Flood Aftermath – A Photographer’s Memory

     February 20, 2010. A storm like no other.

    Fifteen years ago, on a Saturday under a yellow weather warning, Madeira was hit by torrential rain — as much in a single day as during an entire winter season. The result was devastating: 47 people lost their lives, 4 went missing, hundreds were displaced, and the island suffered millions of euros in damages.

    The physical rebuilding happened surprisingly fast, but emotionally, the scars remain.

    The day after the storm, I took my Nikon D80 and a Nikon F 18-70mm f/3.5-4.5 lens and made my way into the city centre. It wasn’t easy — many roads were blocked, and heavy machinery and police were already working through the wreckage. But I felt the need to document what had happened. I had to see it with my own eyes and record it with my camera.

    These 30 photos are just a small portion of what I witnessed. They reflect not only the physical damage but also the limitations of my skills and gear at the time — and most of all, the emotional impact of what I was seeing.

    As a photographer, that experience changed something in the way I look at buildings and urban landscapes. I began to see them as things in constant transformation. It made me realise how important it is to document what surrounds us — not just the beauty, but the vulnerability too.

    Some of my later work has carried that influence — that quiet observation of change over time.

    Personally, I’m not sure how much the event changed me, but I do remember feeling more alert. On that day, I had driven through the city in heavy rain to check if my parents’ and in-laws’ homes were safe. I remember the frightening moment at the Ribeira de Santo António, where the river had turned into a torrent of mud and water, threatening to overflow the road and the bridge I was crossing.

    On the day of the storm itself, I didn’t take any pictures — my focus was entirely on family safety and staying out of the way of rescue efforts. But the day after, I felt it was time to document what remained.

    These images were never published until now. While other photographers captured the chaos at its peak, my photos reflect the silence that followed — the stillness and shock in the aftermath.

    I still pass by many of these places regularly. I might revisit them soon, camera in hand, to see how they’ve changed. Perhaps it’s time to photograph what they’ve become — and reflect on how far we’ve come.