The crack did not come from the sky, but from the bowels of the earth. At 12:56 in the afternoon yesterday, Friday, October 9, the clock stopped for millions of Panamanians. An earthquake of magnitude 7.7 shook the country with relentless fury, leaving behind a trail of panic, mobility collapses, and an uncertainty that stretched through the night and settled in at dawn.
After the main quake, more than a hundred aftershocks continue to rattle the ground, turning the usual routine into a long day of survival, solidarity, and improvised shelters in the open air.
In the capital, the night was not spent between four walls. In the San Francisco area, where tall apartment towers usually cut into the horizon, height became a threat. Hundreds of residents preferred to descend dozens of floors by the stairs to seek refuge in Omar Park.
What is a recreational space was suddenly transformed into an improvised camp filled with tents, mats, blankets, and suitcases packed in a hurry.
For many, the recommendation of emergency personnel and the proximity of the closed metro stations pushed them to seek that pure air which, more than freshness, gave back a sense of security that the concrete had taken from them.
For others, courage meant holding out at height or clinging to faith. "I live on the thirty-fourth floor and it was quite strong…
AI Brief
Your highlights
Faced with the fear of new collapses, hundreds of Panamanians turned Omar Park into an open-air shelter during the night of Friday. The cracking did not come from the sky, but from the bowels of the earth. At 12:56 in the afternoon yesterday, Friday, October 9, the clock stopped for millions of Panamanians. A magnitude 7.7 earthquake shook the country with relentless fury, leaving behind a trail of panic, mobility collapses, and an uncertainty that stretched through the night and settled in at dawn. After the main quake, more than a hundred aftershocks continue to rattle the ground, turning the usual routine into a long day of survival, solidarity, and improvised outdoor shelters. In the capital, the night was not spent between four walls. In the San Francisco area, where tall apartment towers usually cut into the horizon, height became a threat. Hundreds of residents preferred to descend dozens of floors by the stairs to seek refuge in Omar Park. What is a recreational space suddenly transformed into an improvised camp filled with tents, mats, blankets, and suitcases prepared in haste. For many, the recommendation of emergency personnel and the proximity of the closed metro stations pushed them to seek that fresh air that, more than freshness, gave them back a sense of security that concrete had taken from them. For others, courage consisted of withstanding the height or holding on to faith. "I live on the thirty-fourth floor and it was quite strong, what we felt," recounted a resident of the area as she walked at dawn to clear her mind. "At night I stayed calm, in God's hands." Residents of Pesé recount the moments of terror experienced during the earthquake and show the severe damage to their homes. Fear and uncertainty take hold of the population, which seeks shelter outside their homes. If in the capital the uncertainty translated into full parks and collapsed transportation systems, in the interior of the country the impact shows its most severe face. Provinces such as Herrera, Los Santos, Veraguas, and Coclé suffered the force of the quake harshly. In districts like Pesé, the damage to traditional architecture and masonry homes lays bare the vulnerability of their inhabitants. In neighborhoods and districts like Rincón Hondo, Sabana Grande, or El Ciruelo, the sound of tiles falling and walls cracking caught many in the middle of their afternoon nap. To the material destruction was added the suspension of electricity supply for several hours and the early closure of businesses. Amid the darkness, the first line of community response had to multiply efforts without enough tents or supplies. Local authorities and the residents themselves became the visible face of an aid effort that cried out for central help to supply water, food, and safe shelters to dozens of families who lost everything. A report from Omar Park shows how dozens of citizens decided to spend the night outdoors for fear of aftershocks from the 7.5 quake. The park was enabled 24 hours as a safety zone. The emergency did not grant respite even to health centers. Faced with structural risk and the persistence of aftershocks, medical personnel in various parts of the country had to evacuate patients to the outskirts of the hospitals. Stretchers, IVs, and monitors were deployed in patios, parking lots, and open corridors to guarantee medical care without exposing the sick to the collapse of the buildings. With the arrival of this day, the city tries to regain a weakened pulse. To the anguish of losses was added logistical chaos: with the metro lines out of service and the Metrobuses overwhelmed, thousands of workers walk long distances seeking a way to return to their jobs or go back to assess the damage to their homes. Despite the accumulated fear and the fatigue after a sleepless night, the official balance so far records no fatalities, a breath of relief amid the contingency. While specialists remind people of the importance of caring for mental health and breathing deeply after the trauma, Panamanians continue gathering their belongings, setting up tents, and supporting one another, demonstrating that in the face of the force of nature, the greatest strength lies in the unity of their people.