In the wake of ‘Ondoy,’ home is where hope lies

Clothes, shoes, toiletries, laptop and books ... definitely my books. I made a mental list of things I needed to retrieve as my father, brother, and I rode the jeep to our flooded home in Bambang, Pasig City. It had been six days after tropical storm ‘Ondoy’ ravaged Metro Manila but the low-lying city remained submerged in filthy flood waters. Armed with black rubber boots, a waterproof backpack, and three shoulder bags—all borrowed—I silently calculated how I could fit in the precious belongings that I wanted to save. Fetid journey As we approached the stretch of F. Antonio Street, the stench of rotting wood and waste assaulted us. The end of the street became an instant port as makeshift rafts, aluminum boats, and sidecar bikes lined up on the sidewalk to wait for passengers. My father and I boarded one of the bikes fitted with an elevated bench while my brother chose to wade through the murky waters. Thankfully, the weather seemed merciful. The clouds shielded us from the noonday sun. From my perch, I saw how the flood waters rose from ankle- to waist-deep as we journeyed further down the street. Along the way, we met other residents leaving their homes with belongings in tow. One man loaded his boat with crates of bread and canned goods. A woman clutched bags of clothes as her raft treaded the waters. Six men slowly plodded through the flood as they pushed a motorcycle propped on a raft. Others residents fortunate to have two-storey homes converted their second floor into an all-in-one living space that served as their sala, bedroom, and kitchen. With no electricity, most of them would look out into the streets to watch other people fleeing their homes. Halfway through the street, one of the men pushing the bike warned, “Pakitaas lang po ang paa niyo, palalim na po ang baha." I clutched my backpack tightly and held my breath. I was afraid that a slight shift in weight would send us crashing down into the brackish water. “Uy, kawawa naman o," one of the men suddenly exclaimed. “Ano yan, baboy o aso?" I turned to see the bloated body of a dead dog tied to a lamp post. I continued to hold my breath. I only heaved a sigh of relief when our condominium’s compound was in sight. The distance we traveled normally took two minutes and cost 15 pesos via tricycle. But this time, our ride through the flood took almost half an hour and cost 80 pesos. Saving and losing My heart sank as I entered our home—the very first home my family and I could call our own. Everything was a mess. Wooden tiles, plastic bottles and drawers floated on the knee-high water. Chairs and tables were placed one on top of the other to build a solid foundation for the refrigerator, television, and desktop computer. Fortunately, before the waters rose, my parents had the presence of mind to lift the appliances off the floor and to secure all items lying in low cabinets. But it seemed all the other furniture had very little chance of being saved. I went to my room and lit a candle as I groped through drawers, shelves, and cabinets for my belongings. Every now and then, I would go out for air to take a breather from the stench and heat. As my bags quickly filled, I had no choice but to toss out some items. I heard news that another storm was bound to hit Manila and I could almost imagine the flood rising to the ceiling. I resigned myself to the possibility of losing everything else I would leave behind. Including my beloved books. Before dark, we locked our home and hailed a small boat to take us back to the other end of the street. The journey took longer since more boats and rafts crowded the waterway, as if it were rush hour. As we reached the end of the street, one of the boat men said, “Four hundred pesos po." Only my father and I boarded the boat with 10 medium-sized bags. “Wala bang tawad?" my father asked. The boat man replied, “Ang bigat po kasi ng dala n’yo." I didn’t have the energy to haggle. I just thought I should be thankful we didn’t need to wade through the flood. Life lessons We rode the Quiapo jeep back to my aunt’s home in Manila, our temporary evacuation center while waiting for the Pasig flood waters to subside. Life does change so swiftly. Sometimes, very painfully. I thought about the people who had lost all their precious possessions. Many had to live in cramped evacuation centers, sleep on cold floors, and rely on relief goods for sustenance. I thought about the families who had lost their loved ones. Despite the fact that we, too, are “temporarily homeless," I remain grateful that we have relatives who can adopt us, lend us a warm bed and give us food to eat. I am more than thankful that all my loved ones are safe and sound. As I held the bags crammed with my few belongings, I thought about all the stuff I accumulated through the course of my life. I realized that I really didn’t need that much I suddenly remembered a passage I had read from my pink Bible, the only book I was able to save: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:19-20) ‘Ondoy’ may have swept away all our worldly treasures and changed our lives. But as long as faith, hope and love remain—and if we have the determination to pick up the pieces—we can survive. -GMANews.TV