On June 24, two earthquakes with magnitudes of 7.2 and 7.5 hit north-central Venezuela within seconds of each other — the strongest seismic event recorded in the country since 1900. The state of La Guaira was hit hardest, but the disaster has impacted most of the country.
The aftermath has been devastating. Today, government officials said that the earthquakes had killed at least 3,899 people and injured 16,740. Over 6,400 have been rescued, but the whereabouts of thousands of others remain unknown: Loved ones have filed over 30,000 missing persons reports on a website enabled by the Venezuelan opposition. Some families have also yet to be reunited; some parents who know their surviving children are alive have been unable to locate them.
Since the earthquakes struck — just months after the U.S. military intervention that removed then-President Nicolás Maduro and created economic and political consequences — Venezuelans have been plagued by uncertainty. That’s been amplified by dissatisfaction with the government’s response to the quakes, which acting President Delcy Rodríguez defended. Civilians have mobilized in great numbers, yet in many cases lacked the heavy machinery needed to rescue people from the rubble.
The situation on the ground is dire for many of the country’s more than 28 million residents — but there’s been relatively little reporting about what the young people of the country are facing. We sifted through the news to figure out what you should know about how Venezuelan children and students have been impacted, and what may be ahead for those in the affected areas.
A Compounding Humanitarian Crisis
Venezuelan children in the areas affected by the quakes are facing a stark humanitarian crisis. Of the 3.9 million Venezuelan children who reside in those areas, 680,000 are in need of aid, according to estimates from the United Nations Children’s Fund. That’s on top of 3.9 million children nationwide who had already required humanitarian assistance before the quakes, due to the country’s economic challenges.
Now, hundreds of thousands of children do not have reliable access to healthcare, clean water and protection, with hospital damage from the quakes reportedly affecting basic care throughout La Guaira, Caracas, Carabobo, Aragua and Falcón. Sixteen children were killed when a hospital in Catia La Mar collapsed.
There are also lots of kids and teens displaced. More than 17,900 Venezuelans have been left homeless by the disaster, with most still being housed in 87 government-run camps. Displaced families there are doing their best to find relief despite difficult conditions, with some trying to raise money to keep fans turned on to protect children from mosquitoes. An 11-year-old whose name was withheld at the request of a children’s aid group told CBC Canada yesterday that living in a camp has been difficult. “I want to sleep in my own bed,” she said. “I don’t want to sleep almost on the floor, with just a mattress.”
Many youth understandably seem to be struggling with their mental health, with some of the children in shelters showing signs of distress, including shaking and crying after hearing loud noises. Workers from agencies like the Child and Adolescent Protection System have begun working on temporary housing sites like the La Guaira Sports Center, where an estimated 1,000 to 2,500 people are currently housed, just over two weeks out from the quakes.
Young people’s collective emotional wellbeing was already strained before June 24. The NGO Cecodap warned in May that blackouts in Venezuela were affecting youth wellbeing, contributing to overall family stress and anxiety.
Disrupted Education
Alongside daily life and health, education has also been disrupted for many young Venezuelans, with upward of 432 schools in the Capital District — more than a third — damaged by the earthquakes. Half of those have been declared unsafe, which may mean that learning is disrupted for 24,000 students. Another anonymous 11-year-old told CBC Canada yesterday that her school was destroyed and she’ll have to bid goodbye to all her friends, since her family is going to move out of fear of aftershocks.
Some graduations have been postponed, such as at the University of Carabobo, which suffered structural damage, rendering some engineering and medicine classrooms unusable.
Classes reportedly were to resume July 6 in unaffected areas, according to the Ministry of Education, while remaining suspended in affected areas, including Aragua, Miranda, Carabobo, Falcón, Caracas and La Guaira.
In response to this plan to resume many classes, the Venezuelan Teachers’ Federation (FVM) demanded security and infrastructure-related safety guarantees. The FVM even warned in a statement that sending teachers and students back to schools that have not received formal certifications of habitability “is an irresponsibility that puts children, adolescents and teaching staff at imminent risk.” Their concerns aren’t unfounded: The Agustiniano San Judas Tadeo School in La Pastora, Caracas partially collapsed nine days after the quakes.
Among the institutions preparing for reopening is the University of Carabobo, whose rRector, Jessy Divo de Romero, said academic and administrative work will commence progressively beginning July 13. The Central University of Venezuela will restart classes September 1.
Some schools are unlikely to resume regular activity soon, as they’re being used to house displaced Venezuelans. According to the global education nonprofit Education Cannot Wait, 34 schools are being used as temporary emergency shelters. UNICEF has called for the temporary housing sites to be “rehabilitated before the start of the new school year in September.”
As people wait for updates and try to piece their lives back together, many are trying to fill the gap by supporting others. In Catia la Mar, a town devastated by the disaster, volunteer Juan Cordero is running an improvised soccer camp for children who have been stuck outdoors for days in the parking lot of a pharmacy. At the Republic of Panama school in La Guaira, Venezuelans in their twenties are running a shelter while simultaneously coping with their own displacement.
“People are 50% very sensitive and 50% full of rage, lost,” young volunteer Jose Mendez told Reuters. “They are angry about not finding their family members, about losing everything.”
