Femme Power

Hours passed by until dusk started to set in. Flood water continued to rise around us in strong currents. It felt like we were in the middle of the sea. Roofs of houses could hardly be seen. Mighty trees along the riverbanks peeked from the water like helpless grasses submerged. It was all surreal.

How could this community, which has never been flooded for years, suddenly become a waterworld? A few hours earlier, around 12:15 noontime, my boss texted me that the office, which was located in a basement, has submerged. I thought he was exaggerating, I even laughed. “Submerged? What a word. Here in IVC Marikina? No way,” I said to myself. But he wasn’t exaggerating. Only, I found it out too late. The water has risen up to the second floor of the house when me and my hubby were alerted by a well-meaning neighbor who has evacuated to the rooftop.

One of the first things that came to my mind was to unplug all electronics and turn off the main switch. Then I double-checked if the LPG tank was tightly closed while my hubby secured some appliances upstairs. We couldn’t afford to take more trouble like burning or blowing up the house to add to the surging typhoon and flood. But I have to admit that my mind went blank for a few seconds before that. Who wouldn’t? It was the first time we got flooded in our area, and not just an ordinary flood. I call it a great deluge.

Where did all that 15-20 feet of water come from? Many of our neighbors’ roofs could not be seen anymore. How could a typhoon like Ondoy devastate a beautiful, clean city like ours in just a few hours?

Billions of properties were washed out in one single day. The precious things that people acquired from years of work helplessly floated around. Vehicles of all sizes were not anymore visible on the streets that have turned into a vast river. Our cellphones didn’t help much due to poor signal and low battery. It seemed like no material things we possessed could help save our lives that day.

For a moment there, I thought it was the end of this part of the world. And suddenly I had a silly compassion for that single roach we saw clinging for its dear life. The neighbors’ dogs were barking endlessly at the roof of their masters’ houses. But the cats were gone. I’m afraid most of them didn’t make it to higher grounds and structures before the water rose up.

By dusk, our neighbors who sought refuge at the top of their roofs were gone too. They’ve waddled their way to a nearby school by clinging on to the Meralco wires, crossing from roof to roof, and climbing the seemingly impossible-to-climb firewalls. The nuns running the school accommodated hundreds of evacuees but they too, got flooded up to the second level of the school building. Families got separated on their desperate attempts to reach the upper floor of the school. As darkness enveloped the neighborhood, those who sought refuge in a classroom adjacent to our apartment said they saw us on the rooftop, flashing SOS with our flashlight. They flashed their light back on us too. Then some of the nearby 2-story houses began flashing SOS in response. It was then that I became aware that we weren’t the only living souls left un-rescued in our area. I don’t know how I should feel about it but somehow it gave me a sense of relief to learn that we were not alone and perhaps, it wasn’t doomsday for all of us yet. When somebody from the school building shouted help, my daughter shouted back, “I can’t help, I’m just a kid!”

The group of young software engineers who were trapped with us upstairs were busy calculating the rise of water level per minute. It was around 10 pm when they told me the rain has weakened and that the flood water wasn’t rising anymore. They calculated that the water rose by 1-2 inches per minute earlier but with the rain almost gone, the flood was starting to subside (But I really think the water rose faster than that!).

The flood slowly receded before midnight. I heard loud gurgling sounds – sounds of water being sucked by the ground. Those loud gurgling sounds assured me that we could stop worrying about the flood. Those loud gurgling sounds lulled me to sleep. At that moment, I thought those sounds were the most beautiful and soothing sounds I ever heard in my whole life.

Around 5:30 am, the sun started to peek through the windows. I got up and slowly descended to the second floor where our unit was. Lo and behold, things were in complete disarray. Mud covered the walls and floors. I couldn’t distinguish valuables from trash. I started picking up things only to find out they were the last things I’d ever want to lay my hands on. The once germ-paranoid me braved the dirt and stink to clean up what’s left of our supposedly Lysol-protected dwelling. Just as I finished cleaning the bathroom, the water supply went pffft. Perfect.

But I said to myself, I’m happy to be alive, me and my family. Too happy to complain about the cleaning, the lost and damaged belongings, the soaked clothes and furniture, the battered fridge, and even the loss of power and water supply. God has given us another chance to live. I’m just too happy to complain.

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