Watch: 'The damage is unimaginable', farmer counts costs of fireworks blast

“The damage is unimaginable. It’s like a war zone,” says farmer John Gauci as he stands helplessly in his field, now covered by heaps of debris blasted onto his land during last month’s explosion at the Lourdes Fireworks factory in Salina.

“This is the land where I had months’ worth of produce. It’s all destroyed now. Cleaning this up is a massive expense. And we have not heard anything yet. We need the place to be back to normal, and we need some help from somewhere. The government said it will help but, so far, no one knows anything.”

A spokesman had said the government is waiting for the conclusion of the magisterial inquiry into the explosion “before considering further assistance, in accordance with the law”.

In the meantime, Gauci, 55, who has been working his land for three decades, keeps looking around at the heaps of debris catapulted onto his land when the factory exploded.

He counts himself lucky because he is usually in the field – right next door to the factory – at 6.30am, which is when the explosion happened on June 1.

Produce lost

“That day, God spared me. I had come to the field at 4.30am to turn on the irrigation system from this room,” he says, pointing to a pile of rubble. The room had stood just a few metres from the boundary wall separating his land from the factory, with only a path between them. Today, there is no trace of it.

“For some reason, I did not come back at 6.30am that day, as I usually do. I was in our family fields in Manikata when we heard the explosion.”

News quickly spread; it was the factory next to his field.

A room in the field with its rubble wall cladding partly destroyed.

“They did not let us in. The police cordoned off the area because there was a magisterial inquiry. We were only allowed back about a week ago.”

When he returned for the first time, he could not believe what he was seeing.

His crops – cabbages, broccoli and cauliflower – had all been destroyed. He estimates he lost at least €5,000 worth of crops, conservatively speaking, adding the figure depends on market prices.

The explosion left the fields covered in debris.

The solar panels on a small room, which had cost him €5,500, were shattered. Ladders, large containers, ceiling slabs, a fridge, drawers, random shoes, pieces of clothing and, of course, parts of fireworks shells are among the items strewn across his land.

Most of the debris is concentrated in the section of his fields closest to the factory. The rest of his 10 tumoli of land is peppered with smaller stones, debris and large blocks of masonry.

All gone

All this needs to be cleared away before he can start using his land again ­– a mammoth, laborious and expensive task, he says.

Like other farmers in the area, he says he needs help to clear the land.

“My mind was at rest that I had produce to sell. But it’s all gone. Almost two months on, we still don’t know anything. I don’t know who will clean this up or cover these enormous expenses. So far, we don’t even know if we can work the land. No one has told us anything,” he says as he looks around.

Everything needs to be cleared away.

His eyes lock on the field on the other side of the factory – the field of 67-year-old farmer Victor Camilleri, who also suffered extensive damage. Camilleri survived the blast by running into a room after hearing the first in a series of explosions.

Both farmers speak of the need for help to pick up the pieces. They face hundreds of euros in costs to repair irrigation systems, rebuild rubble walls and simply clear their soil of stones and debris.

Camilleri drives by in his van and the two men stop to chat.

“There were many experts, police officers and the magistrate on site. He knows the power of the blast because he was here with his two sons,” Gauci says, referring to Camilleri, as the pair discuss the devastation.

“Thank God no one was hurt,” they agree. “But we are suffering the damage and not only material damage. There’s the psychological impact too. You ask yourself: Am I going to work there again? You ask yourself: Did God spare me? Was it good luck? I’m not sure,” Gauci says.