NOV. 16, 2024- I’m sitting on my parents’ bed with an outdoor solar light a few inches away from me. I’m facing the glass windows as the wind thrashes. It’s an ominous, pulse-quickening wind. Sounds like it’s trying to catch me and whirl its way through my body. Just a few moments earlier, I peeked through a window at the living room and I had seen our fence outside has just fallen down and the nearby trees violently swayed from side to side. They call Catanduanes “The Land of the Howling Winds”. I finally realized how appropriate that name was as I found myself wishing the harsh hissing of the winds that banged on every square inch of our house would come to a halt. I put on my earphones and listened to my “80s Hits” playlist to tune out the sound of the howling winds and the brutal rains as I mopped the floor to keep from getting the whole house wet and slippery.
You can never be too prepared for a super typhoon. We had prepped for it two days ahead. It was quite exciting to fit the typhoon guards into the windows. Almost like a grown-up jigsaw puzzle with lots at stake if not completed. All our power banks and cellphones have been charged to their maximum capacity. The car is clothed with a waterproof car cover that fastens to the wheels with two buckles. Multiple buckets of water have been filled to the brim in case the water runs murky with mud and dirt in the next few days as it usually does when it’s rainy. Neighbors have evacuated early in the morning to safer places. Children walk hand-in-hand with their parents to evacuation areas with tear-ridden frightful eyes while they sport their bright-colored jackets and cartoon backpacks.
We were fully prepared (at least to the best of my knowledge) at about 10am. The local electric cooperative announced that power will be shut down at 2pm. I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea to calm my nerves. I was going to open a can of evaporated milk for my tea as this kind won’t spoil as quickly even when left unrefrigerated because who knows when we’ll have electricity again to power the refrigerator? I had decided I was going to watch my favorite movie (dear reader, the film is “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, I highly recommend it, go watch it now) and maybe a few episodes of a TV show just until electricity gets shut down. And so, I sat across from the television savoring what little solace I could. Then, it was just a matter of waiting. Waiting for the dreaded Pepito. Waiting for the dark sky to recklessly pour out rain.
Waiting for the wind to blow dangerously. Waiting for a typhoon to come is like expecting an unwanted visitor to your home. A visitor who intrudes and destroys. A visitor who carries destructive winds and ruinous rainfall. There’s no escaping this visitor. You’re just going to need a heavy load of patience when they come to visit. And, oh, how you enjoy when this visitor finally makes its exit.
I am not accustomed to fierce typhoons. I am just not wired for it. I had lived in Metro Manila for most of my 20-something years of living. Ondoy, Yolanda and Rolly. These were life-altering disasters for many, but my family and I were fortunate to be tucked away in a place where we weren’t directly affected by them. In fact, the heaviest consequences caused by a typhoon that I can remember (at least for me personally), were heavy traffic jams and class or work suspensions. We prepared very little for those typhoons in the Metro compared to how much we had to prepare for Pepito in Catanduanes. This was the first time I had to properly prep for a typhoon with so many crucial steps that I’ve never had to worry about before.
NOV. 17, 2024- Roofs bent out of shape. Stray trash mixed with leaves and sand scattered on the road. Fences blown to the ground. Electric poles lean at abnormal angles. Trees stripped naked of their fruitage and branches. Despite this, everybody moved on. Just like they always do. Absolutely no time wasted. Kids swept all the mess on the road strewn about by the typhoon.
Scooping them into dustpans then tipping them into garbage cans for disposal. Their parents were removing typhoon guards or fixing their roofs back into place. As for me, I didn’t feel as industrious as them. I wanted to wallow. I wanted to sit back and feel sad for a while. Shock and exhaustion mixed with lack of sleep had just set in. But as I watched my neighbors, I felt the need to imitate them. Also, I was slightly ashamed of how the front yard looked, theirs were clean. So I got up from my seat, I grabbed the walis tingting and swept away all crucial evidence. I needed to move on from Pepito. He was an awful scoundrel.
After a few hours of everyone on our street cleaning, I had heard our neighbor say to his friend, “Malinig na ah. Bag-ing daing nag-aging bagyo.” (Translation: “Look how clean! Doesn’t look like a storm passed through.”). The locals are quick to erase any trace of the typhoon. Refusing to let linger any reminder of the calamity. I can tell you with great certainty that resilience is a primary quality one must develop to live in Catanduanes. The locals have been practicing this for a long time. You need it when typhoons come as frequent and as intense as it has always been here. Every time they are afflicted with a new typhoon, you can be sure that on the day after, they will get on with their lives. They will move onward. Not that there is anything to worry about but it’s just that they’re so used to it.
Scoundrels stronger and more wretched than Pepito may come. They always have and always will. I’ve heard many anecdotes from friends and neighbors about worse typhoons and even worse consequences. I’ve learned from Pepito many more things that I ought to do when the next comes like putting sandbags beneath the doorway to avoid water getting in, removing the satellite dish for the cable TV, making sure that solar lights are tightly screwed on and wrapping the windows with plastic for water not to leak through. I didn’t do all those things. Don’t blame me, I’m a typhoon newbie. But, I know what to do when the next one strikes. I sure hope it doesn’t come soon. Or else.