Immigration solutions: village in Spain welcomes Venezuelans who revitalize an aging community
The next morning, in the light of day, the town seemed striking. Everything looked so different from what we knew. The narrow streets paved with stone remained wide enough for just one car. The houses were old but beautifully restored. The tranquility hit me hardest. In this place, we walked in peace.
- 3 months ago
August 24, 2024
Venezuelan family enjoys a celebratory meal together in Spain. | Photo courtesy of Soraida Ledezma
VILLOSLADA DE CAMEROS, Spain — Today, living far from Venezuela, I miss nothing. What matters most to me and my husband: seeing our daughters thrive in the freedom and security they never had back home. Seeing them smile and growing up without fear proves our biggest reward.
We work hard every day and are starting to see the results. Not only do we adapt to life in this small town in Spain, but the town needed us too. Before my people arrived, the school sat on the verge of closing due to too few students. Today, Venezuelan children make up half the enrollment. This place became our future, and we became part of its progress.
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A decision to leave Venezuela: “We can’t stay here any longer”
Born and raised in Venezuela, I never imagined leaving. Over the years, I watched my emotional world slowly unravel. Nearly all my family, including a good part of my husband Carlos’ family, emigrated. The social and economic situation in Venezuela worsened by the day. In February 2021, my health took a turn. Doctors diagnosed me with cancer, and I needed surgery. I finally reached my breaking point.
To pay for the treatment, we sold some of our belongings, including a car. Letting go of things we worked so hard for felt like losing pieces of ourselves. We watched our efforts disappearing. One day, after a medical check-up, I arrived at my in-laws’ house. My husband asserted, “We are leaving. We’re selling everything and getting out of here.”
At first, I laughed, thinking he was joking, but when I saw his expression, I knew he was serious. “We can’t stay here any longer,” he insisted. “Carlos, what if it goes badly?” I asked, my voice trembling with fear. “If it goes badly, we will make it go well,” he replied with calm determination.
I knew he was right. We talked to our daughters, and to my surprise, they felt excited, not worried. Still on lockdown at that time due to the COVID-19 Pandemic, it eased the transition. The children had not spent much time with their friends. As a result, saying goodbye became less difficult. We sold our house, the other car, and everything we had left.
Family leaves Venezuela: “I had to stay strong for my daughters”
By then, most of our family already left Venezuela—my brothers, my mother, and Carlos’ sister. Only my father remained, and saying goodbye to him became the hardest part. We both felt the pain, but I took comfort knowing that from afar, I could help him more than if I stayed behind.
At the airport, a mix of emotions overwhelmed me. I felt anger at being forced to leave, sadness for leaving loved ones behind, joy for the new opportunity ahead, and anxiety about our uncertain future. It all churned inside me, but I kept it hidden. I had to stay strong for my daughters to prevent their worry. Carlos and I made up games, told jokes, and did things to distract ourselves from the uncertainty looming over us.
As soon as the plane started down the runway, my chest pounded so hard I was barely able to breathe. The sensation felt overwhelming, shaking me to my core. I looked out the window, trying to absorb the landscape that represented my lifelong home, unsure when or if I would ever see it again.
Villoslada de Cameros in Spain seemed like the best option because Carlos’ cousin already lived there. We flew to Madrid and took a bus to Soria, where Carlos’ cousin and a friend waited for us. We divided up between two cars, squeezing in with all our luggage, and drove off into the night.
Venezuelan mother finds community in Spain as daughters flourish in safety
During the drive, darkness cloaked everything, but the outline of the little houses caught my eye. They looked beautiful to me, and I silently wished I could feel at home in Spain soon. Although it was summer in Spain, we felt cold, accustomed to the warmth of Venezuela. That night, all four of us collapsed onto the same mattress, exhausted, and slept soundly without interruption.
The next morning, in the light of day, the town seemed striking. Everything looked so different from what we knew. The narrow streets paved with stone remained wide enough for just one car. The houses were old but beautifully restored. The tranquility hit me hardest. In this place, we walked in peace. The girls ran around freely without us watching their every move. We saw no threats and no robberies. It touched me deeply.
Few people live here, and everyone knows each other well. At first, I felt the weight of curious stares. We were clearly new to the village. One day, as I walked toward the school where my daughters would study, I noticed an elderly woman watching me from a distance. She squinted and shaded her eyes with her hands, trying to get a better look, until she finally shouted out to me.
Once I realized she called me over, I approached, and she asked who I was. I explained where we came from and where we would be working. By the end of the day, the whole town knew us. Not long after, we opened a restaurant, where I work all day, and recently expanded with a small store.
Spain is our new home: “This is where we’re meant to be”
By constantly serving people, I quickly became part of the community. Behind the bar, I listened, offered kindness, and gave customers a moment of happiness. Gradually, they began to trust me. Now, they greet me with smiles and ask how I am, gauging my mood from my expression.
When we arrived, the village school was about to close due to a lack of children. With our daughters, Carlos’ relatives, and other Venezuelan families who settled here, the town began to thrive. The streets came to life with the laughter of children. Nearly half of the school’s students are Venezuelan, offering a future to a village with an aging population.
I work all day, and by the time I get home, all want to do is rest. Yet, on weekends, we find time to visit Las Navas, a nearby spot which became my favorite part of this new life. The trail is long and rocky, lined with towering pine trees. Incredibly calming, I hear only the wind and sounds of nature. After an hour’s walk, we reach a flat area with a lagoon where we sit, watching animals pass by.
Seeing my daughters enjoying the village reassures me. At 11:00 p.m., when we would have been locked inside in Venezuela, my youngest splashes in the pool with her friends. They invent games and make plans. My older daughter walks freely with friends, without fear.
It feels priceless to watch them grow up happy. Seeing the situation in Venezuela now, especially during elections, I realize the same cycle simply repeats itself. Reality constantly crushes people’s hopes. Seeing this reassures me we made the best decision. This is where we are meant to be.
