Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: The City's Heart

While walking through the flattened city I received a resurging feeling of surreality. It just didn’t look real. How could it be? There was so little left standing. Random crowds of people were standing by or digging through the wreckage. Occasional scooters or trikes would pass by. Rare helicopters would fly overhead but still no wind, no ambiance, just our footsteps and the lingering growl of passing engines. The best way to describe it is haunting. A ghostly landscape filled with relics of what once used to be. Trees frozen by the trauma, tombs of wood and cement, and mountainous debris was all that was discernible as we walked through the blazing sun.

I took care to cover all of my body from the sun. When in Rome do as the Romans do. Most Philippinos cover their arms, neck, and legs from the sun despite the high temperatures. I believe it lowers the risk of heat stroke, fatigue, or even just to keep your body temperature down. It’s not a science I’ve studied but hey, if a team of local EMTs are doing it then I figure it couldn’t hurt. I tried to convince Chantel to follow suit but she was pretty opposed to the idea. It didn’t help that Olsen was also protesting wearing long sleeves. Chantel reluctantly agreed to wear an orange fisherman’s hat and blue bandana with the persistence of some of the team and myself at no loss of style points. 

We were headed to the city center to hopefully meet with the mayor or other high ranking official to petition a truck. Unbeknownst to me, or whether I just failed to process the idea amidst the overwhelming absorption of events happening around me, ZEDRU was still banking on their relief goods arriving from Manila; the goods that would have otherwise delayed them. They were coordinating with the Cebu-team who were planning on taking the goods directly from Manila to Tacloban via boat. I was under the assumption we were searching for a truck for the sole use of distributing our relief goods. It didn’t end up mattering. The city’s mayor was unwilling to provide us with transportation insisting that the only way he would lend us one his trucks was if we would give his town the entirety of our supplies – which just was not going to happen. I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Once we had traveled a kilometer or two into the inner parts of the city we began to observe some intriguing things. Firstly we realized that the majority of people had migrated to the city’s center for refuge, supplies, medicine and food. We saw a lot of commerce taking place from selling incredibly high priced soda and vegetables to fifty peso haircuts. The barber and client were smiling as we walked by. It was bizarre but inspiring. The majority of others we walked passed seemed to be in good spirits and were happy to see us. 

I remember wandering past a police post set up with some basic building supplies and noticed a boat not twenty yards from it. We were quite a ways from the coast. 

I chuckled as I saw where some of the nicer vehicles ended up. One was hanging half-way into someone’s balcony. As we walked by one of the Philippinos said “Magaling siya mag-park” which means “He’s good at parking.” We started laughing as we continued to see random vehicles precariously placed by the storm. One car was jammed sideways between a tree with its rear wheels in the air. On a separate day Walter tried opening one of the doors with a guilty smile and started laughing when he realized it was locked. One of ZEDRU started laughing hard while pointing over at a half standing house. The roof and second story had been completely torn off leaving the majority of the rest of the house exposed. The windows were blown out and I’m pretty sure some of the walls were compromised pretty badly. Despite the poor condition of this house a man was using a key to lock the front door which would have stopped no one. We all started laughing as we continued on.  

Whoa! No no no… we can’t be laughing like this! How can we be making light of this situation?! How insensitive! Despite my mind protesting my enjoyment of the humor I couldn’t help but start laughing out loud at the idea that some guy set up a chair on the side of the road and wrote on a piece of wood that he was offering to cut hair for fifty pesos (About $1). Who in their right mind is worried about their hair being an appropriate length in the midst of all this? As I smiled Willie, one of the EMTs, pointed out the front of a used-to-be hardware shop offering wares to fix up any house. We all couldn’t help but laugh at the thick irony of it all. ZEDRU just kept cracking jokes about things we passed by.

 

A dead dog on the side of the road stiff with rigor mortis received the comment of being good to cook if we got too hungry. I remember smiling wryly and looking back at Olsen and Chantel to see their reactions and they were busting up as much as I was. I think half of it had to do with the shock value of it all. 

That’s just the way of the Philippino. You laugh to make grave or serious situations light. I remember on my mission I was in the hospital with my Tongan companion Lotima who had a fever of 102. Four other Elders were with us. I was worried sick about Lotima thinking that he was going to have to be transferred to Manila for treatment. The doctor came in and began asking Lotima questions which I mainly answered because he was pretty delusional. The doctor got frustrated with me and stepping towards Lotima and leaning over asked, “Sir, do you have any allergies?” Lotima who was battling consciousness  opened his eyes sat up and said with all seriousness, “Yea! All on my face!” The five of us started laughing so hard as the doctor frowned and walked out. For the next thirty or so minutes everyone joked about Lotima, the doctor, and just everything. I remember thinking then too that this was kind of weird but hey, it felt better to smile than to worry. Later on in our journey we were all very sober and reverent in moments that needed to be met with respect and solemnity. That is one lesson and talent I picked up from The Philippines -- the ability to discern when it is time to laugh and when it is time to be serious. It has been a positive and valuable lesson. 

We finally arrived at the City Municipal which was one of few remaining free-standing structures. The roof had been completely blown off leaving only a steel frame. Men were on the roof tying down tarps to protect the interior from likely rain showers that were to pass through. Chantel took out her global phone to see if she had service. There was still no reception. Chantel still needed to change her flight home seeing as her plane was to depart within the next couple days. If she didn’t make the change it would end up costing her an entire new ticket which would have been a costly expense. As we approached a global team called Rescue-Net was setting up inside the Municipal. Outside was a desk where they had a satellite phone. Chantel was uncertain about asking to use it so I approached the desk and signed a paper behind a few other names. We watched some of the survivors make hurried phone calls to relatives in other places. Many of them were in tears as the phone operator rather abrasively took the phone from them explaining that four minutes was too long of a call and that it was very expensive. Chantel sat down and the man asked for the number. She called the same friend who she had to apologetically inform about being unable to attend the wedding. Leslie didn’t answer the phone so Chantel left a splurged message in as hurried language as possible about all the information she may need to change her flight for her. With fingers crossed we moved on hoping that Leslie would be able to make the change. Chantel told me that she had done what she could and that she wasn’t going to worry about it. 

We met up with Mom Beth who was conversing with the City Mayor about getting a vehicle which, as mentioned before, was denied us. The other members of ZEDRU were wandering about helping Rescue-net get established. They were setting up a medical base and storage room in some of the back rooms where they were performing treatments to injured survivors. Olsen was speaking with an American who requested our assistance in what we came to know as “retrieval” – the finding, bagging, and burying of the dead. Upon later collaboration we all agreed to assist Rescue Net in their efforts. The Mayor informed us of another location where many survivors had taken refuge. A massive cement structure that was used as a small stadium for gym and basketball.  

We thanked him for the direction and stepped back out into the streets. As we walked through the city I wondered in awe at what it must have been like to be hiding in one of these demolished homes as the great monster roared overhead. I had to remind myself that it was likely that most of these homes were completely underwater at the climax of the event. How did anyone survive? What must it have been like to see the world ending in the torrents? One survivor told us of when he was dashing to his home as the rain sent walls of water between him and his destination. He said as he crawled into the driveway he looked across the street which was only maybe fifteen feet wide and saw nothing but the gray. His neighbor across the way was indiscernible though the wall of water sent from the clouds above. As the water level rose in his home he and some of his family evacuated moving back in towards the center of the city. Something prompted him to enter a random house that was two stories tall. He and those with him made their way through the abandoned home to the top floor when the storm surge hit. He said it rose up even into the second story as they huddled in the corner helpless. He said if he had stayed at his home he would have died. They all would have.  

I covered my eyes from the sun as I looked up towards a warehouse type building that had been painted by some of the survivors. “Help,” it said. The lightness of my heart was weighed down as I felt out of proximity the pain, fear, and mourning of this devastated city. What must it have been like to emerge from the wreckage to see the face of the world completely changed? All that was known was gone. The struggle and scavenging for food, water, and shelter. The storm had been endured but when would help arrive? Would it ever arrive? I envisioned the fear of abandonment of someone injured unable to protect and fend for one’s self. What about the children lost to their parents? Or the orphans seeking vainly for their guardians?  How incomprehensible. 

I was pulled back into the moment when I passed the gate to the gymnasium. I paused for a few seconds before entering.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: The Medical Mission

A big group of people congregated in the main entrance hallway of our little chapel. More people (especially children) entered to see what all the commotion and excitement was about. ZEDRU had blocked off the chapel with a desk. They protected a pharmacy where people who were diagnosed would register to receive a particular medicine for their ailment. Just in front of that area sat Olsen and Chantel who were recording people’s names, heart rate, and blood pressure. Across the hall was the rest of the EMT team preparing an area to treat any injuries that the survivors had. I walked to the back room where Walter was organizing our personal gear, food, and water. Our relief goods laid there stacked and ready to be distributed. I helped organize our gear for a moment then returned to the main hallway to try contain the hundred children trying to watch the EMTs. We set up some benches for them to sit in to wait their turn but that didn’t do much. We resulted to magic tricks.  

Once the initial wave of people began to die down I stepped outside to see who else needed treatment. I walked around the grounds of the church with the children finding the stubborn teenagers who were trying to just tough it out. Their wounds had a pale swelling to them where the bleeding had stopped. They looked infected and decaying. Even the small half-inch slices looked like healing was refusing to take place. I… eh… “encouraged” these individuals strongly to go to the chapel to have their injuries checked out. The most resilient ones were forced by my small band of children followers. 

  

 One of these stubborn adolescents consented by handing me the infant in his arms and began subtly limping towards the main hall. I followed with the infant in my arms. I was happy to see a baby this young had survived the storm and looked strong, healthy, and uninjured. What a miracle that was. I would say that probably half to two thirds of the survivors we interacted with had some sort of injury that needed some sort of attention -- at the very least disinfecting.  It had been over a week since the storm and even if they had miraculously avoided injury during the typhoon the danger of slipping on debris or stepping on sharp glass or metal as they tried to recover was just as hazardous. I quickly realized that starvation and thirst was not as prevalent a danger as infection and disease was. These humble people likely did not understand how great a risk it was not to treat their seemingly minor injuries. It was a good thing that I was rather bold and forward with them or otherwise they likely would have gotten very sick, lose limbs, or even died. 

Once again I was reminded the importance of how we and ZEDRU were divinely meant to work together in this effort. With our combined resources we were able to get to this neglected town sooner and have a swifter impact on healing and feeding the survivors. To emphasize the dire situation of this isolated town was the appearance of a military helicopter arriving close to our chapel in an open space. This aircraft landed down and a swarm of Philippinos ran over. The soldiers unloaded a big box full of goods and then as swiftly as they landed they took off. ZEDRU tried to organize a proper distribution but this was fruitless. The strongest forced the goods into their possession and carried them away while the injured or weak could only watch. ZEDRU was cautious due to the story circulating that during one of the last drops a man was stabbed in the back as a quarrel broke out over the delivered goods. We initially watched in disappointment as the goods were carried off but we did see that once they were a safe distance away the men opened the goods and began handing them out to people who were standing by. 

I took the opportunity to step outside the chapel grounds to find more survivors who needed treatment and food. I encouraged those living in the rubble to follow me back to the chapel and to bring anyone they knew who had injuries. Some gladly came with while others set out to inform their friends and family that help had arrived.  

Once everyone within and around the chapel were treated we began to shift everything in the room to create another line of benches and desks. ZEDRU had set up their banner against one of the blown out windows. Olsen and I helped bring out our relief goods and stacked them in the hallway at the end of the line. Survivors began walking in one by one to sign their name and receive a package of well needed food and water. I will be honest, the presentation seemed staged and I didn't like the way it felt. It felt almost political. One person would come, one of us would hand them a package, and then a picture would be taken by the designated photographer. In case you were wondering why or how we got so many pictures it was because one of the team was always tasked with recording our daily events. 

I appreciate this and respect that a small team like ZEDRU needs to perform acts of publicity so that they can get further funding and support to continue helping. However I still didn't like it -- it felt unnatural, so Olsen (who felt similarly) and I slid uncomfortably into the doorway where the sacks were trying to remove ourselves. Above all else I didn't want the people we were helping feeling like we were only helping to get money, and reflecting back I am sure they didn't. I bet they were just stoked to get some food. I suppose my inexperience to relief groups and my semi-self-righteous view of anonymous-selfless service is the best service caused me this discomfort.  

Also an interesting observation that we noticed was the contrasts in gratitude expressed. There were only a few who you could see in their eyes and feel in their words were truly grateful for the help being offered them. Many of the survivors gave off a feeling of entitlement, as if they were to say "It's about time you got here! What took you so long?" Which is completely understandable and I'm sure I would feel similar frustrations if it had been over a week before anyone came -- especially if I was an LDS church member and the humanitarian relief effort had yet to arrive. It was interesting nonetheless to  see the differences in one of the ten returning to give thanks. 

Once we handed out about half of our supply and the survivors were fed we finally were able to settle down and grab a bite to eat.  

…  

oh yea, we need to eat. 

I wasn't hungry, at least I didn't think I was. I was so focused and engaged in our tasks that only when the idea of eating was brought up did my mind think, "Oh, that's probably a good idea." We hadn't eaten a meal since before we had left to Leyte. So we set up our pots and began cooking the rice. We ate sardines, noodles (ramen status), and rice. Every day, one meal in the morning, and maybe a small bit at night once the work was done -- Rice, Sardines, and Noodles -- the adventurers provision.  

Once we were fed our anxiety to go out and help some more grew even more. We gathered up our equipment, returned our relief goods to the storage room, and headed out to find the city center.

Typhoon Haiyan Relief Effort: The Unrecognizable City

I was sitting on top of a hundred bags in the bed of a truck. There were four vehicles bottlenecked into two lanes with taxis in front blocking everyone trying to flip around using the 30-point turn. Everyone was fighting to get to the port and onto one of the few boats leaving to Leyte. It was early, around 3 am if I remember right. The energy circulating around the throng mobbing the port caused an excitement and urgency that held me wide awake. Four of the ZEDRU team jumped off and walked ahead. They began directing traffic acting with an authority self-assigned. Even the guarding soldiers began following their direction. I have talked to a few people about what I call uniform theory. The idea that one who is wearing something official and acts as such is presumed by all to hold the proper authority to control situations. If I went to a theme park wearing a construction vest and a hat that I bought at a thrift store that had security embroidered on it I guarantee the vast majority of people would listen to anything I told them. So it was there at the port. ZEDRU split the mass of cars and people with an urgency that people respected. As we passed through the gate I saw a massive line with hundreds of people trying to get tickets. Mom Beth had pulled some strings with the Philippines Coast Guard the night before and got all of our tickets. They gave us a considerable discount on tickets, bunk beds in the barge that were air conditioned, and included all our luggage and relief goods for free which would have been a considerable expense.


I remember as we rode up to the boat I felt that reinforced idea that God was making all of this happen so perfectly that it once again instilled within me a heavy dose of unshakable confidence. I felt we were being divinely ushered from point to point. He wanted it done and He was going to get it done. I knew as we were acting for Him we would not be stopped. With this idea I was vitalized and once we arrived we began to lift all of our equipment and relief goods into the boat. As I came out a commotion of photos and group consensus was being had. I saw Chantel arrive with Mom Beth and noticed she seemed very burdened and bothered. I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I chuckled at her because despite her discomfort she was dragged into these group photos to throw on a cordial chalk smile.


Chantel was struggling with an incredibly difficult decision. Her flight back home to America was two days away. If Chantel got onto that boat she would have to turn around the self-same day and fly back to Manila or take a tremendous risk of trying to find a plane from Tacloban. It was very uncertain whether we could even get her back to Cebu considering the chaotic state the ports were in. We didn’t know what state internal transportation was in either. Walter or I would have to escort her back through Cebu to get to the airport which would kill a day and a half of work effort for one of us (if we could even travel back and forth that frequently). If Walter were to go with Chantel, he would likely not have returned because he had work just a few days after that. This was the same area that Walter served his mission and I felt that he had to go and that this was divinely willed for him. I would be the one then to take her back to the mainland and then find some way back to Leyte.

(Still looks great despite everything)

Chantel was well aware of this terribly inconvenient circumstance and before you begin to furrow your brow, the purpose of her dilemma was one of commendable loyalty and love. Her closest friend Leslie was getting married and had asked Chantel to be her Maid of Honor. They had gone through so much the past few years and grown close as family. Chantel had been asked to MC and was very involved in the planning. None of this can really conceptualize the depth of the connection that the two of them have. Regardless I know Chantel and the fact that she was willing to make such a great sacrifice to come to the Philippines and then forfeit the opportunity to complete the mission she came to do for an individual she loved attests to the depth of loyalty and commitment that she has.

Her choice was one of great sacrifice either way. It was a noble act in both respects. She would be forfeiting something that she would never have the opportunity to experience again. I’m sure a torrent of thoughts and feelings were going through her mind. I wonder if choosing between two greats is more difficult than choosing the better of two evils. It sure seemed like it. We were ushered onto the boat where we all found our places in our bunks. She was under an urgent pressure to make a decision. I had told her that we should stay in Cebu if she was planning on going to her friend’s wedding which meant we would have to disembark before launch which I guessed was around thirty minutes.

I walked over to Olsen as she sat in her bunk with tears in her eyes. Olsen suggested that we offer her a blessing. I returned and shared the idea to which she agreed. When we placed our hands on her head I meditated for just a moment ensuring that my opinions and bias would not hinder the pure words of God that she needed to hear to make her decision. So there she was, sitting on a box in the middle of a room covered in bunk beds (full of strangers and new found friends) asking God for some guidance. As mentioned previously the sacredness of blessings are not to be specified but the overall feeling was that God was trusting her to make the decision and that He would bless her because of her great sacrifices. Afterwards we walked outside and searched the entire boat for a solitary place. We found a small hallway on the edge of the boat between the bathroom and the general seating. Chantel talked out everything that was going through her mind. Later she told me that she had already made up her mind but struggled immensely to come to terms with it and act on it by contacting Leslie.

The boat horn blew loudly and the ship began to move. Chantel half gasped half yelled with frustration and anxiety with everything that was happening. She actually started laughing as she realized the insanity of it all. We were on a boat headed towards a disaster zone on an island with thousands needing assistance 9,000 miles away from home with nothing but a duffle bag and backpack full of clothes and medicine trying to decide whether she should go to a wedding in a few days. The boat pulled began to pull away from the dock and she said, “Mace I am staying.” She called Leslie.
 
I was very excited that she had decided to stay and knew deep down that she was meant to go. I commended her for making such a difficult decision and making that great of a sacrifice on top of everything that she already had in order to serve these people. Her impact on our little band was immeasurable as you will see and I had a sense of that as we sailed out to Ilongos. We went back into our bunk beds which were on the ground just a few feet from one another. In very Mace and Chantel style we started laughing and doing all sorts of ridiculous jokes and antics getting the other to laugh so hard it hurt. Olsen likely just rolled over and went to bed. We fell asleep and awoke what felt like only seconds later to ZEDRU waking everyone to prepare to disembark. Our eyes were forward now understanding that this was it.

It was around four am I believe when we arrived in the port so it was still very dark outside. We grabbed all of our gear and carried it out of the boat next to a bus. We filed into the back and before I could do anything else bags were being tossed on top of me. Walter, Olsen, and I were buried in bags. We were so immersed in gear that all that could be seen were our arms poking out. We were able to readjust once all the passengers got on. It was insane the amount of people that were crammed inside. All the seats were taken and then the entire walking aisle was packed with people sitting on top of one another. TeeJay and a few others actually sat on the head rests of seats with people already in them. Our relief goods were the last items in, which blocked the exit. Now we only had to endure through a four hour ride to Tanauan.

As light began to peek over the jungle mountains we began to see the effects of the storm. I was surprised to see that the damage was fairly minimal this far south. I evaluated the damage to these small concrete and bamboo houses to be hardly noticeable. As we progressed further north however, I began to observe a catastrophic gradient. The light damage augmented to complete and utter decimation the closer and closer we got to our destination. When we drove through Tolosa, the last town before Tanauan, Walter was shocked. He said he did not realize where we were till we had already almost passed through the whole city. He could not recognize the town despite it being the last area that he had served in.

I felt like we were driving through a movie set. All of this… it couldn’t be real. The world doesn’t look like this… It was so difficult to comprehend, impossible even. I can barely compare it to when an infant is introduced into the world for the first time. Their eyes scan wildly from place to place with so much stimuli it is impossible to process it all. It takes them months or even years of exposure before they can embrace and understand conceptually what they see. None of us could conceptualize what we were seeing. Houses were indiscernible. What once were likely tall strong standing structures were now nothing but concrete obelisks standing erect amongst a field of shredded trees and crumpled metal. It looked as if an atomic bomb had gone off. It was apocalyptic. Some palm trees stayed standing but cast an eerie shadow over the landscape. Their palm leaves were frozen sideways as if a torrential wind was blowing them but the wind was as calm as the death surrounding. It was haunting. No birds, no dogs, no ambiance.

We passed dozens of hungry and shelterless men, women, and children wandering on the street looking hopefully towards us as if we had come to bring them relief. I wish we could have. I wish we could have extended our bus thirty more feet and invited them all on board. I wish I could have returned to them and satisfied their longing for assistance. I felt a deep sorrow and loneliness for them. Their neglect was painful to realize.

The bus finally slowed down as we arrived at our destination. It was the LDS church. We weren’t able to see it until we were right in front of it due to the mountainous piles of rubble surrounding the edifice. We were forced to exit through the windows of the bus due to the throng of people occupying every bit of space. As we climbed down we hurriedly (half-running) carried all of our gear into the chapel. We were likely a bit anxious about the stories of violence over relief goods being dropped off so we made sure to make our insurgence into the city swift and low-key. The grounds of the chapel were covered with lean-tos and makeshift shelters housing dozens of families who had no place to go. The church was one of few free standing structures remaining in the city and it did not boast this fact. The roof had extensive damage. When it rained it leaked in the main hall almost as bad as if no roof existed. The windows had mostly been blown out and debris covered the cultural hall. The sacrament area and many of the rooms had been cleaned and maintained for the management of what little supplies the church had in preparation of the storm. We occupied some of these rooms with our goods and equipment.

While ZEDRU unpacked I did a little exploring to survey and attempt to further take in what was around me. When I walked to the back of the chapel the debris was stacked up to the roof which the storm surge had surely carried there. Later, members told us stories of the massive tsunami-like storm surge that raised fifteen feet high flooding and destroying the entire city. Miracles of the church being protected were told. They said it was like Moses and the Red Sea. The wave had split on both sides and crashed against the church only about three feet high. What an incredible story. I glanced sideways and saw what looked like massive silos which had been toppled and crushed like an aluminum can. This was maybe two hundred yards away. I believe what they witnessed.

As I wandered on and interacted with other survivors I was filled with light, vitality, and energy. I remember thinking, “Is this how I should feel amidst all of this?” but as I interacted with the survivors I knew that my influence was having an affect on them. I was humbled at this realization and gave thanks to God for being able to help even if it was just by offering a warm smile and some pleasantries. I extended my reassurances to those I came across that we were there to help and that they would be provided for.

I returned to the front of the chapel where some children were playing basketball with Chantel. I joined in and one young kid, maybe nine or ten years old, challenged me to play one on one. I played with them and did all sorts of silly and ridiculous dribbling moves and shots and a small crowd formed to watch the antics. I was happy to be there. I looked up to see ZEDRU setting up their medical gear. I walked indoors to see how I could help.

Our mission in Leyte had begun.