Four days have passed since Villamanta received hundreds of evacuees who were caught off guard by a devastating fire that has already earned the sad distinction of being the largest in Spain’s history. The bunk beds remain set up one after another, unlike last Friday, when they were still stacked in bags. And now, in contrast to that Friday, the conversations no longer revolve so much around the fire, but rather about when they will be able to rest in their own beds. But for now, all that remains is to wait.
África and Santiago, both residents of Aldea del Fresno, were watching the sky. They didn’t understand why they were only given ten minutes to return to their homes and grab the first things they saw. “There’s no time for anything. The neighbors who don’t have the fire nearby are wondering : ‘Why are we being evacuated?’” laments África, who since then has been traveling with her two children, canceling and booking hotel rooms to spend the days and wondering: “Where are we going again with the suitcases?”.
In contrast, inside the Villamanta pavilion, a psychological care team is attending these days to the hundreds of people who cannot sleep. Not everyone speaks due to the mental and physical exhaustion they carry on their shoulders, but those four nights have left an almost indelible mark that they need to disappear. That is why, that afternoon, some passed the time playing bingo while others waited impatiently for nine o’clock at night for the yoga class.
“People are already tired. We’ve been here for four days, so imagine,” summarized José Manuel, although he quickly clarifies with a smile that he prefers to be called Pepe. Just a few hours ago he was able to go up to his house for ten minutes. Just enough time to check that the peppers and tomatoes in his garden had dried out. “I don’t feel like doing anything,” he admits leaning against the pavilion door.
In the space reserved for pets, Matilde and Cristian take care of Darín, their dog, and Linda, their cat. Around them, up to nine sandbags for the animals are stacked. «The sales have arrived, it seems», they joke, not without first thanking all the help. Because if something has grown at the same pace as uncertainty and frustration, it has been solidarity.
This is the case of Maite, who, without even being evacuated, came to the pavilion to lend a hand. That afternoon she placed yellow adhesive tape on the rubber floor to prevent tripping. “I know what moved me, the ability to help all these people,” she explains while offering conversation to kill boredom. Very close by, Gema fills a trash bag with waste. During the storm that hit the area in 2023, she lost her father. Then it was the neighbors who stood by her side and now she feels it’s her turn to give back that support.
Because among the bunk beds, the fire is no longer measured by the hectares that have burned and continue to burn, but in nights away from home and in people who try to maintain the routine where it almost no longer exists.
