I checked my place a few days after Ondoy but refused to stay. It was no Provident Village, but the landscape of despondency and misery was just too much. The possessions of my neighbours (especially those from the first floor) are strewn all over the compound, mostly mud-covered or water-damaged. Along the way, I saw some houses that were partially dilapidated. Trash stretched as far as the eye can see, even lacing the barb wires atop the high perimeter fence, indicative that the waters reached those levels.
My room was a miniature disaster scene. The floor is covered with mud and everything on the floor was displaced. Shoes and mineral water bottles near the front door when it should be at the far end of the room. The books on my bedside table all warped by the water. The smell was terrible; the tang of seawater mixed with the sweet-sick smell of sewage. With a sigh of defeat, I just took my clothes that were in need of washing and left. I told my neighbour I’ll come back when things are more shipshape and bearable.
Sidebar: Apologies for the bad photos; they don't capture the distress well enough. I am no photograpger and when you are in the middle of this calamity, proper angle and focus is the last thing on your mind)
And so after two weeks, here I am. Last Tuesday, I spent the entire day tidying the place up and erasing all traces of Ondoy. I had to mop the floors thrice just to remove the muck. I got obsessed with disinfecting everything that was within reach of the knee deep flood. Well, a-whole-floor-and-a-knee-high flood to be exact since I live on the second floor (reminds me of the song Luka). I had to throw out my bed and pillows (I am thinking that if a dry bed is home to gazillions microscopic germs... how much more a flood-sodden bed). I had to remove three boxes full of magazine and books, plus another two boxes of miscellaneous files and papers (old notebooks from work, credit card statements, among others). I placed these in the back area (supposedly for hanging clothes) in the hopes that they will dry out one of these days and be resuscitated/restored.
For some reason, it felt like Christmas came early. A newly cleaned room reminds me of the holidays because general cleaning has been part our family Christmas tradition. Plus, I bought some new stuff which gave the room a brand new feel. I even changed the layout; symbolic of the turning of the proverbial new leaf.
Considering that other people suffered a great deal more, I may not have the right to rant. Or it may be insensitive for me to do so. Still, accepting this twist of fate was not easy. Among my personal casualties are books and magazines accumulated over the years. I lost some hard-to-find books, some newly purchased books, years-worth of issues of my favorite magazine and the last remaining copy of a Rizal textbook, part of which I co-wrote. Being an advocate of the printed art, it was hard for me to let go of these personal treasures. They are my invaluable investments and sources of inspiration. Excuse the dramatics but I feel like part of me was washed away.
On a more positive light, all of my electrical appliances were intact and functioning (can't live without a hair dryer...ok, I'm just kidding). And on a more personal level, Ondoy gave me some paradigm shift; I realize a lot of things. I realize I miss this good old place. I miss being home a few minutes after leaving the office. I miss waking up at 5am for some morning activities (either blog, surf, read or workout). What I didn’t miss is the uneasy feeling every time it starts to rain hard.
This year is turning out to be an annus horribilis for our country. First, the death of Cory then the double whammy of Ondoy-Pepeng. And next year is bound to be circus with the elections.
I’d like to think that I am ready for the next Ondoy. But please, not in the near future. I’ve had enough for now. This experience is already good enough for some storytelling with the grandchildren.
***
Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I’m losing control
Dark sky all around
I can’t feel my feet touching the ground
But if I can’t swim after forty days
And my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
- Flood (Jars of Clay)
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