The year 2024 was impossibly packed. I suppose every year feels that way, but 2024 particularly so. And November was the worst.
First was Typhoon Kristine. Then the worst panic attack in recent memory. There were two conferences, and finally another emergency. Let’s not forget all the family and social activities in between.
October was already quite rainy, and early November hit us with Typhoon Kristine. Throughout the month, amid other work trips, I was monitoring the weather. A total of six storms hit the Philippines, and Supertyphoon Pepito (international name Man-yi) was the sixth–one of the most devastating.
As always, assessment teams went early. I was still in Iloilo, attending a toxicology conference (and monitoring a different emergency!) when my colleagues were visiting different disaster-hit areas: Catanduanes and Camarines Sur, Isabela and Cagayan, Nueva Vizcaya and Aurora Province.
Finally it was decided that Aurora Province was the one that needed our intervention, and it was in Baler that I would meet the emergency team.
A van picked me up from the house at 4am, for a land trip that would take over 8 hours. I was asleep through at least half of it, and during the other half I entertained myself by listening to the radio drama that the driver was listening to, or the chatter of the two women behind me. I tried to sleep but the sun was bright and hot, and I was too invested in the stories around me to tune them out!
Upon arrival in Baler, I managed to join the team for a meeting with the local health officials before the day ended, and we prepped for a mobile clinic in the town of Dipaculao.
Typically, during an emergency response, early mornings are the norm. Vans and trucks have to be loaded up with supplies. The drivers need to make sure the vehicles are in good working condition. And we need time to get to the mobile clinic venue, which is usually not near.
In the case of Aurora Province and Typhoon Pepito, not only were the affected towns a good distance away, but many of the roads were also still full of debris from landslides. Many times we had to drive slowly.
On these drives I’d do my best to stay awake and chat with the driver. In this case, it was just me and Kuya Ronel in the van. But I eventually told him I would probably just give up and pass out eventually, at which he laughed and said, go ahead! Still I’d wake up to some gorgeous views, a timely reminder that no wind or rain can detract from the natural beauty of these islands.
Two days I spent with the team, going to mobile clinics in Dinadiawan. It was a different kind of devastation from Camarines Sur, where floods had submerged entire communities, and everything was still covered in mud. Here in Aurora, the wind whipped through the province, ripping rooftops off, carrying debris far away, tearing down walls and doors. I saw planks of wood scattered all over the beach, and sheets of metal wrapped around trees.
As always, I wandered around the community, taking pictures and seeing the kind of damage that the supertyphoon had left behind. I met two women, sisters, who wept as they told me about the worst of the storm. With my colleague Darron, I saw the elementary school with its shiny new covered court and colorful buildings in shambles. We saw a church with its doors and metal bars lying in a heap nearby.
And the injuries. I can only sigh now as I recall the stories they told us. (Read it here.)
After two days of interviews and photos, I had to hurry back home for my mom’s and my son’s birthdays. It was another 8-hour trip, and because we were traveling at night, I slept through most of it. When I got home, I only took time for my mom’s birthday lunch before I was back at work, writing and putting together photos.
I hate to say that I’m getting used to these emergency responses. It’s still difficult to hear about lives lost, people injured, homes damaged. It’s still painful to take the pictures and write the stories. Worse still is the guilt, that I get to go home and get on with my life, after spending a few days in a devastated town like Dinadiawan. It’s experiences and emotions like these that my psych reminds me to prepare for, every time I go to an emergency.
I remind myself that I have a job to do, and I cannot do it if I don’t take care of myself. But it’s also incredibly helpful to have colleagues who watch out for me and make sure I’m safe, fed, and comfortable.
Because I live in a country that’s terribly vulnerable to climate change and extreme weather events, I have no doubt I will go off on another emergency response sooner than I’d like. I can only hope to do justice to the stories people share with me, and that as an organization we can continue helping those in greatest need.
But also, if we could have fewer storms in a single month, I would be eternally grateful.
Leave a Reply