Four long hours after the power went out across Spain, halting trains in Madrid’s metro stations and prompting people to rush for light and taxis, the residents of the Spanish capital found themselves oscillating between practicality and a lighthearted, almost humorous, sense of panic.
In a cozy nook of the city, the shop owner at his neighborhood bazaar recounted the afternoon’s top-selling items: radios, batteries, torches, and candles. As he completed his task, yet another hopeful customer walked into the shop.
“I doubt you have any radios remaining?” The shop owner sighed and shook his head. No radios allowed.
On the boulevard that stretches between two nearby schools, families were making their way home, contemplating how to spend the next few hours. “We’re worried,” said Reyes Paterna, who was swiftly assessing her thoughts as she took her young daughter home, where her one-year-old baby awaited.
“Nothing works. “We have things for the baby but nothing else,” she remarked. “We’ve got a camping stove at home but we’re not sure if there’s any gas left in the cylinder.”
Paterna was particularly worried about her mother, who lives alone in Murcia, 200 miles away. “She could be stuck in the lift for all we know!”
For Paterna and everyone else in Madrid, the top considerations were basic necessities and the restoration of patchy cell phone coverage as quickly as possible, so that loved ones could be checked on and minds could be at peace after hours of anxiety.
As metro workers lounged outside a silent station – no trains meant no work – they spoke and joked about how things would be better in their rural pueblos, where power outages are more common and more residents cook with gas.
“We’re all shocked, to be honest,” remarked one mom as she walked her children home from school. Where were they heading? “To my mother’s.” She has gas, so at least there will be some hot meals for the children.”
However, such measured calm did not apply universally. As offices around the capital emptied and taxi drivers yelled “cash only!” from their windows, at least one honorable soul skipped the line to get to a cab before a pregnant mother.
People decided on their own courses of action after Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez convened an emergency meeting of the national security council and the Madrid regional government declared a national emergency.
Everyone ranked food and other commodities as top priority. Though one local grocery was closed, possibly due to faulty technology or a lack of Euro-carrying consumers in an increasingly cashless culture, others were doing well. Just as during the Covid epidemic, some folks couldn’t resist the desire to stock up on toilet paper.
Manuel Pastor, 72, had not purchased toilet paper but was still wheeling a shopping trolley homewards.
“I’ve bought some tins and stuff that will last a while, just in case,” he informed me. “All we can do now is wait.” Hopefully it’ll only last a day or two; otherwise, people will panic.”
He sighed, considering the potential of a cyberattack and hoping that people would resist the desire to fear. If that occurs, he stated, “everyone would be fighting over stuff even before there are shortages. Remember when the pandemic began? “What bloody idiots!”
For the majority of people, terror would have to wait. There was dinner to prepare, relatives to check on, and children to collect and cuddle.
