I have tried many times to write about what happened twenty days ago. I always cannot finish it. Now I'm trying again, to see if this will once again become a draft or not.
Sunday, November 3, 2013. Tacloban.
This was the day I went back to Tacloban. The enrollment period at our university was going to start the next day but our batch's turn was still on Wednesday, November 6. I just wanted to go, I didn't know why. Maybe I was just excited for enrollment, or maybe I just wanted my cyclic sembreak to end already. Papa was there in Tacloban even though it was Sunday—normally he goes home to Calbayog in Samar during the weekends. I think it was because he had some overtime or some work he immediately had to do.
I arrived in Tacloban and he called me, telling me to go to the PLDT station where he worked so I can get my allowance for the start of the semester. I went there and ate lunch; rice and delicious eskabetche Papa bought from the nearby carenderia. As I was eating, he asked if I had brought my laptop with me, and I said no. I left it at the boarding house. He asked if I can get it after I eat and so when I was done, I stood up and asked permission to buy groceries first before going back for my laptop which was fine with Papa. I returned there bringing my laptop, because Papa needed to check something. We searched for weather forecasts, because there was a typhoon coming.
That night, we ate dinner together. They can't cook at the PLDT station anymore because their rice cooker was damaged so, we went to Chow King and ordered some fried chicken, canton and rice for Papa and honey garlic chicken and rice for me. I thanked Papa so much because it was a tasty meal and we rarely eat out at restaurants together.
Since that night, we've always been eating our meals together at the station. During lunch time, it was always papa's turn to buy our food, and during dinner time, it was always my turn. Even though it's not always food from a restaurant but rather yummy vegetables from the carenderia, for me it was always the most delicious meal because I was always eating with my dearest father.
Day by day we've been keeping track on weather forecasts. I also kept posting on Facebook and texting my family updates. Papa taught me how to read or interpret the satellite pictures. I was really learning a lot from him.
I remember on November 6, Wednesday, an afternoon after I finished enrolling at school, I was exchanging e-mails with my father. Here is a status I posted on Facebook:
"This is my first time exchanging e-mails with my father. And it's about updates regarding the typhoon. Wew. "
It may be shallow, but I really felt glad while we were exchanging e-mails. It started because Papa asked me to send him a satellite picture of the typhoon, since I could access the internet more than he could. Then he was asking for more information, from the PAG-ASA website. One fun moment was when he thought I sent a wrong photo:
"June 11, 2013 lagi itun na satellite picture na imu gn padara " (Telling me there was something wrong with my e-mail)
Then he sent a message again,
"Aw sorry, 06 November 2013 – tama man ngayan he he he"
That "he he he" is queer to hear from Papa, and that just made me happy.
On November 7, Thursday, Papa was going home to Calbayog. He wanted to make sure that our house and our family will be fine, because on Wednesday night, November 8, Samar and Leyte were already experiencing a Signal #1 typhoon. He told me to keep sending e-mails of updates and he'll check it when he gets home.
As of November 7, 4 AM, Samar and Leyte were already experiencing a Signal #2 typhoon. It was then raised to Signal #3 and then at 5 PM, Signal #4.
Let me tell you an inside story. I think most teenagers won't normally do this because I think they've got their minds on other things and do not worry too much about the typhoon but ever since Papa and I started keeping track of the forecasts, I have been preparing things in my backpack. I put my medicine, Bible, a notebook, pen, tissue, flashlight, umbrella, some clothes, some biscuits, water and other important things inside my bag. I thought, maybe, it would be possible that we would need to evacuate.
Yeah really, I thought about that. I didn't tell anyone because maybe they would say that I was "praning" or paranoid but I still re-organized my bag every day, checking the things I would need.
The past few days were sunny, with bright skies and no strong winds even under storm signal # 4.
After being busy following Napoles' senate hearing in the afternoon, the evening of November 7 came. Still, the surroundings were calm. Around 7:30 PM, Papa called me on the phone.
*in Waray*
"Hello? How are you? Are you alright there? Do you have food and water prepared?"
I said yes.
I had one pack of biscuits and one 1.5 L bottle of water. I thought that was enough. But I tried to think twice. Maybe it was not enough. So even though it was already dark, I went outside our boarding house, waited for a tricycle so I can go to Rose Pharmacy and buy some food and water. But not a single one passed. I was kind of scared because the people around me were acting suspicious. Maybe they were bad people and would do bad things to me. I managed to wait for a few minutes and when two ladies passed by, I decided to walk near them, just behind them, so I can be protected. The walk was dreadful. Even now as I try to remember it, my heart beats fast in fear.
I was able to buy two more packs of biscuits, a 1.5 L bottle of water and another 1 L bottle of mineral water. I went outside the pharmacy, and thought of buying some bread. So I proceeded to the nearby bakeshop, Panato, and bought about eight pieces of German Bread, because shockingly nothing else was left except a few of some other bread. That just proved that people were panic-buying the whole day. I put some of the food and water I bought inside my bag, and holding some with my hands.
The struggle for tricycles was there again. I couldn't find any vehicle to ride home. There were tricycles passing, but they were full. There was a suspicious man I saw on the street, and I was nervous. I was afraid he would steal my purchases. I kept on walking to the sides of the streets where there were at least a few people such as security guards and restaurant personnel. I was very frightened. Luckily, one tricycle passed by and I called it even though there were some people already inside. I sat at the back seat, behind the driver. I can't help but repeat this, I was really afraid. I reached our boarding house and entered my room and puffed a heavy, heavy sigh of relief. Right there I uttered the words, "I hate the world for I fear it."
I got out of my room to go the CR and I saw Ate Naneth, my boardmate. She said “I’m sleeping in Kim's room because at 12 AM, black out will occur.”
She invited me so I got my bag, and my beddings and stayed in Kim's room too. We were afraid of the black out to happen while we are alone in our respective rooms, so we decided to gather there in one room. There were four of us, including Gio. The room looked crowded that when Arizza saw us, she took a picture of us and posted it on Facebook with a jest caption:
"SELGA WARRIORS EVACUATION AREA!
#medjoprepared — feeling safe with Mikee Tan Cubio and 3 others in Tacloban City."
The night was calm. We slept tight.
November 8, 2013, 5 AM.
We were awakened by knocks on the door. It was Arizza and Natasha from the third floor (we were on the second floor). They said the wind has been blowing hard already and their roof upstairs has been noisy since dawn. They were frightened so they entered the room and stayed with us. We were all texting and trying to contact our families, checking how were they doing in our hometowns. Papa called me. He asked about the wind, the rain, the boarding house, etc. He said he was about to go to Tacloban that morning. I told him not to. "Please, do not travel, it would be dangerous." But he said he'll see about it.
5 o'clock onwards.
The winds and rains gradually strengthened, slowly instilling fear among us. All the other boarders went out of their rooms, we gathered, talked, and even managed to laugh just because of the warmth of happiness from friendship and togetherness we had. But we were already witnessing flying roofs, swaying trees and things being ravaged by the thundering winds.
Around 6 AM, Ate Nimfa, Lola Vilma's (our landlady) right hand helper went to the room where we were all gathered and said that Lola wanted us to go downstairs where their family stays so that all of us are safe together. We did. We got whatever important things we could bring and then we all trooped down to the first floor.
Papa called me. He asked about everything again. And I told him, "Pa, ayaw na pagbiyahe. Makusog na gud an hangin. Nagkukusog na liwat an uran. Sige na pa,ayaw na pagbiyahe." (Pa, don’t persist in traveling anymore. The winds are already so strong, the rain too. Please pa, don’t.)
But he said, "Sige la, kikitaon ko. Naghuhulat ak san impormasyon/balita." (I’ll see. I’m just waiting for information/news.)
"Pa, ayaw nala lagee." (Pa, listen, please.)
"Sige la, ako siton magdedesisyon." (Don’t mind me. I am the one to decide about that.)
I tried to text mama and my siblings. I texted Papa that my load was expiring soon, so Mama reloaded me. It meant the weather there was still fine because they still were able to go out of the house and go to the store.
We listened to the roar of the wind, and tried to bear its increasing pressure. We felt the downpour of the rain and the grisly sway of it. Nothing was calm. Our phones couldn't reach our contacts anymore, and we were all worried. We could already feel the coming howls of the typhoon. Someone was monitoring the condition outside, peeking through windows. He said it was starting to flood outside.
Then, at around 7:30 AM, there was panic. We were all told to go upstairs, to the second floor, because the flood was starting to elevate. And it was fast! We ran with all our might to reach the next floor. Ate Shara, one boarder, said she was the last one to go upstairs because she was still picking up her things, and she said that while she was struggling, the flood was already waist-high. We were all so nervous. When I tried to look at the stairs leading down to the first floor, I saw it three quarters full of water - so soon!
We were crowded in the second floor. There were eleven boarders including me, and there was Lola Vilma's family—her children, and her grandchildren with their wives and husbands, and their cousins and their cousins' children; some were already crying, we were so afraid. But what frightened us more was when we heard somebody shouting.
"Tabang! Tabang! Tabang!" (Help! Help! Help!)
We panicked; we immediately checked who was missing. But none of us was. While the water was rising even higher and higher, we saw outside, a woman inside her house, appearing through her window, screaming for help. She never stopped crying out, begging Kuya Marlon, Lola Vilma's son, who was trying to speak to her amidst the strong rain, saying,
"Mag-aano man ako? Waray man ako mahihimo. Diri man ako makakakada. Diri man ako makakalangoy, kakusog san hangin. Pasensya na gud man day. Waray man ako mahihimo. Aadi it akon pamilya. Pasensya na gud man day." (What can I do? There's nothing I can do. I can't go there. I won't be able to swim, the wind's too strong. I'm sorry. I can't do anything. I have my family right here. I'm very sorry.)
But the woman never stopped. And we never ceased begging the Lord to end the storm. I even heard Kuya Marlon say, "Tama na gad Lord, may mamamatay na sa gawas." (Oh Lord please stop this now, someone's already to die outside.)
Everything was passing by too quickly—the time, the wind, the rain, the flowing of tears, and the rising of the flood which by then started to reach the second floor. About fifteen or twenty minutes has passed and water was entering the second floor. We were all stunned. We didn't want to believe it. We rushed, lined up at the stairs to the third floor but only up to there, because the third floor room's ceiling was already filtering, the rain pouring down from it with the roof already shattered.
We can't stay in, so we were at the stairs, lamenting, begging, praying, daunted by the thought that the water was still to rise, and later on be able to fill the second floor, and even the third floor, and that all we'd have to do was swim for our lives and hold onto whatever we can hold on to. It was not inconceivable. I looked through the window, and saw that the whole place was like a swimming pool. Let me take that back, I looked through the window and I saw a vast sea.
I didn't know how to swim, but all I could think about was that maybe, I would just be able to swim, just to survive. But still, it's not unthinkable that we could die, that I could die. Even though I kept on holding onto the faith that the flooding would stop, I accepted the possibility that it could already be my time. I asked for forgiveness for all my sins, and for every single person there's too. I thought of watching over my family, every day, from heaven. Watching them? Seeing them grieve and cry over their departed loved one? I guess I can't take that.
Prayers never stopped. Lola Vilma, staring out the window, watching the flood, kept on uttering the words "Lord, have mercy" over and over. There was no one else we could believe in and trust that would save us but the One above. It was during this time that people who live carnal lives unknowingly revive their belief in the Almighty in their hearts.
A Story will be continued in Part 2.
***
This essay written for #RememberYolanda was written by Jennifer Ebdani.
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