"I was left under the rubble and they thought I was dead when they pulled me out,” said Elvira, a 76-year-old earthquake survivor in Venezuela. “All I remember is that I was running and we fell hard, into the abyss.”
Elvira receives psychological care from Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) to cope with the trauma she experienced when two devastating earthquakes struck Venezuela on June 24.
"What I lived through is not easy. Everything scared me. I cried a lot, I couldn't sleep. The psychologist took the nerves away from me. I want to get past what I'm going through; I want to go back to being who I was."
The nature of the emergency has changed significantly over the last 100 days. In the earliest hours following the disaster, MSF teams started responding to urgent medical needs, supporting hospitals receiving large numbers of injured people and distributing 8.5 tons of medical and emergency supplies during the first five days of the response.
Now, 100 days later, the most pressing needs are no longer solely physical. What began as a response focused on saving lives and treating physical trauma has transformed to address the prolonged consequences of uncertainty, displacement, and the cumulative emotional toll on individuals and communities.
The physical weight of prolonged stress
In the affected communities of La Guaira and Caracas, many people continue to live with the constant fear of new seismic activity. They face uncertainty about their access to safe housing and difficulty restoring their routines and livelihoods.
This prolonged situation has resulted in persistent states of anxiety, sleep disturbances, stress-related physical symptoms, feelings of hopelessness, and widespread exhaustion affecting individuals and entire communities alike.
"What we observe today is not merely the effect of an isolated traumatic event, but the cumulative impact of living for months in conditions of uncertainty,” said Milagritos Valderrama, MSF medical coordinator for the emergency response. “Many people come to consultations with muscle pain, recurring headaches, gastrointestinal problems, or insomnia — symptoms that frequently reflect significant emotional and psychological distress.”
Over the last 100 days, MSF has provided more than 7,000 medical consultations. Among the most frequent ailments attended by our teams are musculoskeletal pain — accounting for 21.7 percent of consultations — followed by respiratory infections at 21.4 percent and skin conditions at 12.4 percent.
Medical staff have also followed up on more than 880 cases of chronic diseases like arterial hypertension, diabetes, asthma, and epilepsy — conditions that tend to worsen under stress and the harsh conditions of displacement.
Sheryl and her daughter Norkil live in a tent in a temporary encampment outside a housing complex that was evacuated after the twin earthquakes. Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
“This has demoralized me,” said Ashley, who lives in a tent in Mare Abajo, a housing complex that partially collapsed after the earthquakes. “It was a natural disaster, but it has finished everything: my heart, mind, and soul. I lived with my daughter and my newborn grandson in my house; they are my life. When this happened, I was in a tent that only fit me; we had to separate. I felt like I was dying of sadness for not being with my grandson. On July 29 I had a pre-infarct [chest pains]. I’m only alive because of them.”
The strain of working on the front line
Workers on the front line of the response also face emotional consequences. Health personnel, civil protection teams, rescuers, and volunteers have sustained an intense workload while supporting their own communities. Extreme fatigue, secondary traumatic stress, and accumulated grief processes are increasingly evident among essential workers. Their mental health is crucial to maintaining the response and recovery capacity in affected areas.
“My hope was to find life and what I found was bodies,” said Isrrael Lanza, a civil protection rescuer. “What marked me the most was when we found the body of a dog, and a woman and her son were hugging it. Their arms were around it, and they all passed away. Even the bravest person cries. There came a point when I forgot my own name. I didn't recognize when they called me.”
“On day six, I remember feeling completely exhausted,” said Elvis Díaz, a civil protection rescuer. “I had to stop. I thought about quitting, I just told myself I couldn't take it anymore. Part of my family lives here in La Guaira, and I spent 12 days without knowing anything about them. When I showered, I would cry. Everything piled up on me. I didn't even know what I was carrying. I did it in private so nobody would see me, so as not to burden my coworkers, because we are all going through the same thing.”
A multidisciplinary earthquake response
To respond to these needs, MSF’s multidisciplinary teams continue to provide medical care through six mobile clinics in Caracas and La Guaira, integrating mental health and psychosocial support with primary health care services. This network is complemented by four additional points dedicated exclusively to mental health care. Integration makes it possible to simultaneously address the physical and emotional needs of affected people, recognizing that both are closely related and essential for comprehensive recovery.
In 100 days, MSF mental health teams have supported 8,147 people in La Guaira and Caracas, offering group psychoeducation spaces, individual consultations, and psychological first aid sessions. Over the same period, MSF health promotion teams have reached more than 16,792 people through educational sessions and direct community outreach.
To prevent disease outbreaks in temporary settlements, water, sanitation, and hygiene teams have distributed nearly 230,000 gallons of safe drinking water and have set up critical infrastructure, installing five water treatment systems and 127 filters. They have also provided chlorine and supplies to purify more than 21 million additional gallons of water.
"The hardest thing is not finding my brother," says Rosmari, who lives in a makeshift shelter in a public school in Playa Grande. "I have hope he is alive because we couldn't find his body. ... While I don't have my brother, I will never be well." Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
Restoring a sense of stability
Mental health needs often become more apparent over time. In shelters and communities, the pain of loss coexists with organization and mutual support.
“The hardest thing is that to this day we know nothing about my brother,” said Rosmari Colmenares, a spokesperson for her community in Playa Grande, La Guaira. “The building where he lived collapsed; his wife could be rescued, but he and his son, who has Down syndrome, have not been found. My niece's body was found.”
Rosemari’s own home was severely damaged and had to be demolished. “I watched them demolish my house; my son hugged me and we cried,” she recounted. “So many years of perseverance to build it, to fix it ... In seconds, that part of you and your family is destroyed. It's not easy to move on with life; you’ve lost your place, you’ve lost your family. While I don't have my brother, I will never be well.”
Despite the rawness of grief, in temporary shelters, solidarity becomes an anchor. “While I'm in the shelter, I try to be useful by helping nursing mothers and pregnant women,” said Rosmari.
The earthquake has profoundly disrupted the landscape and character of urban life. “Sometimes I'm on the street and I get lost — I don't recognize things because so many buildings and businesses have collapsed,” said Elvira. “It's hard for me to figure out where I am. The pharmacy no longer exists; the bank doesn't exist either.”
Sustained psychological support helps the healing process move forward. “A few weeks ago, I told the doctor: 'I want to go back to work,'" Elvira added. “After thinking I never could."
To prevent long-term consequences for people’s health and well-being, it’s essential to ensure continued access to mental health services, strengthen primary health care, and promote dignified living conditions for displaced people. Rebuilding after a disaster involves much more than repairing buildings — it means restoring a sense of security, stability, and hope for the future.
Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
"I've already survived five tragedies: I lost my house in the rains years ago; I lived through the '67 earthquake and the Great Landslide of 1999. And now this happens and we are in the street again."
Hector, 75, displaced earthquake survivor
Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
"I don't sleep well. Any noise scares me. My youngest son is the most affected; he wakes up at dawn and says he is scared every day. I'm not ready to go back to my house. I feel safer here, even though insecurity scares me.”
Sheryl, Avenida Bolívar encampment
Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
"My baby turned one month old, and the next day was the earthquake. I thought the building was going to fall on top of us. I covered my baby with my body in case debris fell. ... I think about what happened all day long... My baby is what gives me the strength to keep going. "
Greydiel, Mare Abajo encampment
Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
"When I showered, I would cry. Everything piled up on me. I didn't even know what I was carrying. I did it in private so nobody would see me, so as not to burden my coworkers, because we are all going through the same thing.”
Elvis Díaz, a civil protection rescuer
Venezuela 2026 © Adriana Loureiro Fernandez
"I think what we are living now is harder than the earthquakes. It has only been two years since I bought my apartment. My house was a total loss. … I had to send my children to the east of the country, to my mom. Because I am suffering here, and I don't want this for my children. They are the only thing keeping me alive.”
Karely, Mare Abajo encampment