If I have to go to China, but I'm not leaving him alone
Ten days after two massive earthquakes struck Venezuela's northern coast within seconds of each other, nearly three thousand lives have been confirmed lost and tens of thousands more remain unaccounted for — a toll that may never be fully known. The twin shocks, arriving thirty-eight seconds apart on June 24, reduced coastal communities to rubble and exposed the deep fragility of a nation already worn thin by years of economic and political crisis. As international rescue teams depart and the search for survivors gives way to the recovery of the dead, Venezuela faces not only grief on an enormous scale but the long, uncertain work of rebuilding a country that was already struggling to stand.
- Two earthquakes of 7.2 and 7.5 magnitude struck thirty-eight seconds apart, collapsing entire residential complexes and leaving the coastal gateway to Caracas in ruins.
- With nearly 3,000 confirmed dead and up to 50,000 still unaccounted for, the true human cost remains beyond measure — families are still pulling bodies from rubble by hand.
- The critical 72-hour survival window has long closed, and international rescue teams from Los Angeles, Florida, and Virginia are packing up after finding no further signs of life.
- Anger at the government's slow response simmers openly, as citizens recall digging out loved ones with bare hands while waiting for help to arrive.
- The UN has calculated $6.7 billion in physical damage — six percent of Venezuela's GDP — with the main international airport still partially closed and reconstruction plans still forming.
- Venezuela now faces the prospect of rebuilding not from a position of strength, but from within an ongoing economic and political crisis that had already eroded its foundations.
Ten days after twin earthquakes tore through Venezuela's northern coast on June 24, the confirmed death toll had reached 2,954 — a number that climbed by more than three hundred in a single day. The two shocks, measuring 7.2 and 7.5 in magnitude and arriving just thirty-eight seconds apart, left the coastal region north of Caracas in ruins. The United Nations estimated that as many as fifty thousand people remained unaccounted for, their fates uncertain in the wreckage or lost to displacement.
The hardest blow fell on La Guaira, the coastal area that serves as a gateway to the capital. Thousands lost their homes entirely and were sheltering in makeshift camps. By the time international rescue teams began departing that weekend — including crews from Los Angeles, Florida, and Virginia — the critical seventy-two-hour window for finding survivors alive had long since passed. Interim President Delcy Rodriguez held a ceremony honoring the rescue workers and their dogs, a quiet acknowledgment that the search phase was ending.
But recovery was far from over. While heavy machinery began clearing collapsed structures in La Guaira, families elsewhere were still extracting bodies from debris. Venezuelan volunteer Francisco Sasquia continued the grim work of excavation. Nearby, Víctor Colivert stood vigil over his nephew's body, refusing to let forensic workers take it away. 'If I have to go to China, to wherever, but I'm not leaving him alone,' he said.
The disaster laid bare deep fractures in Venezuela's response capacity. Many citizens had dug out loved ones with bare hands before any official help arrived, and anger at the government persisted despite Rodriguez's insistence that thousands of troops had been deployed. The country was already fragile — years of economic crisis and political upheaval had eroded infrastructure and services long before the ground shook.
The United Nations estimated $6.7 billion in physical damage, equal to six percent of Venezuela's GDP. Maiquetia International Airport, damaged in the quakes, remained only partially open for humanitarian flights. Venezuela now faces the immense task of rebuilding — not from stability, but from within the same crisis that had weakened it for years.
Ten days after two earthquakes tore through Venezuela on June 24, the official count of the dead had climbed to nearly three thousand. The twin shocks—measuring 7.2 and 7.5 in magnitude, arriving just thirty-eight seconds apart—had left the coastal region north of Caracas in ruins, with entire residential complexes reduced to rubble. By Saturday, as international rescue teams began to pack their equipment and leave, the death toll had jumped by more than three hundred from the day before, settling at 2,954 confirmed fatalities. But the true scale of the disaster remained unknowable. The United Nations estimated that as many as fifty thousand people were still unaccounted for, their fates uncertain in the wreckage or lost to the chaos of displacement.
The hardest blow fell on La Guaira, the coastal area that serves as a gateway to the capital. Thousands of people had lost their homes entirely and were now living in makeshift camps, their possessions reduced to what they could carry. Ten days into the disaster, the critical window for finding survivors alive—the seventy-two-hour period when rescue operations typically yield the most results—had long since closed. A few people had been pulled from the rubble during the week that followed, but those discoveries had become rare. The Los Angeles County fire department rescue team announced it was ending its search after finding no signs of life in its latest sweeps. Teams from Florida and Virginia were packing up to leave that weekend. Interim President Delcy Rodriguez held a ceremony to honor the international rescue workers and their dogs, acknowledging what everyone understood: the search phase was ending.
Yet the work of recovery was far from finished. In La Guaira, heavy machinery was beginning to demolish the structures that had collapsed, clearing the landscape of the most visible wreckage. But in other locations, families were still extracting bodies from the debris, preparing them for burial. Francisco Sasquia, a Venezuelan volunteer, was among those continuing the grim work of excavation. "We're still working, still searching for bodies," he said. "We found two bodies that have already been released to their families." The emotional toll was immense. Víctor Colivert stood vigil over his nephew's body, which had been recovered from a building and placed in a black body bag. He refused to let forensic workers take it away, fearing it would be lost in the chaos. "If I have to go to China, to wherever, but I'm not leaving him alone," he said. "I'm going with him."
The disaster had exposed fractures in Venezuela's response capacity that many citizens found unforgivable. In the immediate aftermath, families had dug out their own loved ones with their bare hands, waiting for international rescue teams to arrive. The anger was palpable. Rodriguez defended the government's actions, insisting that thousands of troops and officials had been deployed, but the criticism persisted. The country was already fragile before the earthquakes struck—decades of economic crisis and political upheaval had eroded infrastructure and health services long before the ground began to shake.
The economic damage was staggering. The United Nations calculated that the twin earthquakes had caused 6.7 billion dollars in physical destruction, equivalent to six percent of Venezuela's entire gross domestic product. Maiquetia International Airport, which serves Caracas and sits in La Guaira, had sustained damage that forced the suspension of commercial flights. The airport had reopened partially to allow humanitarian aid to land, but the broader disruption to the country's ability to function was severe. Rodriguez announced that international partners were being consulted about airport restoration, with a plan expected the following week. The road ahead was long, and Venezuela faced the prospect of rebuilding while still struggling with the economic and political crises that had weakened it for years.
Citações Notáveis
We're still working, still searching for bodies. We found two bodies that have already been released to their families.— Francisco Sasquia, Venezuelan volunteer
If I have to go to China, to wherever, but I'm not leaving him alone. I'm going with him.— Víctor Colivert, whose nephew's body was recovered from rubble
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why are rescue teams leaving if fifty thousand people are still missing?
The seventy-two-hour window is the reality of earthquake rescue. After that, the odds of finding anyone alive drop sharply. A few people have been pulled out this week, but those are exceptions. The teams have to make a choice: keep searching in rubble where survival is nearly impossible, or shift to recovery and let the country begin to grieve and rebuild.
The death toll jumped three hundred in a single day. How does that happen?
As the rubble is cleared and bodies are found, the count rises. Some bodies are buried under collapsed buildings that haven't been fully excavated yet. Some are in places that are still too dangerous to reach. The number will likely climb further as the work continues.
What does it mean that families are angry about the government's response?
In those first hours, before international teams arrived, people were digging with their hands. They were doing the work themselves because there was no one else. That creates a wound beyond the earthquake itself—a sense that their government wasn't there when it mattered most.
Six point seven billion dollars in damage. What does that actually mean for Venezuela?
It's six percent of their entire economy. For a country already in crisis, already struggling with basic services, this isn't a setback—it's a catastrophe on top of a catastrophe. The airport is damaged. Infrastructure is destroyed. And they have to rebuild while everything else is falling apart.
What about the people in camps right now?
Thousands of them. They've lost everything. No homes, no possessions, no certainty about what comes next. And Venezuela doesn't have the resources to absorb that kind of displacement. This isn't a temporary situation.