The miracle in Caracas is not a political spin. It is a three-year-old girl, pulled from the wreckage after six days. The rescue teams, working without sleep, dug through concrete and twisted steel. They found her curled in a void, alive. The nation holds its breath.
But the politics of disaster are never clean. President Maduro, facing an electoral reckoning, seized the moment. He appeared at the site, cameras rolling. He called it a sign from God. The opposition, silent for now, watches the polls. Approval ratings can shift on a single image.
The quake, 7.3 on the Richter scale, flattened entire neighbourhoods. The official death toll stands at 342. Unofficial sources whisper of double that. The government controls the numbers. It always does.
International aid is arriving, slowly. The US, Venezuela's nemesis, offered assistance. Maduro hesitated. He fears the gringos more than aftershocks. China and Russia are quicker to send supplies. They want oil contracts.
The rescue operation is a rare moment of unity. Soldiers and civilians dig side by side. But the clock ticks. Hope fades for hundreds still missing. The three-year-old is a story the regime will milk for weeks. "La resistencia," they call her.
Opposition leaders briefed me off the record. They are wary. "Every tragedy is an opportunity for them," one said. "They will use this to postpone the election." The electoral council is already hinting at delays. 'Technical difficulties.'
Maduro's inner circle is divided. Hardliners want a state of emergency. Moderates fear a backlash. The military remains loyal, for now. But the barracks are restless. They see the bodies. They know the numbers.
International pressure mounts. The UN calls for transparency. The OAS demands independent observers. Maduro scoffs. "Sovereignty," he says. "Imperialism," he cries. The crowd cheers. The rescue continues.
This is where we are. A child saved. A regime emboldened. A nation in rubble. The game goes on.
