The eastern region of The Palm Dawn this Sunday covered in the ash of the volcano in Cumbre Vieja, born a week ago on the west side of the island.
The main roads have been covered fine volcanic dust that travels on the wind for miles. And yet it is the kindest way that many palm trees that are not directly in the affected area have to face the volcano; that and the rumblings that are perceived from the entrails in each eruption.
A week later, living with the volcano begins to acquire a certain flavor of resigned normality. “As long as the other volcano has lived. the Teneguía, I don’t get used to the roar of this one ”, says Jorge González, a resident of El Paso, who confesses that he cannot sleep because of the fear caused by the incessant volcanic noise.
Walking on any given morning through the streets of El Paso before the volcano was to discover a small population of friendly people, alive, with their daily talks. It was seeing the lively group of seniors sitting on the bench next to the hypermarket making jokes and reminiscing about happy times past.
But this weekend, the experience for a local journalist is shrouded in sadness. The bank is empty. The desolation of deserted streets covered in ashes is perceived; there is a dull silence, only broken by the bellows of the volcano.
Few establishments are open and in those that are, the silence is even greater. In the bars and cafes, those here, those on La Palma, hardly speak. There is a certain mourning for those who have lost everything under the lava of the volcano.
“They are neighbors, friends, strangers, ultimately palm trees, of ours,” says the waitress of one of the few cafeterias that are open and in which displaced media workers rush to eat something to continue their work. .
Carmen is one of those people who have lost everything. Perhaps it represents those who with the constancy of the strength of the palm trees will continue fighting, because they continue working in their candy store.
Some friends enter the premises, try to cheer her up. His house was buried by lava on the first day of the volcano. Carmen is there, working, full of strength and hope to continue with her new life. When leaving the candy store, there is a humble piggy bank to collect money for the victims.
In the street, three taxi drivers are talking. One of them shows the latest recording of the drone of the Military Emergency Unit on his mobile phone. “He already took her, a little while ago,” he says. “The house, the garden … he buried everything,” repeats Antonio, a taxi driver from El Paso who now lives in a motorhome.
Going through the places of this natural catastrophe is hard for the local journalist, because at every step there are similar stories and they are your neighbors. There are many life projects buried by this harmful and nameless volcano.
“For those who already know the sad future of their farms or homes, there is no consolation or promises that at this time alleviate their pain,” says María, a young woman who together with other friends collaborate as volunteers in the Camilo León Pavilion in Los Llanos de Aridane. “I have seen the disjointed faces of these people, and it is very hard.”
You continue walking along the sidewalks of the city of Llanes, stepping on the ash that the wind has brought that floods everything and that makes you feel so uncomfortable, despite the fact that it is undoubtedly the kindest way to face the volcano.