Its a chore to turn on the TV and watch the news. Such immense heartbreak. This afternoon, there was a family: three small kids, two grandparents, a mother. They were leaving Tanauan without the old ones to find food, shelter, life elsewhere for the kids. The grandparents chose to stay in the street, on their cardboard beds, laden with thinly spread cogon roof. Its only a matter of days. We are weak. We wont last, the old woman said. Seconds of them trying to part seemed like an hour. I had splinters in my chest and water running down my cheeks. She asked the field reporter to provide the family food as they travel on foot and requested mangoes as a parting gift. A minute after, he came with a bag full of plump, ripe ones. The grandmother hugged him and meekly, with glassy eyes, muttered, “Salamat, anak.” The anchor himself was in near tears. On the other hand, it is somehow comforting that even slowly, the relief goods are starting to come by. It’s been six days. If I don’t eat for an entire day, I already transform into a beast. Here’s hoping they can hold on a day longer to that signature Filipino faith and resilience. Proud ako maging Pinoy. You don’t find that kind of positive character amid tragedy elsewhere in the world.
Posted on: Fri, 15 Nov 2013 10:01:14 +0000
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