Countdown to Yolanda: Knowing

(Continuation from Countdown to Yolanda: Not Knowing)

It was a Friday when Yolanda hit the province of Leyte. As early as Thursday, I haven't been sleeping right.

By Sunday morning, I was still glued to my tablet, hoping for any news surrounding my family's whereabouts. Suddenly, my mobile phone rang.

"Hello? Hello?" said an anxious voice on the other line.

"Yes, hello?" I answered.

"Hi Ma'am Dinky ini (Is this Ma'am Dinky)?"

"Yes," I said. Since this caller used the waray term "ini" and referred to me as "Ma'am," I deduced that this was one of my former UP Tacloban students. My heart started beating fast. This time, I replied to her in Waray: "Hin-o ini (Who's this)?"

I haven't even finished my sentence when the young voice on the other end whooped in elation.

"Ma'am," she said excitedly. "Ma'am, ayaw na kabaraka ha imo pamilya! Hi Frances ini, aadto yana tim pamilya ha amon balay. Safe hira! (Ma'am, you no longer need to worry about your family. This is Frances, your family is now at our home. They're safe!)"

With the words, "Safe hira," my knees gave in and, in the quiet of my room, I cried like a banshee on amphetamines.

Then I had the soundest sleep I ever had in ages.

----------

According to my former student, Frances, she only managed to get in touch with me after two days when she found out earlier that day that a satellite telecommunications station was set up about a kilometer away from their area in Housing Mountainside (sister subdivision of Housing Seaside). The poor kid braved the long and treacherous walk to the station, sometimes going over scattered debris and scattered corpses just to make important calls and to recharge her dead mobile phone.

By late afternoon of the same day, Frances made another trip to the satellite station, this time with my daughter, Ingrid.

As soon as I heard my daughter on the line, I just broke down again. I was so anxious to find out from her how they survived the storm, how she and her grandma ended up at Frances' place, what their current situation was, etc.

To all this, Ingrid answered in a listless tone: "Mama, the house is no more. We weren't able to save anything. We're with Ate Frances, but they are also planning on leaving for Samar. Lola (Grandma) has no more medicines. When will you get us?"

Holy crap, I said to myself. My daughter has just turned into a zombie from the trauma of surviving Yolanda.

----------

After the jubilation of finally hearing from my daughter and finding out that she and her Lola were fine, I immediately worked on finding a way to get them out of Tacloban.

I had several challenges to consider for this endeavor:

- My mother is already 82 years old and is too weak to travel by foot -- and travelling by foot is the only means to go to the airport since most transportation in Tacloban City was destroyed by the storm surge. Add to that, the debris that is rendering several roads unpassable.

- Funds were running low already, especially since I just came from a vacation to the area a week before Yolanda.

- Even if I did have the funds, the city was still mired in anarchy. Reports of rampant looting and thievery were all over the news. Even those arriving from the airport to bring needed relief goods to their respective families were said to not have been spared from thieves among the desperate survivors. I was afraid that I might only end up a victim myself if I made that trek to Tacloban for my family.

I tried looking for someone who could get my family on my behalf, someone already on the ground who can assist my family in getting to the airport so they could hop into one of the C-130 planes shuttling people and goods to Manila for free.

There was none.

And I still was short on funds.

Then, a miracle came in the form of my high school batch's alumni president.

A doable but risky rescue mission was finally hatched.

----------

Gonz (short for Ronald GONZales), has always been a doer. In fact, if not for him and his effective leadership, our recent alumni homecoming wouldn't be a rousing success.

His can-do capability once again came to the fore when I was desperate to get my family to Manila.

He got in touch with me with the sole intention of coming to my aid on behalf of the batch. We tried options that did not involve us having to go to Tacloban for my family. 

When we exhausted all venues, he came up with a last resort -- he and his son will go to Tacloban to search for my family and get them to Manila.

I was dumbstruck. Here were total strangers to the vast expanse of Tacloban which was now made even worse by the devastation and the anarchy, who were suggesting that they go there themselves to fetch my family.

Dammit, if they were not afraid to fight their way to Tacloban for my own family, then I had no reason not to join them.

As soon as the plan was hatched, we wasted no time in making the necessary preparations.

Yes, we were flying to Tacloban City the next day.

Just like that.

(To be continued)

Photo credit: Google Images

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.

----------

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.

----------

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.

Countdown to Yolanda: Day Zero

(Continuation from Countdown to Yolanda: The Paranoia Buildup)

Sleeping was no longer an option for me in the wee hours of November 8. I was frantically going through Facebook and several other sites on my tablet (I didn't own a TV set then) that gave me information about the super typhoon, as well as advice on what to do in the event of disasters. I was also coordinating with my family in Tacloban, making sure that they were physically and mentally ready for the coming deluge.

It was around 3:30 AM when I managed to call my daughter for the last time before the typhoon hit. Ingrid (my daughter) noted that Yolanda was around two hours away from landfall but they were just having rains common for a Signal No. 2 typhoon only. She also complained about her Lola (grandmom) spending too much time arranging stuff at home when she should've taken a rest before the storm made landfall.

Ingrid's report about the manageable weather made me a little less paranoid and a bit hopeful that this Yolanda won't be as catastrophic as media and weather forecasts claim it to be. For a brief moment, I became calm enough to fall asleep.

I was sooo wrong.

I was awakened by my cats at around 6 AM. The first thing I did was to check my mobile phone to see if Ingrid tried to get in touch with me while I was in deep slumber. Turns out, she did -- at around 5 AM when Yolanda was to make landfall.

A surge of panic overwhelmed my being. My daughter is not one to text me, much less, call me up, even in dire situations. However, plastered over my phone's face was the notification that she CALLED me up at 5 AM.

I tried to call Ingrid up but to no avail.

I turned to my tablet and opened the local TV app I managed to download just before the storm. It was already tuned in to ABS-CBN and the first thing I saw on my screen was reporter, Atom Araullo, reporting in full battle gear, with ferocious winds and rain hitting him from all directions.

And his background was the angry bay -- the same bay I would pass by whenever I went home to Housing Seaside.

I could only cover my gaping mouth in disbelief.

Once again, I tried to get in touch with Ingrid. Still nothing. Now, I regretted the fact that I fell asleep when I should've stayed up so I could've taken my daughter's call.

My mouth went dry when the thought of our house being pummeled by those angry winds and rain came into mind.

It won't stand a chance.

----------

The last footage I saw before all on-the-spot reports about Yolanda blacked out was of Atom reporting from inside a building, the glass windows of which were already shattered. All the while that he was reporting, the camera was directed toward the building across which was rapidly being inundated by flood water. In a matter of around 10 minutes, the water was already lapping at the building's eaves.

Then, just like that, Atom's signal went down.

----------

It is a terrible feeling to be blind to what was happening to my family while Yolanda was busy wrecking havoc over the city. Did they manage to evacuate to the neighbor's two-storey house in time? Will their "evacuation center" withstand the storm's fury? What will become of the bungalow my family has lived in for several years already? Just how far is Housing Seaside from the actual seashore?

Will they survive this freakishly strong typhoon?

What would happen to me if they didn't?

I tried to erase that last thought as I went on with the rest of the day barely eating or resting.

I turned to Facebook to air my feelings that time. As it turned out, there were a number of my former students who were also online and whose nerves were just as frayed as mine. Just like me, they were living away from their respective families residing in Leyte. We went to each other for comfort and news as there really wasn't anything else we could do.

Then by around 10 PM that night, the first fresh news straight from Leyte came in via Jiggy Manicad and Love Anover of GMA News.

According to Jiggy, when communications systems in Tacloban were felled by Yolanda's wrath, his team walked for hours to Palo which is a good 15 kilometers away to report from their satellite station there and to reunite with fellow reporter and Alangalang, Leyte native, Love.

While Jiggy and company experienced the difficulty of distance walking over debris and corpses, Love had a more blood-curdling story with complementing footage to boot. She and her team sought shelter from the storm at the massive Palo Cathedral, confident with the thought that this is a protected haven of God. However, she soon realized that this structure was simply no match for the forces of nature.

My heart felt like it was being torn to pieces as I watched the footage of the Palo Cathedral being blown to smithereens.

At the very same time that I was watching that GMA News footage, outside my place, winds from Yolanda's fringes were picking up.

Then I wondered. I was very sure that if the Palo Cathedral was a tangled mess of steel and concrete after Yolanda was done with it, what more for our run-down bungalow in Housing Seaside? If my family did survive Yolanda's onslaught, where would they be sleeping tonight?

And I finally broke down in tears.

(To be continued)

- Photo credits: Atom Araullo's photo from Google Images; GMA News footage from YouTube

Countdown to Yolanda: An Anxious Eve

(Continuation from Countdown to Yolanda: The Paranoia Buildup)

Concentrating on other things apart from the coming storm was already impossible for me by November 7 -- the eve of Yolanda. Since I knew I was just going to be useless if I went to the office, I decided to stay home and keep posted on developing events.

By this time, Yolanda was virtually roaring over the edges of the Philippine Area of Responsibility (PAR). She has already escalated to a Category 5 cyclone, and CNN was going over the top with its fearful forecasts for when the super typhoon makes landfall in Tacloban City and Guiuan, Eastern Samar. Words like "catastrophic," "apocalyptic," and "massive" were constantly used in relation to the coming super typhoon, and this only added to my anxiousness.

There was a brief respite that day from all things Yolanda-related -- the first appearance of pork barrel scandal queen, Janet Napoles, in the Senate hearing related to alleged misuse of the pork barrel fund. By the end of that well-publicized hearing, people were quoting Napoles' overused lines, "Di ko po alam (I don't know)" and "I invoke my right from self-incrimination."

However, just moments exactly after the Senate hearing ended, then came the announcement from PAGASA, the Philippine weather bureau, that Yolanda has been upgraded to Signal No. 4.

And this massive weather disturbance was barreling toward Eastern Visayas at more than 200 kph per hour, Estimated time of Yolanda's landfall, early morning of the next day.

Funny though -- in Tacloban, my family was looking at the sky and noted that apart from the occasional clouds, the weather looked far from a Signal Number 4 upgrade.

Nevertheless, I told my family not to underestimate the storm's strength. The storm upgrade was supposedly meant to be an early warning for residents of affected areas to take the necessary precautions.

Speaking of precautions, I gave my daughter an extra instruction that she only understood after the storm hit.

I requested her to take pictures of our rented bungalow before and after the typhoon.

She was too confused to take the before pictures. She never got to take the after pictures.

(To be continued)

Video from Youtube

Countdown to Yolanda: The Paranoia Buildup

(Continuation from Countdown to Yolanda: The Week Before)

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

Countdown to Yolanda: The Week Before

My next blog posts will be more of throwback journals as my family and I count the days up to the time when tragedy struck on that fateful early morning of Friday, November 8, 2013.

Almost a year ago, Tacloban City, as well as other towns in Eastern Visayas, were nearly erased from the Philippine map after the strongest typhoon ever to hit land in modern time pummeled through it.

In just a matter of three to five hours, the area was dramatically transformed into a scene of death and destruction.

Funny, but everything still seems as fresh as if they just happened yesterday.

This is my family's story in the throes of Super Typhoon Haiyan -- local name, Yolanda.

----------

Mommy was adamant on the phone: "If you don't come home this coming long weekend, I swear I will not be taking any medicine anymore!"

Thus, even with little money in my pockets, I made plans to come home to Tacloban City to visit my family.

It's not that easy for me to just get up and go home to the province on a whim. You see, my work in a bank did not exactly put me in a comfortable financial position. Then, a round trip plane ticket from Manila to Tacloban roughly costs around PhP 5,000++ on promo-less days. Then of course, once I am there, I cannot just stay home and not spend at all. Plus, there's the daughter who probably thinks that I have loads of money to spend every time I go home for a vacay.

And of course, there's also the cats. I have a choir friend who I used to call on to take care of my cats while I was away on long trips, and I had to leave money with her plus extra food for the days that I was gone.

To make a long story short, my finances would already be diagnosed with cancer by the time I arrive in Tacloban; terminally ill by the time I return to Manila.

And yet, I had to go home.


I was in Tacloban City by October 27. The weather was quite fine with the northeast monsoon being kept at bay. When I got home, I was pleased to see that both mother and daughter were quite okay, except that my mom was a bit emaciated from not being able to eat well. (She said she lost her appetite. Great.)

Thus, for the entire week, I was dutiful daughter and mother to my two girls. Brought my mom to a hair salon for a nice trim; treated my family to dinner at Quarterhouse, the hole-in-the-wall resto selling skewered goodies along Justice Romualdez Street; met with a former student who lived in the next subdivision from us; and did some serious malling with the daughter at Robinson's Place Tacloban. Even managed to attend this birthday party at our neighbor's place in Housing Seaside with Mommy. We just had to attend -- those neighbors of ours are relatives of another former student of mine and they would go out of their way to see to Mommy, especially when my daughter is away. Besides, they just lived across our rented place so travel from Point A to Point B for Mommy was not too taxing.

I also managed to visit my mom's hometown, Tanauan, to discuss some family matters with a cousin. Before I left, I took a pedicab ride around the town to see how things have changed. Much as I wanted to head for the beach that day, dark clouds above were telling me that heavy rain was to fall at any given time. Thus, I settled for passing by our town plaza. (Sorry for the lopsided picture, by the way. It was a bit difficult to take a decent photo while the pedicab was in motion, and I didn't exactly tell the driver to slow down.)

By the time I returned to Manila on November 1, I managed to maximize my time with family and friends in Leyte. Mommy's appetite returned in the duration of my stay there, and her batch of medicines were replenished. Meanwhile, my daughter maximized my finances (haha) with several food binges at the only decent mall Tacloban City has, Robinson's Place.

Little did we all know that whatever we knew about the "old" Tacloban and Tanauan will dramatically transform in the next few days...

(To be continued)

- Photos are mine

Care for some Chocolate Mangoes?

In this little brown nugget, you will find Heaven.

I'm not joking.

This is among the best-tasting chocolate nuggets I have ever come across in a long while.

The good news is that it's locally made.

And it's not as fattening as your regular chocolates.

Introducing Chocolate Mangoes -- a new treat to love by new foodie on the block, Cocoa Monster Manila!

Before I go on about the team that created this wonderful delight, first allow me to explain why it's not as fattening as other chocolates.

Cocoa Monster Manila uses dark chocolate for their chocolate mangoes, which uses less milk and therefore, has lessened fat and cholesterol. Dark chocolate is roughly 70 to 80 percent pure cacao which is the main ingredient in chocolate, and thus gives more of the wonderful positive effects that chocolates induce in the body.

Take a bite into this nugget and you will be surprised to find a chunk of chewy dried mango in it. The chewy texture and slightly tangy taste of the dried mango, combined with the subdued sweetness of the dark chocolate, make for an exciting dessert experience.

Apart from the chocolate mangoes, Cocoa Monster Manila also has other cocoa products from polvoron to the more traditional tablea bars, but the chocolate mangoes are their flagship product.

Cocoa Monster Manila proudly states in its Facebook page that everything about their chocolates -- from the cacao beans to the bars -- are all Philippine-made. That is why prices of their products are not as exorbitant as those of their imported counterparts. This box in the picture above, for example, already contains 19 bite-sized nuggets, and is priced at PhP 250. They have another set of chocolate mangoes where the dried mango slices are dipped in dark chocolate and placed in nicer packaging. It's a tad more expensive, but if the buyer plans on giving these chocolate mangoes to an OFW relative or to someone special, this variant on the right is the best bet for increased chances of swooning.

At present, you can catch Cocoa Monster Manila's goodies in kiosks they set up during weekends in malls like Alabang Town Center, Eastwood Mall, SM Aura, or Glorietta 4. They're still "wandering nomads" in a sense since their kiosks move around quite a lot, but the sales person at Eastwood Mall where I got my chocolate mangoes said that since October, they have been a permanent fixture in the said shopping center every weekend.

However, one's best chance of finding Cocoa Monster Manila's kiosks is by following them on their Facebook page where they regularly announce their location for the coming weekend. They also posted several contact numbers there for inquiries and for possible orders.

Yup, gotta love those chocolate mangoes! Choco na, mangga pa!


- First two photos are mine. Third photo is from the Cocoa Monster Manila Facebook page.