Typhoon Megi

10-28-10

We are back from assessing the damage from the typhoon. We drove about 10 hours the first day. Dennis had it in his mind to just drive until we got to the hard hit area and sleep in the car. I convinced him to stop. To give you an idea of our accommodations a deluxe room at the only hotel we found was 10 dollars for 12 hours. I don’t know how much the truckers had to pay that were cooking and sleeping in the parking lot. The place was noisy with people coming and going all night. The room was shabby but clean. Unfortunately it was covered with bugs. They were on the walls, the ceiling and floor. Interestingly swarms of ants rushed in immediately to eat the few bugs I stepped on, and then disappeared again. The window in the bathroom wouldn’t shut so more came in attracted to the light. Dennis had the brilliant idea of turning off the lights and most went back out the window to the light outside. Fortunately they were not biting bugs, but one did go up my nose. Early the next day we arrived at the province where the typhoon made landfall and it was extensively damaged. The typhoon damage reminded me so much of television footage that I had seen in the states of the aftermath of hurricanes in the south and southeast. The landscape was bare, most trees were blown down and the ones left standing were stripped of leaves and branches. Many houses were flattened, more were without roofs and had partially collapsed walls and of course those with glass windows were blown out. It was difficult to view the devastation. Megi was a category 5 typhoon and lasted a terrifying six hours. One Stake President and his wife told of lashing the roof of their humble wooden home down with rope and then they and their three children, the oldest being only twelve, struggling to pull down as the wind lifted it up. We drove around their neighborhood and were happy to see that miraculously their house stayed relatively intact while the houses around them including the cement block houses right next door were heavily damaged. There is a beautiful LDS chapel that Dennis and I stopped at on a previous trip to use the restroom. It was situated along a river surrounded by trees. When we stopped this time I didn’t recognize it because there were no trees. From the outside the chapel didn’t look too bad, but inside was a mess. The wind came in from broken windows and roof; it was like an explosion inside. We spent the next two days driving around the area surveying damage. We met with government officials to discuss their most pressing needs. There was no electricity but we drove north at night and stayed in a nicer hotel with a generator. In the tree to the right is a piece of a roof and the cross bar of a electric pole. On the fourth day we drove to the other side of the country to check where the typhoon crossed over before it left the Philippines. The damage there was flooding. When the typhoon first hit the winds were so strong that it blew the rain along with it and the landfall area, except for the coastal area that got a 6 foot tidal surge, didn’t flood. As it passed over the country it slowed down and the eastern side got the flash floods and heavy rain. The picture I've added is not of a lake but a flooded field. There were people with sticks looking in the bushes along the water's edge for rodents and snakes for dinner. The young men are showing us a string of rats. I'm told they taste like pork.

I am not as strong as I thought I was, and still being on the tail end of a bout with the flu, this experience took a lot out of me. Not just physically but mostly emotionally. This humanitarian missionary job is a hard one. It is so tough to see and be involved in suffering on such a large scale. It is hard to request supplies and then have to defend and “sell” your request to those who control the humanitarian funds; especially when there is so much immediate need. This is also a country that is so full of corruption and deceit, and that you have to be very careful that the money or supplies are not misused. It is hard to help people while trying to encourage self sufficiency and discourage a culture of entitlement and “easy money” living on the charity of others.

A bright spot in this tour of destruction happened when we stopped for lunch. The locals who were showing us around could not find a restaurant that was not destroyed or that had food. They reluctantly (not wanting to subject the American visitors to what they considered we would think substandard) suggested a pancit (noodle) place. It was the side yard of a house with tables under an overhang. Dennis and I like pancit so we were happy, but what made it really special was after we got our food who should walk up but a group of young missionaries. There were about 12 of them. They had been out in their grubby clothes helping to clean up and reconstruct. We told them to sit and we’d buy them lunch. There were 4 Americans among them, 3 boys and a girl. There was instant recognition; the girl was from Sequim, Bailey Eveland. It made me so happy to see these beautiful young people with such positive attitudes and so full of enthusiasm.

Basureros

10/11/10

Life is hard for many here in Manila. This is true for the children. There are thoes who make their living recycling. They search out and sort through trash where ever they can find it. They are called Basureros. The following is talk given by a Filipino church employee at the weekly devotional held every monday morning here at the church office building.

The Basureros (20 Sept 2010-Devotional talk)

Ever since I was diagnosed of having a possible heart enlargement in the last APE, I have exerted more effort to do physical exercises.
I do jogging during week days and do long - ride mountain biking every Sunday.
But this Sunday is a special Sunday to me. While I was on my way to the mountains of Busay (Cebu) hoping to strengthen my heart by this exercise, instead, I personally encountered a heart-breaking scene that changed me.

I already passed the Marco Polo Plaza (formerly Cebu Plaza Hotel) when I decided to stop to buy bananas at a small carenderia located along the road. I haven't taken any solid food that morning so I need fruits to have the required energy to get to my destination - the mountain top.
I am almost done eating with the second banana when I noticed two children across the street busily searching the garbage area. "Basureros" I said to myself and quickly turned my attention away from them to sip a small amount of water. I cared less for these kind of children actually; to make it straight, I do not like them, and I do not trust them even more.
You see, several times I have been a victim to these kind of children who are pretending to be basureros looking for empty bottles and cans when in fact the pans, pots, and 'hinayhays' (damit na nakasampay) are their favorites.
I remember one afternoon while I was watching a Mike Tyson fight when I noticed that the TV screen suddenly became blurred then the signal was totally gone. I checked outside and saw two young basureros running away with my newly installed antenna.
Hatred may be the little bit stronger word to describe my feeling towards these basureros, but I do not like them, honestly, not till I met these three children.
I was about to embark on my bike again when I heard one of the two children, a girl of about 7 or 8 of age saying aloud to the other, a 12-yr old boy, "Dodong is looking at those who are eating, it’s embarassing", only then that I noticed a small boy standing near to me biting slightly his finger. He's a few inches shorter if compared to my 5 years old son (but I knew later that he's also 5 yrs. Old).
Though he did not ask for food from anyone in the carenderia, the way he looked at the customers who were eating is enough to convinced me that he is intensely craving for it.
The older boy then quickly crossed the street and gently pulled out the little one who politely obeyed. As I watched the two cross back the street to the garbage area, I heard the tindera saying, “Those poor children are very kindhearted”.
I learned further from the carenderia owner that the children are from a good family , both parents were working before, and that their father got a stroke 3 years ago and became partially paralyzed and their mother died of heart attack while their father was still confined at the hospital. The parents were still in their early forties when the catastrophe happened, and the children became basureros since then to meet their daily needs and for their father's medication.
Deeply moved by what I heard, I went to a nearby bakery and bought 20 pesos worth of bread and gave it to the children who initially refused including the little boy.
It’s OK sir, we’ll just buy later when we get to sell our stuff," the young girl said to me.
I explained that they needed to go home because it started to rain.
“We’re used to getting wet,” the girl answered again.
Again, I explained that the rain could make them sick and if they'll become sick there's no one to take care of their father. Upon mentioning their father, they nodded and accepted the bread but I noticed that the older boy did not eat.
When I asked him if he does not like the kind of bread I bought for them he smiled but as he's about to explain, the little girl, who is the more talker of them interrupted,
“We take turns at mealtime. He eats on Saturday and Sunday afternoon, while the 2 of us eat breakfast. Monday to Friday, because he goes to school, he gets to eat breakfast, while me and my little brother just eat at dinner time. However, all of us get to eat at the same time when we have made enough money to buy food.” she continued. . .
“Why don’t you just divide the food equally among yourselves?” I countered . . .
The young girl reasoned out that their father wanted that her older brother to come to school with full stomachs so he can easily catch up the teacher's lessons. “When he graduates we’ll stop doing this; you see, he’s an honor student”) the little boy added proudly.
Maybe I was caught by surprise or I am just overly emotional that my tears started to fall. I then quickly turned my back from them to hide my tears and pretended to pick up my bike from the carenderia where I left it.
I don't know how many seconds or minutes I spent just to compose myself; pretending again this time that I was mending my bike.
Finally I get on to my bike and approached the three children to bid goodbye to them who in turn cast their grateful smiles at me. I then took a good look at all of them specially to the small boy and patted his head with a pinch in my heart.
Though I believe that their positive look at life can easily change their present situation, there is one thing that they can never change; that is, their being motherless. That little boy can no longer taste the sweet embrace, care, and most of all, the love of his mother forever. Nobody can refill the empty gap created by that sudden and untimely death of their mother. Every big event that will happen to their lives will only remind them and make them wish of their mother's presence.
I reached to my pocket and handed to them my last 100 peso bill which I reserved for our department's bowling tournament. This time they refused strongly but I jokingly said to the girl, “I’ll hit you if you don’t accept this. . .”
She smiled as she extended her hand to take the money. “Thank you very much, now we can buy medicines for our father,” she uttered.
I then turned to the small boy and though he's a few feet away from me, I still noticed that while his right hand was holding the half- filled sack, his left hand was holding a toy... a worn out toy car. I waved my hands and said bye-bye to him as I rode towards the mountains again.
Did he just found the toy in the garbage area or was the toy originally his - when the misfortune did not take place yet? - I did not bother to ask. But one thing is crystal clear to me, that in spite of the boy's abnormal life, he did not give up his childhood completely.
I can sense it from the way he held and stared at his toy.
My meeting with that young basureros made me poorer by 100 pesos. But they changed me and made me richer where lessons of life are concerned.
In them, I learned that life can change suddenly and may catch me flat-footed.
In them, I've learned that even the darkest side of life cannot change the beauty of one's heart.
Those three children who sometimes cannot eat three times a day are still able to hold on to what they believed was right. And what a contrast to most of us who are quick to point out our misfortunes when caught with our mistakes.
In them, I've learned to hope for things when things seem to go the other way.
Lastly, I know that God cares for them far more than I do. That though He allowed them to experience such a terrible life which our finite minds cannot comprehend, His unquestionable love will surely follow them through.
And in God's own time they will win.
Be BLESSED!!!
James 1:27 --- Pure Religion and undefiled before God and our Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
Alma 39:14 --- “Seek not after riches nor the vain things of this world; for behold, you cannot carry them with you.
**God calls us to share from our abundance with those in need---and blesses us when we do.
“God has given us two hands--one to receive with and the other to give with. We are not cisterns made for hoarding; we are channels made for sharing.”- B. Graham