
Just before dawn, on 19 November 1984, an explosion at a gas plant in San Juanico, Mexico killed hundreds of people, injured thousands and destroyed buildings.Virginia Martínez Tellez was a young teenager at the time and talks to Jen Dale about how...
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Foreign.
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Hello and welcome to Witness History. I'm Jen Dale and this is the podcast that looks back at a key moment in history that's helped to shape our world. Episodes come out every weekday and are just nine minutes long. Make sure you never miss an episode by hitting subscribe and turning on your push notifications. I'm taking you back to the 1980s to Mexico's capital for what's widely considered one of the world's deadliest industrial gas accidents. And just to warn you, it contains distressing details.
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La luz el Ruido. The light. The noise. Chaos. The overwhelming heat. The terror that at any moment it would explode even more.
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In Mexico City, rescue workers are still pulling victims out of the debris of the thousands of homes and factories devastated by last night's gases. Explosion
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It's 1984 and 13 year old Vinia Martinez Tez lives in San Juan Xuatepec, now commonly known as San Juan, a northern suburb of Mexico City. It's densely populated with around 40,000 people in the area living in a mixture of concrete and wooden one story houses
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in the town. Mostly very hard working people with not a lot of resources from the lower middle class. With regard to my family, we were seven brothers and sisters, my paternal grandmother and my dad and mom.
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Viginje and her family live around a kilometer away from a gas storage and distribution depot owned by Pemex, the state oil company. The teenagers used to seeing the flare stack the flame where excess gas is burned off 24 7. It's just part of daily life. The site has six enormous spherical storage tanks and tens of cylindrical tanks often nicknamed sausages. The suburbs have grown over the last 20 years which means the borders of the built up area are as little as 130 metres from the plant. It's shortly after 5:40 in the morning on 19 November. Vihinya, who's just days away from celebrating her 14th birthday, is tucked up in bed. Unbeknownst to her and other sleeping residents, gas has been leaking from one of the storage tanks causing a vapor cloud to form. It ignites leading to a flash fire and explosion.
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I remember a load bang when I got up from I saw that the curtains from the windows were stuck to the ceiling as if they were Marilyn Monroe with the skirt all flown upwards and I immediately looked outside and everything was orange with blue tones and traces like tongues. They were tongues of fire. There was a big whirlwind where a lot of particles were flying. I could see that they were most likely sheets of metal.
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Just before dawn the Plume of flames shot a mile high into the night sky, showering the shantytown suburb with fiery debris. The fire spread from an exploding gas truck through a chain reaction of explosions across the storage facilities, tanks that normally hold 80,000 barrels of liquefied gas.
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It's reported the sky can be seen glowing red at the other end of the capital. Vihinya can feel the air being compressed in her room.
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Like when you dive and submerge yourself in the water. And the deeper you go, the more pressure you feel. That's more or less how it feels. I heard my mom screams. Stand up. Let's go. We have to go. Put your shoes on. The first one. You're fine. My dad tried to open the door, but the moment he grabbed the handle and since it was metal, it burned. My dad then had to grab a cloth to protect himself to be able to open the door of the house. When we went out to the patio, we felt a lot of heat. As if we were in the tropics. Very, very hot. A lot of people were barefoot and in their underwear because it was early morning.
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The whole family races to what they hope is their salvation from the fire and heat radiation. Their old car that needs a push to get it started. They all squeeze in. Her father drives through the smoky haze. But existing construction and paving works make the roads even more tricky to navigate. Virginia looks out of the car window.
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Mucho caos, mucha gente corriendo. A lot of chaos. A lot of people running, screaming. People climbing the hill like ants. They were moving to Zakatenko Hill to reach the Federal District. It was grayish black. A lot like. It's very foggy. I guess it was the waves from the first explosion. We took the Mexico Pachuca highway towards the Dios Verdes. And about a kilometer from San Juanico, the second explosion occurred. The roar of the explosion. I looked back and saw a huge column of fire. Huge, huge. I was very scared that San Juanico was not there anymore.
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The inferno spread fast across the shanty town. It raged out of control for seven hours.
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Soy la tercera de losiete. I am the third of the seven. There are two older sisters. The older ones tried to comfort us, to hug us in turn. We tried to comfort and control the little ones. My parents, of course, were very scared too. But my dad kept his composure to ensure their safety getting out of there as soon as possible.
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There are yet more explosions, known as blevies as other storage tanks rupture. As Virginia and her family escape to the east of Mexico City. Thousands of emergency service workers head towards the epicenter of the disaster.
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Through the day, 3,000 police, helped by troops and Red Cross workers, pulled more and more victims from the ruins. The city's medical resources were strained beyond the limit.
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The family reaches the safety of relatives, and they watch the television news in horror. And as the scale of the devastation unfolds,
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children who got lost, people who were separated from their families or those who couldn't get out and stayed huddled together. They were all there, charred.
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Virginia's family want to return home, but it's not that simple.
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It was a ghost town, curtained off. The Mexican army didn't let us in. My dad, along with some nephews, got in first. I found out they bribed some guards and they were able to get in on foot to feed the pets that were left at the house. They were the first to see everything, all the desolation that was there.
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Virginia doesn't return until December. Her childhood home has turned into the stuff of nightmares. Two mass graves have been dug for the hundreds of victims.
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Very sad. Something inside me broke. I grasped the magnitude of the disaster. It looked like a war zone. It was a smell that to this day I can't describe. It's entirely different. My parents say it smelled like burnt meat.
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There was graphic evidence, too, of the blast furnace heat and of the force of successive explosions that flattened the district. A storage tank flown four blocks across the shanty town.
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I saw destroyed houses along Del Rio de los Remedios, homes belonging to classmates. I also looked up at the hill and spotted where projectiles had fallen. Pieces of spheres or those long containers we call sausages, had fallen on the houses.
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Official figures from the Federal Disaster Agency report 650 people dead, two and a half thousand injured, with more than 25,000 losing their homes. PEMEX accepts responsibility and agrees to pay compensation to victims. Health and safety experts say the tragedy was caused by a combination of technical failures, safety issues, and poor urban planning. For Virginia Martinez Tellas, the San Juanico explosion continues to impact her life more than 40 years on.
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I'm hypersensitive to the smell of gas. I get really upset, very alert. When there's a situation like that, it really affects me. In fact, I developed a kind of anxiety because of it. What you would call post traumatic stress.
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She was speaking to me. Jen Dale for Witness History. Now, I know that was a tough listen, but if you found it interesting, then you may want to check out some of our other Mexico episodes, such as Mexico's Miracle Water and Mexico's soda tax and why not leave us a review. Thanks for listening. From the brilliant and bizarre.
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It was really surreal. It was a surreal kind of atmosphere there. You couldn't really see anybody.
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To the shocking and unexpected.
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I'm just wondering what are we going to do now?
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This was really my worst fear he
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felt and 100% horse meat that was labeled as beef.
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Witness the stories that have shaped our world told by the people who were there. When he went to the factory, the poodle went in front of him. So the workers only oh, the boss is here.
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Many people had many things to lose by our victory. The future was not so bright. Witness History we had a designer, he bought in a fully storyboarded idea about how the queen would arrive by jumping out of a helicopter and we all said that's brilliant but it's never going to happen.
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Witness history@bbcworldservice.com witness history or wherever you get your podcasts.
This episode transports listeners back to November 1984 to recount the San Juanico gas explosion in a northern suburb of Mexico City, one of the deadliest industrial gas disasters in history. Through the vivid, first-hand account of survivor Virginia Martinez Tez, the episode explores the human cost, chaotic escape, and lasting trauma left by the catastrophe that killed over 600 people, injured thousands, and left tens of thousands homeless.
Virginia describes her life as a 13-year-old in San Juanico, a densely populated, working-class suburb near a Pemex gas storage facility.
For local residents, the presence of Pemex’s storage tanks and the perpetual flare stack burning off excess gas was routine.
At dawn on November 19, Virginia wakes to a catastrophe as leaked gas ignites, triggering gigantic explosions and fireballs.
The physical sensation and panic are palpable:
The family flees, cramming into their unreliable old car, navigating chaos and destruction as more explosions rock the area.
The inferno overwhelms the shantytown for seven hours, with rescue services stretched beyond capacity.
The trauma of families torn apart is emphasized:
Virginia’s family bribes their way back into the destroyed neighborhood to care for pets, witnessing an apocalyptic scene.
When Virginia herself returns a month later:
Evidence of the explosion's power is everywhere—flattened houses, mass graves, and storage tanks flung across the district.
Virginia, on the eruption:
"Curtains from the windows were stuck to the ceiling as if they were Marilyn Monroe with the skirt all flown upwards... everything was orange with blue tones and traces like tongues. They were tongues of fire." [02:43–03:15]
Virginia, on panic and family:
"My mom screams. Stand up. Let's go. We have to go. Put your shoes on. The first one. You're fine. My dad tried to open the door, but the moment he grabbed the handle and since it was metal, it burned." [03:43–04:14]
On fleeing:
"A lot of chaos. A lot of people running, screaming. People climbing the hill like ants... I looked back and saw a huge column of fire. Huge, huge. I was very scared that San Juanico was not there anymore." [04:51–05:32]
On the aftermath:
"Something inside me broke. I grasped the magnitude of the disaster. It looked like a war zone. It was a smell that to this day I can't describe. It's entirely different." [07:25–07:44]
On lasting trauma:
"I'm hypersensitive to the smell of gas. I get really upset, very alert... I developed a kind of anxiety because of it. What you would call post traumatic stress." [08:50–09:08]
Through Virginia Martinez Tez’s unforgettable testimony, the episode captures the terror, confusion, and resilience experienced during and after Mexico's deadliest gas disaster. Her story provides a raw, human lens into tragedy and survival, while also underscoring the enduring scars—both psychological and physical—left by industrial neglect.
For listeners interested in Mexico’s recent history, aftermaths of industrial disasters, or oral histories of resilience, this episode is a haunting must-listen.