Isidro Navarro, a 60-year-old nursing assistant, looks disconsolate at the pile of rubble to which his home was reduced in a matter of seconds. “We have left our entire lives here, 35 years of savings buried under the rubble. We don't even have a wedding photo left,” he laments. Next to her, her wife, Pilar Catalán, identifies the thermos from her kitchen and the curtains among the remains, and remembers her lost pet. “My cat, where is the poor thing…” she sobs.
Their lives and those of their neighbors were turned upside down on June 13 after a month of downpours. That morning, this five-story block at number 21 on the central San Francisco street, in Teruel, fell apart like a sugar cube. That it happened during the work day and the courage of Humildad Martínez, the president of the community who raised the alarm floor by floor shortly before the collapse, were key to ensuring that there were no fatalities. “If it happens at night, not one of us will be left alive,” those affected agree. In total, 20 families on the street with their clothes on, devastated and outraged by the repeated prior warnings about water leaks that, they say, were ignored by the city council.
Four months later, his spirits have not improved. In a meeting with this newspaper, seven of these families reveal feelings of anguish, dislocation, helplessness, or uncertainty. They are middle-class workers or retirees who now live on loan in apartments provided until the end of the year - then their continuity will be studied on a case-by-case basis - by the City Council and the Provincial Council. They live day to day, drawing on savings, pensions and neighborhood solidarity, with emotional ups and downs and little hope for the future. “We don't know how long they will let us stay in these apartments or where we will go next. Nor if the insurance will give us anything or if on top of that we will have to put money into clearing up debris,” summarizes its spokesperson, Javier Carbó.
This is the case of Maribel Carretero, a 57-year-old widow who finished paying the mortgage a month before the collapse, where her husband's ashes were left. Or her next door neighbor, Teresa Pellón, who at 70 years old lived with her son and her two grandchildren. Both claim that they had been complaining for days about sewage leaking into their homes. “The day of the collapse, I just hung up with the insurance company when my sofa collapsed. I came out shotgunned,” she says. She still had time to alert Sagrario Gargallo, 74, the first tenant with her husband Félix of this building that was inaugurated 49 years ago and underwent its last major renovation in 2007. “We told the city council. several times, but they didn't take us seriously. “It's shameful,” she says bitterly.
When the collapse occurred, the College of Architects of Aragon indicated that the speed of the collapse suggested that the structural failure could have been due to “an active cause and not a slow process.” “We understand that the sinking was due to an external reason, in this case water, and not to a lack of maintenance on our part,” Carbó emphasizes.
In this sense, the Councilor for Urban Planning, Juan Carlos Cruzado, assured that “all these conjectures” will not be cleared up until the debris is cleared and the remains of the structure, the foundation and the conditions of the land are analyzed. “In view of this report, the insurance companies involved will have to decide who is responsible and undertake the expense accordingly,” he says by phone.
The clearing of the 6,400 tons of rubble is scheduled to begin this month at a cost of 1.1 million euros plus VAT. However, neighbors call it hasty and demand “more information and transparency” before undertaking the works. They fear that during the process evidence that determines the true causes of the accident will be eliminated and that, as a result, they will ultimately have to pay for it out of pocket.
In addition, they warn that the problem transcends their building and could affect the entire street. “It's the tip of the iceberg,” says Carbó. For now, several families from the properties adjacent to the collapse have been temporarily relocated, some due to the damage caused by the collapse and others as a precaution, although they hope to be able to return. Cruzado points out that it is true that there have been “incidents” in blocks in the area, but that technicians have reviewed them and none present problems at a structural level. “For now, yes,” he responds to whether they rule out a collapse like the one experienced in June.
While their situation becomes clearer, each one manages the uncertainty as best they can. Humility says that with her return to work she has regained a certain sense of normality, which does not stop her from bursting into tears when she sees the ruins. “We dreamed of a peaceful retirement, but everything has gone to waste,” she says. Pilar, now a neighbor on the landing in the reception apartment, is also considering resuming her job as a cleaner, while her husband Isidro confesses that she still does not feel strong. “I'm very discouraged,” she slips. Of course, they all assure that they are now “like a pineapple” and that they plan to remain united to get out of this “nightmare” in which they are involved.
