Housing tragedies in Tenerife are often linked to unemployment, medical emergencies, or other financial setbacks.
We came across a gripping story in the newspaper Diario de Avisos, written by Rodrigo Padilla, and couldn’t resist translating it. This account shows that the sunny island everyone talks about is grappling with serious social issues. These problems are so isolated that the more than six million tourists who visit the island annually remain unaware of the prevailing poverty. Here is the heartbreaking story of one of many housing tragedies in Tenerife.
Marta and her son, who has been diagnosed with autism, reflect the housing crisis affecting many families. After having to sleep in a storage unit and a car in the south, they will have to leave their current home this summer. Marta Suárez sees no other way out. If she cannot find a rental property within two months, she and her son will once again be forced to sleep in their car. “Like monkeys, we go from tree to tree,” Marta sums up her life, exhausted after years of hopping between temporary shelters.
Musician
This is the story of a silent battle against a system that, according to Marta, does not consider cohabitation or human dignity. Her situation reveals the harsh reality of the housing market in the Canary Islands: unsustainable, discriminatory, and with requirements that are unattainable for vulnerable families. Institutional solutions often prove to be inhumane or unworkable.
It all began in 2019, when Marta, almost by chance, secured a roof over her family’s head in Llano del Camello, in the municipality of San Miguel. “It was a favor from the owner, who didn’t want a contract because he was registered there with his family,” she says. She lived in that apartment for five years and says she paid €450 in rent per month — an amount aligned with her income as a guitarist working in hotels in southern Tenerife.
The deal was clear: when the owner’s daughter turned eighteen, they would have to leave. Five years later, in July 2024, after her son’s school year ended, she returned the keys.
Two scams driven by desperation
From that moment on, a true odyssey began for Marta, her son, their dog, and two cats — now their best friends. First, they moved in with her sister. “That was very hard. You’re invading someone’s space, and that causes problems,” she says. Then came stays with a few friends, none of which worked out.
Once again staring into the abyss, Marta saw an apartment listing on Marketplace in Los Abrigos. It looked like a great deal. “Out of sheer desperation, I jumped at it. I didn’t even see it. I said: ‘Just give it to me, even if it’s a cave,’” she recalls. But it was a trap: the apartment didn’t even exist. She lost €350, which she never recovered.
The same thing happened later when she tried to rent another place in Llano del Camello. She paid €200 to reserve it and €650 as a deposit, all of which was lost. She reported the case to the authorities, but nothing happened. On top of that, she became entangled in a bureaucratic battle over her official registration. “My registration was blocked, and without it, I couldn’t enroll my son in secondary school.” In total, Marta says she lost around €1,150 — money she absolutely could not afford to lose.
Breaking down doors
According to Marta, the problem is not only the lack of affordable housing, but also the unrealistic demands landlords impose.
“They ask for two payslips showing €1,900 and €2,500. I’m not a doctor; I’m a musician. And I’m a single mother — that alone is a barrier. On top of that, we have three animals. That doesn’t help either,” she sighs.
“I want to pay. I’m not asking for anything for free. I’ve worked my whole life with dignity. But as soon as a place becomes available and I inquire, they hit you with completely nonsensical requirements. They want a cute Norwegian couple, not a single mother with a child. Some even ask for a criminal record check. It’s absurd,” Marta says. It’s a maze that condemns vulnerable people to fight even for the right to a roof over their heads.
The situation became so desperate that social workers began suggesting extreme options. According to Marta, they proposed “breaking into a home,” going to a shelter, or handing over custody of her son to his father. None of these options were acceptable to her. “If the system harms my son, I’ll accept that. But for me to be the one to harm him? Never,” she says firmly. She categorically rejected these ideas.
In a tent
Her priority is clear: her son’s well-being. “If anything happens to him, I’ll take my own life — live and on camera. Keep that in mind,” she once warned a social worker. Eventually, Marta rented a storage unit in a warehouse. She and her son slept there for a few days. Then things got even worse: they had to sleep in the car — a “tiny” vehicle, according to Marta.
Although her son is still a minor, his large build made it nearly impossible to rest in such a cramped space. “He didn’t complain, but he slept curled up, with his feet bent,” says Marta. “And we also had the animals with us. It was a nightmare.”
The money soon ran out, and the inevitable happened: they had to live on the streets. “I bought a tent and a mattress. We spent several nights in La Tejita. It was awful — people were lurking around constantly.”
A paradoxical system
The situation has taken a serious toll on her son. Since they left their first home, he has attended three different schools. “He has no friends. Autism already makes socializing difficult — imagine what it’s like now. The kids reject him,” says Marta. According to her, the boy has expressed suicidal thoughts. The constant stress of not having a stable home has become emotionally unbearable for both of them.
“Who was the genius who decided wages should stay low and housing prices skyrocket? I’d love to meet them,” she scoffs. These are the real causes behind Tenerife’s housing tragedies.
Currently, they are temporarily staying in a holiday rental in Valle San Lorenzo, municipality of Arona. They can stay there for another month and a half. After that, they will be back on the streets. A bitter paradox: homes intended for tourists have become the only option for some local residents. “We’re here because there’s no other choice. But I can’t stay forever in a place that isn’t meant for living,” she says.
Their only remaining option is radical: “We’re considering buying a camper van. At least no one can throw us out of that.”
The story of Marta and her son reflects a system that excludes those who do not meet landlords’ economic standards and that offers depersonalized and inhumane solutions through institutions. Meanwhile, time is running out for this mother and her child. Their options are running out, and the housing tragedies in Tenerife remain a harsh reality.
More information about this issue can be found in our article Vehicles as Housing in Tenerife.
Source: Diario de Avisos – Rodrigo Padilla
Guy Devos © AI Illustration
Housing Tragedies in Tenerife ©
More NEWS can be read [HERE].
Interested in Tenerife?
Subscribe to our newsletter and always stay informed about the news on Tenerife.
Enter your first name and a valid email address below. Then click on Subscribe.
