JOJUTLA,
Mexico — The remnants of their life lay before them like some crude
exhibit in a gallery of loss: a pink Bible, a Mickey Mouse T-shirt,
earthenware plates and enamel pots.
Their
home was gone, reduced to crumbled bits of adobe that now held a
menagerie of odds and ends pulled from the wreckage after Tuesday’s
earthquake, which leveled large parts of Jojutla, a town unaccustomed to
earthquakes, and left at least 28 people dead. Nationwide, the death
toll rose to at least 273 on Thursday, the president’s office said.
“We
have seen this on television but we never imagined it could happen to
us,” said Hilda Nava Batalla, 59, standing among her belongings under a
makeshift roof in what was her home, where the family had lined up the
furniture they rescued.
Jojutla,
with 60,000 residents in Morelos State, is near the epicenter of the
earthquake and was among the hardest-hit places in all of Mexico. Almost
half of the small one- and two-story structures in the town’s center
were destroyed. Those still standing were often badly damaged: balconies
twisted from their moorings and gaping holes in the sides of homes.
In
years past, when tremors have shaken or rattled Mexico City, the
capital, and other parts of the country, Jojutla’s residents weathered
the worst with little damage. This time, they received more than their
share of it.
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“For the first time in history it happened right here,” said Efraín Castro, the deputy mayor. “Jojutla will never be the same.”
Clusters
of people stood on the sidewalk, uncertain of what was next, waiting
for help to arrive. Late Thursday, it came in the form of T-shirts and
plastic bags with rice, cooking oil and a few other staples being handed
out by volunteers rolling past in trucks. But that was nowhere near
enough.
“We have supplies for four days,” Mr. Castro said. “The experts tell us the need will last for three or four weeks.”
“We aren’t prepared to face a catastrophe of this dimension,” he added.
The
recovery efforts continued on Thursday, two days after the most
devastating earthquake to strike Mexico in three decades. Rescuers
continued their hunt for those still alive, trapped beneath the rubble,
but hope waned. At a school building that collapsed onto dozens of
students in Mexico City, officials gave a final assessment of the toll,
which was lower than initially announced: 19 dead children and six dead
adults, with the faint hope that a member of the custodial staff might
still be alive under the debris.
Elsewhere
in the capital, life seemed to begin to return to normal. Workers and
volunteers still crowded the sites of downed buildings, but traffic
resumed on the streets, and businesses opened for the first time since
the earthquake. The initial rush — to save people, clear debris, feed
and house those in distress — had passed.
Mexico
City is awash in resources, so much so that some volunteers and
donations there have been turned away in some places. Two hours south,
though, Jojutla is a study in scarcity. Aid trucks have begun arriving
from Mexico City, but the continued need in Jojutla is in some ways a
reflection of the disparity between the capital and the nation’s more
rural areas.
“We
are asking for help,” said Rosalba Baena Padilla, 70, opening her
wallet and counting out the last 20 pesos she had left, a little more
than a dollar. “We don’t have work, we don’t have clothes, we don’t have
anything.”
In
the immediate sense, that need is for food and water. But entire
families are camped outside and more than 800 people are in shelters.
Workers dressed in red and orange overalls have begun the slow process
of assessing damages to buildings. Some families will be able to return
home, while others will not be allowed back inside even to collect a few
photos of loved ones.
When
the earthquake hit, Gloria Arcos Carpio, 62, was buried in her home.
Her husband dug her out with his hands and held out hope that she might
pull through when he found her still breathing.
But
the injuries were too severe. She died, her daughter, Cristina Popoca
Arcos, said Thursday, standing across the street, looking at the rubble
where the family’s home once stood.
Ms.
Popoca broke into sobs as she told the story. A neighbor gently urged
her to calm down. “Think of your son,” the neighbor said.
Her
son, Mauricio, 5, was playing quietly on the sidewalk next to the black
plastic bags that held all of Ms. Popoca’s belongings.
“I have nothing left,” she said.
She said she and her son would stay with friends in a nearby town.
Along Jojutla’s streets are scenes of utter destruction.
The
Ebenezer Reformed Presbyterian Church was reduced to a pile of raw
materials. Neighbors said no one was inside at the time of the
earthquake, offering something of a note of grace to the suffering.
“That’s what important, life,” said Ángel Gutiérrez, a doctor who works at the clinic next door. “The rest follows.”
By
Thursday, the government had started work with backhoes to clear away
the detritus from what officials referred to as the zero zone. Two
brothers, René and José Antonio Contreras Méndez, watched in a near
catatonic state as the heavy machinery pushed the splintered shell of
their home.
José
Antonio, 26, was on the second floor when he felt the house shake. He
managed to get down the stairs onto the street, then turned to see the
house collapse before his eyes.
René
and another brother were on the first floor where the family had an ice
cream store and a butcher shop. All three brothers escaped, but with
nothing.
“Everything that our father left us,” said José Antonio, “is destroyed.”
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