ONCE a bustling oil metropolis in Venezuela, Maracaibo now stands as a shell of its former self.
What was once a thriving city has crumbled under the weight of economic collapse, political turmoil, and mass emigration. Once filled with life and energy, Maracaibo is now a city of abandoned homes, empty streets, and shattered dreams.
The transformation is stark. Middle-class neighbourhoods, once vibrant, are now dotted with overgrown lawns and homes stripped of windows and roofs. These were sold for scrap by owners desperate to finance their escape to Colombia, Chile, or the United States.
“For Sale” signs are omnipresent, but few buyers remain. The once-bustling streets are quiet, as both residents and criminals alike have fled, leaving fewer cars – and fewer people – to steal them.
The exodus from Maracaibo is part of a larger phenomenon sweeping Venezuela.
Nearly eight million people, over a quarter of the country’s population, have left in recent years.
Nowhere is this exodus more visible than in Maracaibo, where approximately half a million of its 2.2 million inhabitants have fled, leaving behind empty homes and broken families.
The loneliness of a deserted city
“The first blow you sense is the loneliness,” says Maracaibo mayor Rafael Ramírez. “It’s devastating and affects you emotionally.”
His words echo the sentiment of many who remain in the city, now bereft of its younger population.
Maracaibo, Venezuela’s second-largest city, has been ravaged by a collapsed economy, frequent blackouts, and chronic shortages of basic necessities like water and gasoline.
Many of those who have left are young adults, searching for jobs and a better life abroad. This has resulted in a city where elderly grandparents are left to care for children.
“Right now, this is a country of old people,” says Antonio Sierra, 72, from his living room, where he watches over his grandson, Rafael.
Left behind by his parents who fled in search of work, Rafael’s first-grade teachers have also left. A collection organised by local grandparents now pays for a replacement teacher – at just US$2 (RM8.44) a week.
An uncertain future
Maracaibo is bracing for more departures as Venezuela continues to plunge deeper into instability following a contentious national election last July.
President Nicolas Maduro, who claimed victory despite evidence of a decisive loss, has unleashed a brutal crackdown on dissenters, further eroding the country’s hope for recovery.
As international sanctions remain firmly in place, there seems little hope for an economic rebound. Should the current situation persist, Maracaibo risks losing even more essential workers – doctors, nurses, sanitation workers, and bus drivers – who have already fled in large numbers.
Mayor Ramirez mourns the loss of Maracaibo’s once-vibrant oil economy, and while he acknowledges that the city will never be the same, he remains hopeful for reinvention.
“This was an oil city, a city that designed a convention centre so that all industries, people, the oil industry, would come here,” he reflects. “That city is not going to come back, but it has to be reinvented.”
A decade of decline
The city’s decline began a decade ago with the collapse of the state oil company, which was plagued by corruption, a lack of investment, and political purges of skilled workers.
US sanctions exacerbated the situation, leading to an economic freefall.
In 2019, a massive nationwide power outage further devastated Maracaibo, triggering days of looting that marked a turning point for many. Thousands more fled the city, heading towards Colombia on foot, unable to afford air travel.
A recent survey by the Chamber of Commerce in Zulia, the state where Maracaibo is located, found that nearly 70% of families had an immediate family member living abroad.
Another survey commissioned by the mayor found that half of Maracaibo’s remaining residents were contemplating leaving – a much higher percentage than the national average of 30%.
“We see that the portion of the elderly is growing, but not organically – not because there are more older people,” says political consultant Efrain Rincon. “It’s because there are fewer young people.”
The exodus continues
For many, the dream of change died with the contested election of 2023.
Many Venezuelans, even long-time supporters of former president Hugo Chavez, had hoped an opposition victory would mark the beginning of their country’s recovery. But with Maduro’s regime maintaining a firm grip on power and cracking down on dissent, migration is expected to soar in the coming months.
“Right now, people are strategising how to leave,” says Professor Mirla Perez, a social science researcher. Many parents leave their children behind initially, only to send for them once they are financially stable. Eventually, they send for their parents, too.
At Maracaibo’s airport, many travellers – including older adults – are leaving for good to join their families abroad.
Taxi drivers report long queues of people leaving on foot for the Colombian border.
For the elderly left behind, survival is becoming increasingly precarious. Many live on retirement benefits of just US$3 (RM12.70) a month, supplemented by meagre remittances from abroad, which average less than US$25 (RM106) a month.
Survival in a broken city
The Maduro administration recently established a Ministry for Older Adults, tasked with ensuring access to healthcare, food, and public services for the elderly.
But for people like 68-year-old Marlenis Miranda, managing daily life in Maracaibo is a constant struggle.
Electricity is sporadic, coming on perhaps once a week, and water is available even less frequently.
Miranda’s days are spent filling barrels when the water is on, and reusing bathwater to flush toilets.
Her children, like so many others, are scattered across the globe.
For those who remain, like 66-year-old Edith Luzardo, the decision to stay or go weighs heavily.
After two of her children left for the United States, Luzardo debated whether to join them, ultimately deciding to brave the perilous Darien Gap route through Central America.
“I’m not afraid,” she said before leaving. “I’m strong.”
Others, like Xiomara Ortega, 68, have no plans to leave.
Ortega is raising six grandchildren in Maracaibo, but with no running water, and money scarce, the challenges are mounting.
“There’s no one left,” she says, surveying the empty houses in her neighbourhood. “I will stay.”
In a city once brimming with life, Maracaibo now stands as a monument to a nation in decline, its streets filled with silence, and its future uncertain. — ©2024 The New York Times Company