The aftermaths of Ondoy and Pepeng are far from over. In the streets of Pinagbuhatan, a friend describes chaos. In the subdivisions of Marikina, a friend describes desolation. From wherever I was those nights, I could hear the plastic bags making those scrunching sounds as people packed up donations and relief goods for those affected by the typhoons.
Any aftermath, however, begins with the first person who raises a finger to accuse. Way before the first plastic bag of relief goods was handed over to the first person who needed it, the first accusations already hit hard. Practically everyone has been blamed on this disaster; from that guy who threw a candy wrapper into the storm drain 3 hours before the waters started rising, to the highest echelons of the Government itself. After all, strong rains may be an act of God, but a flood is a calamity of man.
By all means, it wasn’t gourmet noodle soup. The noodles were still kind of crisp and starchy inside, and there was very little in the way of sahog (save for a tiny bit of shredded cabbage, carrots, and crispy fried garlic bits) The broth was probably made of chicken bones, boiled with water and bouillon cubes. Yet for twenty pesos, it warms the stomach better than, say, half a pack of Marlboro Lights.