Four typhoons in the Pacific Ocean,” read the caption on a satellite photograph released by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA) and published in The Asahi Shimbun, a daily Japanese newspaper, on Nov. 12.
The photograph and an accompanying article noted that four typhoons, also known as tropical cyclones, were active simultaneously in the Pacific Ocean, a rare occurrence for the month of November. In fact, it was the first time this has happened since 1951, according to the JMA’s records.
The photograph seemed almost beautiful with the four typhoons looking like placid clouds in a dance, when in fact inside these “clouds” were furious winds and precipitation, each a giant disturbance moving along the Pacific, encircling the Philippine archipelago on all sides like a gang of thugs ambushing a victim.
The “oldest” of the four was Typhoon “Marce,” that entered the Philippine area of responsibility on Nov. 4, and seemed to be reluctant to leave, lingering on as it moved toward the southeast Asian mainland.
To the north, you had Typhoon “Nika,” which wreaked havoc in northern Luzon. On our eastern flank were two typhoons. “Ofel” hit us earlier in the week, mainly northern Luzon and Bicol, but had also lingered out in the Pacific. “Pepito” was the latest of the typhoons, assaulting us only during the weekend.
The Japanese watched the dance of the typhoons with concern because their simultaneous presence in the Pacific meant their powerful movements were affecting each other, making it hard for meteorologists to predict their trajectories. Even when they visit us alone, typhoons have been known for erratic dancing, appearing to be leaving the Philippines and then returning for a second landfall and causing more damage.
But I picked up on the four November typhoons not so much for its choreography than to underscore how we need to better understand our climate, with some awe and respect, and to link changes in the climate’s patterns.
In our troubled times, it’s about climate change, which in turn isn’t about global warming alone but the effects of that global warming, especially on the seasons.
Let’s get back to basics. When foreigners ask us about our seasons, we tend to reply, “summer from March to May, and then a rainy season from June to early September.” That’s actually a very Metro Manila-centered reply, which doesn’t quite get it right even for Metro Manila or for Luzon.
Yes, we have our hot months that have been getting hotter, the hottest actually in recorded human history, in the last two years. Sometimes I tease foreign visiting friends and say our seasons are “hot” and “hotter” but that tongue-in-cheek description is actually based on science. What we call the rainy season from June to September is considered by meteorologists to still be summer, accompanied by rains and the southwest monsoon, “habagat” in Filipino, referring to the strong winds coming from that direction.
We’ve grown accustomed to the habagat, with typhoons expected every few days, lots of rain and wind but not prolonged and hitting mainly Luzon and parts of the Visayas. And while they seem relatively mild, urbanization and deforestation have meant even moderate rains can result in floods and landslides.
Our “ber” months provide some comfort with cooler temperatures, with winds coming from the northeast monsoon or amihan. These are the bulaga ones that astound us with their ferocity. These late typhoons, running from October to as late as March, will hit places as far as Mindanao, in recent years with greater frequency.
This year, our weather bureau, the Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical, and Astronomical Services Administration, said the habagat ended on Oct. 7. Enter the amihan and in less than two months, we’ve had six typhoons, most of them powerful, leaving a path of destruction not just in the Philippines but in Hong Kong, Taiwan, China, Japan, and Vietnam.
Let’s learn more about the typhoons and relating them to climate change. I looked up the 10 most powerful typhoons that have hit the Philippines in history, measured by the extent of damage and the toll in lives. Nine occurred after 2010.
Yet, how many of us can remember those top 10, and the conditions, besides “nature” that made them so destructive, for example, soil erosion, deforestation, large populations, overbuilding.
Maybe, too, we should change perceptions away from “natural disasters” and instead look at how nature, if allowed to, protects us from the disasters. Trending today in social media were posts about how fortunate we were that Pepito wasn’t as destructive as was anticipated, and that this happened because the Sierra Madre mountain range provided a buffer.
Let the typhoons dance, under the watchful eye of our mountain ranges, at least those that haven’t been totally denuded.
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mtan@inquirer.com.ph