Language barriers are slowing the recovery of the Latino community after the storm

SVANNANOA – In late October on a Tuesday, two men pulled wrecked, mud-covered cars from what used to be Joaquin Orellana Swannanoa’s tire shop.

As they worked, a bucket loader pulled tons of debris and materials from the remains of Oreliana’s home, right next to his shop.

While Orellana and his volunteers worked on his store, on the other side of town, Abraham Miranda-Gonzalez, his wife, his 11-year-old son and his son’s friend waited in line at the first distribution point he found where people spoke Spanish.

His son’s friend was the only one among them who spoke both English and Spanish fluently. Miranda-Gonzalez began to rely on his help in finding resources. Earlier in the day, the 12-year-old helped them understand how to apply for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program.

Swannanoa’s growing Mexican and Central American community faces unique challenges as it begins to recover from Tropical Storm Helen.

Residents face uncertainty about resources, struggling with language barriers that make it difficult to access important information.

While Orellana overcomes these challenges with the help of friends, family and community support, others like Miranda-Gonzalez find themselves on the fringes of the community they hoped to be a part of.

Growing Hispanic presence in Swannanoa

Orellana, who has spent 24 years in Buncombe County, said he has seen Swannanoa change over the years.

He said he built his tire shop 10 years ago “when the Latino community was still growing here.”

In North Carolina, the state’s Hispanic population grew by nearly 320,000 new residents between 2010 and 2020 — the largest increase of any racial or ethnic group during the decade, according to Carolina Demography, a research organization at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. .

According to Fernando Uribe, who has owned a Mexican restaurant in Swannanoa for the past 12 years, businesses owned by Hispanic members of the community have seemed to increase.

Uribe moved to Swannanoa 15 years ago from Texas to pursue his dream of owning his own restaurant and eventually turned it into a family business after meeting his wife.

When he first started, he felt like one of the few Hispanics. Over the years, he saw how things had changed.

“Later, I started seeing stores pop up, mostly automotive at first, then more variety,” Uribe said. “Prior to the hurricane, there was a sense that it would continue to grow.”

According to him, his restaurant was not affected. He says a prayer every morning before work and has a deep sense of faith. He believes it has kept him and his family safe.

But he sees and hears all the other stories from other business owners every day.

“We’re such a small community that we all know each other pretty well,” he said. “I try to support them, support their spirits.”

And while the business landscape has flattened out, he has hope.

Uribe said watching the remodel from his restaurant was like starting over, watching businesses spring up, just like when he first opened.

A storm makes a family feel unwelcome in Swannanoa

Miranda-Gonzalez, originally from Mexico, moved to Swannanoa two years ago, lured by the promise of work and support from relatives. But after the storm, everything changed.

“The relatives with whom I rent an apartment have cooled down,” he said. “Like they don’t want us there anymore.”

Miranda-Gonzalez and his family struggled to find resources and figure out what to do next.

On Tuesday, they attended a local distribution event where they were able to pick up essential items. “We needed that,” he said.

Miranda-Gonzalez is not fluent in English, which made it difficult to know where to turn for help.

“It’s hard to ask for help when you don’t know the language,” he said.

He and his wife were just starting to build their life in Swannanoa when the storm hit.

“We’ve lost our savings and now we don’t know what to do except keep looking for work,” he said.

In some places, Miranda-Gonzalez faced resistance and even racism. “At one point I was asked why I would come to a country that was so unfamiliar to me,” he said.

For more than a week after the storm, his wife was unable to contact her family in Mexico.

“We couldn’t let them know we were fine,” he said. “We didn’t know when that would change because most of the information we could get was word of mouth and we didn’t know many people.”

Despite these challenges, there were glimmers of support.

Through their son’s friend, they helped find distribution points.

His family could also shower at the factory where he and others worked.

He said some other factory workers did the same and through them he was able to share some information about the resources.

For Miranda-Gonzalez, the storm wasn’t just weather — it was a watershed moment that left him feeling unwelcome in the community he once hoped to call home.

“I feel behind,” he said. “Our biggest priority right now is to find a job and a new place to live.”

Despite the destruction, the Salvadoran owner of a tire shop has hope

Although Oreljana lost his home and business, he received strong support from the community.

“Our Latino community here is small,” he said, “but with everything that’s happened, we’ve seen everyone come together.”

As he walked through the remains of his home, which was submerged in 10 to 11 feet of water, he pointed to the frame of his mother’s mobile home.

“The flood completely destroyed her house, but she was in El Salvador at the time and it was a blessing,” he said.

The flood left stains on his roof. Orelyana remembers how she and her son-in-law left the house and watched the water rising near the church up the street.

“We were just there and I was in complete shock watching the water engulf everything,” he said. “The other day I had moments where I froze and forgot what I was doing.”

In the days after the flood, neighbors helped Aureliana and his son-in-law to start cleaning the house.

The continued support of the community — food, resources and help cleaning up — also helped him cope with the shock, he said.

A local church offered to demolish his house for free when it became clear that it could not be saved.

Orellana was able to apply for federal aid with the help of his daughters, who translated for him.

Cars, covered in muddy water, broken and destroyed by debris, were lined up outside Oreliana’s tire shop, which was next to his house.

“We lost all our tools and over 20 machines, but the shop itself is still standing,” he said. “That’s what’s important.”

With shelter and some basic necessities, Orellana focused on reopening the store.

He and his brothers spent the day working to clean it up with the help of friends who hauled out trash and trucks from the garage.

Standing in front of the bay, still filled with mud, Oreliana remains optimistic.

“Maybe in two months we’ll be back at it,” he said.

Orellana’s mother and brothers joined him as he spoke. His sister recalled their mother crying over the loss of the mobile home.

“We’re fine,” he reassured her. “We’re still here and we have each other.”

This story has been updated to correct a misspelling of Joaquin Orellano’s name.