Flames swallowed their homes in minutes.
Families ran barefoot through smoke, clutching children, IDs, whatever they could grab from the firestorm tearing through Pamplona Alta. As the sky filled with black smoke and the sound of small explosions, hundreds watched everything they had turn to ash. Now, with the blaze finally contained, another nightmare begins: no roof, no savings, no clear answer
They stood in the streets with soot on their faces, watching the last embers die where their bedrooms once stood. In Pamplona Alta, walls of wood, plywood, and tin offered no resistance as the fire leapt from one improvised home to the next. When the suspected clandestine fireworks workshop ignited, bursts of light and sharp detonations turned panic into terror, forcing families to flee blindly through smoke-choked alleys.
By nightfall, the fire was confined, but the devastation remained absolute. Parents searched the ruins for school uniforms, medicine, a recognisable fragment of their old lives. Children asked where they would sleep; no one had an answer. Authorities counted homes lost and promised investigations, aid, temporary shelters. Yet for the hundreds suddenly homeless, the real story now is survival: rebuilding from nothing, in a city that only seems to remember them when it burns.
