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.