The Storm

Far away
Syd and I were in Singapore when the typhoon hit Manila. On Saturday afternoon, Cybele texted "Weather bad, but we're okay." She and Gabby were stocking up on supplies. (I found out when I got back that "supplies" meant the usual "3 million candles and batteries" and, ahem, marshmallows and chips.)

I wasn't that worried; storms are a dime a dozen in the Philippines. I even asked Cybs and a friend for an online price check (Syd and I were eyeing a gadget at Sim Lim Square). At six in the evening said friend texted "It's baha in whole of Manila. No kuryente in our condo. Lampas tao in front of condo."

And then we saw the pictures and status messages and videos on Facebook. And then a friend from the U.S. rang to check up on me. And then we saw the reports on CNN. And then Cybele rang me, crying because an officemate--one of her kids--had not checked in.

When we flew in Monday night everything looked so normal (from the airport to Greenbelt, anyway). Not experiencing the storm...being far away when it happened...I think it added to my...disbelief? Shock? I don't know what the word is. But it just didn't seem real to me--but not in a "I don't believe it" sense, but more of a "I can't believe it" sense. If that makes any sense.

When I got home Cybs told me about volunteering at the Red Cross (and running into Col. Dad there); how her officemate was safe, thank God; and how awful it was to take calls at the Red Cross and have to be calm about it; and how kickass Facebook was (Amen).


Idle hands
Yes, Facebook seriously kicks ass. Through friends' posts I found out about Megatent and started walking to their relief center at around 1pm. But when I got there they told me (and a whole bunch of kids who had just arrived) that they had a surplus of volunteers. Would we consider coming back at 6pm?

I was slightly frustrated, but at least I had just walked over. I don't know about the kids; but as we crossed Meralco Avenue I heard one of them say, "Haay. Mag-Megamall na nga lang tayo." I felt bad.

So I walked to the MRT, thinking I'd try the RFM Relief Center in Pioneer. I figured if they turned me away, worst case scenario I burned calories.

I'm glad I went. And I'm kind of glad I went alone--nobody knew me, so small talk was limited to what had to be done, and a joke or two about our tasks (cutting string with somebody's nail clipper, for one).

We sorted and packed clothes (lugi ang mga lalaki; which shows just how much women love to shop). Packing baby clothes made me teary-eyed; I thought about the mother or father who had donated them, the now-grown child who had worn them, and the child who would receive the baby pink sando and the baby blue pajamas.

We formed bayanihan lines to unload boxes of canned goods (thank you, sun salutations and tripod headstands, for what upper body strength I have). The emcee would call on the macho and makisig men for the sacks of rice (bilib ako sa inyo).

We sorted food donations and packed them into plastic bags. There was an ocean of bags in the gym; in the back of my head I thought, "Yes, we're doing a good thing. We're getting food to people. But are these plastic bags going to wind up littering our cities and clogging our drainage systems?"

By around 7pm the workaday world people started coming in, dressed in polo barong and slacks, and carrying leather handbags. Bilib ako sa inyo.

Syd was one of them; he had even volunteered with the Manila Jaycees on our second night back from Singapore. By around 10pm there were so many volunteers that a lot of them were just standing there--looking so eager to help, even asking what they could do. I felt bad and great about that--that people were so game.

Walang tatalo sa Pinoy. I'm sorry, but we rock. Reading about heroism and random acts of kindness, humor and compassion in the face of loss and tragedy...and seeing all those young volunteers...I just came from one of the cleanest and most orderly countries on the planet, but I'm sorry, I'd still rather call this crazy country of ours home.