‘But of all the things I remember from my Yolanda experience, one thing sticks out — the need to restore as quickly as possible every means of communication.’
THE images are heart-wrenching. The messages pleading for help even more so. I thought that I’d seen the worst after I flew into Guiuan, Eastern Samar on Nov 12, 2013, barely four days after Supertyphoon Yolanda (aka Haiyan) had plowed into the area on its war to Tacloban; what I saw reminded me of images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, sans evidence of a firestorm on the walls that remained standing. Instead, you had trees everywhere uprooted or, at best, bent at an angle pointing (it seemed to me) towards Tacloban. And everywhere else you had twisted sheets of galvanized iron and even metal rods, and people looking dazed.
Because nothing like that had ever hit them before. And Guiuaianons, being on the easternmost seaboard of the Philippines, have typhoons for breakfast, every year.
They almost choked on Yolanda.
Images of the devastation that Odette (aka Rai) wrought throughout its path bring back to me images of that day in Guiuan. Rooftops blown off. Mud everywhere. Electric lamp posts down. People seeming lost. The only difference I think is the fact that Odettte didn’t have the same storm surge fury that Yolanda had. There are casualties, to be sure, but I am confident — or hoping — they’d not run into the tens of thousands.
Odette is Yolanda without the bodies.
But of all the things I remember from my Yolanda experience, one thing sticks out — the need to restore as quickly as possible every means of communication. Because the collapse of digital or even analog means of communication could very well be life or death for many, and a source of anxiety for hundreds of thousands more.
This was so evident to me when I was mingling with the Guiuan residents at their airport, who were awaiting to be airlifted to Manila. A thought struck me — did any of them wish me to make calls on their behalf as soon as I got to Manila? Stupid question, really. First, I asked one young lady to write the name and number of whoever she wished me to call on a slip of paper — it was a torn wrapper of a cigarette pack. Before you know it, a few others found out and soon I had a sheaf of papers of various sizes with names and numbers to call. What an emotional experience that was, sitting back in Manila making calls to loved ones to tell them their loved ones were safe though hungry. A number wept as I spoke and
I ended up weeping with them; one or two accused me of a scam and damned me for trying it at such a moment in their lives.
There was one message I passed on to one of our flight crew since he spoke Cebuano. That was my excuse. In reality what I couldn’t do was call up the number on the paper to tell him (or her) that the seven named on the list had all passed away.
Make no mistake about it. There will be a next time. But if there is one thing I hope will never be the same again, it’s the loss of means of communications — beyond a few hours at worst, if at all. Maybe now that foreign investments can pour into our telcos, we can do better?
It is a matter of life or death.
