Every day I have worries, just like everyone else. Just trivial worries, and dilemmas, and complaints, which probably every other teenage girl has—and I never seem to run out of them.
I complain about not being allowed to go out with my friends often enough. I complain about not being given enough freedom, about having no life while the rest of my friends are out having fun. I complain about having no phone load with which to text and chitchat with my friends.
In school, I quietly complain about my teachers because they’re so boring, and then I worry that I might not learn from them, and I might end up flunking their exams, all because I think they’re boring. When I get home, I sometimes don’t like the food, so I end up skipping dinner. Then later I’d complain about being hungry. When I’m doing homework, I complain about not having enough workspace, about the people around me at home being so noisy. And because of that, I worry I won’t get my homework done properly. When I wake up in the morning of a school day, I complain about not having had enough sleep. When I head to the mall, I worry that the dress I saved up for might have already been taken. And if it has, I blame it on the fact that I don’t get enough allowance, and that if I only had more, I could have saved up faster and I could have gotten the dress sooner. I complain about not having enough money to be able to buy more clothes, to be able to buy the things I want.
All my life I’ve been complaining so much about all these little concerns. And no matter how little and trivial they are, I always seem to have a way of treating them like they’re big, matter-of-life-and-death problems, which make me feel like I’ve got such a miserable life.
And then I see the news on TV. It shows me what’s going on in the world outside. It shows me the state of the people of Zamboanga because of the crisis in September. It shows me the state of the people of Bohol and Cebu after the series of strong earthquakes in October. It shows me the state of the people affected by the typhoons these past few months. It shows me the state of the Visayas after “Yolanda,” the most recent typhoon, and the most tragic one yet.
I continue to watch the news, and sympathize with the people, and when I turn off the TV, I completely forget about the news, and I get back to worrying about my problems. It’s always been that way for me, in the many years I’ve been seeing in the news the misfortunes that catastrophes bring to my country, especially the ones brought by typhoons. I ponder on them for a while, and then forget about them. Sometimes I even feel happy, because typhoons mean suspension of classes, right? And who doesn’t love that?
I remember the day Yolanda entered the country. It was a Friday, and I couldn’t be happier when I found out classes would be suspended by noon. I had an extended weekend, and I could sleep and do whatever else I wanted. There were strong wind and rain, but we were used to that. And then in the news, there were endless reports about the typhoon, but we were used to that, too. I thought it was just like any other storm, so at the time, I was rather indifferent about it.
But as the days went by, the news about Yolanda went on and on. I became aware of the relief operations going on everywhere, the prayers being offered, the many benefit concerts being held to raise funds, and the donations people were giving. It was days after Yolanda when I realized how much of a catastrophe it brought the people of the Visayas, when I realized that people weren’t exaggerating when they said things like “Tacloban has been completely wiped out” or “No one was spared.”
The news about it still goes on. They report dead people, missing people, homeless people, starving people. It makes me want to do something, anything, to contribute, like help out in relief operations and donate money or goods. And yet, I feel so helpless.
And then I think about my problems, my silly, matter-of-life-and-death problems, and realize what nonsense they are compared to the problems that the people of the Visayas are facing. How silly of me to complain about what’s for dinner when there are people with nothing to eat or drink. Or to complain about lack of space when they have no place at all to go home to. Or to complain about lack of sleep, when they can’t even get any sleep, because they have no beds to sleep in, while I do.
And to worry about that dress I badly wanted, when a lot of them need any sort of clothing to keep them dry and warm. And to worry about boring teachers, when there are kids who don’t have schools to go to anymore. And to worry about not having any phone load when there are people who have completely lost contact with their friends and loved ones in the Visayas. And to be annoyed with my family for being so noisy around me, when there are people here in Manila who have no clue as to what has happened to their families in Tacloban, who aren’t even sure if they’ve still got families to go home to. I mean, at least I’ve still got mine, right? And for me to complain about not having a life, when so many people have lost their lives, while here I am, alive and kicking.
And then I realize that I have never really acknowledged how utterly lucky I am, up until this point. That if I think I’ve got such “a miserable life,” then what kind of lives do the people in Leyte and Samar have right now? Here I am, whining about my food, my allowance, my clothes, while there are people having none of that at all. How selfish of me to want more, when there are people who have nothing.
This unfortunate event has totally changed my regard on matters like this. One thing I’m sure of is that during times like this one, I don’t want to be the girl who doesn’t care. I don’t want to be the girl who just sits there and does nothing and complains about everything, while other people in her country are suffering from a disaster. I want to be the girl who cares, the girl who can and will give all that she can, and help out in as many ways as possible.
Every day I have worries, but right now they cease to matter. Thinking about the awful tragedy brought by Yolanda makes me want to forget all about myself and my problems, even just for a while.
Taffy C. Salazar, 18, is a biology freshman at the University of the Philippines Diliman.