Mangroves create a natural breakwater but Manila is focused on man-made interventions to protect against future storms.
"I’d have lost my house again if we hadn’t planted anything. From afar we could see the waves losing their momentum, breaking apart before they reached the shore..."
Whenever Tacloban came to mind before, most people who were adept to Philippine history would either associate it with MacArthur's return or maybe picture the San Juanico Bridge.
But ever since November 8, 2013, the first thing that people would most likely talk about Tacloban would be the devastation brought about by Super Typhoon Yolanda (internationally named Haiyan).
Memories do fade when we choose not to go over them every once in a while, but every time the anniversary of the storm rolls around, I am transported back to the details of that horrible November day.
I can never erase the images of thousands of dead bodies on the streets, the creaking sound of the hospital roof being blown away by 195mph winds, the smell of rotting bodies, garbage, intertwining with my own sweat and blood. The awful feeling of dread and loss as my grandfather quietly died in my arms inside the hospital, with the gentle touch of the nurses telling us that we should move his body outside of the room we were staying in so as not to discomfort the other people who had seek refuge in the same room. These things don't easily fade from my memory.
The storm and the humanitarian distaster that came after brought about many personal changes. I left Tacloban to continue a semester of my studies in UP Diliman. I discovered how much I didn't know what it tuly was that I wanted to do. I became so much more aware of how difficult my living situation was and it affected me up until I graduated in UPVTC. Even now, remnants of the storm still pop up in my dreams.
Any news that involves storms always takes me back to Yolanda.
Tacloban is a different city now from what I remembered. There are still traces of the destruction and the ineptitude of our government to handle natural disasters are still a recurring nightmare.
7 years on, Yolanda's wrath may just be a memory to some, but for those of us who have felt head on the distaster, it is clear that the consequences of the storm are still very much a reality we try to overcome.
May 4-8, 2018 - ”Nasaan na raw po ‘yung mga paintings ni daddy?” (Where are my daddy’s paintings?)
The lack of Waray words in the sentence might’ve encouraged my grandmothers to ignore my inquiry once again. Still, I insist—I cannot let down my dad’s excitement and mine, too. It was my first time in Samar, and right after setting my foot in the tiny Tacloban airport, I knew it was going to be a special experience. It must have been different for them, though. I am just their (literally) distant granddaughter who visited the province for the first time as a representative of my dad, the young man who left his hometown in his 20s and hasn’t come back since.
Western Samar, 2018
I traveled to Samar for a 5-day vacation with my two Waray Balikbayan aunties. What they spoke of 60% of the time, I have no clue! Upon landing at Tacloban, we immediately embarked on a 5-hour drive from the airport to my grandmother’s humble home. I’m all groggy and tired, but I can’t waste those 5 hours of stories and beautiful scenery by sleeping.
My aunts hired a local driver and they exchanged short anecdotes on the life of Yolanda survivors after the great Typhoon, the freshness of seafood and vegetables in Samar, the perfect places to buy pasalubongs, etc. I struggle to keep myself in the conversation, asking them to translate in Tagalog a sentence or two.
San Juanico Bridge, 2018
The ride started from souvenir shops, gasoline stations, and small parks, to tall palm trees, an overlooking of the shore, and of course, the Samar-Leyte connection—San Juanico Bridge—and its good-looking view. Serene and beautiful. Not until we noticed the recurring view of identical half-made houses that seemed to be under construction AND abandoned. They were the pabahay (housing) for the victims of Typhoon Yolanda.
Our local driver narrated the current situation of the pabahays. It is a worry that most of the houses can comfortably accommodate only at most 3 people. But, it is even more problematic that most of them currently accommodate less than they can—none—because they are not even halfway done. See, Typhoon Yolanda happened almost 5 years ago.
On a positive note, it is a relief to know that there are housings of good quality provided mostly by the NGOs and other donors. They are medium-sized, beautifully-painted, and some are even equipped with a satellite dish. :)
SAN PEDRO
San Pedro, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
My grandmother and Aunt Baby, the sweetest of them all, welcomed us with a big hug and a feast of seafood, vegetables, root crops, and meat. Freshness beyond words. We ate together with our hands, and called to meal whosoever happens to pass by the dining area. It was a feast! I can still remember how my hungry, jet-lagged self devoured that meal. Jollibee is no match. Sobrang sarap talaga huhu
San Pedro, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
A mini "welcome tour" from my Aunt Baby followed afterward. Meeting my cousins that day was like meeting them for the first time. We were kids when we last spent time together. My cousins smiled shyly and said nothing as my Aunt Baby called them from their rooms. If their eldest sister--who was of my age--was there, it might have been different.
My Aunt Baby's eldest son tagged along as she led me to the shabby stairs of a bahay kubo across my grandmother's house. The bahay kubo was old and fully furnished, but spacious. It housed relatives I've never met until then: my father’s cousins, their children, and their blind mother—one of my grandmothers. All narrated childhood stories of them and my dad’s. Happy stories, until they get to the part where my daddy left.
San Pedro Church, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
San Pedro Church, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018 | Fujicolor C200 in Canon TLb
From afar, San Pedro Church looked like a typical province church. Beautiful and small. Up close, it was of dried flowers, broken pews, shattered glass panes, and severed holy statues. I wonder how a church, that stands in the middle of a Barangay, filled with (probably) very religious people, can look so neglected.
We said our prayers, and left.
CALICOAN ISLAND
Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018 | Fujicolor C200 in Canon TLb
Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018
Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018
The moment we arrived, it was low tide. Nevertheless, the Island was beautiful. For someone as easily fascinated as myself, I am in awe. (as usual) I don't have much to say about Calicoan, except that it makes me feel like leaving the City life for good.
Traveling with people who are from a different generation means I have to do my millennial shit alone. And so, that day, as my elders are chitchatting and trying to avoid the sun and the sea, I put on my bathing suit, went down the beach, set up my phone camera beneath the rocks, and took videos and photos of myself along the shore.
Sounds lonely, but it was refreshing.
The Goat House, Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018
The Goat House, Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018
The Goat House, Calicoan Island, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018
A few steps away from Calicoan Resort is a surfing spot called ABCD Beach, and across that beach is a small eating place for surfers called The Goat House. I urged my Aunt to try their food, which I had high hopes for. Not as good as I hoped, but the stories we heard inside The Goat House made up for it.
The eatery was manned by 2 locals and a French traveler, the girlfriend of one of the locals. The 32-year-old French waitress served our food, along with the story of the surfing scar on her leg--upon asking. Her travel story followed right after. She was really brave.
Another foreign traveler sits by the wooden bar. The Dutch surfer/customer enthusiastically answered my Aunt's inquiry: "So how's the Philippines?" with very lovely, positive words. It’s a shame that they might’ve experienced the Philippines more than I do. Before leaving, we finished a kakanin that one of my uncles ordered from a vendor by the road. Despite the food, I have no regrets about visiting the place.
SULANGAN
St. Anthony of Padua Parish, Sulangan, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018 | Fujicolor C200 in Canon TLb
St. Anthony of Padua Parish, Sulangan, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018 | Fujicolor C200 in Canon TLb
St. Anthony of Padua Parish, Sulangan, Guiuan, Eastern Samar, 2018 | Fujicolor C200 in Canon TLb
This is a corner dedicated for offering prayers to St. Anthony of Padua. As expected, it was filled with Catholic tourists lighting their candles. I waited long for the area to clear up to get a shot. However, as I finally take the long-awaited shot, a man in short bobs and worn-out gloves replaced the group of praying people. He was patiently clearing out the candle drops and leftover wax before another set light new ones. I gladly included him in the frame. Only to find out weeks later that my shot was out of focus. Even so, I enjoyed the people-watching.
SAN PEDRO, AGAIN
San Pedro, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
San Pedro, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
San Pedro, Quinapondan, Eastern Samar, 2018
It was a mini recap of my dad’s childhood, before finally leaving Samar. I saw the house and the woman--his aunt--who raised my dad. They told me lots of stories, and were very warm. I love old stories by old people.
While my dad was on video call, I looked around the house for the paintings that he was bragging about ever since I landed. This has to be the highlight of my trip--nothing’s more interesting, so far, than my father’s long lost art! Finding nothing, I inquired once again:
“Nasaan na raw po ‘yung mga paintings ni daddy?”
(Where are my daddy’s paintings?)
I got my answer.
“Wala na, natangay ng Yolanda.”
(None are left, they are taken away by (Typhoon) Yolanda.)
For a while there, I was devastated. I could sense my dad was too. So, I let him talk to his old friends and family. He was laughing the whole time, despite the weak signal, pixelated faces, and slurry words.
At that moment, I decided I should go back soon. I’ll be with dad. He will be coming home, too.
When your cousins are jamming together and you're just watching them😂 #amazed Galing nila., ako musta naman? #taga tan-aw #may16. #liveband #family #cousins #fiesta #apitong #tacloban #ilovetacloban. #philippines.
