How does Armero remember Omaira Sánchez, the Colombian girl who symbolized the tragedy that killed 25,000 people 40 years ago?

Forty years later, Omaira’s tomb has become one of the busiest corners of Almelo, now a cemetery of ruins and graves fighting weeds.

Local merchants sell souvenirs right next to the grave. This is a strategic point as thousands of people attend each year.

Visitors pray, take photos, give thanks, and leave offerings. They revere Omaira as a saint.

“He was very brave. He believed in his rescue to the end. People say he performed miracles for him,” says Gloria Cartagena, a local who frequently visits the monument.

Ricardo Solorzano also comes every month. Before his death five years ago, his wife, originally from Almelo, asked for his ashes to be scattered here.

“I came because this girl gave me the courage and security to continue living. Any tribute[to Omaira]is more than deserved. She is an angel,” Solorzano admits.

“Thank you Omailita for granting me the miracle I asked for,” says a card written on a stone near the grave.

“Thank you, Omaira, for the blessings you have received,” another wrote.

A few years ago they decided to fence off the tombstones because so many people were accumulating around them.

Surrounding what is believed to have been the place of his death are three other monuments with offerings and prayers.

Today, the location is unrecognizable, but several years ago the streets intersected where Omaira’s family, the Sanchez and Garzón, and her neighbor, the Galeano, once lived.

On the day of the tragedy, Omaira’s mother, Aleida Garzón, a nurse, was in Bogotá on business.

The girl remained at home with other relatives. They were probably already asleep, like many people in town, including Garzón’s neighbor and colleague Marta Galeano.

Galeano said he was confused and surprised by the brightness of KOKUYO that night.

After a few minutes, he realized that the light was not an insect, but the flashlights of his neighbors fleeing the avalanche.

She remembers waking up her husband, walking with her two children to a high point in the city, and passing over the dead on the way.

He knew nothing more about Omaira until he saw her die on television hours later.

“I couldn’t believe it. I’ll never forget that horror. She was a very thoughtful Catholic girl who encouraged her community with her dance,” Galeano recalled on BBC Mundo.

“It’s been many years, but it’s still in my memory,” he added.

Before the disaster, Almelo had approximately 29,000 residents. It was a wealthy city with a thriving cotton industry.

Many of the survivors now live in surrounding municipalities such as Honda, Lleida and Almelo Guayabal, where Ms. Galeano will host me.

Months before the tragedy, several Colombian experts warned of the volcano’s threatening activity and the danger it posed to municipalities like Armero, but a response from the authorities never materialized.

In addition to approximately 25,000 deaths, the disaster destroyed more than 5,300 homes and left approximately 230,000 people homeless.

In the absence of scientific or political explanation, faith responds to the pain of people like Galeano, Garzón, and thousands of pilgrims.

“We believed this was the end of the world, and the little girl Omaira was destined to become an angel and a story of courage,” Galeano told me.

“God, please allow me someday to canonize her. She is my angel, my protector, my warrior,” wrote Omaira’s mother, Aleida Garzón, who now lives in Lleida, 15 kilometers south of the cemetery.

Not all Almelo survivors agree on how Omaira’s memory should be used by merchants, the press, and visitors.

Garson, who frequently visits the grave to support her daughter, doesn’t seem entirely comfortable with tourist guides reciting her daughter’s words before she died, or otherwise promoting themselves as acquaintances of the family.

“Some people find out about their stories on TikTok and charge a fee while on tour,” he says.

Maria Moreno runs a souvenir stall and makes more money during high tourist season, like this November before the anniversary of the tragedy.

He agrees that his business is in the best possible shape, as the Girl’s Tomb is the busiest corner of Almelo and the place where visitors stay the longest.

He said he was “sad” that his livelihood depended on such a tragic story, but said he had no other choice. “I want to get out, but it’s not possible right now.”

Some lament that the focus on Omayra’s monument is distracting from Almelo’s overall status.

The family of Gloria Cartagena, one of the regular customers, points out plastic bottles and other waste thrown on the ground by others.

“They have put up more signs to commemorate the victims and what happened on some of the roads, but it is sad to see many of the graves and buildings left behind destroyed and graffitied,” Cartagena says.

Many bodies were never recovered. Some graves are empty, reflecting where the victims were last seen or where they are believed to have lived.

Some people draw and organize inscriptions a few days before the anniversary. Others seem to have been ignored for years.

The few houses that still stand, either crossed or half-buried by tree roots, are painted with the names of the families who lived there.

In the old cemetery, almost all the graves seem to have been destroyed. There are isolated bones within some niches.

Many survivors of the tragedy feel that the state’s abandonment of Armero is not just physical.

And while media coverage of the Omayra Sánchez case dominates the press and visitors, not enough attention is paid to the drama of the other “Almelo Children.”

This is the position of Francisco González, president of the Armando Armero Foundation, which is dedicated to reuniting families separated during tragedies and rebuilding the memory of municipalities.

Armando Armero accused that around 500 children were being placed for adoption through “regular and irregular processes”.

Many of them are now adults and live in Colombia. Others ended up going abroad.

Gonzalez believes some people don’t even know their roots.

The Colombian Institute of Family Welfare (ICBF) argued that the irregular processes reported by the affected people needed to be investigated on a case-by-case basis due to flaws in the laws that existed at the time.

ICBF director Astrid Cáceres promised BBC Mundo that efforts would be stepped up to recover memories and solve the adoption case with the victim.

Through Armando Armero, 400 families and 75 registered adopted children underwent DNA testing.

So far, gene matching has led to four reunions.

Hundreds of victims still wait for their relatives to reappear at commemorative events every anniversary.

Omaira’s pilgrims and hundreds of other children in Armero are united by clinging to a miracle.

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