Laurence Dollimore
AS a biblical flood tore through his village like a tsunami, David Fraile received a heart-stopping message from his mother; “Help me, I’m going to die!”
It was just one of several panicked voice clips he was sent on that fateful night in Valencia on October 29, when a so-called DANA storm sparked Spain’s deadliest floods in over a century.
But this was not Paiporta, Chiva or Utiel, the other ‘ground zeros’ that grabbed headlines around the world.
This was Cheste, a much smaller village some 40km west of Valencia city that has been largely ignored by the media and authorities – a fact that locals desperately want to change.
At around 8pm last Tuesday, two ravines on either side of the town overflowed with water, forming one enormous ‘tsunami’ that crashed into a row of 18 attached houses on the village’s outskirts, known as La Alameda del Chalet.
They house full-time residents but have also been used as summer homes for decades, with a nearby communal swimming pool making for an idyllic getaway.
As the humble properties began filling with water, David’s mother Mari was forced to scurry up a ladder and seek refuge on a rickety shelf inside her ironing room.
For 20 minutes, she laid almost frozen with fear as she watched the filthy flood water filling up her home, in which she has lived in permanently for 25 years.
“It was a nightmare,” Mari told the Olive Press this week, holding back tears as she recalled the traumatic memory, “I really thought I was going to die. I could see tables and chairs being washed away, even my car was taken by the rapids.”
Painstakingly for David, there was nothing he could do to help his 67-year-old mother.
While he was only a couple minutes’ drive away in the centre of Cheste, the road to his mother’s home was completely cut off by floods.
Incredibly, Mari was saved by two Moroccan immigrant neighbours who scaled her roof, which had been partially ripped off, and dived into the flood water to fish her out.
Half an hour later, David received the news that his mother was safe, putting an end to his agony.
It’s the kind of story that briefly restores one’s faith in humanity, but Mari is scarred for life.
“I can hardly sleep, I keep having nightmares,” she adds, wiping away tears as her doting son consoles her.
And 12 days later, they are still cleaning up the damage on their own, trying to salvage anything they can from the wreckage.
“There are so many memories here and it is just heartbreaking seeing it all destroyed,” adds Mari, pointing to ruined books and damaged photo albums.
Among the debris are shattered remnants of family life, including her son’s guitar, children’s colouring books and crayons, and antique armchairs that have been passed down the generations.
As if the destruction wasn’t enough, there are additional fears of disease, as the inside of their homes have become covered with mould and fungus, while the stagnant waters pose a series of health risks.
“We are seriously worried about catching cholera or tetanus,” explains David.
Indeed, vaccines for the latter are already being rolled out in other hard hit towns, but not in Chesta, the municipality that seems forgotten among the chaos.
In fact, given the lack of help from police or the army, you’d be forgiven for thinking the flood had happened overnight.
There were no more than a dozen official workers at the scene, and they were focused on repairing a bridge around 200 metres away from the houses, which had been broken in half by the deluge.
Meanwhile, cars, motorbikes and hundreds of pieces of furniture and personal effects remain scattered outside the properties.
The shocking scenes show how the wall of water dragged everything outside.
Rosalia Martinez Santos, 50, who vacations in one of the homes, told the Olive Press: “I have never seen anything like this in my life, and we’ve had no help from the government, we feel totally abandoned and forgotten.
“The only people who came to help were a group of 200 or so young people who travelled from other parts of Spain.
“When I saw them getting off their buses with shovels and buckets, it was incredibly emotional.
“We have a saying here, ‘El pueblo salva al pueblo’ (the village saves the village), and never has it rung more true.”
Rosalia was in her own flat in the centre of Cheste when the worst of the flooding began.
From her first floor balcony she watched as a torrent of water carried cars and large recycling containers down the street as if they were pieces of lego – knowing full well that her summer home on the outskirts was being turned upside down.
Her fears were soon realised when she visited the following day.
“It was a complete shock, I was lost for words,” she recalled, “It’s going to take us years to recover from this.”
But if there is any positive to be taken from this disaster, it is the seemingly unshakeable sense of community.
While the Olive Press was filming among the wreckage, two boys named Juan and Vigilo, aged 12 and 13 respectively, showed up to offer their help, having walked over from the centre of town.
This had been the scene of many happy summers for them, where they would come and play in the communal swimming pool with friends.
“We have come to help clear out houses and do whatever we can because this is our pueblo and we have to stick together,” said Juan.
But in the wake of the disaster, questions are being asked as to what could have been done to prevent such a tragedy, which has so far claimed well over 200 lives – while more than 90 remain missing.
In Cheste, scrutiny is being placed on a dam that was announced as part of the National Hydrological Plan for 2005, but was never built.
Locals told this paper how a site on the outer borders of Cheste had been earmarked for the project.
The Olive Press was led to the area by a former plasterer who lives on a farm nearby.
Ramon Toledano Milla, 57, said the dam that never was could have mitigated much of the damage caused by the DANA.
“People are angry,” he told the Olive Press, “I remember when they were planning to build it but political interests got in the way, many lives could have been saved.
“My mother used to tell me stories of the deadly 1957 floods, so we’ve always known that these ravines pose a flood risk to the area and nothing has been done.”
The dam project was shelved following pressure from ecologists, who insisted it could cause harm to biodiversity – while the roughly €300m price tag became difficult to justify following the 2007 economic crash.
The dam site was at the height of the now infamous Poyo ravine, which measures dozens of kilometres and travels through all the worst hit towns of the flood and down to Valencia city.
For the residents of Cheste, they now face years of crippling anxiety over if – or rather when – history will repeat itself.
It comes after meteorologists this week said a similar flooding event is likely to reoccur within 20 years.
It of course means the value of their homes, smack bang in the middle of a potential flood catastrophe, has virtually plummeted.
“We are thinking of moving,” confesses David, “My mother doesn’t know if she can continue living here now, she cannot go through something like this again, we don’t feel safe.”
But he at least remains hopeful.
“We are taking it day by day, and we will rebuild step by step, but we want the world to know what has happened here, and we want the people in power to be held accountable.”
