You don't see things like this everyday. Sure, one can tune in to CNN or any other news channel or log on to the Internet to see scenes of nature's wrath, but I wasn't really prepared to see and experience a disaster area firsthand and right where I lived.
It was the smell - that heavy, putrid stench that hung in the air - that made it all real. There were piles of garbage scattered everywhere. Brown, sticky mud still lined the roads - in some places, it still covered everything.
If it wasn't muddy, it was dusty. The silt deposited by the flood had dried in some places, and passing vehicles churned the caked mud into a fine dust that flew everywhere. Trucks of every shape and size were coming and going, while there were a lot of damaged cars along the road.
Aside from the cars, every house or establishment we passed had furniture and appliances outside. Sofas, tables, chairs, television sets - all broken or damaged by the flood waters.
That was what I and a couple of friends went through as we walked home from Riverbanks yesterday evening. The flyover into Marikina was damaged during the storm, so there was no public transportation plying the road from Barangka to the Marikina Bridge.
There were people everywhere. Some, just like us, walking down the street on the way home. Quite a few people were waiting for a jeep or taxi to pass by. Some were cleaning their houses and furniture. Many were walking out of the area with their things on their backs.
Provident Village was full of people and trucks. Soldiers and police were scattered here and there. There was a steady stream of refugees, some barefoot, walking out of the worst-hit place in the entire city. We watched a truck try to drag a muddy car out of the village. The car's bumper came off, undoing the chain tying the two together. It was already dark, so I did not want to risk going further into the subdivision.
As we neared the Marikina Bridge, we passed one van carrying relief goods. One van. The white L300 was being mobbed by residents shouting "May stub kami! May stub kami!" ("We have stubs!) over and over again. We quickened our pace, fearing a looming confrontation - there were stories circulating about relief trucks that had been attacked by hungry and angry people.
An old woman on the bridge muttered "Hindi nga nalunod, mamamatay naman sa gutom" (We did not drown, but we're going to die of hunger).
Relief goods in the area were scarce. The main sources of food and supplies were either closed or running out of stock. Riverbanks, a major supermarket and mall which we had visited earlier in the day, was like a ghost town. In the mall, the stores were eerily empty and quiet. The glass walls of Jollibee, Nutri Options, and Tropical Hut lay shattered on the mud-covered floor.
One security guard remarked on the flood that brought the once bustling shopping center to its knees. "Lagpas tao tubig dito" (The water went higher than a person here), he said. And indeed, the water line on the walls showed the flood going up to more than six feet.
The river bank itself was a sea of brown mud. Silt and garbage covered what was supposed to be green grass. The vine-covered gazebo across the Marikina River was smashed; pieces of it had broken off leaving an empty shell.
I remember hanging out there with my friends once. Our conversation touched on how high the river got during flooding. Right there and then, as we walked through the remains of the park, we knew.
A friend, who couldn't take the smell anymore, told us "Amoy bangkay naman dito" (It smells like a corpse here). Until then I had kept all thoughts of death out of my mind, choosing instead to focus on the disaster and the people who needed help. I didn't want to think that she was right, that there were dead bodies around, but looking again at the as yet untouched and uncleaned Riverbanks park, I wasn't so sure anymore.
It was sad and depressing all throughout. While one of the reasons why I took up Journalism was so that I could go to and see disaster areas and war zones, I had never planned on seeing one right in my own backyard.
While walking through Marikina - from Riverbanks, to Barangka, past Provident, across the Marikina Bridge, to Bayan - I couldn't help but think about how fragile life was. The once busy city was totally shut down, its people trying to get back up from the devastation of the flood wreaked by "Ondoy".
However, dark and devastating the aftermath of the disaster may be, there is always something that gives hope and light to the survivors of the catastrophe. Foremost of all are the many volunteer relief efforts that have sprung up all over the metropolis in the wake of "Ondoy".
Before going around Marikina, my friends and I tried to help out in some of the relief centers nearest to us. While it was quite frustrating that we couldn't find any places where we could join in, it was heartening to see that this was because all of them were overflowing with people doing what they could to help their countrymen.
The University of the Philippines' Church of the Risen Lord, Cubao Expo, Ateneo de Manila University: all were filled with volunteers - mostly from the youth - loading and unloading trucks and packing relief goods.
It was a very encouraging sight indeed, to see Filipinos working to provide relief for fellow Filipinos. For all the devastation "Ondoy" has wrought on our country, on our cities, on our people, it still did do one good thing. The storm brought out the best in our nation. It brought out the best in us.
You don't see things like this everyday.
It was the smell - that heavy, putrid stench that hung in the air - that made it all real. There were piles of garbage scattered everywhere. Brown, sticky mud still lined the roads - in some places, it still covered everything.
If it wasn't muddy, it was dusty. The silt deposited by the flood had dried in some places, and passing vehicles churned the caked mud into a fine dust that flew everywhere. Trucks of every shape and size were coming and going, while there were a lot of damaged cars along the road.
Aside from the cars, every house or establishment we passed had furniture and appliances outside. Sofas, tables, chairs, television sets - all broken or damaged by the flood waters.
That was what I and a couple of friends went through as we walked home from Riverbanks yesterday evening. The flyover into Marikina was damaged during the storm, so there was no public transportation plying the road from Barangka to the Marikina Bridge.
There were people everywhere. Some, just like us, walking down the street on the way home. Quite a few people were waiting for a jeep or taxi to pass by. Some were cleaning their houses and furniture. Many were walking out of the area with their things on their backs.
Provident Village was full of people and trucks. Soldiers and police were scattered here and there. There was a steady stream of refugees, some barefoot, walking out of the worst-hit place in the entire city. We watched a truck try to drag a muddy car out of the village. The car's bumper came off, undoing the chain tying the two together. It was already dark, so I did not want to risk going further into the subdivision.
As we neared the Marikina Bridge, we passed one van carrying relief goods. One van. The white L300 was being mobbed by residents shouting "May stub kami! May stub kami!" ("We have stubs!) over and over again. We quickened our pace, fearing a looming confrontation - there were stories circulating about relief trucks that had been attacked by hungry and angry people.
An old woman on the bridge muttered "Hindi nga nalunod, mamamatay naman sa gutom" (We did not drown, but we're going to die of hunger).
Relief goods in the area were scarce. The main sources of food and supplies were either closed or running out of stock. Riverbanks, a major supermarket and mall which we had visited earlier in the day, was like a ghost town. In the mall, the stores were eerily empty and quiet. The glass walls of Jollibee, Nutri Options, and Tropical Hut lay shattered on the mud-covered floor.
One security guard remarked on the flood that brought the once bustling shopping center to its knees. "Lagpas tao tubig dito" (The water went higher than a person here), he said. And indeed, the water line on the walls showed the flood going up to more than six feet.
The river bank itself was a sea of brown mud. Silt and garbage covered what was supposed to be green grass. The vine-covered gazebo across the Marikina River was smashed; pieces of it had broken off leaving an empty shell.
I remember hanging out there with my friends once. Our conversation touched on how high the river got during flooding. Right there and then, as we walked through the remains of the park, we knew.
A friend, who couldn't take the smell anymore, told us "Amoy bangkay naman dito" (It smells like a corpse here). Until then I had kept all thoughts of death out of my mind, choosing instead to focus on the disaster and the people who needed help. I didn't want to think that she was right, that there were dead bodies around, but looking again at the as yet untouched and uncleaned Riverbanks park, I wasn't so sure anymore.
It was sad and depressing all throughout. While one of the reasons why I took up Journalism was so that I could go to and see disaster areas and war zones, I had never planned on seeing one right in my own backyard.
While walking through Marikina - from Riverbanks, to Barangka, past Provident, across the Marikina Bridge, to Bayan - I couldn't help but think about how fragile life was. The once busy city was totally shut down, its people trying to get back up from the devastation of the flood wreaked by "Ondoy".
However, dark and devastating the aftermath of the disaster may be, there is always something that gives hope and light to the survivors of the catastrophe. Foremost of all are the many volunteer relief efforts that have sprung up all over the metropolis in the wake of "Ondoy".
Before going around Marikina, my friends and I tried to help out in some of the relief centers nearest to us. While it was quite frustrating that we couldn't find any places where we could join in, it was heartening to see that this was because all of them were overflowing with people doing what they could to help their countrymen.
The University of the Philippines' Church of the Risen Lord, Cubao Expo, Ateneo de Manila University: all were filled with volunteers - mostly from the youth - loading and unloading trucks and packing relief goods.
It was a very encouraging sight indeed, to see Filipinos working to provide relief for fellow Filipinos. For all the devastation "Ondoy" has wrought on our country, on our cities, on our people, it still did do one good thing. The storm brought out the best in our nation. It brought out the best in us.
You don't see things like this everyday.
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