I don’t know how to write this post. It’s just too difficult to hear the stories of friends and family who have lost everything from Typhoon Ondoy. It’s too difficult to watch news reports of people high above their rooftops, with all their possessions destroyed, their lives ruined, their spirits sagging like anything would in strong winds and powerful storms. My own story for this storm is to be stuck for 18 hours in the office. That’s nothing, compared to the unlucky folks in evacuation centers and the homes of the generous friends and relatives living in higher ground. They’re drenched, cold, sick, with literally nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Yesterday was an unfortunate day. A tragedy, a disaster. There are pictures of trucks and entire homes submerged in floodwaters, stories of stranded commuters who right now sleep in the cold floors of shopping malls. Pumpboats – not buses – ply the streets of Manila. Fields and paddies have been wrecked in Eastern Luzon. This is not a simple wet-spell, but a raging river of destruction.
