When the Ground Betrays Us, We Hold Each Other

A letter of solidarity from Rimini to every heart trembling in Caracas tonight.

The earth shook, and the world held its breath.

I’m writing this from my desk in Rimini, the Adriatic air carrying that faint salt smell through my window, and my hands won’t quite stay still. Not because of my dystonia this time — but because I’ve spent the morning reading about Venezuela, and some news sits in your chest like a stone.

Two powerful earthquakes struck the country back-to-back, collapsing buildings in Caracas and leaving at least 188 people dead and more than 1,500 injured . The second tremor, hitting the same area near San Felipe barely a minute after the first, was the strongest the region has felt since 1900. Scientists have a cold, clinical name for this: a “severe seismic doublet sequence.” Two giant blows, one breath apart.

I want to explain the science plainly, because understanding helps us feel less powerless.

What Actually Happened Beneath Venezuela

Let me simplify this — no equations, I promise.

An earthquake is the planet releasing pressure that’s been building for decades, sometimes centuries, along cracks in the Earth’s crust called faults. When two strong quakes strike the same zone moments apart, geologists call it a doublet, and that’s exactly what unfolded near San Felipe, a city of more than 200,000 people about 200 miles west of Caracas . The first quake weakens everything; the second finishes what the first began. Walls already cracked simply give way.

What makes this disaster so cruel is timing. Many Venezuelans were home, relaxing, because it was a public holiday afternoon. Coro Martinez, 56, from eastern Caracas, described it simply: “There was a very loud crash. Things fell in the house, jugs inside the refrigerator. I’ve never experienced anything like it” .

Read that again. Jugs in the refrigerator. The ordinary furniture of a Wednesday, turned into rubble.

The Faces Behind the Numbers

Statistics numb us. People wake us up.

In the port city of La Guaira, residents estimate that hundreds of people are trapped under collapsed buildings, and rescuers are still digging with their hands and whatever tools they can find . In the Altamira neighbourhood of Caracas, officials reported “alarming situations” — homes flattened, people hurt, and a desperate plea for motorists to clear the roads for ambulances . At Simón Bolívar International Airport in Maiquetía, footage verified by reporters shows people scrambling for cover inside a building that’s literally shaking around them .

And then there’s the quieter agony.

Members of the Venezuelan community in South Florida spent Wednesday frantically trying to reach relatives in Caracas, blocked by spotty cell service and broken internet coverage . I know that specific helplessness — the phone that won’t connect, the silence that screams. When my family left Albania in 1991, distance meant not knowing for days whether the people you loved were safe. Technology was supposed to end that fear. Tonight it hasn’t.

Why I Refuse to Stay Silent

Here at FreeAstroScience, we say it constantly: science exists to serve human beings, not the other way round.

So when the ground itself becomes the enemy, the only rational response is the most human one — we show up for each other. The need on the ground right now is brutally practical: search and rescue, emergency shelter for families whose homes are gone, trauma care, psychological support, clean water, and basic household items . The Venezuelan Red Cross is responding even though its own headquarters was damaged in the quake — volunteers still searching for their missing colleagues while trying to save strangers

That image undoes me. Wounded people helping the wounded.

The world is answering, and that matters. The European Commission president Ursula von der Leyen wrote, “We express our solidarity with all Venezuelans… We are with you” . The World Food Programme’s acting director echoed it almost word for word: “All our solidarity with the Venezuelan people… We are with you”. Cuban healthcare workers have fully mobilised and are already treating the injured . Offers of help have poured in from around the world, including from the United States .

Across politics, across borders, across old grievances — the same three words keep surfacing.

We are with you.

How You and I Can Actually Help

Good intentions feed no one. Action does.

If you want to do something tonight, the most useful thing is supporting the organisations already on the ground. The International Rescue Committee is delivering urgent humanitarian assistance and has asked directly for support of its work in Venezuela. International Medical Corps is well-positioned to respond because it already runs medical programmes inside the country, which means your help reaches people faster, not slower . Even amplifying verified information helps families in places like South Florida who are desperate for news of relatives.

You don’t need to be wealthy or powerful. You need to be present.

I’ve survived multiple surgeries, a brain implant put in and later taken out, years when my own body felt like hostile territory. What carried me through wasn’t optimism. It was other people refusing to give up on me when I’d run out of strength to fight for myself. That’s the whole secret. We borrow each other’s courage.

A Quiet Word to Venezuela

I want to speak directly to anyone reading this from inside the wreckage.

The opposition leader María Corina Machado wrote that she hopes “strength, serenity, and solidarity” will prevail among Venezuelans in this terrible moment . I’d add only one thing from my own life, the phrase that’s gotten me through every dark ward and every relapse: never give up.

The aftershocks will fade. The buildings will rise again, stronger and built to better codes, because that’s what humans do — we learn from the fault lines, literal and emotional. Casualty figures are still expected to rise as rescue work continues , and I won’t insult you by pretending the coming weeks will be easy.

But you’re not alone in the dark. Half the planet is holding a candle for you tonight.

From a wheelchair in Rimini, with the sea whispering outside and my whole community behind me — Venezuela, we are with you. And we’re not going anywhere.