Countdown to Yolanda: Not Knowing

(Continuation from Countdown to Yolanda: Day Zero)

It was not a good feeling to walk around with a ton of heaviness in one's heart, especially when the reason for the heaviness is the hunger for information -- any information -- on the whereabouts and status of one's family.

For that moment, I could suddenly relate to the pain and anguish of families of kidnap victims and missing children.

Messages of concern started pouring in my Facebook wall, all wishing that I find my family soon. At the same time, more footage and news from Leyte were also coming in, one even more depressing than the first.

By this time, I had a better idea of the extent of Yolanda's fury.

CNN and other international news agencies were correct in saying that Yolanda was so far, the strongest typhoon to ever hit land in the whole of written history. It hit Guiuan, Eastern Samar and Tacloban City with the force of several atomic bombs going off at the same time.

The winds and rain of Yolanda were unprecedented but somehow, expected.

 However, Yolanda had a more deadly surprise that caught everyone flat-footed.

This was the very first time that I have come across the phenomenon called a storm surge.

Unfortunately, so did the people of the Visayas region.

And thus, news about certain barangays being "washed out" became the news of the day as of November 9.

I found out about a second cousin whose seaside home was literally eaten up by the storm surge -- with my second cousin in it.

The parents and youngest brother of an old flame of mine, also from Tanauan, also died in the storm surge. Apparently, they got trapped in their rooms when the stream located behind their house overflowed and the waters rose rapidly. Their house was a bungalow. It also disappeared in the storm surge. Had he not been able to leave for the States just a few months back, he could've become one of their family's casualties.

A nephew of mine left home the day before the storm hit. As of that time, he went missing.

And until afternoon, I still didn't have any idea what happened in Housing Seaside, especially to my family.

I entered my mom's and daughter's names in this Google document of missing persons. Also asked for help from a high school batchmate of mine who was immediately flown to Tacloban City for emergency disaster work. None of them yielded positive results

My high school batchmate added that Housing Seaside was thoroughly washed out and he didn't want to raise my hopes about finding my family.

And then, I found this posted photo of the corner going to Housing Seaside.

Blimey, the area looked like a scene from this popular zombie series -- only without the zombies.

If this was how  the corner looked, what more for the actual subdivision?

This was when I started to contemplate on a future of being a neurotic and crazy cat lady.

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I was not the only one going bonkers from worry over relatives in Leyte. I was also in touch with former students of mine from UP Tacloban who, just like me, are already working/living outside Leyte. The shared frustration somehow brought all of us together to console each other and to provide shoulders to cry on.

Believe me when I say that there were a lot of wet shoulders that time when all of us Manila-based UP alumni met for the first time on the afternoon of November 9.

The kids took one step further and decided to create a group with its own Facebook page, initially, with the intent to share any and all information on developments in Region 8. Later on, it turned into a bustling socio-civic entity made up of alumni, students, and former faculty of UP Tacloban. And thus, Bulig Isko was born. "Bulig" is the Waray term for help, while Isko is short for "Iskolar ng Bayan (scholars of the state)," a moniker for students from the University of the Philippines.

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That afternoon, the kids set up a mini communications center in one of those coffee places in the Mall of Asia (MOA) area. Even if we were staying there for an extended period of time, none of the crew dared to shoo us away as they seemed to understand why we were there. I wanted to help the kids with the organizing stuff, but my mind just wasn't there -- it was far away, back in the muddied roads and destroyed houses of Housing Seaside. Every now and then, a kid would jump and cry in jubilation after finding out that his/her family is alive. However, with every kid finding his/her family, I only got more depressed.

After around three hours of waiting for nothing, I decided to leave the kids to their plans and go home. 

As I lay in bed that night, I imagined living the rest of my life without a family to return to. No one to work my butt off for, no one for me to get angry with from leaving stuff strewn all over the house, no one to buy medicines for...

At least, I had my cats.

But that wasn't too reassuring.

Then I closed my eyes and said a prayer, asking for good news the next day.

(To be continued)

Photo credits: First photo is from Google Images; second photo is from the Bulig Isko Facebook page.