Christmas with ‘Ursula’

Merry and joyous are the words that often describe our Christmas Eve in the Philippines, but not this year. And certainly not for the residents of Western Visayas.

At around 2:30 a.m. on Christmas Day, just when all of us were asleep with bellies full of noche buena sweets, we were awakened by the sound of raging winds and heavy rainfall. We saw the forecast the night before. Typhoon “Ursula” was to give us a rainy Christmas Eve.

By 4 a.m., we realized we should have prepared emergency kits rather than worry about whether there was enough cream for the salad. Strong winds howled through the neighborhood as tree branches cracked and twigs pressed against the windows. And then it was pitch-black.

All we could hear was the sound of the roof trying its best to hold until morning. We were lucky ours did. But others had to rush out of their houses seeking refuge as water poured in from their wrecked roofs.

When the sun came out, I got on my motorcycle, eager to see the wreckage left by the storm. I saw trees and power lines blocking parts of the road. The river’s water level had risen and flooded the market and nearby houses. I stretched my sight as far as possible to assess the damage; it was clear electricity won’t be coming back any time soon, and help won’t be arriving soon, either.

The storm didn’t just leave a mark on the town, it also left people with stares of disbelief and horror. Just last night they were opening Christmas presents, now they were scavenging for pieces of their homes and lives, hoping to find something useful.

Barangay officials arrived at 8:30 a.m. to conduct clearing operations. It took some time at first, but civilians eventually helped, and things went faster from then on. Even 10-year-old kids helped move broken tree branches and debris. No one had had sleep or breakfast, but a little hope was sown by the community effort.

I could see people’s attitudes starting to change. For a moment, we were united — but not for long. As soon as the stores opened, people flocked in to get supplies. This time, it was every man for himself. Even I had to fight for my purchase. It was worse than Christmas-rush shopping, as people were desperate this time. Among the must-have items were canned goods, noodles, candles, matches, lighters and ice.

But amid the panic, I heard some cheering and laughter, which got me confused. Apparently, it was a contest of whose experience of the storm was worse.

I heard one say, “Naguba amon garahe (our garage was destroyed).”

Someone countered with, “Ayos lang na, samon guba gid ang kusina, nakuwa ang atop (That’s okay, our kitchen got destroyed, the roof was blown away).”

And a third said, “Samon gani wala gid bilin, bayo ko nalang may ara ko (I have nothing left except for my clothes right now).”

The last was met by laughter from the group. They had a clear winner.

It’s amusing how we Filipinos always find something to laugh about in anything, and adversities are no exception. Maybe this also shows how we put value on things. As long as our loved ones are safe, we can always recover.

Unfortunately, not everyone got lucky. A little later, we heard that two people had died and two others were missing in our town alone. More casualties would be reported from other places. This was the heaviest toll the storm left us with, and we couldn’t circle around that fact using humor.

As the day ended, everyone felt exhausted from all the work. We all knew it was going to be a long week for us. I lit a candle and was suddenly drawn to its stillness.

For a moment, I was reminded that it was Christmas; everyone else probably forgot, too. It was supposed to be a day when we would go to church and greet everyone with smiles and good wishes.

But, as I recalled that the Holy Family also had its fair share of difficulties, I thought about how the storm somehow did help us celebrate Christmas closer to what it was supposed to be — a day full of hope despite the wreckage, and a chance to help others in need. This might just be the Christmas celebration we needed, after all.

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Daniel David M. Pamplona, 26, is a graduate student at the University of the Philippines Diliman.