Heroes of Yolanda

Part of the work that I do as a psychologist allows me to listen to the stories people tell about their lives. Unfortunately, many of these stories come from experiences of helplessness, fear, and extreme loss brought about by natural disasters and sometimes by the dark side of inhumanity.

But through these stories, I have also become witness to some of the most inspiring accounts of courage, determination, empathy, and selflessness. Each and every small detail of survival adds to a powerful testimony to the capacity of the human spirit to rebound and reconstruct in the face of tragic losses. Each time, through their visions and insights, I find myself deeply moved and transformed. 
 

Such was the case last month, when our team of psychologists (MLAC Institute for Psychosocial Services) was asked to conduct the last of a series of counseling sessions with the employees of the Commission on Human Rights in Tacloban and Samar, together with their families. Nine months after Typhoon Yolanda unleashed her wrath over the Visayas Region, this was the first time these families got to tell their tale. Their names have been changed to protect their identities.
 

Mang Raul
 

Mang Raul was saving his Christmas bonus for the house and for the family. When Typhoon Yolanda struck their home, he lost everything he had built through the years. 
 

“Grabe ang destruction.” 
 

He recalled being exhausted and hungry. He hadn’t slept and eaten for days. The whole house was full of debris—everything piled on top of each other. During the first few days after Yolanda, they would use a stick to snag bits of anything edible from the wreckage. He remembered noticing he had cuts and bruises days after the typhoon but he had no memory of feeling the pain.
 

“Bawal ako magkasakit. Bawal ako masugat.” 
 

He could not permit himself to feel any pain or suffering. He needed to be strong and whole for his children. 
 

“Safety ng mga bata. Yun lang. Ang hindi ko matatanggap...” I do not know what he meant to say, for his voice trailed off.
 

He was able to accept losing the house and everything they owned. The safety of the children came first—that was the most important thing. He was able to deny his own pain and hunger. He now knows that he can bear any physical pain, but not the pain of losing his family.  He looked at me with tears in his eyes and shook his head as he imagined the unthinkable.
 

Mang Gio
 

Mang Gio began to organize his family as soon as he heard about the impending super typhoon. He instructed each member to get one bag and put items that they would need. He told them to put extra clothes, 2 pieces of underwear, food, and medicine.

He told them that once he shouted, “Grab bag! Pasok na!” everyone should go inside the bathroom with their “grab-bags”—a term he coined to identify the survival kit that each family member prepared.

The bathroom was the safest room in the house. There was water and there was a toilet and they had their grab-bags.
 

While they were inside the bathroom, they carried on with their routine, preparing food and praying before eating. The floodwaters did not enter their home but most of the roof was blown away by the strong winds. 
 

“Feeling ko, napaka-kawawa namin. Pero nung lumabas na kami tapos ng bagyo, mas grabe pala ang nangyari sa iba.” 
 

He still shudders when it rains heavily. The sound of the C130 planes and the helicopters that were constantly hovering around Tacloban for days after the typhoon still rings in his ears. Mang Raul, who sat next to him, handed him a handkerchief as he bowed his head and wept. Both men smiled at each other knowing all too well the burden each one carried during and after Yolanda.
 

What Mang Gio didn’t know at that time was that his wife, who was with the group next to ours, was sharing her story about how safe she felt with Mang Gio. She knew he would protect her and the children. She thought that the “grab bag” strategy was a great idea, and it helped ensure their survival during that time. The formulation and execution of his plan provided her and their children with the sense of security and reassurance that they would be ok in the end. 
 

Mang Tony
 

Mang Tony recalled taking precautionary measures for the eventualities of a typhoon. When they were being asked to move to higher ground, he chose to stay. To him, they were prepared and there was no reason to leave. But what he didn’t realize was that he was not ready for the strength of Yolanda and the threats posed to the lives of the people most dear to him.
 

“When I saw the waters rising, I looked at my family. I froze as I thought to myself, 

‘P****, mamamatay ito!’ We had to move. We decided to make our way to the neighbor’s roof through the rain and the raging waters.
 

“I remember holding my 6-month old baby and thinking that I wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not. His lips were blue. His face was violet. I couldn’t tell my wife at that time because she had to look after our other children. I had to wade and swim through the floods holding him not knowing if he was still alive. He was very wet and cold.

“Everyone was trying to get to the same rooftop. I remember asking desperately for help and begging people to take just one more person, take my baby. I saw hands signaling as if to say there was no more space. But later on I realized that the hands were telling me to give the baby to them. I moved towards that direction. Suddenly dry pieces of clothing from complete strangers were being handed to me to wrap my wet baby in. I wrapped him and hugged him and then he started to breath. Color returned to his cheeks and lips. He was alive. 
 

“I went back to check on the rest of the family. I had one more child to hoist to the roof while hanging on to a beam on the ceiling—my three-year-old boy. I was exhausted. After three failed attempts of lifting him, I suddenly felt that I had no more strength left inside. I could not move my arm. I remember praying and then everything went blank. I don’t remember what happened next. I have memories of climbing up the roof to rejoin my family. I remember feeling terrified not knowing what happened to my little boy [whom I couldn’t lift]. Then I saw him with the rest of my family. He was okay. I found out later on that I actually did lift him onto the roof but I just couldn’t remember how I did it.” 
 

Mang Tony’s eyes glistened with tears as he recalls seeing his wife and all his children alive. The harrowing experience was almost unbearable but to him there was something positive in all of this.

He concluded, “I saved them. I saved my family. Because of Yolanda, I was given an opportunity to be a hero to my children.”
 

Each father wept at the realization of his own story and what it meant to him. They responded to the great challenges they faced at that time using bursts of willpower and pure resolve, some of which they didn’t know they had.

In the face of great loss and destruction, Yolanda stripped them down to what was most essential—the family that they would protect and bring to safety no matter what. They lost so much, but they believe they can rebuild because they have each other and because their family is together. 
 

I wrote this article so that these fathers can read their stories again and hopefully embrace them as their own. Stories about life can be sad and aren’t always equipped with a happy ending. Knowing what your story is, is not the end goal. What is empowering is realizing that you own it and because of that, you have the choice to reconstruct it. You have the choice to retell it. — VC, GMA News
 

 

Rachel Ann Rosales Parr is part of a team of psychologists in the MLAC Institute of Psychosocial Services. She is a certified specialist in Developmental Psychology and is currently teaching at the Psychology department of the De La Salle University in Manila.