Fires in California: the diaspora of paradise is anxiously awaiting its return to devastated homes

OROVILLE, California – A few hundred members of the frantic exodus from paradise found themselves here in the large, hard parking lot of the Nazarene Church.

There are campers and vans, their beds full of food for animals and humans, water bottles, blankets and toys. Dogs roam between cars where, early Tuesday, people lay on the front seats to sleep. Camping tents dot the parking lot.

The neighbors who fled the campfire, which is now the deadliest in the history of the state, have done it together. Now, on this corner of the earth, they have recreated their old neighborhoods, which sit about an hour on the hill and have probably been burned to ashes.

[Death toll rises in California’s Camp Fire, making it the deadliest wildfire ever in the state]

But nobody knows for sure. This is the concern in this center and in other evacuation centers, where tens of thousands of residents have ended up.

Their cities, where some have lived here for decades, are now a mystery. What happened to friends and family is a mystery. The identity of the 42 dead in the camp fire is a mystery, since forensic tests are needed on most victims to determine who they are.

What becomes paradise, once the residents are allowed to return and witness the total devastation, is a mystery. Many here simply do not know how important the damage is.

"We hear so many different stories and many of us have no idea if our homes are still standing," said 33-year-old Erin Finafrock, who ran away on Thursday morning. in the Pleasant Pines motorhome park in Magalia, a city in paradise. "We are really in the air here."

As the camp's fire spread Tuesday to the northeast, fire and rescue teams searched the ruins of Paradise and nearby towns in search of bodies.

Two large fires also continued to burn north of Los Angeles and officials said the Woolsey Fire, which has burned down Malibu neighborhoods, destroyed more than 80 percent of the country's national recreational area. Santa Monica, a vast home to hundreds of animal species and native plants.

There is no rain in sight at both ends of the state.

Fire and rescue officials are hoping that the number of campfire victims will increase as slow searches take place over the next few weeks. More than 200 people are still missing, with some of them probably crowded into waiting shelters.

As long as the work is not finished, no one is allowed to go to heaven.

People here have become online detectives, browsing the Facebook pages of any amateur video filmed while the fire devastated the city. They use their cell phones to check on their friends and relatives. Some have learned that it could be weeks before you can walk up the hill.

"I had never owned a cell phone in my life, but I finally had to buy one two days ago," said Harold Crouch, 55, born in Paradise. "And then the first person I used to call me said I was on the sheriff's missing list."

Crouch fled the Pine Grove mobile home park with neighbors Jessica and Ian Franklin, who set up their tent and pickup truck next to him.

A man from Shasta County wishing to help visited the evacuation center a few nights ago and gave the Franklins a motorhome adapted to the crate of their truck. Virgil, their 14-month-old son in oneie pajamas, played in the tent while his parents and neighbor wondered what to do.

The Franklins and Crouch know that their homes did not survive. As they left their neighborhood on Thursday morning, they started with ashes and then burned embers. The direction of the wind and the proximity of the flames clearly indicated that their houses were doomed.

Crouch was not insured against the fire. But he will return to paradise, where he runs a pharmacy, and seek emergency assistance from the federal government. His company has also created an employee assistance fund.

"Some of our neighbors have already told us," We left, and we will not come back, "said Crouch," For me it's home, it's where I've been most happy. will go back there.

The Franklin too. They were insured and Ian Franklin is a fourth-generation "Paradise". There is no other place for him.

"We are coming back, we are rebuilding," he said.

These promises, though sincere, are tentative. No one in this parking lot has seen destruction, a city completely wiped out by the flames. More than 7,000 buildings have been burned, most of which are homes in and around Paradise.

"We think everything will be fine, but we do not really know," said Jeanne Neeley, who fled with her husband and 7-year-old daughter Faith from their home in Berry Creek, southeast of Paradise. . The family was told that they would probably not be allowed to return to their town until November 30th.

Meanwhile, Faith, eagerly following fire news on social media and by word of mouth, builds a tent. There are also seven dogs to look after, including many puppies. The Neeleys have given four since their arrival Thursday night.

"These people just lost their dogs in the fire, so we're excited to give them," said David Neeley, a car mechanic whose employer spared the flames.

Generosity is generalized.

Doug Chandler, his girlfriend and daughter left their rented house after seeing Feather River Hospital catch fire and burn themselves. It was not Chandler's first experience with fire. Five days after moving to his home a few years ago, the fire of the lime saddle burned his hills and he was forced to evacuate.

This time, Chandler's owner helped the family. He gave them his motorhome in which the Chandlers could live next week. KC, the Australian shepherd of the family, is snuggled against the artificial turf on the doorstep.

"The first day or so, we were upset," said Chandler, 60, who served in the military for a dozen years. "The following days were fear and sadness. Now it's the frustration of knowing nothing and not being allowed to come back. "

Finafrock moved to her mobile home in Magalia five months ago. She left Oakland in the hope, as she said, of "getting a better quality of life".

"And I found it here," she says. "People are so nice."

Many of her neighbors surround her small yellow car where she sleeps and this morning has scattered an assortment of yogurt and take-away bananas. But at least three of its neighbors are missing and missing, which worries the whole group of them.

Even as a newcomer to the region, Finafrock intends to come back and rebuild – "especially now," she said.

"I'm closer than ever to those people," said Finafrock. "When you have a traumatic event like this in a group, you come together."