It's like you've been left on your own to find your loved ones
Along Venezuela's battered coastline, twin earthquakes have claimed at least 1,700 lives and exposed a wound older than the rubble itself — the fragile compact between a government and its people in moments of extremity. Families in La Guaira waited nearly two days before official rescuers arrived, and in that silence, neighbors became first responders, digging with bare hands and crowbars through the wreckage of collapsed high-rises. The disaster has become two stories at once: the geological catastrophe that struck on a Wednesday, and the human one that unfolded in the days that followed, as some areas went entirely unreached and rescue operations were called off before the full count of the dead could be known.
- Twin earthquakes killed at least 1,700 people along Venezuela's coast, with hundreds more feared buried beneath collapsed high-rises that may never be fully excavated.
- Official rescue teams did not arrive in most areas until nearly two days after the quakes, leaving families to claw through concrete and rebar with their hands, spades, and crowbars.
- Survivors describe a government response marked by absence — police who observed but did not assist, entire neighborhoods left unreached, and a rescue operation abruptly halted on Sunday.
- Ordinary people filled the void: a man and his nephew pulled a screaming woman from the rubble at dawn; volunteers in masks worked through the stench of decay searching for relatives they feared were already gone.
- International teams from Colombia, El Salvador, and the United States provided limited assistance before operations ceased, leaving the true death toll — and the fate of hundreds of bodies — likely to remain unknown.
The rescuers fall silent, ear pressed to a hole drilled through a concrete slab in La Guaira, listening for any sound of life. It has been days since twin earthquakes struck Venezuela, killing at least 1,700 people in what the interim president called the most brutal natural catastrophe in the country's history. Nearby, Miguel Oscar Nunez waits for news of his son Angel, 34, who lived in the collapsed twelve-story building. When the silence yields nothing, Miguel's grief sharpens into anger — his son may be alive, he says, and government negligence may yet finish what the earthquake started.
Kevin Montilla's wife and teenage daughter were inside the same building when the ground shook. He describes a rescue that began with neighbors, not officials — police arrived to look but did not help. By the time cranes and diggers appeared, families said the most critical hours had already passed. Elsewhere in La Guaira, entire areas had not been reached at all. At a local hospital, Deilisbeth Herreira moved through lists of the injured and dead searching for her two daughters, aged 12 and 13. She had been at work when the earthquake hit and does not know where they were. No machines, no rescue teams have come to help her. 'It's like you've been left on your own,' she said.
Along the coastal road, two collapsed high-rises at the Bello Horizonte complex drew volunteers in masks and gloves, digging with spades and crowbars through the stench of decay. Juan Avendo, 60, whose home across the street was destroyed, heard screams from the rubble and dug with his bare hands through the night. By morning, he and his nephew had found a woman alive — passed her water, and worked until she was free.
Venezuelan firefighters, the first official team, arrived on Friday — nearly two days after the quakes. Teams from El Salvador and the United States followed. A few more survivors were pulled out. Then on Sunday, the operation was called off. Juan estimates hundreds of bodies remain beneath the debris. The true scale of the disaster, he believes, may never be known.
The rescuers fall silent. They've drilled through a concrete slab at what used to be a twelve-story building in La Guaira, a coastal town in Venezuela, and now they're listening—ear pressed to the hole, torch beam cutting into darkness—for any sound of life beneath the rubble. It's been days since the twin earthquakes struck on a Wednesday last week, killing at least 1,700 people. The interim president called it the most brutal natural catastrophe in the country's history.
Miguel Oscar Nunez stands nearby with other families, holding his breath. His only child, a 34-year-old son named Angel, lived in that building. When the rescuers hear nothing and the silence breaks, work resumes. But Miguel's anger is visible. His son is trapped under concrete, he says, and yes, the earthquake may not have killed him—but what if the government's negligence does? He needs more help. He needs it now.
Kevin Montilla's wife and teenage daughter were home in the same building when the ground shook. He describes a rescue operation that started late and moved slowly. At first, only neighbors came to help. Police showed up to check but didn't assist. The government's response, he says, felt frustrating and powerless. By the time we visited the site, rescue teams from Venezuela and Colombia were there with diggers and a crane, but families waiting by the roadside said precious days had already been wasted.
The building stood in a government-owned complex in a prominent location, which may be why it drew rescue attention. But other parts of La Guaira had not been reached at all. At a hospital in town, Deilisbeth Herreira was searching through lists of injured and dead, looking for her daughters—Greydelys, 12, and Graybelys, 13. A single parent working when the earthquake hit, she doesn't know if they were home or outside. She has received no help. No machines. No rescuers have been sent to dig through the rubble near her. "It's like you've been left on your own to find your loved ones," she said, tears on her face. Her daughters were quiet, studious girls. She wanted them back at any cost.
On a coastal road, two high-rise apartment blocks in the Bello Horizonte complex had collapsed into heaps. Families and volunteers in masks and gloves were digging with spades and crowbars, trying to reach people they thought might still be alive. William Rodrigues was searching for his uncle. The stench was horrible, he said, but he couldn't stand by while there was a chance someone was alive below. Help had arrived very late in most places, and in some, it still hadn't arrived at all. Police were present but not helping.
Juan Avendo, 60, lived across from Bello Horizonte. His home was destroyed. He and his neighbors heard screams from under the rubble and tried to help with their bare hands, clawing through debris with their nails. He and his nephew managed to pull one woman out alive. They heard her screaming at night but couldn't reach her in the dark. The next morning they found her, passed her water, and worked to extract her from the wreckage.
The first official rescue team—Venezuelan firefighters—arrived on Friday, nearly two days after the earthquakes. Teams from El Salvador and the United States also helped. A few more survivors were found. Then on Sunday, the operation was called off. Juan estimates that hundreds are likely still lying dead under the debris. Their bodies might never be found. The true scale of this disaster may never be known.
Citações Notáveis
My son is trapped under the rubble, but we need more support from authorities urgently to dig him out. It's possible the earthquake has not killed him, but can you imagine if he is killed because of the negligence of the authorities.— Miguel Oscar Nunez, whose 34-year-old son was in the collapsed building
The rescue operation started very late and it's been slow. The government's response has been frustrating and impotent.— Kevin Montilla, whose wife and teenage daughter were in the building
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did rescue operations take so long to begin?
The source doesn't explain the reason, only that families had to start digging themselves. By Friday—nearly two days later—the first official rescue team arrived. In the meantime, neighbors were using their bare hands.
Were there enough resources once the rescue teams did arrive?
There were diggers and a crane, and teams from multiple countries, but families said precious days had been wasted. Some areas of La Guaira hadn't been reached at all. The operation was called off by Sunday.
What strikes you most about the families' anger?
It's not just grief. It's the feeling of abandonment. Deilisbeth said it plainly: "It's like you've been left on your own." The government was there, but not helping. Police showed up to check, not to rescue.
Do we know how many people are still missing?
No. Juan estimates hundreds are likely dead under the debris, but bodies may never be found. The true death toll may never be known.
Why did the operation stop on Sunday?
The source doesn't say. It just notes that after a few more survivors were found, the operation was called off.
What does this tell us about the state's capacity to respond to disaster?
That it's fragile. Neighbors had to become rescuers. International teams helped, but the initial response was slow and the coverage incomplete. Some areas were simply left behind.