Somehow, listening to the horror stories of devastated families takes the joy out of writing, hopefully temporarily. There is that feeling of emptiness, that piercing thought that what I am currently doing is too mundane compared to the real-life tragedies brought about by typhoon Tino.
Indeed, I would not mind if the reader will stop reading this column right now and instead look at pictures of container vans floating in a river of mud, cars piled on top of another, houses like islands in the middle of flooding waters. Focus on pictures of people with desperation and anxiety written on their faces. If deep feelings of empathy are engendered by simply gazing at these pictures, do not return to this column. Only those with stony hearts would not be moved by such pictures. Better yet, call or visit someone still reeling from the typhoon.
A day after the typhoon, I was called to administer the sacrament of the sick to an old bedridden lady. No, her affliction was not typhoon related. But she had to be transferred to that hut which was considered to be a safer ground. (It was literally a ground for the house itself has no wooden floor.) In going to that hut, I crossed a bridge which is about two feet in width. Underneath is a stream where rescuers were still searching for a missing family. I came to know from my conversation with neighbors that of a family of four, two were confirmed dead while the other two were still missing. A day later I came to know that the two were eventually also found dead.
Those who have been living in Cebu for at least half a century would attest that they had never experienced such killer floods in the past. There were typhoons in the past, like Ruping, Yolanda and Odette which brought enormous loss of lives and properties. But the devastation then was brought about by strong winds, not flood waters. What Tino did was a first, at least in recent memory.
But feelings of emptiness would also lead to frustration and anger if one thinks that the devastation could have been mitigated if the budgets for flood control projects were not pocketed. Outrage comes out upon knowing that project Noah (National Operational Assessment of Hazard), a science-based disaster management program managed by the University of the Philippines, was defunded and effectively abolished by the previous national administration. It would now appear that the Duterte administration was so obsessed with the killing of drug users that it failed to appreciate many projects that could have reduced the risk of disasters. That is the disaster of one-track mindedness. But the feeling of frustration is also engendered when one realizes that it took three years before the current administration took note of the massive corruption in the flood control projects. The feeling of frustration should lead to a firm resolve to bring these victimizers to justice.
But there are also feelings of hope and even exhilaration. I experienced this feeling when I heard of a story of one woman who was carrying her baby while wading through the waters. But since the waters were already more than four-feet high, she had to lift high her baby, not unlike the way athletes would triumphantly show their trophies. She and her baby were rescued before the waters would rise higher above her neck.
A range of emotions indeed: from emptiness, empathy, outrage, resoluteness and hope. The trajectory is not linear. Our emotions depend on the stories we hear and we see unfold.
If, by continuing to read this essay down to its last sentence, I have led you to feelings of hope and firm resolve, then writing this piece is not an empty activity after all.