Stormy thoughts and memories

It's been raining non-stop since last night. The metropolis has been placed under storm signal # 2. When I was still a student, we welcomed such news because it meant classes were suspended for the day.

The same holds true today. Once the weather bureau raises the storm signal to this level, classes in grade school and high school are suspended. At the next level, colleges and universities are included. With climate change and typhoons becoming stronger and more destructive, even work can be suspended.

What people hated were late announcements. They would either be ready to leave, have left the house, or are at work before such declaration is made. And because of flooding with excessive rain, commuting is a hardship. It would have already been a challenge getting to work, going home even more so.

With classes mostly held online due to the pandemic, children are spared of commuting difficulties. Besides, public schools have yet to start.

It is the working class that has the unenviable task of going out under inconvenient circumstance and often extreme conditions (limited transportation due to physical distancing protocols), which are most at risk. But with many on a no-work, no-pay basis, they will venture into the wild to earn their keep for the day.

Rising waters

Have perennial flooding problems been resolved? It's been addressed as best as it can be. Floods do subside faster, although they do rise equally fast even with just 30 minutes of continuous hard, driving rain. This is actually what causes traffic jams, that holds up public and private transportation, and gets people stranded on wet streets.

Garbage is still an issue, and one of the major causes of flooding. Tons of plastic easily clog drainage systems. And most likely, the sewerage system in most parts is quite ancient and one of the reasons why water can't flow properly thus the floods, that can either be as tame as ankle-deep or a terrorizing waist-deep, depending on your location.

The worst I've encountered with flooding is driving through flooded streets, where the water covered probably half the car's tires or reached the exhaust pipe at the back.

That's almost like crossing a raging river when there are other vehicles in front, beside and behind you. I've mustered courage driving through those, and come out alive. Thankfully, I've never stalled in the middle of such situation.

My youngest sister had it bad, walking through thigh-high, extremely dirty floods because she studied at a university where flooding is a usual occurrence. And she had on a white uniform!

With floods, I've learned to stay put wherever I am if the road going home will resemble waterways. It's okay to spend the night in the office rather than have to walk through wet streets because rides were mostly full or non-existent. Or, I can always leave later when things have simmered down.

In general, our house is on higher ground. That is what's protected us from extreme flooding that inundates many homes. But there have been instances when rainwater has risen a few inches outside the house because of non-stop hard rain for 24 hours.

Roofless home

I do remember, however, when I was very young and a very strong typhoon blew away our roof. We lived in our first house, here in the subdivision, right beside my grandparents' home.

It was a bungalow, with bedrooms slightly elevated. It was early morning when strong winds whipped through our area, and since there were very few houses at the time, there was more open fields than structures to protect against gale storms.

With everyone in panic mode as GI sheets were ripped off exposing us to the elements, I was bundled off, along with my baby sister, born just a few months before, and we had to be squished under some area with just enough protection over our heads while waiting out the storm's end.

I think my Dad and uncles, who lived with my grandparents next door, were kept busy looking for plywood or cartons that can be used as shelter. Meanwhile, my aunt, mother, and Lola, tried their best to keep us warm and dry.

I recall looking up and seeing the gray sky exposed and rain, which thankfully wasn't very hard, splashing above us. I'm not sure how long we stayed huddled that way. A lot of cleaning up had to be done after, and the roof had to be restored and reinforced.

By God's grace, we've never had to go through a similar experience the rest of the time we lived there.

Killer typhoon

Of course, that experience can never compare to what my relatives in Eastern Visayas had to go through with Typhoon Yolanda in 2013, that supertyphoon which caught everyone flatfooted and took the lives of over 6,000 people.

We lost my mom's eldest sister and her invalid husband, another of my mom's brother-in-law, and other relations in Tacloban City.

I remember one nephew, who had wanted to save his Lolo and Lola, saying that as he hung on to dear life, his aching arms tightly bound around a coconut tree, he witnessed how the storm surge sucked his grandparents' home in a whirlpool and most likely swept away their bodies. Their remains were never recovered.

Now, my mom's youngest sister gets a panic attack each time another strong typhoon hits the city. They were fortunate to live in a two-story house, and did not have to climb to the roof to escape the gushing water that had surged towards their street from the nearby San Pedro Bay.

Typhoons are part of the Filipinos' lives. Our geographical location means we are often in the path of tropical cyclones so we've had to learn to live with these, smashing through our shores and backyards.

While there are now less fatalities because of early warning systems and forced evacuations when a strong typhoon is about to hit, one life lost is still one too many.

Imagine spending Christmas with a storm battering your village or city. Coming out of it alive, albeit with most possessions damaged or destroyed, you are only too glad to have survived a near tragedy and are profuse in thanking the Lord for another lease on life.

Lead image original photo; other images from Unsplash