At dawn on Nov. 4, 2025, streets across several barangays in Cebu City and in towns and cities in northern Cebu no longer looked like streets at all. They had turned into murky rivers — brown, relentless, and fast-moving. Vehicles drifted weightlessly, swept away like rubber duckies in a bathtub. Families scrambled onto rooftops, soaked and shivering, clinging for dear life and praying the waters would stop rising.
When Typhoon Tino was announced, people braced for heavy rain, strong winds, and power outages. It couldn’t be as devastating as Typhoon Odette — or so they thought. Odette ripped off roofs and uprooted trees; even with light rain, wind caused most of the destruction. But with Tino, it wasn’t the wind they had to fear. It was the water.
Within hours, floods rose to chest-deep levels. Streets disappeared. Small homes near rivers floated away. As sunrise broke, shouts, cries, and pleas echoed across communities. Hunger and exhaustion settled in as families waited for rescue, watching the ground drown beneath them.
For centuries, typhoons have been part of life in the Philippines. But Tino revealed a long-denied truth: our flood control systems are not strong enough. Some are incomplete, misplaced, or simply not built at all. And when the rains come, they fail.
For years, the government has poured billions into flood control projects, drainage systems, and river walls — labeled in reports as “complete,” “ongoing,” or “fully funded.” All of them funded by taxpayers’ money, money that could have gone to healthcare, social services, and other urgent needs. Yet Tino exposed the cracks in these projects — literally and figuratively.
Hundreds of flood control structures were built with substandard materials or placed in areas never prone to flooding. Some projects existed only on paper — paid for but never constructed. Others were rushed, left unfinished, or marked as “still ongoing,” making communities even more vulnerable.
How do billions of pesos sit idle or misused while the people they’re meant to protect are left in danger? Is the safety of Filipinos no longer a priority? How can leaders ignore families shouting from the rooftops for help, yet fail to fix the very systems meant to keep them safe?
Many residents went nearly a full day without food. Rescue teams, short on lifeboats, could bring only a few at a time. Still, responders handed out canned goods to keep families going as they waited for more help.
Filipinos are not asking for luxury — only for flood walls that hold, drainage systems that work, and leaders who value lives over designer handbags. Tino may be gone, but more storms will come. The question is: how many must suffer, starve, or die before real action begins? / Rabb Trinity Labado Anoche | Abellana National School