Venezuelans in the US still navigate the aftermath of deadly earthquakes, grieving and helping

LOS ANGELES (AP) — After her parents went missing under the rubble of their Venezuela apartment building, Kelly Granado Montano spent her days here “lost, worried, on the phone,” her body in one country, her mind in another.

“The desperation, the pain, and the anguish grew — from not knowing” their fate, she said.

She was among the more than one million Venezuelans living in the United States who watched one of the worst disasters to hit the South American country unfold from afar.

The powerful back-to-back earthquakes that struck north-central Venezuela on June 24 killed more than 6,500 people, left an untold number missing and damaged thousands of buildings.

As the news overtook social media feeds and family WhatsApp chats, survivor’s guilt, anger toward Venezuelan authorities and a devastating feeling of powerlessness overcame many in the diaspora, a group whose numbers reached 1.2 million by 2024, as people sought relief primarily from economic hardship.

More than two months later, some Venezuelans in the U.S. still navigate the earthquakes' aftermath — confronting loss and leading recovery efforts — against a backdrop of deepening uncertainty in both countries.

As President Donald Trump tightens his grip on Venezuela’s domestic affairs following the stunning U.S. military operation that deposed then-President Nicolás Maduro in January, his administration is also ending programs that allow more than 700,000 Venezuelans to live and work here legally.

Some immigrants feel a responsibility to keep shining light on Venezuela’s ongoing needs and unique challenges. “People think we are fine, but we are not," said Dariela Merchan, an emergency room nurse in Austin, Texas.

Granado Montano, 43, had not seen her parents, Marina and Jesús, for 11 years.

Unable to leave the U.S., she fundraised for the search efforts and pleaded on social media for more help to reach the collapsed 10-story building in coastal Caraballeda where her family had been vacationing at the beach.

A group searching for their loved ones spent thousands hiring a machine to move debris, to little avail. Progress began when someone donated an excavator and a drone operator helped locate missing remains.

Granado Montano was working at her arepas restaurant on Aug. 19, when a cousin texted: Her parents’ van was found in the underground garage, covered in rubble. Inside were her parents and five other family members and their friends, including two children.

Recovering her family after 57 days was “bittersweet,” she said. “We were happy because we had finally found them, but ... it wasn’t the way we had wanted – alive.”

In the weeks after the earthquakes, Alejandro Marquina rarely left his house in Doral, Florida. Going out with friends or his girlfriend sometimes triggered panic attacks.

“I was just feeling like, ‘I’m here having fun, but my family is dying’,” said Marquina, who lost five relatives in his home state of La Guaira. “Many people in Venezuela... they’re fighting for their lives.”

He enrolled in therapy, which helped him begin working through what happened. But it was sending aid that kept him moving forward. He raised $2,000 for earthquake survivors, including his own displaced family members.

“I needed to do something,” he said. “I couldn’t just stay in my house.”

From Tucson, Arizona, Diana Ramos raised $4,000 to help repair her badly damaged elementary school in Guatire, a city 45 minutes east of Caracas.

But soon came a new blow: Another huge earthquake in Colombia , home to 2.8 million Venezuelans, including her sister Duneida. Her sister was safe, but her workplaces were badly damaged.

Ramos wonders how much more her people can take after two decades of political turmoil and economic crisis. “All these things are accumulating without anything being solved,” she said.

The recent deal that gives the U.S. access to roughly a fifth of Venezuela’s oil reserves — which some tout as an economic lifeline, while others criticize it as an affront to Venezuelan sovereignty — didn't change Ramos' outlook.

She's moving forward, clutching to her routine in Tucson and the hope of seeing her family again soon. “The earthquake put into perspective how life can go within a second."

Merchan, the emergency room nurse, longed to put her medical skills to use on the ground. But an expired Venezuelan passport prevented her return, a common issue after Venezuelan consulates in the U.S. were shuttered years ago .

Last Friday after a long week of night shifts, Merchan, 28, packed donated supplies for overwhelmed and under-resourced healthcare workers in Venezuela.

In each box, she tucks a handwritten note thanking health workers, reminding them, “We’re watching, and we’re with you.”

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This story is supported by the AP Fund for Journalism and is a collaboration with Caplin News in Miami and Conecta Arizona in Phoenix.

Associated Press coverage of philanthropy and nonprofits receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content. For all of AP’s philanthropy coverage, visit https://apnews.com/hub/philanthropy.