Aftermath of a Disaster

By Michael S. Serrill

Seven days after the devastating eruption of Nevado del Ruiz on Nov. 13, rescue workers in Armero were still finding living victims in the 15 ft. of ooze that covered the town. The searchers knew that they had nearly run out of luck. "If there are any more out there alive it would be a miracle," said Volunteer Jose de Jesus Lerna after several of the rescued had died. "Death is now unchallenged in Armero."

As the gripping drama of the rescue effort gradually gave way to exhaustion and a sense of futility, stunned Colombians turned their attention to assessing the damage and rebuilding their lives. The official count of the dead and missing topped 25,000, making the Nevado del Ruiz blowout one of the deadliest eruptions in recorded history. At least 8,000 people were left homeless by the volcano. Thousands of acres of prime agricultural land were destroyed. The threat of disease had to be curbed, along with a wave of looting and banditry. And there was the political fallout, with many charging that the government of President Belisario Betancur Cuartas had reacted too slowly when the crisis struck.

Armero had become a ghostly wasteland of gray mud pockmarked with the jutting remains of houses, automobiles, trees and sometimes dead bodies. The government planned to have the Roman Catholic Church declare the area a "holy ground," meaning that more than 20,000 corpses would probably remain forever entombed under the hardening mass of volcanic ash, sand and clay. Health Minister Rafael de Zubiria expressed concern over potential outbreaks of disease, though he emphasized that there was no sign of epidemics.

Health workers administered about 80,000 doses of tetanus and typhoid vaccines. By the end of last week soldiers had set fire to piles of bodies and shot stray dogs and pigs to prevent the spread of disease. They arrested looters and bandits, but their actions often came too late. By the time the military arrived at the scene on Nov. 17, said one official, "just about all of the houses unaffected by the avalanche had been sacked."

More than 8,000 residents of Armero and surrounding towns are believed to have survived the disaster. Last week 4,500 of them were scattered in 23 hospitals and clinics in four provinces. Thousands more have trekked off across the countryside in search of lost relatives, aided by lists and photographs of survivors broadcast or published by the government. Already, most of the hundreds of children left parentless by the disaster have been claimed by relatives. Altogether, some 8,000 children under 16 died in the mudslides.

The relief effort was bolstered by an outpouring of $50 million in aid and assistance from foreign governments and organizations. The U.S. has spent $2.5 million for such items as blankets, tents, generators and disaster relief teams. The Colombian government allocated $5 million to repair washed-out roads and bridges that had been in the path of the mudslides. An additional $2.5 million was earmarked to fix fractured oil pipelines. On Wednesday, President Betancur announced that the World Bank and the Inter-American Development Bank had awarded Colombia loans of $1.2 billion for reconstruction.

No amount of aid or assistance, it seemed, could dispel the widespread feeling that the bureaucracy in Bogota had failed when the crisis was at its worst. Critics of the relief effort charge that three days after the eruption the government had still failed to organize a plan of action. By that time, of course, hundreds of people alive in Armero immediately after the mudslides had perished. Nonetheless, U.S. Ambassador Charles A. Gillespie defended the Colombian government, saying that confusion and disorganization "are normal in disaster situations."

Many Colombians, who saw one heartrending human tragedy after another on television, were less generous. Some drew parallels between the government response to the volcano and the Nov. 7 crisis at Bogota's Palace of Justice, where 100 people, including eleven Supreme Court justices, died during a furious gun battle between troops and M-19 guerrillas. "The army lost no time in blowing up the Justice Palace," says a Bogota lawyer bitterly, "but they couldn't get a water pump to Armero to save the life of a little girl." Indeed, 13-year-old Omaira Sanchez had become a national hero for surviving for 60 hours while up to her neck in muddy water. A privately donated pump arrived shortly after the girl's heart finally gave out.

Distrust of government pronouncements has helped create an almost constant panic among the tens of thousands of Colombians still huddled at the base of the smoldering volcano. Twice since the initial mudslide they have been sent scampering to high ground after false reports of new eruptions. "Is it going to explode again? Please tell me the truth," implored Norma Duque de Ramirez, a former telephone worker in the mountain city of Manizales, where an international team of volcanologists have gathered to study Nevado del Ruiz. The scientists were far from reassuring. "This volcano is potentially at the beginning of activity that could last weeks, months and years," said Darrell G. Herd of the U.S. Geological Survey. For now, the survivors of the volcanic holocaust face a new life of trembling uncertainty. --By Michael S. Serrill. Reported by Bernard Diederich/Armero and Tom Quinn/Bogota

With reporting by Reported by Bernard Diederich/Armero, Tom Quinn/Bogota