by Zoe Daniel
‘His father was the one who gave me and Justin a lift here!’ says Angel.
‘Is he okay?’ asks Justin.
‘Yes, he walked over after the storm to check on us,’ says Veronica.
‘They are a good family. Very caring,’ says Gloria.
‘Anyway,’ continues Veronica, ‘he wasn’t able to carry all three of us plus our bags on his bike. He said he would take the boys to the farm first and then come back for me. I was so relieved when they set off, but hours later when he hadn’t come back I panicked and started walking.
‘When I reached the low part of the road I realised why Antonio hadn’t come back – the road was flooded. I was so scared that in my mind I had no choice but to keep going. I put the bag with the water containers on one shoulder and the other bag with the food on top of my head, steadying it with my hand until I felt balanced. Then I stepped into the water, keeping to the centre of the road so I wouldn’t get sucked into a drain.’
‘Oh, Mama.’ Angel shakes her head.
‘I know, I know. Madness! At first it wasn’t too deep, but then it was up to my ankles and then my knees. And then – ugh! – something slid past my leg and I realised it was a snake caught up in the floodwater. It was all I could do not to scream my head off.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Of course I fell. I let go of the bags but there was nothing to hang on to, nothing to stop me being swept away.’
She pauses for a moment and smiles. ‘Do you know, all I could think about as I struggled in the water was your grandma telling me over and over again when I was growing up that I must never try to walk through a flash flood, especially on that part of the road where the hill curves steeply towards the sea.’
Gloria laughs and Angel joins in. ‘And I don’t know how many times you have told us exactly the same thing!’
‘I was terrified, but through the wind I heard someone calling: “Veronica! Veronica! SWIM!” So I turned over onto my belly and kicked towards the voice until someone grabbed me and dragged me up out of the water. It was Antonio and he shouted at me: “Don’t you remember your mother telling you never to cross a flash flood?” I think he was more scared than I was.’
Angel shakes her head with relief. It seems that many of them survived Yolanda by the skin of their teeth. Even after Antonio dropped Veronica at the farm and they were all inside safely together, the ordeal was not over.
‘When your grandfather went out to check on the animals we were very worried,’ Gloria confirms. ‘Then the door flew open with a crash and he burst in yelling: ‘‘Get the animals inside. The roofs are off the sheds. They won’t survive.”’
Veronica had followed her father back out into the night, leaving the boys and their grandmother wild-eyed with fear. The cows had already escaped the shed and taken off into the rain but Blackie was still tied up and panicky as the last sheet of roof iron swung crazily like a kite. Veronica had grabbed the pony by the halter and frantically fumbled with the rope, trying to untie it with her wet hands.
She saw Pedro emerge from the other shed with a chicken under each arm and two in each hand. ‘I have to get the ducks and their babies,’ he had yelled at her, hurtling towards the house. ‘Quick, bring Blackie inside!’
Gloria was waiting in the house with an open cardboard box. ‘Grandpa dumped the six chickens inside and rushed out again to collect the ducks,’ she said. ‘Only when your mother and grandfather and the pony and the ducks were all safely inside the house did we barricade the door again with chairs.’
‘You should have seen the boys,’ chuckles Veronica. ‘They were delighted with their indoor zoo! Blackie was standing in the middle of the room watching the ducks and the chickens were scampering free across the floor. The dog was so confused. It was crazy!’
‘We found some knobbly old carrots and fed them to Blackie,’ says Carlo.
Veronica chimes in, laughing. ‘She was so happy nodding her head up and down and spitting bits of carrot all over the floor!’
‘I must admit, it was funny, or it is in hindsight at least,’ Pedro says ruefully.
And that was how it had gone for several hours. The wind howled and the roof sprang numerous leaks but it stayed on. The boys dozed intermittently and the animals settled in and seemed content to wait it out. They were all wide awake, though, when the storm reached its peak. Veronica and her father anchored the ropes with their own weight while Gloria crouched in a corner with the boys and the old dog, Bantay.
Finally the whistling wind began to ease. Their ears were ringing from hours of blasting rain pounding on the iron roof. Gloria picked up a mop and began cleaning up the water on the floor. Pedro peeled open the cardboard from one of the windows and peeked outside. In the dim morning light he saw sheets of iron strewn around the banana patch. All of the plants were bent double. The outbuildings had lost their roofs and doors, several large trees were down and away in the distance were two still, dark shapes lying on the ground, which he guessed were the cows.
They moved the furniture and opened the door. One by one, Pedro unwound the ropes and pulled them through and out of the eaves. They’d done their job and saved the roof. Slowly and deliberately, he coiled each rope neatly, tied them off and put them in a colourful pile next to the front door for next time.
‘I went for a walk over the farm,’ says Pedro, sipping his tea thoughtfully. ‘I pulled a tiny green banana off a dead plant, and I knew there would be no fruit to sell this year. Then I stood still and looked around me: from the flattened plants to the damaged sheds to the house still standing. I saw my old pony grazing happily with ducks and chickens at her feet, and my two grandsons running around to burn off some energy. And I knew in that moment that I must give thanks because it could have been much, much worse.’
Gloria pats her husband on the shoulder and says softly, ‘Padayon an kinabuhi. Life goes on.’
Sixteen
As soon as it’s light, the whole family climbs into the old cart. It’s a tight squeeze but most of the journey is downhill and Justin and the boys jump off and walk a large part of the way. It takes the pony an hour or so to pull them down to the place where Juan’s bangka is still anchored. Cristian and Carlo are particularly shocked to see what remains of the pretty seaside village where they come to play when they visit their grandparents.
‘No more sandcastles,’ says Carlo.
‘One day it will be cleared,’ says Pedro soothingly. ‘The trees will recover and it will be our beautiful little beach once again.’
Pedro and Gloria are staying on Samar to begin the many repairs on their property. The others are going to take the boat back to Tacloban.
‘Will Papa be waiting for us?’ asks Carlo.
‘I’m not sure,’ says Angel. ‘He might still be at the hospital.’
‘If he is, we’ll go and visit,’ says Veronica firmly.
Angel gives her grandparents Father Jose’s old mobile phone and charger. ‘Once the phones are working again on Samar, we’ll ring you and let you know what has happened. We need to stay in touch!’
Veronica’s phone is still almost fully charged and she turns it on now to see if there is any mobile reception yet. Nothing.
The children hug their grandparents. Pedro shakes Justin’s hand. ‘Come back and see us, Justin. You’re welcome any time, idoy.’
‘Now make sure they all get back safely!’ says Gloria, pulling him into an awkward hug. Blushing fiercely, Justin scurries into the boat and fixes the part back into the starter motor. The others climb in and position themselves evenly along the narrow vessel. It’s unusual for it to carry so many people but the little boat is well balanced and holds steady in the water with barely a wobble. Justin starts the engine after a couple of tries and they pull away towards Leyte.
Angel, Carlo and Cristian turn their faces into the wind as Justin guns it towards Tacloban City. Carlo starts singing his favourite Jireh Lim song. Angel twists around and gives her mother an encouraging smile. Wherever you are … She kno
ws that Veronica won’t be able to relax until they are all together again.
When they are near the shore Justin slows the boat and drives it along parallel to the seawall so that Veronica and the boys can see what the city looks like now. Despite the cleaning up that’s been done there’s still a lot of debris in the water. More than once Justin has to slow right down and steer around large obstructions like a car wedged by rocks and sand, or a boat embedded prow-down in the seabed. Carlo has stopped singing and both he and his brother are unusually still as they witness the scale of the destruction for the first time.
‘Look!’ Cristian indicates a big sign floating in the water: ‘Delicious Fried Chicken!’ it reads.
‘And there!’ Carlo points at a small pink bicycle drifting by. He raises his eyes to what’s left of the city.
‘It doesn’t look like home,’ he says.
‘It looks like a movie,’ says Cristian with a frown. ‘A disaster movie.’
They pass the town hall, high on the hill, then the Santo Niño church, and Veronica exclaims with relief to see that it’s mostly intact.
It’s the simple houses that people lived in and the shops that people used every day that have been annihilated by Yolanda’s fury, thinks Angel. And it’s the ordinary people who will suffer most in the days to come. She wonders how long it will take for life to get back to normal in this town where she has lived her whole life.
Justin pulls the little boat up near their house. He ties it to a bollard, and they all climb up over the cement seawall. The boys can scarcely believe their eyes. A big fishing boat is sitting on the top of a mountain of debris right in the middle of their neighbourhood. Dozens of people are swarming over the piles of timber and cement like ants. The air is filled with the sound of hammering and sawing.
Angel takes Veronica’s hand. Behind them, the twins meekly walk either side of Justin. Slowly the little group makes its way towards the house. They pass the site of Mrs Reyes’s home, now just a bare patch of cement. Veronica bends down to the little pile of things that Mrs Reyes pulled out of the rubble when she and Angel first returned after the storm. She picks up a broken piece of ceramic plate with a pretty pink flower etched on it and tucks it in her pocket along with a smudged photograph showing a young Mrs Reyes, smiling as she holds her baby up to the camera.
As they approach their home, Veronica is gripping Angel’s hand so hard that it hurts. Will he be here? Angel wonders. She can see that the area around the building is a little less cluttered than when she left, as if someone has been clearing rubbish away. But anyone could do that, she reasons …
And then in one glorious moment the speculating is over. For there, standing in the doorway of their house, is Juan. He looks thin and drawn but his face is lit with a smile of pure joy. One of his arms is in a sling and he’s holding something up in the other one, waving it at them. Suddenly, the phone in Veronica’s pocket starts to beep loudly and Juan shouts: ‘It’s ringing! Finally, it’s ringing!’
Everyone starts laughing as they come together: Veronica and the twins embracing Juan, Angel stepping in for a quick hug, too, and Justin standing by, once again a happy witness.
‘When did the hospital discharge you?’ asks Angel.
‘They let me go this morning. I came straight here.’
‘Are you alright though?’ asks his wife with concern, carefully stroking his bandaged head.
‘My arm will take a few weeks to heal but they tell me my head will be as good as new in a few days. They lent me this old phone to check in now that the system is up again.’
‘Justin drove your bangka, Papa,’ says Cristian excitedly.
‘He helped me get to Samar, Papa,’ explains Angel. ‘He helped me find Mama and the boys, just as you wanted me to.’
‘You took my boat?’ Juan scoffs in mock horror. ‘I hope you looked after it!’
‘I did my best, mano,’ stutters Justin nervously.
‘He even found a new engine and installed it himself!’ adds Angel.
‘I am in your debt, Justin,’ says Juan gravely. ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for helping to return my family to me.’
Angel is taken aback by Justin’s response. ‘It was mostly Angel. She’s pretty resourceful,’ he says solemnly. ‘And also very brave. I was just happy to help.’
‘Thank you, Justin,’ says Veronica.
‘Now I should get back to my family,’ says Justin. ‘You are all welcome to stay with us, if you wish. We don’t have much, but we do have a roof over our heads.’
‘God bless you,’ says Veronica.
Juan shakes the young man’s hand.
‘Please give my love to Issy and your mother and father,’ says Angel. ‘I hope to see them very soon.’
‘We have some good stories to tell them, don’t we?’ smiles Justin.
‘Only if you stop calling me pipsqueak,’ Angel smiles back.
After Justin has gone, the family wanders around the site of their former home. The boys scurry about rescuing familiar bits and pieces: a broken scooter, a three-legged stool, their old trumpo. Miraculously, the wooden top spins as smoothly as ever!
Juan and Veronica slowly circle the damaged building, holding hands and quietly exchanging their stories as they assess the extent of the structural damage. Eventually Veronica ducks inside, kicking at the mud-smeared household items that are strewn all over the floor. ‘Not much worth saving here,’ she sighs.
Angel pokes her head through the door. She has mixed feelings about her home now. After all, this is where she spent the most terrifying night of her life. Her eyes slide upwards and she shudders, remembering how she nearly drowned, trapped beneath the roof. Veronica puts her arm around Angel and gives her a squeeze as she surveys the wreckage.
Bending down she retrieves a navy blue shoe that she always used to wear to church. Spying the other one she vigorously scrapes the mud off them both and guides them onto her feet, but the leather has shrunk and they are too small for her now. She shrugs and puts them aside.
‘We have been incredibly lucky, you and I,’ she tells Angel. ‘We must never forget that.’
‘Mama! Papa! Look what we found!’ The boys are shrieking excitedly.
Veronica and Angel step outside and there are Cristian and Carlo, each grasping an end of the old taklub.
‘It was caught underneath a piece of the seawall!’ shouts Cristian.
‘It’s not even broken!’ crows Carlo.
The boys pass it reverently to their father. He sits down and starts to run his good hand over the familiar bamboo sticks of the basket. ‘I thought it had gone forever,’ he says softly. ‘My lucky charm.’
Angel sits down next to him and, after a while, plucks up the courage to ask: ‘Papa, will you rebuild the house?’
‘I’m not sure, Angel,’ he replies. ‘It’s a big job. What do you think?’
‘Well,’ she says slowly, ‘I can’t help thinking what if we rebuild here and another big storm comes? I mean, could this happen again?’
Her mother and father have been asking themselves the same question.
‘We have a lot to talk about,’ Juan says firmly. He stands up and secures the taklub to a sturdy pylon. ‘For now, we must find a place to sleep tonight. Come on everyone, we’ll come back tomorrow.’
The five of them walk up onto the main road. The debris is piled high on either side, but the rutted bitumen is now clear. Juan flags down a passing truck heading to the city and they all jump into the back. Angel points out the long queues for rice and medicine as they pass and the lines winding down the street from the mobile water-treatment vans. Children wave merrily at them from the shelters.
‘I stayed in one just like that the other night,’ Angel tells her mother. ‘It was clean and safe.’ Veronica nods approvingly at the brightly coloured washing hanging in the windows.
Everywhere they look, people are clearing and sweeping, fixing and building. It may not look like much now, but there is a
dogged sense of determination among the Taclobanons.
The truck lets them off near Santo Niño and they walk towards the church. Angel notices that since she was last here the streets are looking much better, but nothing’s normal yet. She points out the police boat in the middle of the road to her brothers as they pass by.
Veronica examines the outside of the church and the damage to the steeple.
‘Not too bad,’ she says quietly.
The interior is calm and tranquil – a welcome oasis after the hot, busy streets outside. The damaged pews have been cleared away so the church looks quite empty. There are only a handful of other people present and Father Jose is busy elsewhere. The boys run around, chasing little sparrows, as they have always done. They’re happy that at least here inside the church things haven’t changed all that much. Veronica and Juan sit together, quietly praying in one of the remaining pews.
Angel makes her way to the back of the church where the lists of missing people are still pinned to the noticeboard. She leafs through the pages until she finds the names of her mother and brothers. Grasping the pen on a string she puts a line through their names and next to each one, she writes: ‘Found safe and well.’
It’s over.
Seventeen
Angel stands up and dusts off her knees. She picks a few bits of dried grass off her skirt, and gazes out at the flat, glassy ocean. It’s so peaceful up here on the hill with the breeze rustling through the spindly trees. A good spot for a grave.
She takes a piece of rag out of her pocket and runs it over the headstone.
It’s that time of year again and heavy clouds are threatening rain, but she cleans it anyway, scrubbing the dust out of the engraving and off the varnished stone.
Mrs Reyes would have liked it here, Angel is sure of that. Of course, she would have preferred to be down close to the seashore where she lived most of her life, but after everything that’s happened Angel is happier to see her old friend laid to rest on high ground. It’s much the same view anyway; out over the city, down to the church and across the water.