Faith and humanity at Traslacion 2024: A story by a young journalist and first time attendee

When my editor first told me that I would be covering the Traslacion 2024, I genuinely felt scared.

Who wouldn’t? It was by far the biggest coverage in my young career as a journalist. But who am I to say no to the challenge?

I arrived at the Quiapo Church at noon of January 9th and slipped my way through the throngs of devotees to reach San Sebastian Church where the Dungaw, one of the highlights of the Traslacion, was to be held. My knowledge of Manila streets brought to me by my college years helped me navigate my way even in the tiniest alley of the city.

At the San Sebastian Church, I was met by thousands of devotees sitting and standing along the narrow streets of Hidalgo, extending until Plaza Del Carmen, where the image of Nuestra Señora Del Carmen de San Sebastian was seated.

While waiting, I met two campus journalists from my former school who were covering the Dungaw too. I also engaged in some small talk with a few devotees who shared their stories of faith, healing, redemption, and love because of the Black Nazarene.

Long-time devotee Diosdado, who came to the Dungaw with his 10-year-old son, said that the Black Nazarene protected them through the challenges of life.

“Mahirap lang kami, pero dahil sa pananampalataya namin kay Poong Nazareno, nakakaya namin ang araw-araw,” he said.

Edgar, a 61-year-old first-time devotee, said that he joined this year’s Traslacion because of his wife, who was a long-time devotee of the Black Nazarene.

He said that the Black Nazarene helped his wife to recover from breast cancer after being diagnosed in 2018.

“Kagagaling niya lang last year. Kaya nangako ako noon na iaalay ko ang mga maiiwang oras ko sa mundo sa Kaniya,” he said.

After hearing their stories, I realized one thing: their faith in Jesus Christ keeps their fire burning.

When the carriage of the image of the Black Nazarene entered Hidalgo Street, the atmosphere turned feverish. The devotees began chanting, “Viva! Viva!”, as they raised their hands in the air and waved white cloth.

My focus shifted as I remembered the reason why I was there: to document and report what was happening.

I lifted my phone, opened the camera, and pressed the record button to capture the most-awaited Dungaw.

With the sea of people in front of me, the view wasn’t the best for a small girl like me. I was struggling until one devotee, a complete stranger, lifted me with his arms to have a better view of the crowd.

As the carriage came closer to the image of the Virgin Mary, the crowd became more frantic, with many devotees starting to push and elbow each other in the hopes of touching the rope and the sacred image of Jesus Christ.

The man who was carrying me urgently instructed me on how to stay afloat in the sea of people.

“Kapag tinulak ka patalikod, itungkod mo lang 'yung dalawa mong braso sa nasa likuran mo para hindi ka madala sa agos,” he said.

As the crowd grew and I got sandwiched between people, my legs started to hurt and my chest began to tighten. I gasped for air. I was sure that in a matter of time, I would faint.

“Kuya, hindi na po ako makahinga,” I shouted, and the man from earlier immediately asked me to raise my hand — a signal of retreat.

“Tabi! Tabi! Tabi! Si ate hindi na makahinga,” Kuya shouted as he pushed me with all his might into the direction of an open space.

But the crowd was too large for me to get out easily. I was raising my hand in the air and shouting for help, but it seemed that I was taking an endless route.

It didn’t help when a scaffold from a construction site in front of the San Sebastian Church collapsed and many devotees got involved in a scuffle.

At that moment, I saw my life flash before my eyes as I was afraid that I might get pulled into the fight and get injured. How would my company react if I met my demise there and then? Would they ever know? There was no signal in the area, and there was no one who could contact them if the worst things happened to me.

I screamed, “Kuya! Kuya! Kuya!”

And finally, someone from the crowd grabbed me and successfully managed to push me into an open space where a fire truck was parked.

Before I could catch my breath, the fire truck suddenly sprayed me with water. It also hosed down the exhausted devotees standing near me. I was wet from head to toe, and my white sneakers turned black as water mixed with mud.

In shock, I could only stand there.

But I survived.

As I rested, I marveled at how ten minutes could feel like a year for me. It didn’t matter that my shoes were dirty or that I was completely drenched. I was just relieved I was still alive after the terrifying ordeal.

Despite everything, I continued with my purpose, which was capturing scenes of the Dungaw.

Finally, the carriage of the Nazareno left, and along with it, the chaos.

As the crowd calmed down, I settled on the pavement, with devotees giving me some candies and lending me a fan, alon with a bottle of White Flower to cool down my head. A tricycle driver and his wife even offered to let me sit in the backseat of their trike.

Afterwards, I had to go on my way. With weak knees, I made my way out of Plaza del Carmen to look for a nearby cafe to cool down.

As I walked, all I could feel was extreme relief because I was so fortunate to survive the wild waves of people.

When I arrived home, I immediately went to social media and looked for the two young campus journalists I met in the coverage. I messaged one of them and asked about their situation as I had completely forgotten them during the commotion.

Thankfully, they were all fine. But what struck me the most was what one of them told me:

“Ate, hinanap kita kanina. Super nag-alala kasi kami, lalo nang nagitgit ka ng matindi kanina. 'Yung kuya po kanina na kasama natin, hinanap ka pa, kasi nabitawan niya daw po kayo. Sinuyod po namin lahat ng medic baka sakali po andoon kayo. Kaso wala ka Ate, pinagdadasal nalang namin na natangay ka ng maayos.”

That made me cry. I looked back on everything that happened on that day. It was terrifying, and I realized I would never have made it back home without the people who helped me. I would never have done a good coverage, if not for the person who lifted me amid the crowd. Above all, I would never have made it alive without the devotees who pulled me out of the raging sea of people.

It was a miracle that I survived my first-ever Traslacion coverage. I know I will never have the chance to meet those people who helped me again, but I will forever be grateful. In the end, it was still worth it to meet people from different walks of life who made me believe that there is still faith in humanity after all. —JCB, GMA Integrated News