DANA causes devastating flood in Paiporta: a community rebuilds amid mud and loss
Shock engulfed me as electricity and internet signals vanished, severing any connection to the outside world. From the balcony, I stared into darkness, broken only by the street—a raging river dragging debris with unrelenting force. Cars collided violently, and furniture, sofas, and butane canisters spilled from homes and businesses. Unconnected screams echoed through the night as people cried for help or shouted in fear. Someone whispered about a neighbor on the first floor, unable to escape, who lost her life.
- 3 weeks ago
December 17, 2024
Whitby school in ruins, recovering from the devastation of Dana's aftermath. | Photo courtesy of Laura Velasco. 
PAIPORTA, Spain — Every day I get up and work to rebuild my English academy. Together with my business partner, who is my daughter’s father, it took us a lot of time and effort to set it up and make it work. It took only a few minutes for the water to completely destroy it and turn it into ruins.
It has been over a month since the DANA hit this place, now the mud is dry, and with the wind it blows and gets everywhere. We circulate with chinstraps, we keep the windows and doors closed, but nothing is going to take away our hope of rebuilding what we have lost.
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Panic set in: “water crept through cracks and crevices, rising quickly to chest height”
On Tuesday afternoon, October 29, I taught children of various ages at the academy. Around six o’clock, police vehicles arrived, and officers used loudspeakers to instruct everyone to stay inside. The ravine had overflowed. Panic set in as I struggled to process the situation. Grabbing my phone, I messaged the children’s parents, explaining what was happening and urging them to come quickly. I also contacted Dani, my partner, knowing his calm demeanor would help in this crisis.
From the window, I saw water rising steadily in the streets. The children cried uncontrollably, and we worked to comfort them despite not fully understanding the unfolding disaster. Some parents managed to collect their children, but those living farther away could not reach us in time. As the hours passed, Dani, two teachers, my daughter, three other children, and I remained in the academy.
To distract the children, we asked them to pack their belongings and put on their coats, pretending we prepared to leave. We repeated reassurances, telling them everything stayed under control. However, water crept through cracks and crevices, rising quickly to chest height and pressing ominously against the glass.
Dani’s voice rang out, “We need to move! It will burst!” Without hesitation, we rushed into a back classroom. Moments later, a deafening roar shook the building. The glass façade shattered under the water’s immense pressure, releasing an explosive crash. The sound echoed through the academy, a terrifying reminder of the destructive force surrounding us. In those seconds, survival took over, and we clung to the hope of keeping everyone safe amidst the chaos.
Rising waters in the academy: “We climbed onto tables to survive”
With relentless force, water surged into the academy, overturning everything in its path like a rushing river. We climbed onto tables, terrified. I froze, unable to think clearly. One grim thought echoed in my mind: “We will not get out of here.” Despite my fear, I tried to appear calm for the children. The water knocked over a table, striking the one my daughter stood on. She fell into the torrent but quickly stood and climbed back up. Another child lost his balance and fell, submerging for a few seconds before we managed to grab his arm and pull him back up. The rising water turned the academy from a refuge into a trap. We needed to escape.
Dani stepped out first, searching for a safe place to lead us. He opened access to a nearby courtyard and returned to guide us. As we moved into the street, the current swept cars away at terrifying speeds. I caught a glimpse of a young couple clinging to each other, sinking and surfacing as the current dragged them farther away. Their fate remains a haunting mystery. Amid the chaos, we pressed on, covering the short distance to the courtyard with the fragile hope of salvation.
Once inside, we climbed to an apartment on the fourth floor, where a family welcomed us with warmth and kindness. Soaked and muddy, we changed into clothes they lent us. Using what little phone battery remained, we informed the children’s parents of our safety. Exhausted, we ate a quick meal, and the children fell asleep immediately. The nightmare had not ended, but in that moment, safety and the kindness of strangers provided a fleeting sense of relief.
From devastation to hope: finding light amid the flood’s aftermath
Shock engulfed me as electricity and internet signals vanished, severing any connection to the outside world. From the balcony, I stared into darkness, broken only by the street—a raging river dragging debris with unrelenting force. Cars collided violently, and furniture, sofas, and butane canisters spilled from homes and businesses. Unconnected screams echoed through the night as people cried for help or shouted in fear. Someone whispered about a neighbor on the first floor, unable to escape, who lost her life.
By morning, the water receded, revealing devastation everywhere. I stepped onto the street, now resembling a disaster scene. Cars stacked at the street’s end, and whispers of a body trapped beneath them reached me. My mind numbed, shielding me from the chaos. Parents arrived to collect the children, and I walked home, avoiding any glance at my academy, unwilling to face the inevitable destruction.
After what felt like days, I gathered the courage to return. Inside, disbelief gripped me. The academy lay buried under thick mud, furniture and belongings either missing or irreparably ruined. As I stepped forward, my feet sank into sludge, clinging like quicksand. Overwhelmed, I collapsed to my knees, despair clouding my thoughts. “Rebuilding this feels impossible,” I whispered.
Then, volunteers arrived, carrying shovels and silently setting to work. Their quiet determination sparked something within me. Watching strangers clear mud and debris shifted despair into hope. Their unity and resilience transformed devastation into an act of defiance. In their actions, I saw beauty—a glimmer of light breaking through the darkness. What once felt like an end now seemed like the start of something new.
Rebuilding life after the flood
Days blurred into weeks, each passing moment consumed by routine that dulled my thoughts. One day, after endless searching, I finally found my car. It had been a part of my life for years, carrying pieces of my father—objects filled with irreplaceable sentimental value. The car, broken and buried in mud, rested five hundred meters from where I had left it before the flood. I shattered its windows to retrieve my father’s belongings, their weight heavier than I could bear. For the first time, I let tears flow—not from relief but from the deep sadness I could no longer hold back.
Nights offered no escape. Sleep vanished, replaced by vivid nightmares of water, towering waves, and destruction. Exhaustion and poor nutrition, sustained only by donated ultra-processed food, left my body and mind in a fog. Sadness hardened into anger, draining motivation with every passing day.
Paiporta lost all its color. Shades of brown cloaked everything, from garbage heaps to the muddy remnants of life. The smell of decay lingered, a constant reminder of loss. My body adapted, numbing to the dampness and rot, but a trip to Valencia jolted me back to reality. Returning home, the stench of mold and humidity overwhelmed me. Dust from dried mud filled the air, burning throats and eyes, forcing masks onto our faces.
Yet, hope persisted. At first, despair gripped us; Paiporta seemed destined to become a ghost town. Slowly, aid arrived, and people stirred with determination. Businesses reopened, and resilience replaced defeat. I stopped thinking too far ahead. Each day, I focused on one step forward, knowing tomorrow would arrive in time.
