September 26, 2009 was a very ordinary morning. I heard in the news the night before that there was a typhoon, so classes were suspended. I turned the TV on and my sister and I watched the movie Ratatouille together. Once in a while, we could hear commotions, saying,
"Mukhang tataas pa!"
so I increased the volume since the movie was about to end. When the song Le Festin played before the credits, the unusual clamor had not ceased. My mom went upstairs and she looked tensed and seemed dumbfounded. She just looked at her phone, then she worriedly stared at us. When she came to her senses at last, she told us that the water outside was rising abruptly in a rapid speed.
From our terrace on the second floor, I rushed out to see the rain pour heavily. My eyes widened when I saw that the flood started to enter the houses of our neighbors. Not to boast, but I was feeling confident that the flood won't reach us because our house is elevated compared to the other two-story houses. The lady in front of our house frantically grabbed a big bag from her husband. She quickly headed to our gate.
I saw my mom at our gate, anticipating our neighbor. She helped her carry the bag into our house. Then the husband followed, carrying two children, heading to our house too. The water level was at his knees already.
Pasensya talaga.
My mom told him that it was okay and open handedly welcomed them. My sister turned the TV off and we both rushed downstairs. We saw the parents calming down their children. My sister told them,
"Gusto niyo po ba ng maiinom?"
My brother came from the kitchen, asking my mom what we were going to do with our refrigerator, since the flood was continuing to rise. I left them in the living room and went to the terrace again. From watching Ratatouille, I was now watching my neighbors from bungalow houses heading to our house.
My sister joined me in the terrace while my brother was left with my mother downstairs, assisting the two families. The rain didn't stop. Then another family approached. The water level was at their waists already. My sister suddenly screamed,
"Tita! May daga papunta po sa likod niyo!"
Our neighbor walked briskly towards the house, together with her family. My eyes followed the rodent as it struggled to swim.
We went down again to assist and share whatever we could. The room almost looked like a crowded train. The seats in the living room were filled. I asked my mother,
"Nasan na si Papa?"
My mother looked at her phone again and told me that he hasn't replied to her messages yet. My conservative self finally asked her,
"Bakit andami nila, bakit di na lang sa iba, ang sikip na Mama."
Another neighbor, who was a teacher, approached our house to take refuge as well. Upon entering, she cussed so loud when a cockroach crawled at her neck. Thank God, she shoved it immediately with her right hand. It flapped its wings and flew right away. The room was crowded. I tried to ask my mom why she let them all in, but another family hurried into our house, carrying a rice cooker.
It's past ten in the morning when the neighbors flipped the sofas in the living room and stacked these onto our dining chairs. My sister and I carried the television and the radio upstairs. We untangled the wires and carried the speakers one by one. It was a good thing my mother went to the grocery the day before. She said it's like a premonition, that she wanted to stock more than usual. We took all of our canned goods upstairs, and stacked the chairs and sofas to have more space.
The flood started to reach the surface downstairs, so the seven families joined us at the second floor. All of our furniture, including the refrigerator, were secured from the flood except for our kitchen stove. My brother, together with our neighbors, carried it up to our terrace. The oil spilled on the stairs and it became slippery. Before the flood finally entered our house, mom switched the transformer off and locked our door for our security.
My family stayed in one room and the families occupied my brother's and sister's rooms. We were twelve adults, seven children between the ages of five to twelve and two teenagers inside a hundred seventy-nine square meter house.
It was noon, when the rain went moderate. My mother invited us all to the terrace to have lunch. Adobo, cooked by my mom, and hot rice from our neighbor filled our empty stomachs. While I was eating, my mother whispered into my ear and said,
"Ipagpray mo mamaya Papa mo anak, sabihin mo, Sana ligtas si Papa."
The rooms started to get dark at 4pm. The only light we got at that time were from our phones and flashlights. Even though the fans were off, it was really cold. The flood had finally reached the first step of the stairs. The rain was already gone but it was replaced by a strong whistling wind.
I played with the children. We curled into the holes of our stacked sofas. At 6pm, we ate a bowl of pork and beans for dinner. Some of them slept early, and some stared blankly into nowhere. I found my mother in our terrace, alone. Her eyes were closed and her fists were clenched together. I just stood beside her. That night, our house looked like we were surrounded by a river. When it was time to sleep, I still heard from our window, the splashing sounds of frogs and rats, looking for their own shelter.
I woke up on the 27th alone in bed. I went out of our bedroom, and saw our neighbors weren't there in their places. I walked down the stairs, surprised that the flood was gone. I saw my mom, hugged by one of our neighbors. I went outside our house to join them. All of them started sweeping their terraces, washing the walls of their houses and disposing dead rats inside a sack. The sun had risen as my father passed by our neighbors, with his motorcycle at his side. He rushed to mom and said,
"Walang patawad tong bagyong to."
My mom was only concerned with my father's welfare. My father kept talking about how he got stranded while going home, and slept at the city hall with strangers. He also told me that there were bodies found inside the Riverbanks Center. Then the image of drowning rats flashed in my head. They didn't get any help either, like the people from my father's story. I found myself staring blankly at the sack filled with mud and dead animals.
In 2014, Typhoon Glenda did the same thing to our neighbors again. The flood entered their houses. Luckily, it didn't reach our house. A family, who moved a year before, went into our house to take refuge. We welcomed them in our home. I put on my boots and checked on our neighbors who also needed some help. Three families stayed inside our home. I played with their children while we're all waiting for the flood to subside.
Whenever I hear Le Festin, or my mother cooks Adobo in a rainy morning or afternoon, I still get some chills. The memory of my 11 year old self still lingers in my mind. Anytime, a rain might fall. One thing I'm sure is that, it is only temporary. In every catastrophe, no one is rich or poor. We all have the same struggle. We strive for our survival, to keep ourselves moving forward. No matter what the rain might bring.
