CREVEDIA, Romania -- In a cramped shelter, 12-year-old Cristian Andrei Iliescu closes his eyes as he plays Beethoven's Fur Elise. The piano he plays on was gifted to the Iliescu family after their house and everything inside it was destroyed in a series of massive explosions two months ago.
Cristian Andrei Iliescu plays the piano in his family’s temporary shelter.
On August 26, a fire broke out at an LPG filling station in Crevedia, Romania, that spread to gas cylinders in the forecourt of the unlicensed business. The explosions that followed left six people dead, scores injured, and damaged or destroyed 97 houses, including the family home of the Iliescus.
Firefighters transport a person away from the fire at the Crevedia gas filling station on August 26.
In place of the large villa the 10 family members once lived in, the Iliescus now survive in four mobile offices provided by the regional council. Promises of compensation by Flagas, the company that owned the LPG station where the explosions occurred, have not materialized.
The Iliescus say they have already sunk some 10,000 euros into their new shelter.
“I made a hall from timber and chipboard, insulated it, then covered it in tin to stop the rain getting through,” Doina Iliescu, Cristian’s grandmother, says.
The aftermath of the Crevedia explosions seen on August 27.
After the disaster, which left the Iliescus literally with only the clothes on their backs, their most pressing problem is the lack of running water for the family, which includes four children.
“We don’t have toilets. We can’t even wash ourselves properly,” Doina told RFE/RL. “My husband is already getting sick because it’s cold. He has respiratory problems and needs decent living conditions.”
Valentin Iancu, development manager of Flagas
Flagas company representative Valentin Iancu vowed to RFE/RL in early September that the company would support victims of the explosions.
“We are open to dialogue and will do everything within our power to provide both financial and material support,” he said at the time.
RFE/RL contacted Iancu once more on October 23. He declined to speak due to what he said was a family tragedy. He did not respond to further calls the following day. Two owners of Flagas were arrested on September 5 and are currently under investigation.
The destroyed house of the Iliescu family seen on October 21.
At least some people have been compensated. RFE/RL visited one house that had its roof restored at a cost of around 10,000 euros.
“The gas company helped me. They roofed my house and replaced the windows,” Crevedia resident Elena Moise says. Despite this, disagreements remain over compensation. “I still have damage inside the house. The chandeliers, my stove, bed, and fridge are all broken.”
Moise says compensation of 15,000 lei (3,000 euros) was initially floated, which then shrank to 10,000 lei.
“The last conversation I had with the [Flagas] lawyer, he said he can no longer offer 10,000 lei and instead can pay 5,000 lei, that it seemed like a lot for ‘curtains and chandeliers’,” Moise recalls.
Constantin Gavrilescu photographed in early September alongside his destroyed house.
For retired engineer Constantin Gavrilescu, another neighbor of the ill-fated LPG station, early hopes he could quickly rebuild his life have faded. Gavrilescu’s house was blasted apart by the explosions, then gutted by fire.
“Not much has happened in the past two months, except the destroyed land was cleared,” Gavrilescu says.
In the days after the catastrophe, a representative from Flagas communicated with him and a reconstruction project was drafted and authorized. But the project has apparently stalled.
“The promise was that with the builder we had, I would be able to move into a new house in less than two months,” Gavrilescu says. But after the builder requested a prepayment before construction work could begin, the money never materialized.
Flagas representatives no longer answer calls about the case.
As adults in the devastated neighborhood prepare for winter as best they can, young Cristian Iliescu’s fingers ripple up and down the keys of his piano, filling with music the ramshackle shelter that he may call “home” for some time to come.