A message of hope
Hope shines brightest in the dark.
That was, and still is, my motto—one perhaps quite expected for a devotee of Saint Jude Thaddeus, the patron of hopeless cases. Nevertheless, in times of pain and suffering, hope was what kept me going. I am indeed fortunate, in so many respects—fortunate to not have any family member or close friend affected by Supertyphoon “Yolanda/Haiyan” for one; fortunate to not have to worry about where I will find my next meal or how I will pay my tuition next semester, for another.
But more than that, I am truly fortunate in that while I have most certainly had my share of struggles, I have never lost hope. That, in my opinion, makes me one of the blessed. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of the people of Central Philippines. The numbers of the dead, missing and injured are staggering and do not need repeating. I will not repeat any of the horrific statistics that all of you know, and perhaps even dread to read or hear. Everywhere, destruction and death paint a heartbreaking picture.
Yet, truth be told, there is something that is even more tragic than the loss of lives and loved ones, than the loss of livelihood, property, or income. It is the loss of hope—the one thing that keeps one standing strong amid turbulent seas. I fear that many of our countrymen in Leyte, Samar and the other provinces have lost their life-giving hope. At this writing, there is evidence enough of that in the news—the alleged looting of groceries and even vans carrying relief goods, the increasing anger and panic among those trapped in the remains of what used to be a vibrant Tacloban City, the international news agencies describing the survivors as “desperate.” Then again, how can we blame them? When all that lies around is death and destruction, how can one see past the rubble left by the storm to find the rainbow? For many of the survivors and their families, I fear that rainbow will be a long time in coming. Perhaps, for some, it may never come.
And yet, while the situation at the moment looks grim—nay, desperate—all is not lost. Scoff at me all you want, the jaded and the cynical among you. I will not blame you. And yes, you are right in thinking that I have never experienced (and, with God’s grace, will never experience) a tragedy such as this, so indescribable in its terror. And while I may not truly be able to understand how it feels to watch a loved one being buried in a mass grave, after myself having struggled to survive the onslaught of rain, wind and waves, while I may not truly be able to fathom the paralyzing fear that comes with the uncertainty of not knowing where to go or how to get my life back, I do know one thing, and one thing for certain: Hope shines brightest in the dark.
That’s hope brought about by faith—perhaps in God, as in my case, perhaps in the inherent good nature of humankind, or perhaps in humankind’s marvelous and uncanny ability to recover and survive. It matters little, so long as hope remains.
What can hope do, you ask? Can it change the current plight of many of our brothers and sisters? Can it erase the last few days from history? Can it fill the void left in so many of us, in our lives and in our hearts? No. Hope cannot. But hope can do many other things. It can give us strength and the will to fight. It can give us the power to hold on for just one more day, one day at a time. And it is only with that hopeful spirit that we will manage to survive the treacherous journey from the valley of despair and emerge, as a nation united in brotherhood, into a field of light. It won’t be easy. In fact, the word “hard” may even be a euphemism for such a feat, a feat close to impossible. But the thing is, the impossible can be made possible, so long as hope remains.
What is there to be hopeful for? A lot of things. From all over the world, donations are pouring in, with the governments of the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, Japan and many more sending not just their sympathy and well-wishes but also monetary, material and even human aid to where it is most despaired of. The United Nations and many other nonprofit organizations have gathered resources and personnel, raising awareness and funds. It is truly humbling to see first-hand the enthusiasm with which the international community is coming to our aid. Even Viber™ has launched a free calling service for Filipinos wishing to call their relatives in selected countries abroad to inform them of their safety. Go to the websites of any charity or aid organization, and you will almost certainly find the words “Typhoon Haiyan Appeal,” “Philippine Disaster Response Fund,” and many more variants of the message.
And that message, as the UK humanitarian organization Oxfam GB so aptly put it, is this: You are not alone.
Even in my own community, where I am currently spearheading a fundraising and awareness campaign for the typhoon survivors, I am overwhelmed and humbled by the support I have received from complete strangers, students and professionals, Filipinos and foreigners alike, and awed at the readiness with which they are helping perfect strangers. In Metro Manila alone, many aid organizations and almost every other school, college or university are responding to the cries of our countrymen. So yes, we are truly not alone. In the Philippines and beyond, help is on the way. There is hope for tomorrow. There always is.
In this light, how can I not be hopeful for the future? After so much help and support from all corners of the globe, how can we possibly fail? We have help from so many places; the only thing to do now is the one thing no other country or humanitarian organization can give us, and all that is left before we can move on from this tragedy is a battle to be won by ourselves.
We have to win against the siege of despair and darkness within us, to overcome the desire to point fingers and pin blame, and face the future with hope and optimism. We cannot give in to bitterness and hate. The only way forward is to pick ourselves up from the ground, wipe away the tears from our eyes and the dust from our feet, and rise from the rubble once again.
One of my favorite T-shirts bears the slogan “The Filipino spirit is waterproof.” And it is. We are, after all, a resilient, faithful, strong, and, yes, hopeful race. Time after time we have been buffeted by typhoon after earthquake after volcanic eruption, and we have always managed to face it, and the world, with our heads held high. What makes this time any different? Today, the world watches us in sympathy and maybe even pity. Tomorrow, let us make the world watch in awe as we rise from the ashes of destruction and emerge as a nation stronger than ever before.
We can do it. Hope, after all, shines brightest in the dark.
Johanna Wileen Go, 19, hopes to be a doctor in the future.
