September 26, 2009 started as an ordinary morning. Another day of neighbors hyping up the Christmas season by blasting some christmas songs on the radio. I had heard in the news the night before that there was a typhoon approaching, so classes were suspended for good. So I've decided to watch television with my sister, and the movie that time was "Ratatouille." I was eleven years old, extremely childish and fond of silly things like cartoons and 80’s music. Once in a while, we could hear commotion from our fellow neighbors, saying, “Mukhang tataas pa!”, so to distract myself, I turned up the volume before it was about to end. While rats in the movie had lived a happy ending, the chill morning was cut short by a heart-pounding sound of sirens. My mom immediately went upstairs and I saw how tense she was and seemed dumbfounded. I wondered why she couldn’t keep her hands off her phone, then she stared at us, I recognized her face, just like the day when their eldest sister had died. When she came to her senses at last, she told me and my sister that the flood outside was quickly rising.
Up to our terrace on the second floor, I rushed out to see the rain pouring down heavily. My eyes widened when I saw that the flood was starting to swarm the gates of our neighbors' houses. At first, I didn't panic, because I had thought that the flood would most likely not reach us because we're two-steps high compared to other two-storey houses. A lady who used to lived next to our house frantically grabbed three baggages from her husband. She headed to our gate. I watched my mom, anticipating their arrival. She helped her carry the baggages into our home. Then the husband followed, carrying their two children. The water level was already beyond knee level. “Pasensya talaga.” My mom told him that it was fine and welcomed them home, one family to the other. My sister had turned the TV off and we both rushed downstairs. We saw the parents calming down their children. My sister asked them, “Gusto niyo po ba ng maiinom?” As she handed them glasses and a pitcher of water.
My brother, who’s the eldest among us three, had rushed from the kitchen, asking my mom what we should do with our refrigerator and other furniture, just in case the flood would reach the first floor. Loud and violent splashes and fast growing flood had continued to ensue the whole compound as we heard more families coming for refuge. My sister joined me on the terrace while my brother was left with my mother downstairs, assisting the neighbors. The rain didn't stop, the flood got even higher until the water level was at waist already. My sister suddenly screamed as the elder woman was approaching the house, followed by a big rat trying to climb her back. “Tita! May daga papunta po sa likod niyo!” She briskly walked towards the house, together with her family. While my eyes have followed the rodent as it struggled to swim.
We went down again to assist and share whatever we could. The room looked almost like a crowded train. The seats in the living room were filled, even the floors were occupied. The children felt uneasy, and some were crying, they might be feeling hungry or it’s because of anxiety. I asked my mother, “Nasan na si Papa?” My mother had hoped by checking her phone again and told me that he hasn't replied to her messages yet. Suddenly, my ignorance had kicked in and made me ask mom, “Bakit andami nila, bakit di na lang sa iba, ang sikip na Mama.” But it didn't stop there, another neighbor, who was a teacher in the nearest nursery school was also seeking shelter. Upon entering, she cussed when a cockroach crawled at her neck. She shoved it immediately with her right hand then it flew right away. Even cockroaches had struggled to find a stable place during that gray-skied day. The room was crowded. I tried to ask my mom why she had let them all in, and yet, another family had hurried into our home, carrying their baggages, and a rice cooker.
It was past ten in the morning when the neighbors flipped the sofas in the living room and stacked these onto our dining chairs. My sister and I carried the television and the stereo upstairs. We untangled the wires and carried the speakers one by one. It was a good thing my mother went to the grocery the day before the storm. She said it's like a premonition, that she wanted to stock more than usual. We took all of our canned goods upstairs, and stacked the chairs and sofas to create more space.
Unexpectedly, the flood had reached our door, entering the first floor, I guess there’s nowhere to go but up. My sister had asked the children to head upstairs and find a place to stay. While some took their personal belongings and others helped secure the furniture, especially the sofas. The men, including my brother, had carried our small refrigerator and the range up to our terrace. Logically, these would definitely help us feed our empty stomachs. Before the flood had finally swarmed the first floor, mom had switched the electrical breakers off and locked our door downstairs for our security.
We stayed in our parent's room and the families had occupied my siblings' rooms. Even the sala upstairs was filled. We were twelve adults, seven children between the ages of five to twelve and two teenagers inside a hundred eighty-nine square meter house. I wondered how, but we did fit in. But the anxiety did not fade, because my father hadn’t come home yet.
It was noon, when the rain went moderate. My mother invited us all to the terrace to have lunch. Adobo, made by mom, and a hot rice from our neighbor had filled our crumbling stomachs. While I was eating, my mother whispered into my ear and said, “Ipagpray mo mamaya Papa mo anak, sabihin mo, Sana ligtas si Papa.”
Darkness had enveloped the rooms at 4pm. The only light we got at that time were from our phones and flashlights. Even though the fans were off, the violent winds have made the sheets feel cold. The flood had finally reached the first step of the stairs inside the house. The rain was already gone but a strong whistling wind had blown.
I did play with the children. We curled inside our stacked sofas like a centipede. At 6pm, we ate a bowl of pork and beans for dinner. Some of them slept early, and some stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for a miracle. Maybe thinking about every little thing they had lost due to the flood. I found my mother on our terrace, alone. Her eyes were closed and her fists clenched together. I had a feeling that she’s still worried about my father’s whereabouts. So I stood beside her. That night, our houses looked like islands in a vast body of water. The only entertainment during that time were the shared stories of our neighbors. When it was time to sleep, my mother had lit three candles in the house. As my eyes were about to close, I could still hear from our window, the splashing sounds of rats, grasping for their own shelter. Sadly, they didn’t get the happy ending they deserve. It was indeed a bad day for them. For all of us.
I woke up on the 27th alone in bed. I went out of our bedroom, and saw our neighbors gone from their places. I walked down the stairs, and was surprised that the flood had finally gone. I saw my mom, hugged by one of our neighbors. Some of them had started sweeping their terraces, washing the walls of their houses and disposing dead rats inside a sack. The sun had risen as my father had passed our neighbors, with his motorcycle at his side. He rushed to mom and said, “Walang patawad tong bagyong to.” My mom was only concerned about my father's welfare. My father kept talking about how he got stranded while going home, and slept at a five-storey city jail. He also told me that there were bodies found inside the Riverbanks Center, including a dead pregnant woman with her mouth open at the glass door of the mall. Bodies of children covered in mud were also found in the sidewalks. I suddenly felt bad. I was too scared to go back alone inside our house after everything I have heard from my father. So I gripped tightly to my mother's hands. Then, the image of drowning rats flashed in my head. They didn’t get any help either. I found myself staring blankly at the sack filled with mud and dead kittens and rats. The foul smell blown by the wind had reached my senses, building up at the back of my throat. I got lost in the motions of the surrounding. Some were cleaning, grieving, and eating their breakfast like nothing had happened. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, resiliency had painted the day. But the fear of yesterday might stay longer than all the horror films I had watched as a child.
- This was written back in 2019, my non-fiction entry in our Creative Writing class. Today marks the 13th anniversary of Typhoon Ondoy, and the fear it had brought to the nation still lingers after so many years had passed.
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
jbbartram-illu
annaxmalina
stormborns