I never thought of dying that day. I just thought of
surviving. And I did.
My friends and I volunteered on Thursday night to help
accommodate the residents of the squatters’ area who took shelter at Sto. Nino
Parish in expectation of the coming super typhoon called Yolanda (aka
Haiyan). There was but a little drizzle
and mild wind that night, how bad could the storm be? So we talked and laughed
and made plans of activities for the incoming semester and we slept comfortably
in one of the rooms of the convent. We never thought we’d end up being evacuees
as well and all those plans will have to wait.
I was awakened on Friday morning by the whistle of the wind
outside. She’s here. We went downstairs to prepare breakfast for the evacuees
while the wind kept blowing stronger. Then, there was panic. The evacuees
started rushing inside the kitchen saying it wasn’t safe to stay where they
were. And then, boom went one of the glass doors and the other came next. There’s
nothing we could do but pray. So, we offered a rosary despite the rising panic
and wails as more evacuees filled the kitchen. I continued praying after the
rosary and all I asked of God was that He will make the shelter of the convent
enough to protect us. Dark water started to fill the room and there goes our
breakfast and all our supplies. For a moment, I was scared I’d drown even
though I can swim.
I was frightened when the strong wind broke the glass doors
and windows and toppled the trees and electric posts outside and when the water
rose to knee-level within seconds and we were forced to run to the second floor
of the convent but death never crossed my mind; only survival. A nun kept
pushing us to think of ways to make floaters for the children but there wasn’t
anything. We weren’t that prepared. We found two prospective exits in case the
water reaches the second floor and leaves us no choice but to swim through it.
Thankfully, the water stopped rising but the strong wind hasn’t stopped yet. We
offered another rosary. This time, many have calmed down. After what seemed to
be the longest hours of our lives, the storm has passed.
Survivors from outside started coming in for they have
nowhere else to go. One family had to swim through the murky water downtown and
another let themselves be carried by the sea from San Jose to the shore of the
city. Some of them were wounded while another had a broken arm but each held on
to their dear life.
It was lunch time and there wasn’t much we could offer for
the 157 evacuees, some of whom haven’t even had breakfast yet. We prepared
about a half cup of rice and a half-slice of hard-boiled egg in disposable
plates. Three people had to share each of those servings. That’s how little we
had at that time. That didn’t matter. What matters is that we lived through the
strongest storm.
After lunch, my friends and I went off to check on our
friends and families. We agreed to come back to the convent before dark.
Thankfully, all our families and friends also lived through Yolanda’s rage but
the city is gone. All the pictures and videos you see in the news are true.
On Friday twilight, one of the priests decided to hold a
mass despite the current condition of the church. It was dark. The pews have
been wrecked and displaced to one side of the church. Raindrops fell through
the roofless church. There were only about fifteen people attending the mass
and the priest did not even give a homily; just a moment of silence for
reflection. To me, it was a solemn celebration of an extension of my life. I
thanked God for answering my prayer to make the shelter enough for all of us. I
thought about how I could have struggled and died in the storm. Yet, here I was
still. Even though my excitement for my last semester got crushed by this
devastation, I’m still alive. Graduation can wait, right now I just have to
cherish the fact that I lived.
I realized how short life is. I have come to include in my
bedtime prayers that God forgive me my trespasses and bless my soul just in
case I die in my sleep. I have come to appreciate more the miracle of waking up
every morning to see a new day.
The moment I felt safe, I thought about how my other friends
were doing. Did we all survive? Did I lose someone? There wasn’t any way to be
sure since all communications were down and I can’t really visit all of them
with all the debris and cadavers lining the streets. I have come to realize
that there may not be enough time to show how much you really care about the
people important to you. So, for the moment, I had to value the presence of my
friends who were with me and hope that all the others are doing fine as well.
Until we got out of Tacloban, my friends and I looked out for each other. Our
families were not with us in the ruined city so we only have each other. No one
gets left behind.
The feeling of leaving is not all that glorious. It is a
mixture of feeling very grateful to be alive, of being hopeful to live
comfortably once again and a feeling of guilt in leaving behind all the people
who are suffering.
I was there for three days since the super typhoon. I’ve
seen a man mourn over the loss of his daughter. I’ve seen familiar faces deal
with the loss of everything including their homes. I’ve seen looters in action
and I have benefited from the lootings myself. I smelled the stench of death in
the streets. Like everybody else, I felt lost too, not knowing what to do or
even where to start. A lot of lives have been greatly affected. A large number
of people died but to us who were spared, life goes on. We will all have to
begin again.
Super typhoon Haiyan opened my eyes. It used to be easy to
hear and neglect the cry for help of my fellowmen at times like this until I
experienced it myself and I can’t just ignore it anymore. I used to lament over
the huge number of casualties and the money’s worth of damage on the
properties. Now, I see the pain that had to be borne by those who lost their
family, friends, neighbors and homes, yet, I can’t do anything about it. The
once hard life that our poor fellowmen had to endure just got harder.
It used to be easy for my attention to be diverted to
anything new that comes through the social media like criticisms of
politicians. Now, I just want myself and everyone else to keep our focus on
helping rebuild the lives of those who survived because I know what it’s like
to lose the life you built in one city for several years. I also realized that
the day the storm hit is one of those times when there is really nothing we can
do but pray, let God be God, surrender everything to Him and believe everything
is going to be fine.
Many would say that despite everything that’s going on, the
spirit of Christmas is alive. But I believe it is because of all this
generosity, all these people lending a hand to help Filipinos rise again and all this hope of starting over at a time when we are at a complete
loss that I can say Christmas is here. To the rest of the world, thank you. With your help, we will rise again. The
one good thing Haiyan brought to Earth is the restoration of faith in humanity.
