Help My Hometown, Family and Friends Recover From The Floods

My name is Maria Grau-Sepulveda (Vicky). I now live in Boulder, Colorado, but on Tuesday, October 29, 2024, Catarroja (L'Horta Sud, Valencia), my hometown, where I grew up and where most of my family still lives, changed forever.

Around 8.00 pm, rush hour, with people going home from work, kids walking from their evening activities, most business still open, the steep riverbank, often completely dry, that flanks the northern part of the town, overflooded. Without warning. Rapidly. Unexpectedly. Furiously. It took less than half an hour for the high tide of water to reach more than 6 feet. The main avenues became dangerous rapids, dragging everything in their path: people, animals, cars, homes, stores, clinics… You can read testimonies and see pictures and videos here: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/01/world/europe/spain-rain-floods.html

In the first minutes of this fateful event, I got several texts warning me of what was happening. I quickly called my mom, almost 89 years old, who I knew was alone at that time of the day, her caregivers shift change. I talked to her for 5 minutes, enough to tell her to look for a flashlight or candle, and for her to describe what she could see from the first floor of her house. Water rising, buses and cars stacked in the street. Then the connection was lost. It was a frantic night for my siblings and I. None of us live in Catarroja anymore but most of our relatives and friends do. Few people with coverage were sending updates, videos, pictures. We knew the water at my mom’s house was probably around 2-3 feet. We prayed she had gone to bed without trying to go to the ground floor.

In the morning, we witnessed the desolation, the caliber of the disaster through my cousins, my sister-in-law’s siblings, our friends. Still not able to connect with my mom (no power, no phones, no internet), my cousin was able to reach her house amid inches of mud, debris and piled cars on top of each other. Just before his phone died, he was able to send us a last WhatsApp: your mom is fine. The ground floor was flooded, full of mud, but she was ok. It was a relief. But throughout the day the stories of our loved ones depicted the level of unimaginable desolation and loss. It became almost unbearable to be so far away. And in the midst of this, the same repeated words: "we are lucky, we are alive". And it is true. So far, we don’t have to mourn any deaths of relatives or close friends. But the devastation has reached all.

At least 95% of people in Catarroja no longer own a car anymore. All my cousins included. Most of our friends included. My sister-in-law’s family, most of whom live very close to the steep river that overflooded, has been hit particularly hard. Her sister’s dental clinic washed out, nothing left. All her cars too. But they are all alive, so we are the lucky ones.

Many of you have asked me how you can show your support. I wish I was there so desperately, helping to clear up the mess, working alongside my siblings, my mom, my aunts, my cousins, our friends, deep in mud, or gathering food and water, waiting in endless lines for them. But I can’t. I am here and this is all I can do. I can ask my dear friends, to help me to ease their difficult path ahead, the many financial hurdles they will face.

Please, consider a donation. The donations will go directly to my mom's account and we will transfer the funds to friends and relatives affected by the floods from that account, to help with replacing and repairing essential items and home damages that insurance won't cover. Your support, no matter the amount, will go a long way in helping them rebuild their lives. Once the funds have been distributed, I will send an update with details about the beneficiaries and how funds will be used.