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.