The whole nation mobilized because
of it. And for a minute, our humble city and its region got the attention and
sympathy of the world.
A couple of hours before midnight, all went
black.
I managed to wake up around midnight
because of the eerie constant hiss of the wind and the banging noise of my
bedroom window. The shaking of a metal sheen resonated behind these noises and
the streets; void of people. These were the subtle signs that something sinister
is happening.
Around 6:30 in
the morning, my parents woke me up so we can assess what damage this unusual
storm might have caused down the street in Burgos. The sun was already shining
its normal course while we were almost ploughing through the thickly muddied
street. I saw people already scraping mud off their concrete floors and piling
up their soaked and destroyed belongings. Their faces still managed to create a
smile so I figured this might just be a “manageable” flood. Unknown to me was
the chaos already griping the residents just blocks away.
My childhood
nanny is living just a couple of blocks past the hanging bridge of Isla de Oro
from where we first made sense of what just happened. Anxiously I decided to check her situation. As
I ploughed through the thick mud going to my nanny’s place, I passed by the
hanging bridge connecting Burgos to Isla de Oro. So many people and what was
left of their belongings were scattered around. They were all soaked in mud and
some still shivering cold under the heat of the morning sun. Then it dawned on
me that houses or things were not the only casualties, but human lives as well.
I can vividly remember walking pass 2 teenagers crying. They were inside a
muddied motorela bowing and weeping their hearts out and their faces clearly
speak the grief of family members lost. A couple of feet away, I can hear
people already speaking of missing loved ones and all stood still before a
rescue team recovering bodies scattered at the river banks. It was a horrible
unimaginable and heart wrenching scene. I felt I was in the aftermath scene of a
disaster movie but this one is real and raw. I was then able to assess the
situation of my nanny and her family. Thank God they are all safe but all their
properties are gone.
Back home, I can
see from our terrace the increasing activity in the Somo funeral chapel. Out of
curiosity, I summoned the courage to go there and see the scene for myself. Ten
pale bodies lay before me. There were babies, a pregnant woman, old people and
children. Their faces are still clear and vivid in my memory. The scene was
just too overwhelming for me but I felt that I have to see it for me to
understand the full length of this disaster. It took a man crying over her dead
wife and washing her muddied face with water that made me leave and tremble in
grief.
The scenes in
Burgos and in the funeral home are enough for me to make a clearer sense of the
scale and magnitude of this catastrophe. I then went on and volunteered for the
relief operations organized by Xavier University.
The aftermath of
the disaster can never be defined solely by the extent of destruction Sendong brought
into our city and region. More than that, the aftermath of Sendong is best
measured by the indomitable Filipino spirit that came to life in all forms and
sizes. These typhoons that have been battering our nation for centuries left
not only destruction in its wake but it also planted the seeds of that Filipino
spirit of sturdiness and resiliency, bayanihan and pakikiisa in the face of a
raging storm. It is still those Filipino values that we summon in these trying
times. We never ran out of images and stories of heroism. And true enough,
Sendong has brought out the best in all of us as a people. There is still faith
in the midst of death and uncertainty, there is still heroism in the face of disaster, and
there is still generosity in the time of need even from those who were
affected. God is present and the
Filipino spirit is alive in these moments of collective tragedy.
Let us continue to help and pray for the victims of Sendong.
