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http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/12/world/europe/spain-evictions-create-an-austerity-homeless-crisis.html?pagewanted=1&_r=0&hp
SEVILLE, Spain — The first night after Francisco Rodríguez Flores, 71, and his wife, Ana López Corral, 67, were evicted from their small apartment here after falling behind on their mortgage, they slept in the entrance hall of their building. Their daughters, both unemployed and living with them, slept in a neighbor’s van.
“It was the worst thing ever,” Mrs. López said recently, studying her
hands. “You can’t image what it felt like to be there in that hall. It’s
a story you can’t really tell because it is not the same as living it.”
Things are somewhat better now. The Rodríguezes are among the 36
families who have taken over a luxury apartment block here that had been
vacant for three years. There is no electricity. The water was recently
cut off, and there is the fear that the authorities will evict them
once again. But, Mrs. López says, they are not living on the street — at
least not yet.
The number of Spanish families facing eviction continues to mount at a
dizzying pace — hundreds a day, housing advocates say. The problem has
become so acute that Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy has promised to
announce emergency measures on Monday, though what they may be remains
unclear.
While some are able to move in with family members, a growing number,
like the Rodríguezes, have no such option. Their relatives are in no
better shape than they are, and Spain has virtually no emergency shelter
system for families.
For some, the pressure has been too much to bear. In recent weeks, a
53-year-old man in Granada hanged himself just hours before he was to be
evicted, and a 53-year-old woman in Bilbao jumped to her death as court
officials arrived at her door.
Yet at the same time, the country is dotted with empty housing of all
kinds, perhaps as many as two million units, by some estimates. Experts
say more and more of the evicted — who face a lifetime of debt and a
system of blacklisting that makes it virtually impossible for them to
rent — are increasingly taking over vacant properties or moving back
into their old homes after they have been seized.
Sometimes neighbors report such activities. But often, experts say, they
do not. It is a temporary and often anxious existence. But many see no
alternative.
The Rodríguezes fell behind in their payments trying to help their
daughters, who both lost their jobs and have three children between
them. Their daughters had come to live with them after being evicted
themselves. “I could not let my children and my grandchildren starve,”
said Mrs. López, who used to work as a cleaner in a home for the
elderly.
No one tracks the number of squatters. But Rafael Martín Sanz, the
president of a real estate management company, says squatting has become
so common that some real estate companies are reluctant to put signs on
the outsides of buildings indicating that an apartment is available.
“The joke is that half the people touring apartments that are on the
market are actually just picking out which apartment they want to squat
in,” he said.
Most of the evictions take place quietly, with embarrassed families
dropping the keys off at the banks. But in some working-class
neighborhoods, there are weekly clashes with the police and bank
officials, as housing advocates and volunteers try to resist the
evictions.
In Madrid’s Carabanchel neighborhood, a crowd protesting outside a
basement apartment recently shouted “shame on you” to a cluster of bank
and court officials who had come to evict Edward Hernández and his
family. But Mr. Hernández’s lawyer, Rafael Mayoral, sized up the picture
and predicted he would be able to negotiate a postponement. The crowd
of supporters, he said, outnumbered the police officers.
Mr. Hernández, 38, who worked in construction, bought the apartment for
$320,000 in 2006, but he lost his job three years later, he said. He
thought he had negotiated with his bank to pay less for a while. But one
day, he said, he got a letter saying that his apartment had been
auctioned.
Mr. Hernández and his wife have their eye on an empty apartment they
intend to occupy. Failing that, the couple will have to split up, he
said. His wife would go back to live with her mother, who is behind in
her own mortgage payments and already housing her other adult children.
Mr. Hernández would live with his brother, who lives with his young
family in a studio apartment
By the end of the morning, bank and court officials had agreed to
postpone Mr. Hernández’s eviction for six weeks. He still faces a debt
of more than $330,000, more than he paid for the apartment. In Spain,
mortgage holders are personally liable for the full amount of their
mortgages. Then penalty interest charges and tens of thousands of
dollars in court fees are added at foreclosure. Bankruptcy is no answer,
either — mortgage debt is excluded.
Trying to stem the flow of homeless, the Spanish government has asked
the banks to adhere to a code of conduct that protects, to some degree,
the very poorest Spaniards, and many of the banks have signed on. But
advocates say that the code offers relief to such a narrow slice of
homeowners — those who have no working adults in their household and who
paid less than $260,000 for their homes — that it is unlikely to have
much effect.
Elena Cortés, the councilor for public works and housing for Andalusia,
the region that includes Seville, said that during the boom years the
government rarely built any low-income housing. On top of that, the
country has never had much rental property. Now, as families are evicted
they have nowhere to turn. In a written statement, Spain’s banking
association, the A.E.B., said banks were looking to avoid evictions
whenever they could through negotiation.
The Rodríguezes began living in the luxury block, Corrala Utopía, in May
with only a few belongings, a move that was organized by members of the
15-M movement, the name given to people who became organized after the
countrywide protests that began on May 15 last year. One member of the
group, Juanjo García Marín, said the property was chosen because it was
mired in legal proceedings that might give the families more time to
stay there.
Neighbors have given them furniture, and donations of food arrive most
days. On a recent evening, Mrs. López was using a generator to keep her
lights on and her refrigerator running. Others in the building also have
generators, but some cannot afford the gasoline to keep them running.
After dinner, Mrs. López’s 13-year-old grandson arrived, announcing that
he needed a place to do his homework. His mother’s apartment upstairs
had no lights.
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