In coastal Venezuelan cities shattered by twin earthquakes, the sound that dominates the streets is not heavy machinery but shovels, pickaxes and bare hands scraping through concrete and dust. Nearly three weeks after the disaster, families are still camped beside the ruins of their homes, refusing to abandon the search for missing relatives.

Where apartment blocks once stood, improvised tent camps now cling to the edges of crumpled buildings. Mattresses lie on sidewalks, plastic tarps flap in the wind and cooking fires burn beside twisted rebar. At night, relatives sleep within sight of the rubble, fearful that if they leave, the search for their loved ones will slow or stop altogether.

Among them is Silvana Aguilera, who has pitched a makeshift shelter from sheets and rope outside the collapsed residential tower where her only son and only grandson are believed to be buried. Her own building, next door, is cracked and leaning but still standing. The one that held her son’s young family pancaked in seconds.

Days of heavy rain have turned the debris into a treacherous mix of mud and broken concrete, complicating rescue and recovery efforts. Aguilera says the downpours wash away the faint hope that rescuers might find pockets of air or signs of life. Yet she refuses to leave.

I cannot get my family out, she says, her voice hoarse from dust and sleepless nights. If I go, who will keep asking them to keep digging

Authorities under acting President Delcy Rodríguez say more than 17,000 people have been left homeless. Many now sleep in schools hastily converted into shelters, while others crowd into plazas, parks and church courtyards. Aid groups report shortages of clean water, medicine and basic sanitation, warning of the risk of disease in the overcrowded encampments.

Excavators and cranes have begun to appear at some of the worst-hit sites, but residents say the equipment is spread too thin and often arrives late in the day, leaving volunteers to do most of the digging by hand. Families complain of confusing instructions from officials and a lack of clear information about where bodies are being taken once they are recovered.

Still, each time a siren sounds or a stretcher emerges from the dust, the crowd falls silent. In this landscape of ruin, closure has become the only form of rescue many families still hope for.