A dedicated force of volunteer rescuers, known as 'moles', are continuing their perilous search for survivors more than two weeks after a series of powerful earthquakes devastated Venezuela's northern coast. The tremors, which struck on 24 June, have left a trail of destruction, with the confirmed death toll now standing at 3,342, and hopes diminishing for those still trapped beneath the rubble.
Among these intrepid volunteers is Darwin Rodríguez, a 32-year-old motorbike mechanic nicknamed 'Culebrita' (Little Snake) due to his ability to navigate tight spaces. He, along with others like 35-year-old Esnaider Meléndez, has travelled to the worst-hit region of La Guaira, specifically the beach town of Caraballeda, to assist in the recovery efforts. Their focus includes the collapsed 14-storey Residencia Costa Brava apartment building, where many are still believed to be entombed.
These 'topos', a term coined four decades ago in Mexico after the devastating 1985 earthquake, are primarily ordinary citizens who have abandoned their daily lives to join the search. Many, like those from the agricultural village of Poblado Uno, were previously small-scale cattle ranchers or farmers, now driven by a profound sense of community and the hope of saving lives or providing closure to grieving families. Adolfo Guedes, whose daughter is missing in the Costa Brava wreckage, expressed immense gratitude for their selfless efforts, noting their bravery in infiltrating dangerous, unstable structures.
The Venezuelan 'moles' operate with little more than hand tools, buckets, and spades, meticulously clearing debris and crawling through narrow crevices. Their efforts are reminiscent of the original Mexican Moles, who evolved into a highly trained civilian search and rescue team, pioneering techniques and assisting in major global catastrophes such as 9/11, the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake, and Haiti's 2010 earthquake. Now, a similar spirit of resilience and unity has emerged in Venezuela.
As the days turn into weeks, the physical and emotional toll on both rescuers and affected families grows. Relatives like Luzmar Olivares, whose husband lived on the fifth floor of Residencia Costa Brava, are actively participating in the debris clearance, clinging to the hope that a protective column might have shielded their loved ones. The scene is one of raw human endeavour, where neighbours' scattered belongings serve as poignant reminders of lives abruptly halted.