Typhoon Haiyan: The Anniversary Insert

An entire year has passed since it all happened. Time is bizarre. It is broken. As I sat today reflecting on all that we experienced I was reminded again the frivolity of the daily grind: school, work, almost everything. When compared with the work of feeding, healing, and saving those in need... nothing seems fulfilling. Finding fulfillment and purpose since then has been difficult but it has come as I have oriented my life in a way to perpetuate the work we did in subtler ways. I will return to that later on.

I apologize for interrupting the story which I had been posting weekly. Life has just been a torrent of responsibilities, obligations, relationships, and so on. Privileges we take for granted. We, and I would certainly include myself in this statement, allow so many stresses about due dates, deadlines, car problems, rent, grades, and all other kinds of worries to burden us even to the breaking point. Oh how we should thank God for these "problems". With each of our perceived burdens comes with it an incredible backdrop of opportunity that the Filipino does not have, that the majority of the world does not have. I make excuse for not writing because of these opportunities but I commit to completing this story -- not for myself but for them. They deserve to be known. They deserve our attention. The Unconquerable Filipino Spirit.

My heart mourns and celebrates today. It mourns for the tens of thousands who were lost, the livelihoods and homes destroyed, the unrecognizable cities. It celebrates your resilience. Your rebuilding tenacity. Your unbeatable optimism. Your unconditional generosity and your unfailing gratitude. I am awed by you. I am inspired by you. I talk often of you to those I meet, in lessons I teach, and testimonies I bear. You stand as a brilliant example of hope in humanity -- that is why they call you the Pearl of the Orient.

Mabuhay -- To exist or to live. Mabuhay my brothers and sisters. May you always live to demonstrate the Godly characteristics inherit in your culture and demeanor. We won't forget you.

Typhoon Haiayn Relief Effort: Stay or Go

As we rode along the bumpy rode back to the port city I evaluated our last four days, our current status, and what we were going to do with the rest of our time in the Philippines. We were all exhausted, hungry, dehydrated, and mentally drained. The work on the island had taken it's toll. I remember Mum Beth (the EMT group leader) explaining that despite our desires to stay longer and assist, our minds and bodies could not keep operating under these types of conditions for more than three days, otherwise we would risk illness or injury. My desire to stay was burning, especially as we began our departure from Tolosa. I wanted to stay more than anything -- to become immune to the needs of my body. To entirely neglect the urges for food, water, and sleep in order to further rescue and serve the countless people who still were in need. This is why I came here. Despite my good intentions I also recognized my mortality. I knew that I could likely continue on for another day or more, maybe even to last a week, I possessed the mental fortitude. I knew with God I could coerce my body into the labor that needed to be done. As I felt that fire burn I glanced over at Olsen, who, though now sleeping, I knew felt the same way. I then looked at Chantel and my tense facial expression softened. I was worried about her. She had miraculously recovered from her fever, but her utter fatigue was apparent. Surely she too possessed the mental fortitude to endure but my intuition advised me against it.

We got off the bus and grabbed our gear. We slowly lumbered through the streets towards the port hoping for a place to buy a solid meal. We stopped by a small hardware-esque store where a friend of one of the EMTS was willing to hold our belongings while we waited for the boat to come. We laid down our heavy packs and moved back into the streets. The first place we saw was selling a dish that was made of chocolate sticky rice. It was one of the most delicious dishes I'd ever eaten, probably because I hadn't had something like it for quite some time. Chantel looked vexed at the idea of eating any more rice - chocolate or not. We moved onto a canteen where we ordered a feast of chicken, vegetables, and hotdogs. Olsen must have eaten a dozen red weenies. Despite filling up quickly because of my shrunken stomach my body just wanted to keep eating after neglecting it's urges for sustenance for four days. We left the diner and boarded the boat that would take us back to Cebu. Chantel expressed the same thoughts in my mind, "I can't believe we are leaving... I want to stay."

I thought about the Salvation Army and Michael's offer in Tanauan. He told us he was receiving thousands of packages of relief goods and needed help distributing them. He said we'd have a truck and the ability to further help the areas we had already scouted. We'd have a place to stay, food, and most importantly a flight back to Manila. At the time we had set it aside because we wanted to stick with ZEDRU, but with their departure home leaving us with no further action the offer began to ring in my mind. Olsen had even considered leaving Chantel and I to go directly from Tolosa to Tacloban to meet up with Michael. We later concluded that it would be best to accompany ZEDRU out of Tacloban and to return to Cebu where we could at the very least check the donation fund and purchase more relief goods and medicine to provide upon our return. It had been four days since I had any contact with home and I wanted to let my family know that we were healthy and relatively well.

The other point was we had other opportunities and options to help in Cebu. There were other projects that could be organized there, and with well over a week left before our flight home the opportunity to pass through my old mission and visit my friends existed. I asked myself if that would be selfish. My purpose in coming to the Philippines and raising what money we had was to provide relief to the victims of Typhoon Haiyan. I pondered on the principle of what actions would be God's. Deep down my desire was to sacrifice. I wanted to sacrifice everything... my finances, my strength, my body, my opportunity to see those I loved in my mission. I was willing. So I came to the decision in my mind that that was what I was willing to do and that willingness was accepted by my mind and soul. I knew that God knew that I was willing to make that "All-in" sacrifice. Once that confirmation was placed, other conditions and variables surfaced. ZEDRU was leaving, that urgency with which we were commissioned to meet had been met, and Chantel needed time to recover (we all did, but my desire to protect her grounded me where I otherwise would have been impotently willing to go past my physical limitations), will and what would best fulfill our mission. Chantel's resilience and strength to acclimate was remarkable. If the travel of 9,000 miles, the complete adjustment of diet (from vegan to omnivore), and culture shock wasn't enough -- she had been exposed to some of the most graphic and hopeless circumstances this world has to show. Starving families, leveled cities and wasteland, infected wounds, mal-nutrition, and corpses lying in pathways and backyards. We all were justified in requiring rest and recovery, however Chantel's ability to adjust and handle these things is certainly worthy of mention.

Her words of wanting to stay provoked something I couldn't adequately express and share with her at the time. The work in Leyte had been meaningful, impactful, and we had all lost ourselves in the work. The rest of the world didn't exist, our pasts, our stresses, our problems... There only existed the goal to serve, to save, to assist. We wanted to do more, to stay, to continue escaping the "reality" we had left behind. No! This was reality. This was the realest experience we had ever been through. Our social norms, our cultural influence, our insecurities, our problems were nothing, they seemed superfluous. This was purposeful meaningful work that was as real as it could get but our bodies needed recovery. We were forced to leave the most visceral reality we had known.

All of these things weighed on my mind as I stood on the balcony watching children collect donations for the relief effort back on shore. They had asked us for money to donate to the cause and we all chuckled to ourselves at the slight irony. I had spoken with Olsen and Chantel earlier about the plan we had decided on. We were going to return to Cebu, recover for a day to stress debrief, after which, if Michael could guarantee transportation to and from Tacloban to Manila that we would re-supply, purchase more goods, then return to Tacloban for another three days. If there were no guarantees, then we would assist in Cebu. I felt good about our plan as I reflected on it. I retired to a bunk next to the others. Mum Beth was reading something on her tablet, Chantel had fallen asleep on her CPA study notes, Olsen was also passed out, and the others were talking quietly to one another.

The boat picked up speed and I felt a soft breeze blow through the open deck. I felt peace. I felt it was time to rest. My mind was cleared and I went to sleep.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: The Last Chapel

60 sacks of relief goods. That is what we had left. Each sack consisted of three kilos of rice, two cans of sardines, three packs of ramen-like noodles, and two liters of water. Each sack was intended for a family. Though this sounds like hardly enough for one meal back home, a smaller family could survive off of it for a few days. It was minimal but possessed the necessities for survival. That was our whole mission all along -- to satisfy the immediate need to buy time for the larger relief groups to arrive. Even our medical missions were much more temporary relief and infection staying until more supplies and greater medical attention could be rendered. This was the whole reason we spent over $10,000 combined to make this trip instead of simply donating that money to the general cause. There existed plenty of money and supplies just no one to distribute them. So we went. So we were there.

The sun had gone down by the time we returned to the Tolosa chapel. The Cebu team hadn't returned from their medical mission. Our unit had been talking with the local church leader in helping us find sleeping space. We were told we could share the chapel space with half a dozen family refugees. We gratefully accepted. We took some chairs to section off a corner of the big room to separate our gear from the slew of children running and playing. We were all completely exhausted but the people wanted to be with us. Chantel pulled out a large bag of lollipops donated to her from a friend back home. The children kind of lined up and all got some of the sweet candy. They were ecstatic. The children were good about making sure everyone got one instead of trying to steal for seconds. I was impressed by that. It demonstrated the culture's attitude once again of spreading and sharing what was available to everyone. It reminds of me scriptural tales of communities having all things in common and sharing everything with the old, the sick, and the poor. I have traveled many places in my life and it is easy for me to say that the Filipinos exemplify this attitude more than any other culture I have come in contact with. I love them.

After taking some photos and getting settled in I laid out the last remaining red delta airlines blankets I had for Chantel, Walter, and I. I chuckled at how cozy the thin pieces of fabric looked on the tile floor. Reality struck me for a moment as I realized that though I felt completely at ease or at home, the scene would have been intolerable back home. A small dinner of rice and ramen-like noodles, tile floor beds, children playing and stepping on Chantel's hair as she laid down, absolutely no luxury existed in that moment save perhaps the generator that gave partial light to the chapel for a few hours before we retired. I was utterly happy. I laid down on my knees and thanked God for the success of our mission and the safety of everyone. I thanked him for how we had been shielded. My consciousness began to fade as I was jolted awake by one of the ZEDRU team. We needed to make a decision on what to do with the remaining relief goods. I rose from my knees and went with them into the other room.
 
We had reached the end of our supplies and it was time to return to Cebu to restock. The plan was to wake up first thing in the morning and catch the bus back to Hilongos. We were down to 50 sacks of relief after bartering with our driver friend. For his services we offered him the remainder of our fuel and ten sacks of relief goods to share with his barangay (village segment). Money would still be valueless for a few days if not a few weeks. It was too late in the evening to distribute those fifty sacks and so we talked with the local church leader. Walter knew the man and quite a few of the survivors. Walter had served here over a decade before as a missionary. They were trustworthy individuals and so we commissioned the Branch President as he was called to distribute the relief goods to those staying within the chapel and then to reach out to those in the immediate surrounding areas.

The Cebu team had returned and everyone was getting settled down to sleep. Many of the children had quieted down after we performed some magic tricks to entertain them. They joined their smiling parents. I grabbed my travel pillow and laid my head down to it. A storm rolled through but I didn't notice. I was out cold.

----

I was awoken by the alarm of one of the team. It was still dark out but it was time to roll. We were up at 4 am to be packed and out on the street by 5 am. With headlamps and tip-toed feet we did our best not to wake up the sleeping families beside us. We gathered our gear, said goodbye to the Branch President, and headed out onto the street as light began to peak up over the horizon. I remember as we stood by the side of the road waiting for the bus beginning to feel the utter exhaustion setting in. I evaluated my status. I was enervated, starving, dehydrated, and mentally drained. My brain felt like it was operating at about 40%. I felt sluggish and weak. Perhaps my body understood that our first mission to Leyte was finishing and so that urgency adrenaline that had carried me the past few days was depleted. I know God carried me and my companions through the extreme circumstances, but the consequences of the reality of what we had been through, even just emotionally and mentally, was enough to floor a normal individual for a week of needed recuperation. I looked at Chantel and Olsen, my strong and faithful companions. They too looked weary and fatigued to the point of collapse. We all felt that way...

The bus arrived with it's headlights blinding. We threw in our gear and started the long four hour ride back to the port city.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: Relief Rejection

One hour passed by, then another. We had tried hiding behind our truck but the high noon-day sun was bearing down on us. Some of our Filipino friends had tried to spark up conversation with the other port inhabitants, most of who were US military. They were disappointed when they were rejected by them with "orders not to speak to civilians."

We were waiting for the boat from Manila to arrive with our second EMT unit and enough relief goods to resupply a small village for a few days. It was the goods that ZEDRU had been waiting for since the storm had first hit over a week ago. Finally they were going to arrive just in time for us to help the forgotten town of Tolosa.

Ultimately, after anxiously waiting at the port, our ship came into sight. As they pulled up ZEDRU and Olsen hurried on board to meet up with the Cebu team and to coordinate our next move. They returned to our truck with furrowed brows and pinched lips. Olsen was shaking his head. I asked what the problem was. Apparently a large company, after everything had been brought on board, purchased the entire boat's storage space. The workers removed everyone else's supplies and replaced them with this company's cargo. The Cebu team were only allowed to bring what they could carry. Beth was beyond frustrated with the way their humanitarian organization had been treated and the complete disregard for previous agreements and arrangements.

Our first seeming roadblock on our endeavors. You will see though how it played perfectly into the grander scheme. Fortunately the Cebu team had the foresight to know that fuel would be a valuable bargaining chip in the recently made wilderness. We loaded up our new team and the new gear and headed back out onto the road the way we came. It was a long drive back to Tanauan as two storms soaked us to the core. When we arrived at our chapel safe haven we communed indoors. A slight disagreement arose at how we were going to execute our next move. Tolosa was another devastated village small enough to pass under the radar of larger relief groups. It is a flat coastal town. The 15 foot storm surge (pause in reading and imagine that for a minute. A flat, coastal town, engulfed in 200+ MPH winds, and a fifteen foot WALL of water) washed out everything. The only remaining structures were two churches that had miraculously survived.

Anyways, the specific needs of the village were yet to be determined. To Olsen and I, it seemed blatantly obvious that they needed as much help as Tanauan did, if not more. Beth however felt that a scouting team should be sent ahead with the truck to determine the need and contact the city hall. The problem this posed was the fuel it would take to drive back and forth to scout and then pick up the remaining teams, then back again. It seemed like a redundancy. We came to a compromise. We packed up all of our equipment and moved out to Tolosa. We dropped off our gear and most everyone to conduct an immediate medical mission in the surrounding area of the remaining LDS chapel.

Olsen, Chantel, Beth, and I went with the truck driver to the municipal to talk distribution, needs, and possible arraignments to mutually benefit from one another's abilities. All we found was another politician seeking to horde what he could and execute authority over the inhabitants of the city. An agreement in exchange of transportation/goods could not be made so we once again headed out trusting in God to provide a way for survivors and relief workers to find one another.

A massive storm struck once again as Chantel and I huddled inside the cab of the truck trying to avoid the torrent. We chuckled as we saw 4 Filipinos chilling underneath the frame of a large truck, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Chantel and I were in a near delusional mentality because of the fatigue of the day, the constant storm soaking followed by brutal heat, and having eaten and drunk so little. We were laughing at the scene. Chantel squealed and giggled as she pulled out a massive bag filled with yellow crackers brought by the Cebu team. We ate so many crackers. They were so bland but so delicious.

This reminded me of another funny story that had happened earlier in the day. In preparation of the likely event of us foreigners getting sick I caused Chantel to purchase a large amount of immune system boosters (E-mergen C powder, Airborne, vitamin C stuff, etc.). We had been diligently taking our supplements about 2-3 times per day. During our long ride back from Tacloban Chantel busted out the Emergen C powder. We didn't have water to mix it with so Chantel and I poured small amounts into our mouth which would in great sourness foam up and fizzle causing us to flinch and
laugh. Walter and the others asked what it was we were eating so we shared it with them. Chantel handed them the packets and said to just put it in their mouths. Trustingly, and quite unknowingly, the Filipinos dumped the whole packet of Emergen C powder into their mouths. Their faces twisted and contorted in painful ways as we all started laughing at the reactions. Walter was coughing and tears came to his eyes as he, through coughs and laughs, asked, "Are you trying to kill me?!"

Though grave the situation we truly inherited the Filipino way -- that is to not allow any change in situation or circumstance affect the way you live, the way you treat others, or how happy you are. We were close friends, family even, though we had been together only a few days. Our bond surely was strengthened by the ineffable experiences we went through, but more than that was all of our ability to just open up and be true with one another. No reservations, no insecurities, we just were, and we existed in harmony with each other. It helped us immensely to cope with the extreme conditions and difficult scenes. We were able to spread our light with others who were discouraged or downtrodden. That is the power of human relationships.

Finally we arrived at the Tolosa Chapel as darkness signaled the end of our day. We entered the edifice greeted by children's happy screams and parents' looks of relief. We had made it in time.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: Tacloban

Our driver was on his way to the airport to evacuate his family. They had somehow secured tickets on one of the military C-130s. Over the course of our drive into the city Mum Beth asked for his assistance with delivering the new team and relief goods past Tanauan into Tolosa. That was a fair distance to drive, especially with how scarce fuel was. The driver said he was willing though if we would supply him with the diesel required. He asked for 5 relief good bags for his family and his neighbors. Mum Beth agreed to it.

To step out of this story for a moment I feel like I should ask you... Have you seen the hand of God in all of this? Have you recognized the impossible amount of impracticalities that "conveniently" happened in such perfect succession? Can you see how we were figuratively standing still while purpose was fulfilled independent of our ability? We were used as tools to accomplish a masterfully orchestrated sequence of events that would, in the most effective and efficient way, reach those who we were supposed to help according to His designs. 

Once Beth had told me our driver's willingness to help I just gawked shaking my head astonished at how perfectly everything had been falling into place.

We pushed into the city and began to see just how hard Tacloban had been hit. Unlike Tanauan, Tacloban was much more developed with malls, tall buildings, and stores. The destruction appeared less cataclysmic compared to the flattened city we were coming from, but it still was utterly devastated. We drove by a mall that was still standing but looked completely gutted. We covered our faces as that unforgettable smell of death stung our senses as we passed some rubble with the fallen trapped inside. A long line of people stood in the blazing heat in front of a military outpost that was distributing relief goods. Hundreds of people, single file, hoping for some sustenance for their survival. 

Today was the day that everyone else began arriving: The Red Cross, the Salvation Army, etc. Helicopters, C-130s, and Ospreys filled the air flying to and from the airport rapidly. As we approached our destination I felt a chill run down my back. I recognized the very spot that I had seen Anderson Cooper reporting from on CNN just under a few days before reporting on the looting, chaos, and disorder of the post-storm city. I was uneasy but felt reassured as I saw some of our own US Military patrolling. Right as we pulled into a stall for the driver's family to leave a heavy storm rolled in. Big drops of rain came down in sheets as we all jumped out and ran for cover. There was only room in the front for 3 and there was 11 of us. Everyone found separate hiding spots underneath tarps, lean tos, and some just stood out in the middle of it getting completely soaked. The storm passed by quickly to be replaced again with a scorching sun that quickly dried us and began again to burn. 

Throughout the day this pattern of heavy storm and immediate return to high heat continued even until the night. I think we counted six waves of storms that soaked us to the bone in the bed of that truck only to be dried a few minutes later. I was worried though. This kind of constant cold soaking and heating would cause illness very quickly in normal circumstances. However, as was the prevalent theme throughout this trip, we were mercifully protected. 

After an hour or so at the airport (our driver had to ensure his family's departure) we finally headed back into the heart of the city to wind around the hill down to the port to meet our crew. As we drove through what we would call downtown, Walter began to sob softly. I asked him what he was feeling. He said he could feel the sorrow and the pain of the people there, those who had passed and those who had survived. Walter is sensitive in that way. He recalled how the city used to be the decade or so ago when he was living there. How it had changed, how it was hardly recognizable. The storm had destroyed its history.

We arrived at the port. 

 

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: Broken Promise

I made a promise before I left on this mission to my sister Jessica. She was crying in fear on the phone for my well being. My sister isn't usually emotional like this; I've very rarely seen her cry and probably never before out of distress. I was in my room packing and preparing when she had called me. I held the phone between my shoulder and head talking as I gathered clothes and equipment but when emotion touched her voice I halted. I dropped what was in my hands and lifted the phone to my ear and listened. She was pleading with me not to go. She shared with me all her fears about what she had seen of Tacloban in the news. I comforted her telling her that we wouldn't be going to Tacloban, that there were rescue efforts there already, and that our focus were the forgotten towns outlying. She plead another time for me not to go. I informed her that the tickets were purchased and that I was going no matter what. She began to cry and say, "Promise me you won't go to Tacloban. I know you want to help those people, but it's not worth losing your life over. It's dangerous there, people are desperate... Promise me Charles, you won't go to Tacloban." The formal use of my name combined with her emotion led me to make a promise that I usually otherwise wouldn't have made. I am a man of my word and impeccability is a foundational value for me. I try my absolute hardest not to make promises I don't intend on keeping. In the end my word is truly all I have and in this moment it was all I could do to console my worried sister. I told her, "I promise."

These were the thoughts racing through my mind as we crossed the threshold into the city of Tacloban, Leyte.

When we had woken up that morning I was uncertain exactly of what our plans were. I was under the impression we would be leaving to Tolosa, a town we had passed through on our way to Tanauan which was Walter's last area. I was informed by Mum Beth that we needed to find a way to Tacloban to retrieve the supplies from Manilla. I was seriously confused at first but then everything registered. The supplies that ZEDRU had been waiting for which had previously delayed their travel to Tacloban before meeting us was finally arriving. Apparently they had been able to get off a message to the Cebu team to forward the delivery straight to Tacloban. The Cebu team was intending to travel on that boat with the supplies to join our team to continue our efforts. This was without question the best thing to do for our purpose in being here and the accomplishment of our mission.

I was torn and even a little fear crept into me. Call it superstitious but I feel like broken promises usually end badly. I had yet to feel that our security had been compromised in our recent efforts, however the idea of entering the epicenter of confusion, chaos, and uncertainty caused me to feel anxious about going. Despite this I did believe in our mission and the deliverance that we had experienced up to this point and built within me a confidence sound and utterly certain. I bowed my head in prayer to ask God if this was His will to break this promise, a legitimately difficult thing for me to ask. I knew it was and so we went.

Chantel was feeling much better this morning which was great news for our next expedition. Chantel was in quite the dilemma however. She still had not been able to get in touch with Delta to verify whether Leslie was able to change her flight or not. ZEDRU was planning on returning to the Municipal to hopefully hire a truck to transport our goods and team to Tolosa as predetermined. Chantel and I did the math and realized that we had about a half-hour to get to city hall and make the call before Delta closed back in the States. We took off for the only place we had found any sort of signal before the rest of the team was ready. 

We got there and rushed to the top story where signal would hopefully be stronger. Chantel inched her phone up, down, left, and right trying to find a spot where she could get service. This process continued about ten minutes until the tarped roof began to be weighed down by the rain water collected the last few days. RescueNet workers were unloading the water weight causing waterfalls inside the building in the gaps where roofing no longer existed. I pulled off my scarf and covered Chantel and her phone as a certain stream landed a few feet from us splashing us both. She finally got hold of a signal and started through the most frustrating automated system ever. People began showing up and pushing past us. I took stance at the front of the traffic protecting Chantel from being disturbed from her calculated signal spot. Despite our best efforts the phone call dropped right before Chantel was able to confirm her flight change. It would have to be resolved post-trip.

Chantel instantly dropped the weight of that burden from her shoulders assured that it would take care of itself in time if it hadn't already. That was impressive to me. Tickets are over a thousand dollars and the fact that she just shrugged it off like that was admirable. Her perspective was true and focused on what was at hand. 

ZEDRU got denied once again for a truck from the mayor who was insisting that the only way we would get a truck is if we brought all our goods to his hall to be distributed in his town. We weren't going to operate under such politics and we had already distributed most of our goods there anyway. Tolosa was still in need so we decided to just start walking towards Tacloban and hope for a way to travel the 12 kilometers through the city and to the dock. 

After about five minutes of walking a truck passed us as we held out our thumbs hitch hiker style. It was a flat-bed with a small group of people in the back. Mum Beth asked the driver where he was

going. He was headed to the airport and offered to take us that far. Beth thankfully agreed and we all hopped in the back. Within moments we were once again provided a way to accomplish our urgent mission.

Enter the introduction. I saw the Tacloban outskirts and the devastation that had extended the last five or six miles. My sisters promise rang through my mind. I asked Chantel for her phone. Sure enough as we entered the city, service was restored by the relief agencies who had been pushing communication restoration. I used her global phone to send a brief text message to my sister with my confession.



Jessica, I'm sorry I had to break your promise. I'm safe, alive, and accomplishing a lot of good. Please forgive me.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: The Mass Graves

After all the bodies had been carried to the road we returned to one of the few remaining houses standing. This home had a full sized SUV sticking out of the side of it vertically. It all seemed pretty normal by this point. To the side of this house was an exposed water line that was gushing a stream of water out of it. The water was clean(ish) so we all jumped into it with sighs of relief. We began whooping and hollering as the cold water stung against our burning skin. We (the men who did the retrieval) took off most of our clothes and showered side by side smiling at the ridiculous sight we were to those passing by. I cannot properly convey the feeling of relief I felt as I washed death from my clothes. The refreshing water, the soap that replaced the smell of rot, and the liberating cheeriness that once again returned to our company's demeanor.

Once we finished showering we returned to the road where more reporters and media personnel were. Olsen and I mostly avoided them. I didn't feel good about them. It is difficult to explain but I felt that these men were dehumanized. Whether this was their own doing or a result of the work they had done over the years, I could not shake the feeling that they were desensitized. When I returned home I considered seriously switching majors to Emergency Services/Disaster Management but thought back on these kinds of experiences. I don't ever want to be insensitive, without feeling, or withdrawn from humanity. I had already experienced a numbness and I shuddered at the thought of it carrying with me upon my return home and throughout my life. Hell isn't pain and torment -- Hell is numbness, stagnancy, and void. It is still somewhat hard for me to reconcile because I feel that the numbness I experienced was a divine buffer intended to protect me so that I could accomplish the work. Later evidence of this will be explained.

The military returned and asked for our help with body pick-up. Without a second thought I geared back up in my gloves and mask and hopped into the bed of the truck with the others. Thoughts could be handled another time. We traveled down the streets of the flattened city. Every few hundred yards we would jump out, lift a few bodies into the truck, and continue on. I remember one of the bodies
being rather light. It was a child. The bed was full so we began to stack them on top of one another. I longed for a more respectful way to accomplish our end but there was none, not at this time. There would be no memorial. The bodies piled up in the back as we traveled through the city. As I write this I am filled with harrowment and even cringe at the memories but once again, in the moment, there was nothing.

We arrived at the municipal hall. The truck drove up over the curb and onto the grass yard. We rode to the back where massive piles of dirt had been tossed up. As we pulled around I hopped out and saw the field of corpses lying in their final resting place. One by one we handed off our fallen brothers and sisters onto the side of the mass graves to have one final opportunity to be identified by survivors. The bags were zipped but that did not stop the bodily fluids from seeping through crevices within. We were covered once again in that air of death and the grave atmosphere returned. We were exhausted, fatigued, dehydrated, hungry, and burdened with the dead.

Some other events happened as we stood by the delivered. I am unsure to what they were. My mind was in a trance, my ears were ringing, and everything seemed hazy. I had to consciously not touch my face with any part of my sleeves or hands despite my eyes begging to be rubbed in reprieve. Truth be told I don't remember whether we walked back to the chapel or whether we got dropped off... I can't remember. I get this feeling that we walked, I vaguely remember some of the crew buying cold mountain dew -- the first shipment of supplies from the mainland. I found it incredulous that at this point you could buy cold soda before you could buy water. Regardless the next thing I can fully remember is showering on the side of the road outside the chapel. We were in the dark using cell phone camera lights to see what we were doing. Social inhibitions hadn't existed for awhile so our side-of-the-street-well got turned into a men's locker room with all its jokes and nudity. I lift my eyebrows and chuckle thinking back on it. I was the first in and out of the bucket shower. Thoughts had returned to my mind as I began decompressing everything that I had experienced and I wanted to return to my journal to log them. The smell of death did not come out easily. It must have been quite the scene when trucks drove by; to see a group of Filipinos and two giant white guys in their underwear showering and scrubbing their clothes. Well, I guess by this point it was pretty normal.

I returned inside to clothe and prepare for bed. We had moved everything inside of the chapel and claimed a few pews behind the church's pulpit to sleep on. Here I finally had the opportunity to catch-up with Chantel to see what she had experienced. Surprisingly to me, she had experienced much the same thing. The emotional numbness, the feeling of being removed, and feeling unaffected by what we had witnessed. We felt better about ourselves after relating. We had wondered if there was something wrong. Shouldn't we have been more disturbed? Olsen entered out conversation and he related the same experience. We all consented that this was God's protection and His way of shielding us.

Our conversation was brief however since Chantel was still recovering from her illness. Olsen and I encouraged her to rest and get to sleep. It wasn't very late in the evening yet, maybe about 7 or 8, but all of us likely could have passed out if given the chance. Just a few moments later I had to rouse Chantel once again. Mum Beth had called for a stress debriefing -- a meeting where the group expresses thoughts, feelings, and experiences. A disclosure to release the potential disturbances within us.

I was asked first to open up. I expressed much of what I have written here and then primarily just gave thanks to the group and to God. I talked about Beth's leadership and the unity that I have felt within our team. I spoke of our instant brotherhood and our divinely arraigned meeting. I gave thanks
for the love and acceptance that the group had given us foreigners. I talked about God's protection of us all and how we will continue to have a great impact as we act for Him. My words were unique in

comparison to my Filipino brothers. They were adversely affected by what they had witnessed. One particular story was told: As we unearthed the bodies of their kin he was paralyzed with pain, sadness, and horror. He said he could barely move and thought to himself that he couldn't continue on. Then he saw Olsen and I laboring with everything we had to deliver the dead. He said that he was amazed and awed at our dedication and unwavering effort. He saw two Americans, far from home, who had sacrificed so much to come to this foreign land, to assist a people not their own, willing to give everything they had, including in that moment, their strength. He said he was inspired and revitalized to such an extent that he was able to continue on with strength and energy.

It was in this moment that I learned another powerful reason why we had been shielded so much. We were truly to be a light unto this people, both for the survivors and for our fellow rescuers. I realized then that this was all of our first time experiencing such horrors.. Brylle put it this way, "It is difficult because we are in the work of saving lives, not of the dead." They continued speaking of the difficulties of experiencing what we had. The conversation did turn to more uplifting things as it progressed. There was a glorifying God for the Gospel which gives us an eternal perspective towards our lost siblings. We knew they would be reunited with their families one day, glorified, and restored. We ended bearing testimony of the truths we knew before closing the meeting in prayer and retiring to our wooden pews for rest and recovery.