Rehab challenges

Signs of  renewed life are everywhere in Tacloban a month after the unprecedented disaster brought on by Supertyphoon “Yolanda.” Stores have reopened, banks are transacting again, the local government has re-mobilized, roads are being cleared of debris, and residents are rebuilding their homes with whatever materials they can salvage from the heap.

As more foreign aid has come in, government relief efforts, the target of blistering criticism during the first few days of the devastation for apparent slowness and disorganization, has picked up steam and regularity—though worrying reports continue to crop up about some relief goods getting hijacked by local politicians, or even finding their way to stores in Metro Manila, or finally reaching their target beneficiaries, if at all, in rotten state.

How should the government move forward in the immense task of rehabilitating Tacloban and the rest of Yolanda-ravaged Visayas? The billions of reconstruction aid that have poured in cannot be spent willy-nilly, but must be used according to a viable master plan that takes into account the sobering new realities underlined by what has been billed as the strongest typhoon in history to hit land. That means relocating communities further inland to escape storm surges, building stronger structures that could withstand the inevitably more destructive storms ahead due to climate change, and redesigning how emergency supplies such as water and food are not only better secured, but can also reach victims with greater dispatch and efficiency in the wake of a calamity such as Yolanda.

But before all this has to happen, the government needs to do one fundamental thing: Consult the people. Ask them what they really need, and how the government can best be of help. Rather than unilaterally imposing rehabilitation plans that may look good on paper but turn out to be of little use to victims and survivors on the ground, it would be wise for government agencies in the frontlines to involve the affected residents every step of the way in any effort meant to rebuild their lives.

A year ago, Bangaga town in Davao Oriental was one of the hardest-hit areas of Typhoon “Pablo.” After the storm, the Department of Social Welfare and Development built a bunkhouse to serve as temporary shelter for residents whose houses were destroyed. According to a report in this paper last Sunday, the bunkhouse, built at a cost of P550,000, has 10 rooms with coco lumber frames, plywood walls, iron sheet roofing and a concrete floor. About 23 similar structures have been built in Davao Oriental and Compostela Valley to house typhoon victims. For Leyte and Samar, the government has announced the construction of some 100 more—10 in Tacloban, 10 in Palo (Leyte); 11 in Basey and 18 in Marabut (Samar province); and 26 in Guiuan, 30 in Hernani and three in Giporlos (Eastern Samar). The estimated cost for each bunkhouse: P959,360.

But are million-peso bunkhouses what survivors really need to get back on their feet? A resident of Bangaga town said they could have been better served had the government devoted money and resources instead to giving them construction supplies with which to rebuild their homes.

“If the DSWD gives us the wall of the bunkhouse, then we will have walls for our new house,” said farmer Johnny Agulitas, whose family now alternates between staying at daytime in a “core shelter”—a skeletal structure consisting of a roof, floor and frames given him by the charity organization Catholic Relief Services—and at nighttime in the DSWD bunkhouse, since their unfinished dwelling is unable to shelter them from the elements.

“Had they given us the materials instead of building this bunkhouse, we would have constructed our own home,” said Agulitas. All he needed, he added, was about P30,000 to build a “simple, complete house.” It’s a sensible, eminently practical suggestion, and one where the affected residents are given a greater stake in the rebuilding of their own homes and communities.

If the government must insist that sturdier, better-designed housing is safer especially for those in coastal areas, it should listen to environment advocate Tony Oposa Jr., who recommends building low-rise collective residences—a “poor man’s condominium complex” that can withstand flooding and storm surges, has its own water supply, allows for gardening and growing of basic crops such as camote on the roof, and, most importantly, is affordable to poor people or those most vulnerable to disaster.

It’s time government looked into the viability of such propositions, to avoid the rebuilding mistakes of the past.