German Tsunami Victims Response Group e.V.
was established as a non-profit German tsunami victims organisation
acting worldwide to prevent man-made disasters. Anyone can contribute. Donate and help our association. Account for donations: Jerzy Zbigniew Chojnowski, IBAN: DE 48 2004 0000 0420 7692 00, BIC: COBADEFFXXX
Image copyrightReutersImage caption
Several buildings collapsed in the coastal city of Durres
Nine people have been arrested in Albania on suspicion of murder and abuse of power over the collapse of buildings in last month's earthquake.
Two of those arrested on murder charges owned hotels that collapsed in the city of Durres, one of the areas worst hit.
Both hotels had been built illegally and one of them had also been irregularly legalised, police said. Illegal construction has been rife in Albania since the fall of communism in 1990.
The 6.4-magnitude quake left 51 dead.
The tremor, the strongest to hit the country in decades, struck in the early hours of the morning on 26 November as most people were asleep. More than 14,000 people were left homeless.
In total, prosecutors issued 17 arrest warrants for builders, engineers and officials suspected of breaching safety standards. Eight of the suspects are still being sought and police said some had fled the country after the earthquake.
Image copyrightEPAImage caption
The earthquake was the strongest to hit Albania in decades
More than 14,000 buildings were damaged and engineers were still determining which ones are structurally safe, AP news agency reports.
After the fall of communism in the early 1990s, many residents moved to cities, where construction was made with little government supervision. Many of the buildings have been legalised since then.
The quake struck 34km (21 miles) north-west of the Albanian capital, Tirana. Most of the deaths occurred in Durres and Thumane, close to the epicentre.
The Balkans is in an area prone to seismic activity, lying close to a fault line between the Eurasian and African tectonic plates. Albania sits on a smaller, Adriatic tectonic plate.
Meanwhile, the European Commission - the EU executive - said member states had agreed to hold a donors' conference in Tirana in January.
Despite having tears in her eyes, Drita pressed a plastic bag, brimming with mandarins into my hand,
“Please, take them for your baby, God bless you,” she said with the hint of a smile on her weathered face.
I was instantly humbled. Here we stood in the ruins of her family home, next to the converted shipping container where her whole family now lived, and despite it all, she was determined to give me a parting gift. Albanian hospitality knows no bounds, even in times of turmoil and strife, the kind hearted souls of these people shines through even the most encompassing darkness.
For almost three decades, Drita, her husband, her two sons, and now their families have lived in this house. Over the years the poured their blood, sweat, tears, and every cent they had into their property- the men working on the building, and Drita tending to the flowers, fruit trees, vegetables, and chickens that still run around in the garden.
Then, on 26 November 2019 at 3:54am, a magnitude 6.3 earthquake struck Albania, and her village of Bubq was just a couple of kilometres from the epicentre. The quake claimed the lives of 51 people, injured hundreds, and displaced thousands. While Drita and her family are lucky they escaped unharmed, their home and all they have worked for has been destroyed.
Now they live in a container, crammed full of what they could salvage from their house, as well as a small stove and donated blankets. They have been told they will get a bit of money from the government to rebuild their lives, but Drita explained that the sum is so small, it barely cover the cost of demolishing and clearing the old house, let alone building a new one.
In the village of Thumane, where many lost their lives, I meet Mirushe a 33-year-old mum of three. Standing amongst fallen slabs of concrete, twisted steel bars, and dust covered clothing, they are picking through what used to be their apartment in the hope of being able to salvage something. On the night of the earthquake, luckily she was awake as she was tending to her infant child. As soon as the earth started to shake, she roused her family and escaped before the block was razed to the ground.
She tells me how her apartment was damaged after an earthquake in September and the Municipality told her it was unsafe to stay in, but provided her with no option of where to go, and didn’t tell her not to go back. Living on just EUR 70 a month, her only choice was to stay. She tells me how thankful she is that they managed to survive.
Her three year old son plays in the ruins of the house opposite where two families, including young children died. A child’s pink school bag lies on the floor and I spot shoes, clothing, and toys amongst the rubble. Now staying in a hotel in Shengjin, provided for by the state, she doesn’t know what their future holds or how they will find a new home to live in.
After a short drive, our hearts heavy with the black sorrow of standing in the shadows of buildings that claimed the lives of so many, we arrived in Mamuras.
As we stopped in the centre, a hearse passed us followed by a number of men on foot, dressed in shades of grey, black and navy, red faced and swaying no doubt to the raki consumed prior to the funeral procession.
We headed out towards Fushe Mamuras where we met a family that told us they were yet to receive any help from the state. The matriarch, a blonde girl of 23 has three of her own children, and two she adopted after her brother died and their mother absconded.
Her home still stands but the walls within are crumbled a cracked and huge holes in the ceiling let the light in from the grey sky above.
She tells me that the Municipality told her that the house was safe on 28 November, but that during one of the aftershocks days later, the bedroom walls collapsed whilst her and her children were sleeping. Again, they were lucky to escape and she shows me the injuries her young son sustained to her leg.
They now live in an out-house measuring around 3.5m square. This is where eight people sleep, eat, cook, and wash and they have no indication of how long they will remain there or if they will ever be able to return home.
Her mother in law grasps my hand with tears in her eyes and tells me she just doesn’t know what to do. They have an income of around EUR 200 a month to support them all and she explains she cannot see a way out of their situation.
Not far from their home, I meet an ex-philosophy teacher. He explains how once upon a time he had a good income, savings, and a comfortable life until he lost his work due to political reasons. At the same time, his mother became ill and he spent every penny he had on sending her to Turkey to treat her but despite best efforts, she passed away in 2014. Now, he lives in a small stone house with five other members of his family.
The walls are cracked, the ceiling has holes in, and you can see the garden through where the fireplace should have stood. The government came, left a small tent, and haven’t been back since.
I ask him why he thinks they have received no help and he tells me, “We are not important people, we have no influence, we are not useful to them’. He believes that because they are poor, unemployed, and not politically aligned with the ruling party, they are at the bottom of the queue when it comes to aid.
It is the same story from Lindita, just a few moments away. She explained how they went to the Municipality to ask for help but they told her that as she is affiliated with an opposition political party, she is not entitled to their help. Her children now sleep on a sofa in the garden, covered with plastic sheets whilst she sleeps in her home which is cracked, broken, and falling apart more each day.
Then in the village of Vlashaj, a stones throw from Tirana, I learned that some 25 families are now homeless. Whilst these houses look big, beautiful, and well kept, on closer inspection you can see the shifted foundations, the deep cracks that cut right through them, and the crumbling interiors.
We meet one man who lives in a beautiful, single story home. With gorgeous flowers in the garden and trees laden with oranges, he explains how his home was their families pride a joy. His wife, he tells me, is wonderful at tending flowers and that she pours her soul into the garden. Now, she is staying with family nearby as she is too scared to enter their home.
A small stable that recently housed chickens will become their new home. Cold, drafty, and built from rough stone bricks, he is working hard to make it inhabitable enough for them to live in until the day comes that they can rebuild their home, and lives.
What I saw this day shocked me in a number of ways. Many of the people I saw today were suffering long before the earthquake came. Forgotten, silenced, pushed aside, they have carved lives out for themselves against a number of odds and with no help from the state.
Then, after the earthquake, they have found themselves in an even more impossible situation. Homeless, jobless, cold, hungry, ignored- many of them laughed when I asked if the state would help them. For these people, hope of help is a distant dream and instead, they will do what they can to survive despite all of the obstacles put in their way.
Reuters
EPA
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen