurant, various NGOs deliver tupperwaremuch appreciated by those who have gone days without hot food. The municipal auditorium has become the aid distribution center, where it is given to each person according to their need. Daniel, a volunteer psychologist from Soria, complains that there is a lack of coordination: “People come, they queue to collect food, we form queues. “Everyone goes on their own,” he laments. The products are advertised with precarious and laconic signs, written on an A4: broth, diapers, milk… The windows are broken and the air is seeping into the building.
Groups of young people bring food to the homes of older people who cannot go out on the slippery streets. Like in the pandemic. Many things about this disaster are reminiscent of the pandemic: the infinite capacity of people to adapt, an unconditional generosity that once again buries individualistic tales. And the horror of a force that seems to surpass human capabilities.
It’s getting dark and the streets begin to empty. The psychologist from Soria warns of the looming mental health crisis. A woman had an anxiety attack when they said it would rain again this week. A military truck announces it through a loudspeaker, as if warning of the arrival of an enemy army. It makes sense, because what Paiporta is suffering is a lot like a war.
“It’s much better,” says a volunteer who arrived from Teruel to clean mud, pointing to the destroyed cars piled up on a roundabout at the entrance to Paiporta. Locals and volunteers from other places agree that the situation has improved in recent days at ground zero of the catastrophe,…
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