The demographic tragedy of rural Galicia used to be measured in cows, since, despite the fact that both figures are in free fall, the region has more heads of cattle than inhabitants. In the small town of San Xoán de Río, in Ourense, however, I prefer illustration on depopulation with the lamppost as a metric unit: 700 points of light for 506 residents, almost a beacon and a half per head. And it is a revealing fact, because walking through San Xoán it is clear that there are houses and streets; what hardly remain are neighbors. Hundreds of houses with shutters that have not been opened in months and 600 kilometers of roads with hardly any movement.
Towards the middle of the last century there were more than 3.000 registered inhabitants in San Xoán; in 1981, it was 2.683.
But in the last forty years its population has fallen to 506 neighbors. There are only 14 under the age of 18 (2,8%), while those over 65 represent half of the census (49,4%). And 82 of its 506 neighbors are 85 or older. The largest company in town is a nursing home. San Xoán is old, but he is also long-lived, he does not resign himself to dying. A demographic collapse record in Europe, which, with imaginative initiatives, its neighbors want to remedy.
With this demographic drift, San Xoán's days will be numbered. Every year between twenty and thirty neighbors die, and, at most, "one or two are born," José Miguel Pérez Blecua, its mayor, a 35-year-old man, better known as 'Chemi' among his parishioners, explained to ABC. It's been more than a decade since the last school closed, and now the only two boys and five girls under the age of twelve who live in the town fit into a seven-seater taxi that takes them every day from San Xoán to a school in the town of Pobra de Trives. It might seem contradictory, but the few births, which, of course, are celebrated in the town, usually end up causing a hole in the register. "Young people resist, but when they have children they end up going to live in Orense," lamented the alderman.
The provincial capital is 65 kilometers away, a little over an hour by check, but poorly connected by a secondary road that was relegated almost to oblivion when in the 25s the administration opted for a different route for the new national highway. Living in San Xoán and using Orense daily to work, take the children to extracurricular activities or to the pediatrician, seems almost unfeasible, along a route that, moreover, multiplies its danger in winter due to the usual frosts and snow. What is missing in the town are, above all, residents between 50 and XNUMX years old, a population of working age.
the pandemic
But not all is lost. Paradoxically, the pandemic has contributed to hindering the democratic bleeding. After decades of collapse, the municipality has stabilized with a thousand residents. And it is due, many, to neighbors who have lived their entire lives with one foot in San Xoán and the other outside. The pandemic made them bet on definitively returning, or staying in it for longer than they wanted. 'Chemi' himself is an example of a returnee. He grew up in the Pontevedra municipality of Moraña, where his parents worked, and studied telecommunications engineering in Vigo. But now he is settled in San Xoán. A mayor with a peculiar political career, which he began in the BNG and continued in Xosé Manuel Beiras's Anova, to end up achieving an absolute majority as an independent in 2019. A little over a year ago the PP signed him.
Another return to San Xoán is Juan Carlos Pérez, 50 years old. Born in Switzerland —a country to which his parents had emigrated—, he never lost contact with his village, Castiñeiro, also in San Xoán. The confinement surprised him and his parents, Juan and Consuelo, in the family home. And both he and his parents, who until then had also lived abroad, decided to stay in the town. When less than two years ago he was in Castiñeiro, there was no longer a single registered resident there. Now there are half a dozen. In San Xoán there are reasons for optimism.
From the Castiñeiro of all life are also Luis and Elvira, who had grown up door to door and ended up getting married. They have spent half their lives riding between San Xoán and Madrid, where Luis, now retired, worked as a truck driver. For decades, we divided our time between the town and the capital. But now, without work obligations, the balance has tipped towards Castiñeiro, where the family homes have been rehabilitated. His son Benjamin also drops by there, who, although he lives in Amsterdam, spends time at home. And although Luis and Elvira are one of those residents of San Xoán who have always had one foot in the village and the other in the big city, their return does not count in the statistics because, at least for now, they are still registered in Madrid. Whether or not they change their data in the census, what they have no doubt about is that they do not want to give up either the village or the capital: "I feel good on both sides," Luis explained to this newspaper.
The recovery of the demographic level of San Xoán has been sustained by these round-trip neighbors. People like Juan Carlos, Juan, Consuelo, Juan and Elvira, who, since the pandemic, have been increasing their presence in the town. The mayor, aware of the difficulty of correcting the depopulation drift, has a prudent but ambitious maxim: ensure that those who spend a week a year in the town, stay a month; that the one who goes for one month, extend it to three, or that the one who used to stay for six months stays for the whole year. In short, the winter San Xoán looks more and more like the summer San Xoán, when its population multiplies by four or five.
All in all, San Xoán does not renounce, of course, welcoming new neighbors without any roots in the town. Mauricio, a native of Chile, and Cynthia, French, are a couple in their thirties who fell in love with the town at first sight. They met working in Vigo and had an idea that Cynthia narrates to this newspaper: set up a bio-sustainable camp —for a maximum of ten guests— in a town suffering from the scourge of depopulation. She motivated her to contribute to revitalize it, with respect for the environment as a flag. We will contact a board of municipalities, but we only received a response from San Xoán. He visited the town and dazzled a plot located precisely in Castiñeiro.
The project of the young couple is ready, in the absence of some bureaucratic steps. "We all support each other," Cynthia explained by phone from Asturias, after shedding light at the beginning of the year. Consuelo, Juan's wife and Juan Carlos's mother, wove some slippers to welcome little Oyán. Although they did not live there yet, Mauricio and Cynthia have already felt the warmth of Castiñeiro, the village in which until a few months ago there was not a single registered inhabitant.
It is easy to prevent a depopulation that seems inevitable, but the mayor, with the enthusiastic help of Juan Carlos, strongly involved since his return from Norway, does not want to give up. And the ideas and projects, some very imaginative, follow one another. San Xoán, for example, was the first Galician city council to sign with a car brand to have an electric vehicle for the use and enjoyment of the residents. For a modest price per hour, and even with free vouchers, the car, parked and plugged in in front of the town hall, is available to parishioners and tourists. The kilometer counter attests to its success: 30.000 in just six months.
Other projects imagined in San Xoán, but with a supra-municipal scope, are being finalized. A convention of 16 municipalities in the area to promote trade between these municipalities, betting on the distribution of local products at home. And another surprising initiative, which they hope will not take long to materialize, for which they are seeking funding and in which they will connect towns from all over Spain. "A Tinder of peoples," explained Juan Carlos, referring to the famous mobile application to flirt. The user will see images of anonymous towns in Spain, and when the 'app' detects a match with a municipality, a 'match' will be produced between the user and the town in question. In San Xoán de Río ideas are not lacking. Some will turn out well, others not so much, and others will possibly fail; however, as coincidental in pointing out both the mayor and Juan Carlos, the people cannot sit with their arms crossed waiting for the parc.
