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Yolanda is Alone, Humanity is United

While natural disasters capture headlines and national attention short-term, the work of recovery and rebuilding is long-term. In all of these happenings through time, man needs to attach meaning in tragedy, no matter how random and inexplicable the event is. Nonetheless, after every storm the sun will smile; for every problem there is a solution, and the soul’s indefeasible duty is to be of good cheer.

Who would have forget the tragedy that happened last November 8, 2013? Super Typhoon Haiyan cut a devastating path across the central Philippines. Nearly 13 million people have been affected across the Visayas region, where the storm is known as Yolanda. During that time, the scene in the Philippines is grim. Despite millions of dollars in aid pouring into the country, survivors of Typhoon Haiyan are still struggling to access water, food and supplies. There are reports of people digging up and smashing open underground water pipes, surviving on coconut juice, and covering their noses to mask the smell of dead bodies. Already, the death tolls increases with dozens more missing and thousands injured. Homes are destroyed; hospitals are overrun and aid workers continue to have trouble reaching all of the affected areas.

After a year, how are Yolanda survivors doing now? There were stories left untold, problems unresolved, and realizations that would make one fathom things for future endeavours.

The people in Las Islas de Gigantes are people who cannot afford to lose hope. In spite of the circumstances that they have to live with every day after Yolanda shattered their lives, they carry on.

Not to lose again

She was hesitant to talk at first, but when I asked about what she experienced during the onslaught of Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan), she swallowed a lump in her throat.

Adelfa Liusendo, 72, is a survivor of the super typhoon in Iloilo. She didn’t want her grandchildren to lose another loved one – their father has been missing since Typhoon Ondoy in Manila in 2009. Adelfa Liusendo, standing beside a roofless classroom on top of a hill that overlooks azure waters surrounding Las Islas de Gigantes in Carles, northern Iloilo. She is one of the many survivors of the said traitor typhoon last year. She could still remember how she saw the water rise from the ocean, accompanied by the strong and whistling winds. She huddled with her grandchildren inside their little house made of bamboo and galvanized iron sheets. In Lantangan, a barangay in the island, Adelfa witnessed the roof of her house get blown away by the strong wind. She made sure her grandchildren, 3 grade school students, were safe.

She did not want her grandchildren to lose another loved one. Her son Henry Liusendo Sr, the children’s father, was one of those reported as missing when Ondoy lashed through Manila in September 2009. She still doesn’t know if her son is dead or alive or simply missing.

She just tells her grandchildren that their father went to Manila to look for work. She doesn’t have the heart to reveal the truth to her grandchildren: that their father could be one of those whose lives were snuffed out when Ondoy rampaged through the country.

Adelfa did not say this with a sense of finality. She still hopes. She realizes that being careful is one of the best ways to survive a calamity. She doesn’t want to lose another loved one.

Students sit and learn in Tarpaulins

Six months after the super howler destroyed classrooms and livelihood, school children in Asluman Elementary School, sit on tarps laid out on the floor and get on with their lessons in a newly-constructed school building since the school lacks chairs, some of which were ruined by the typhoon.

Two newly constructed school building was made possible by the KALAHI-CIDSS (Kapit-Bisig Laban sa Kahirapan-Comprehensive and Integrated Delivery of Social Services), a national community-driven government program that seeks to alleviate poverty.

Together with the newly constructed classrooms comes chairs but KALAHI-CIDSS has yet to deliver them by the second week of June, according to Head Teacher II Angelo Rico Suya.

A fifth grade adviser, Svellen Rosario, shares that 41 of her students sit on the “tarp floor” because there are few chairs, the tarpaulin having been given by Canadians that gave emergency response during the onslaught of Typhoon Yolanda.

The tarps served as roofing for classrooms ravaged by the super typhoon and soon after the classrooms were repaired, the tarps were recycled for children to sit on so their uniforms won’t get dirty.

Lori Ann Bituon, a fourth grade student who dreams of becoming a nun, shares that she does not mind sitting on the floor as long as she sits with her friends.

Located beside the sea, Sir Suya says Asluman Elementary School was among the areas directly affected by the executive order of President Benigno Aquino III on No Build Zones, which means that a school building cannot be constructed within Asluman Elementary School.

However, Suya said that a donor who requests anonymity has already signed a deed of donation for the land where the elementary school will be constructed and that it could take 10 years for the new school building to be constructed in a location away from the dangers of high tide and storm surges during typhoons.

“For now, the main concern of the school is the repair of classrooms,” says Suya.

After the roof of her classroom was repaired, teacher Roselyn Cataluña says that in a class of 63 students, only 50 students can sit on desks and arm chairs, with the rest sitting on the floor.

She also shares that even after Typhoon Yolanda, some of her students would stare off into space.

The aim of education should be to teach us rather how to think, than what to think — rather to improve our minds, so as to enable us to think for ourselves, than to load the memory with thoughts of other men. ~Bill Beattie

Students seated on tarps during class.

New boats sailed like new hope

Henzel Articulo of Estancia, Iloilo lost all of his four motorized boats when Super Typhoon Yolanda lashed its 314-kilometer per hour (kph) winds on the town last November 8, 2013.

Henzel owned two passenger vessels and two fishing boats which were his main sources of income.

He vividly recalled that fateful Friday. When Yolanda battered the port of Estancia, he went out of his house around 1 p.m. to find out that the water was already up to his chest. He braved the strong wind and rain, awesome forces of nature that almost blinded his way. When he arrived at the shore in Bayas Island, Estancia, he discovered that all of his boats were washed away by the waves.

Every end spawns a new beginning. Henzel’s family helped him rebuild his livelihood. His sister-in-law loaned him money which he used to construct a new motorized boat.

Henzel’s new motor boat is hired by tourists who visit Las Islas de Gigantes, an island group known for its serene and picturesque beaches. The spot can be reached after a 90-minute boat ride from Estancia port.

Residents affected by Typhoon Yolanda were promised new motorized boats but as of this writing, these promises have yet to be delivered.

A man making his new motorboat after the typhoon.

There’s always another storm. It’s the way the world works. Snowstorms, rainstorms, windstorms, sandstorms, and firestorms. Some are fierce and others are small. One has to deal with each one separately, but you need to keep an eye on whats brewing for tomorrow. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that has nothing to do with you, this storm is you- something inside you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up the sky like pulverized bones.