IN CHOCÓ:
A HISTORY OF NEGLECT SHAKEN BY AN EARTHQUAKE
By MORELYS URBANO
Martha Patricia Palacios wakes up her 4-year-old daughter every morning to get ready for daycare. The morning of August 10, when a devastating earthquake of 7.4 magnitude hit western Colombia, was no exception.
Photo: Palacios, courtesy of Marta Patricia Palacios
Palacios, who works as a nurse at the Hospital San Francisco de Asís, in Quibdó, which is the only major hospital in the Chocó state, left her daughter showering as she went to another room to grab something. Suddenly, Palacios heard her daughter cry out,“ Mommy, mommy.” As she rushed back into the bathroom, Palacios realized the house was shaking.
This was not the first time she felt an earthquake. Since last year, the Pacific coast of Colombia has been hit by multiple seisms. But this time, it felt different.
Palacios’ reaction was immediate: she grabbed her daughter and ran out of her house. From there, both watched everything around them shake rapidly.“ My house is going to fall, mommy,” her daughter said.
Palacios looked around and realized the rest of her family had not gotten out of the house. She started yelling for them to evacuate, until finally, everyone was out of the building. Their home only experienced cracks. However, thousands of other families across the region were affected in much more difficult ways.
The disaster claimed the lives of 335 people across the country, the majority of these deaths were in Chocó, which was the epicenter of the earthquake. It is also the region of Colombia with the highest percentage of Afrodescendant residents.
Established by runaway slaves, Chocó is a historically rich, yet marginalized rainforest region, defined by centuries of indigenous resistance and settlements built by escaped enslaved Africans known as Palenques – and ongoing struggles for autonomy and control of the area’ s natural resources.
For Palacios, the first hours of the August 10 earthquake were defined by uncertainty. Phone service disappeared. Roads became more difficult to navigate as residents moved through the streets searching for relatives. Buildings had collapsed, and families did not know whether loved ones were safe.
In this moment of crisis, Palacios did what nurses do: she went to work.
“ Fue triste, ver que llegaban personas ya sin vida, niños, ancianos,” she told me in her native Spanish language.
Credit: World Central Kitchen / WCK. org
14