Monday, December 11, 2006 Echaves: When the rains come By Lelani P. Echaves
SATURDAY and Sunday, rains came and went. Fortunately, the winds did not rage as feared, at least not here in the city.
I had worried about flowerpots crashing on the cars, the “nangka” tree falling and blocking the garage exit and gates, and days without power and water. That’s the “Ruping” story in 1990. Raging at 220 kph, she left 748 dead and damage worth P10.846 billion. One of the top worst typhoons since 1947 (www.typhoon2000.ph), this howler affected over a million families or 5.5 million people.
Still, “Ruping” was less ferocious than “Amy” in 1951. I remember how, as a child, I couldn’t sleep throughout the night, despite my mother’s urgings. The wind’s lashing was frightening, and the howling and hissing made the helpers think Satan was nearby. On our front yard the next day was a whole roof from a neighbor 10 houses away. But gone was the upper half of our avocado tree. My mother said the Lord used it to shield us from danger’s way.
Elsewhere, our neighbors had lost their doors, even staircases, and big mango trees fell and slashed houses in half. The streets were strewn with the tempest’s loot—furniture, appliances, children’s bikes, clothes and food items.
Amid typhoon alerts, such memories send mothers like me reviewing our protocols. Stock up on water, bring down flowerpots from walls, trim off branches against brushing the power lines, load up the cars to full-tank, check the first aid kit and manual, and do groceries enough for a week or two. Naturally, priorities will be canned goods, breads, rice, sugar, salt and milk, noodles, eggs, milk, dog food, candles, matches, batteries for flashlights and radio to monitor the typhoon, and of course, vitamins and medicine.
And while we shall be charging our emergency lamps and fans, the teeners around will remind us to charge our mobile phones, too. We also review our personal directories to update numbers of hospitals, our family physicians, hotlines for Veco, MCWD, telecom companies, police stations, Eruf, and the DPS for garbage concerns. We also check on our insurance policies, particularly on accident benefits. And we ready the blankets, warm clothing, sturdy shoes and rosary.
So, when the weather disturbance doesn’t get to be the tempest we expected, we rejoice. All those preparations haven’t been for naught, and anyone who says otherwise is just plain disorganized, lazy or leaving too much to chance or God. And if you knew of people whose houses are either by the creek or straddling it, you’d be thanking the Lord for sparing them. Even heavy rains would make the waters overflow from the creek, and down into their houses, and stealing away their belongings. Understandably, they can’t report for work at the nearby factory, and even forego with meals until the small cramped space they call home is clean enough to use again. Life continues.
My “suki” who sews such fine and well-made curtains, table cloths, runners, bed sheets and bed skirts always laments about their small quarters and their monthly rental of P900. That’s home to her family of five. When it rains and pours, her husband keeps running back and forth to check on how high the waters have risen in the creek. My “suki” stays at home, bundling up her little ones and their meager belongings into a blanket. On her husband’s say-so, she carried this to higher ground. This has been their life for over 10 years.
Equally small quarters are just further up, can actually spare them from the creek’s overflow, and cost P100 less monthly. I ask why she hasn’t transferred there. That’s because the owner is strict about punctual payments, while the present one is more understanding. To go for a lower rental and then be remiss in payment is to court being thrown out into the streets, she says. And that would be worse than their usual discomforts when the rains come.
