Yolanda Recalled

Ten years ago....

I woke up with an unexplainable sense of anxiety. My grandfather was terribly ill. Just two nights before that, he was discharged from the hospital after his health condition worsened following the detection of his cancer in August of 2013. He went home on the night of my grandmother's 84th birthday. Nothing was worth celebrating that day. But Lola, herself frail, was happy to see her husband come home after a week’s stint in the hospital. 

We were all worried over my grandfather's condition. He would no longer walk without assistance. In a month's time, he could not even stand, and he lost his appetite. That day, not even the patotin that we asked Daging, our part-time helper, to cook would invite him to eat more. He had no energy to speak. He was irritable and just wanted to stay in bed. It was even difficult for him to get up and go to the toilet. I was not used to it. Not yet. The Lolo I was used to was energetic, one who would refuse to bow to physical challenges. Until a few days before he was hospitalized, he was still able to go to the market to buy what he wanted to eat. I find it totally strange. 

On Nov. 6 of 2013, it had all changed. Little did I know that his deterioration would be quick and uneasy. For him and for all of us. On November 7, the weather bureau reported that a strong typhoon would hit Capiz, Roxas, and the coastal areas in particular. Its path would pass by Samar, Leyte, Cebu, and our area. At first, I was like Dedma. It's just another storm. I've seen innumerable storms cross Roxas before. 

We’ve had Frank in 2008. They said the upcoming storm was Undang-like. I've always heard my grandmother tell me about how terrifying Undang was. 

"Do you see that house?" She would point out the house next to our neighbor's. 

"That's Amparing's house. Did you know that Undang plucked its entire roof?" 

Now, when reports began to circulate that it would be the strongest in history—stronger than Frank—I felt cold sweat begin to bead on my forehead as I realized that we’re in for more than just any other typhoon. It’s the strongest typhoon in the history of the Philippines. I heaved a sigh of fear. Ours is an old house that hasn't seen any major repairs for so long. 

I lived with two frail seniors. And my parents’ own house was also a wreck. It barely survived Frank in 2008, I knew it would no longer make it that time. The eve of Yolanda's arrival was the literal calm before the storm. There was an eerie silence in the neighborhood. It was a still, dark day. Work and class were suspended. Everyone was told to go home and prepare. I rushed to the grocery store and to the market to shop for supplies. Canned goods. Candle. Eggs. Anything that I could think of would last for days and sustain us in case the worst happened. I also had our water supply refilled. 

That night, rain started pouring, but it wasn't that strong. I told my parents to move in from their house to my grandparents’ in the morning, before the typhoon hits our area. In the morning, the wind started to blow stronger. We let our helper and her family into the house. My father, sister, and her two-year-old also arrived.

 "Where's mother?" I was frantic because the wind was already howling and the torrent got stronger. What if a strong wind suddenly hits our neighborhood and she gets trapped? She was busy packing her stuff. Oh, for the love of God. She wouldn't part with her stuff that easily! 

Finally, she arrived. When Yolanda made her destructive sweep, I was inside our midcentury house. With me were Lolo and Lola, my parents, my sister and her infant son, and our helper's family. I trembled. Now that Yolanda was hitting us relentlessly, the wind she carried roared. We were all helpless, but I managed to say the rosary as Yolanda’s gust entered through the creaking glass jalousie. The flame of the candles on the altar danced in the wind's direction. I took a deeper breath whenever the wind grew stronger and blew harder, like it was trying to lift our roof. It also lasted for seconds, but it felt like hours already. And then again, it blew harder. An hour or less, but it was like forever. As heaven poured stronger rain, our roof showed signs of nearly breaking down. Water gushed from the different corners of the roof. 

I checked on my grandparents room; luckily, it was the sturdiest part of the house. Lolo was deep in his sleep, but Lola was awake, sitting on her bed and also praying the rosary. It went on like that for a few more minutes. Time, though, seemed to have stretched. Around noontime, the tempest had passed and probably went on to wreak havoc in other towns. But for us, we were left wretched creatures as we were. A certain portion of the roof was damaged, and trees around us were felled. But, thank God, there was no major damage in the main house. 

My parents’ house survived no more. It was built of coconut lumber and designed in the bungalow style. They became a homeless couple and were left with no choice but to move in with my Lolo and Lola. For days, we had limited water supply; drinking water was scarce because purifying stations did not operate. For a month, we did not have electricity. 

I would also remember Yolanda as the start of a terrible year and a-half. In a month's time, my grandfather would be reduced to a vegetative state. In the middle of January 2014, he would die. His biggest consolation was that he died peacefully and was surrounded by his family. I can tell the story of how he died, but that's for another story. Six months later, my grandmother followed. She died of a broken heart, I would also tell people, two days after their 62nd wedding anniversary. 

Before she breathed her last, she told Daging, her loyal attendant who was beside her when she died, "Paano na si Toto?" She left on a gloomy day. I was in Iloilo, attempting to chase a dream in the DFA. Fate would step in, as always. A different dream would come true.

Now what about you? What memories do you have of Typhoon Yolanda? By Christian George Acevedo, November 8, 2023