Femme Power

Posts Tagged ‘Typhoon Ondoy’

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.

From our roof deck, we could see our neighbors' two-story houses submerged in flood water.

It was like a scene from the movie “The Day After Tomorrow” -  water rising fast, submerging houses and business establishments; devastating even classrooms and churches.   Nothing was spared in the low-lying areas of the Eastern part of Metro Manila.   The worst hit by typhoon Ondoy were Cainta, Pasig, and our very own city of Marikina. Rich and poor communities alike went under water for what seemed like eternity on that day.   In our case, the water rose up to the second floor of our apartment and stayed there for about 10 hours.  Ten hours.  That was how long we were trapped at the rooftop, waiting for rescuers to pass by and see us.   That was how long we kept watch if the water would reach the third floor or worse, the roof deck.  For those long hours, we prayed for the rain to stop.  And thank God, it died down to drizzles later in the deep of the night.

Early afternoon that day, September 26, I heard someone knocking on the door.   It was a distressed neighbor saying “Ate, andito na po ang tubig sa may hagdanan!” (The water has risen up to the stairs.)  It took me a while to understand what kind of water she was talking about (I thought a gallon of distilled water is being delivered).  To my horror, I saw murky flood water rising up to the top of the stairs close to our door!  For a second there, I was hysterical.  All I could say was “Oh my God! Oh my God!”  My mind went blank.  So did the power supply.  Flood water was creeping up to my feet, electricity went off, I couldn’t see nor think clearly.  It was like a bad dream.  Then I stopped pacing back and forth and tried to regain what was left of my sanity.   What should I do first?  “Bianca!  I need to secure Bianca!”  I immediately held my daughter and before guiding her up to the rooftop, I doubled her clothes to keep her warm.  While getting her dressed, Bianca looked up to me and said, “Why are you crying mom?”  Apparently she didn’t sense the danger.  I gathered myself and forced myself to be calm so that I wouldn’t scare her. 

The other tenants, even those from the ground floor unit, were already at the third floor and the roof deck, waiting for rescue.  It turned out that they already packed their things earlier and ran up to the rooftop before their unit at the ground floor went totally underwater around 1 pm.  All that happened without our knowledge.   If nobody knocked on our door, we wouldn’t have known until the water has entered our unit.

After ushering Bianca to the roof deck, me and my husband raced against time (and water) as we tried to salvage whatever we could -  cash, important documents, clothes, the desktop, the TV, small appliances.  The girl next door who alerted us earlier helped us secure our things to the upper floors.  Other tenants (whose names we didn’t even know) started helping as well.  I was able to get some food from the fridge before it eventually flipped over and floated on the water.  The small amount of food and chocolate drinks I was able to snatch from the fridge served as our sustenance all through the night.  There were 12-14 of us trapped at the third floor and rooftop.  

While we were vacating our unit at the second floor, I heard a lot of screaming outside.   Some of our neighbors were being rescued in an inflatable beach tube (yes, a not a rubber boat but a beach tube or better known in the Philippines as salbabida!) from the second level of their house.   I couldn’t blame them for screaming.  With that high level of water and that strong current, you’d have second thoughts of being rescued with a salbabida alone.

The rescuers never returned for us after that rescue.   I gathered the kids (my daughter Bianca and our neighbor’s son who took refuge with us) and together, we prayed.   My family and friends in the provinces kept texting and calling me while watching the flash reports on TV.   They saw an aerial view of Marikina mostly submerged in water and that made them panic.

What added to my agony was my dying phone battery.  Just as I was talking to somebody from the Office of Civil Defense about our location and other details, my phone died.  

There was nothing left for us to do but wait for the rescuers to find us…or wait for the water to either rise some more or subside.  

(First of two parts)