It was probably around November 4 or 5 when I first heard about this storm brewing over the Pacific in the vicinity of Guam. It didn't even have a name yet, only that initial forecasts say that it was headed for the Philippines.
By November 6, this weather disturbance was a full-blown howler with the international code name, Haiyan. Even while at sea, it was already churning with the ferocity of a Category 4 cyclone, and it was still increasing in strength and area. By this time, Haiyan has already captured the attention of weather forecasters, scientists, and storm chasers the world over, and all of these experts have pinpointed the potential path the super typhoon would take.
All eyes, fingers, and map markers were pointing at the central portion of the Philippines as the most likely area where this storm will make landfall.
Oh great, I said to myself. I just ironed out some problems in Tacloban City only several days ago. Now here's another problem to ponder on.
I remember staring at the screen of my office PC -- just staring, not really reading what was on the screen on the afternoon of November 6. I could barely let go of my tablet as I was tuning in to any news about the coming typhoon.
Soon, satellite images were cropping up on my tablet's screen.Wow.
This beastie of a typhoon looked like it could take down an entire country in one gulp. It was just one angry, swirling mass of ugliness headed right toward the general direction of Leyte.
Then the international news agencies were beginning to crow about this howler being so far, "the strongest tropical cyclone ever, even stronger than Hurricanes Katrina and Sandy."
Now, I was terrified.
By evening when I got home, I immediately called on my family to find out if they knew exactly what they were in for. They knew.
But they weren't sure of the extent of destruction this typhoon could wreak on them.
Being the stronger one between my two girls, I concentrated on instructing my daughter what to do in preparation for the super typhoon they now called Yolanda. I told her to ready two emergency bags -- one for her, another for her Lola (grandmother), and I also texted her a list of what to place inside each bag.
I also instructed my daughter to talk to our friendly next-door neighbors (the ones who invited us to a birthday party several days before) and request if my family could evacuate to their house which is sturdier than our rented place. Their house also has a second floor, as compared to our rundown bungalow, and has a better chance of keeping everyone high and dry in the event that floods would inundate the area.
Floods.
That time, all I was worried about was how our little bungalow would be able to withstand the ferocity of Yolanda's winds, The floods would be inevitable in Housing Seaside, especially since the area is quite flood-prone, but that would be the least of my problems. Or so I thought.
My mom even reassured me that since repairs and some cleaning were made on the canal just behind our place, flood water will just run unhampered into the canal without rising to uncomfortable levels.
Not one among us knew that something even worse than flood would strike our area just as fast as a boxer's uppercut.
(To be continued)
Photo credit: Google Images
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