Exactly a year ago today, on November 11 and 12, I went to Tacloban after typhoon Haiyan hit the place - for one important mission: to save my relatives and get them out. The typhoon came on a Friday, and we did not hear from them over the weekend. All I remember is that news reports would stream in from the local channels and CNN, bringing to our eyes the grim reality of the catastrophe that was left in the wake of the storm. My auntie and uncle, in their 70s and 80s, happened to be in Manila at that time for a doctors check-up. They are my second parents, I call them Mama and Papa, and I could not bear to see the anguish on their faces brought about by the anxiety of not knowing if the family they left in Tacloban were still alive. On Sunday afternoon, Pres. Aquino landed in Tacloban, and the press mentioned that the presidential plane was able to land because power was restored in the Tacloban airport after a generator was flown in by Air 21. On Sunday evening, just as I was posting a shout-out on facebook about my missing relatives, my sister called me up to say that she knew the owners of Air 21 and that they have a cargo plane that would be bringing to Tacloban more medicines, satellite phones, and small generators needed by DSWD. It was a 9 -seater plane, including the pilot and co-pilot. Having heard from my sister that we had loved ones missing in Tacloban, the owners readily offered our family 2 precious seats in that flight. It was to leave the next day, Monday morning. I woke up on Monday and decided it was I and a niece (who was familiar with Tacloban) who would take the flight. My sister had two small toddlers and my conscience will not allow for her to go on such an uncertain mission. Looking back, I cannot ascertain what made me decide to do it. Maybe it was because In my entire life, I could not recall a time in our lives, in good times and in bad, that my auntie and uncle were not there for us. Maybe it was also because I believed that God would see me through all of this, and I would be able to save my loved ones in the nick of time. I was imagining that they were all going hungry, or worse, that if they were alive and had survived the tragedy, their lives at that point were in danger. All I can remember is that I told my husband that I have decided I will be the one to go, and even as he was begging me not to, I was telling him all in one breath: 1.) to tell our children ((who were already in school at that time) that I love them very much; 2.) for him to always be reminded where our important documents were kept; 3.) for him to go on with life like the way we always planned things, just in case I am not able to return home anymore. And then we said our final I-love-yous and hugged each other so tightly, just in case it would be our last. I took the small plane amidst not so good weather, and all I can remember in that almost 3-hour flight is how many times I uttered Lamb of God throughout the whole flight. I have travelled significantly and turbulence is a common occurrence but nothing beat this experience. Each turbulence was like taking the elevator on the 5th floor and landing on the 1st floor all in a matter of 1 millisecond. It must have happened more than a hundred times, at least to me it seemed to have. I was already imagining the sight that I would see, yet nothing would prepare me for the devastation that greeted our eyes even as we were just preparing to land. Because the cargo plane flew on low altitude, we could see the damage wrought by the typhoon right where we were flying over. I felt even sicker in my stomach. Then we landed, and I could not believe that the Tacloban of my youth, where I spent endless summers of my childhood, would be reduced to this scene of destruction and death. That night when I reached the DSWD tent, and we had to make that walk to my cousins house in pitch-black darkness, I swear it looked like a scene from a holocaust movie. The streets were littered with fallen lampposts and trees and a compost mix of living and non-living things that were either drowned or washed ashore by the storm surge – I dare not check out what it was that I was stepping on or what was hanging by the branch that was touching the top of my head and crawling at my back. I literally walked through jungle and did not get to step on concrete cement. And all these were right in the. middle of what used to be a street. We were holding tiny flashlights but I intentionally kept the light shining downward just to light my path. I did not want to shine it on the horizon and suddenly see zombies walking towards me. By a stroke of luck and mostly by Gods grace, I found all 14 of my relatives - alive! And I was able to bring them home. Their reunion at the airport in Manila is something that touched me deeply, I felt in my heart and mind the deepest conviction that I made the right decision to risk my life for something thats worth risking ones life for - FAMILY. My auntie kept crying and embracing my cousin and all the grandchildren, and when she turned to me to thank me, she could not even say a word because she was sobbing uncontrollably. When she told me that she will never be able to repay me for what I did to her, I told her, Stop saying that! If it happened to me, wouldnt you find a way to save me? I plan to go to Afghanistan next year, and if I get stranded, you will have to go and look for me!” At that she laughed out loud, and then she sobbed even harder. That night, as I lay down in bed, in the arms of my husband, I thought to myself, I had just been given a big lesson in life. That night I realized that the love of family is the most precious thing in a persons life. On safer grounds, in the next few days, I could not control the urge to write a post on my Facebook wall about everything that I saw. I was given the chance to witness things first-hand, the least I could do was to tell the world what I saw. Little did I know that it was literally the whole world that I spoke to. Because all nations were focused on Tacloban and the magnitude of the tragedy that befell upon it, my act of saving my relatives and the piece that I wrote where I accounted for the truth that I saw, turned viral beyond my wildest imagination. Amidst a handful of bashers who questioned my integrity in writing that piece, I gained many friends who believed in what I wrote, all because they understood that I was writing it not in defence of any political or government body, but in defence of our national pride and spirit. All I wanted was a sense of fairness above everything else. And so it goes that the piece I wrote was shared all over the world, and in the process, I received friend requests from different people from all walks of life, and private messages that until now I could not completely sift through and read. I do know that I have a US war veteran friend who said he admired my courage, and I had a lot of Filipino soldiers contacting me to say that they appreciate what I wrote about their fellow soldiers. I heard from teachers, nuns, and nurses, local and foreign doctors who wanted to find out how they can fly to Tacloban to help. The Filipino Diaspora, also known as the overseas workers who are present in all parts of the globe, from London to Bahrain, Hong Kong to Mauritius, Qatar to Alaska, they all ached to know what happened to their fellow Filipinos, and they reached out to thank me for writing something which they said “made them proud to be Filipinos”. I had people from all nations writing me - British, Japanese, French, Portuguese, American, Iraqi, you name it, I gained friends of different nationalities all in a matter of 1 week! I even had MAKABAYAN people (translation: leftists) who called me “kapatid” (sister) and swore to protect me in case I needed their help! And not to forget the journalists and media people who wanted to interview me. Up until today, I have not returned their calls and messages. I did not want this to turn into a media focus on me. Greatly humbled by the whole experience, I then quietly went back to my private life. Last month I flew back to Tacloban. My relatives re-opened their McDonalds franchise and I was asked to cut the inaugural ribbon together with the governor and vice-mayor. With the magnitude of the destruction and looting that hit their outlet, I cannot believe that they were able to open a newer, bigger McDonald’s a full month before the Yolanda anniversary, but that is a topic worth writing about altogether in another post. Suffice it to say that I was amazed how the city of Tacloban has risen on its feet, with the help of local and foreign NGO’s, and maybe, just maybe, a little help as well from the national government. At the back of my mind, I always thought it would take at least 5 years for the economy to swing back, but right now, the statistics given out is that Tacloban has regained at least 30% of its business back. That is far from 100% but it is also far from ghost town and despair. Indeed, we all find the pace of rebuilding too slow, and quite expectedly, we are all worried that the claws of corruption are again finding its way to snatch what rightfully belongs to the victims of the disaster. If you are a Filipino, you will understand where all this skepticism and paranoia is coming from. But we hold on to the promise of the president and Senator Ping Lacson that the rehabilitation effort is underway, that it is worth 40 billion pesos and that it will begin in December. We will watch them and make them accountable. If we do not see this happen, then I swear to God I will write another open letter to who else but - Anderson Cooper! Meantime, until now, I still have people asking me where they can send help for the victims of the typhoon - on the condition that they only wish to send to private organizations and not to any government body. I have made friends with a group called Transform Relief, which has an alternate site called Stories of Survival from Typhoon Haiyan, both moderated by the indefatigable Elma Gacho Greenwood. If you go to their facebook site, there you will see a group of people who are sincerely volunteering their time, effort, and finances to help not just Tacloban but the other areas that were devastated as well. See for yourself how they work, and you will decide in the end that the donation you will send to them will definitely go to good hands. Lastly, I just want to say that Tacloban, and Samar, Leyte, and Ormoc, in general, are so blessed, because the world all came together to embrace the people and give a helping hand to lift them up from this tragedy. Just the sheer amount of aid that came in is in itself a phenomenon that has never been seen at any time in any country. But more importantly, the people are blessed because the Pope will be visiting soon to tell them that there is a God, and this God still loves them and has not forgotten about them. In the darkest hours after the storm surge struck and snatched the lives of so many people, our hearts bled and our consciousness began to doubt where God was in those hours. As much as a true Christians faith is unwavering in times of trial, a widows pain and an orphans sorrow and loneliness are emotions that can cripple any faithful child of God. Let us not forget these people and the tragedy that befell upon them. Let us pray that Pope Francis visit will shower a newfound grace in their land and restore the blessing that was lost one fateful morning of November 8, 2013.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 15:58:03 +0000
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