I now know why this idea that Filipinos are resilient persist. They do not come from us. We are by far wiser than that. We know the falsity of that virtue-of the human spirit enduring all the insults that human institutions and organizations are brought to bear upon them. We have seen through the illusion of that virtue, the fakery of the grit, the stilted speeches delivered for inspiration and sublimation.
Behold our mentors-our leaders and politicians who see to it that we continue to strive to persist, to suffer, to be resilient. Of course, they know they cannot be resilient; that is why they need to impose such an imaginary upon us.
As the month of September was drawing to a close and the breath of October ushering in a different climate, typhoons came.
As was the case of storms, the Oratio Imperata was taken out of the dustbin of old beliefs. Who knows this might work. Who knows the God almighty might listen to us after all.
We have become experts when it comes to storm tracking. In Bicol, for example, there is a local expert Bicolanos listen to. While the state meteorological agency continues its work, a native expert has been developed. The story was one time, the region was so ill-prepared for the onslaught of a particularly devastating weather disturbance because no proper warning was issued. From then on, a dedicated team of experts was developed with the aim in mind of focusing on the region.
For some reason, this approach has worked. True, there was time in October last year, when the region -the city of Naga included-was severely flooded. The people had to recognize one thing, the unpredictability of the amount of rain falling. Climate change has become real. And while there were structures that impeded the draining of flood water, there was at least one factor that was new-the awareness that there were factors that gave rise to these calamities. Knowledge was claimed by the people and this was good enough.
And yet, something obnoxious and anomalous has remained through all these days. The typhoon that hit certain parts of the country during the last part of September is a sign that in this country there are two realities. One dwells on the social facts of poverty; the other on power. Of all the provinces in the Bicol region, Masbate was the one heavily affected by the typhoon. Being an island-province and separated from the mainland, Masbate suffered a double whammy. Its isolation meant succor had to go through a geographical gridlock. There was no one to help the province except itself.
For days, there was no signal from the island of Ticao, for example. There were photographs of entire villages with houses decimated. We have gotten used to viewing people standing in front of their ruined homes after devastation but it takes guts to see old people weeping over a vanished homestead.
We are familiar with images of poverty-of children with tattered clothes and homes with no walls-but we are never ready to confront helplessness and hopelessness. Somehow, we allow ourselves the modicum of faith, that the human soul has the capacity to live on and fight and be alive for another day but faced with nothingness and we will never know what to do.
Witness an old woman standing where her home used to be and listen as she speaks-‘wara na gayud.’ There is nothing left.
‘Bangon Masbate,’ a tarp is flying in the wind.
Somewhere, a person has posted the Masbate Dynasty-the local leaders from the governor to the representatives all share the same family name.
Then the earthquake struck Cebu and tremor was felt all over the Panay island and the neighboring areas.
Panic and hysteria ensued. There was no more resilience. No hidden strength. This archipelago of suffering people has gone through enough suffering. In basketball courts, people were trying to stay calm until the lights went out. In hospitals, patients had to be wheeled out of the rooms. When the tremor was over, there was not enough space in clinics and hospitals for those injured.
The only chill place in this country is in Manila, in the hallowed halls of Congress and the Senate. There the congressmen and the senators are debating in aid of legislation. They are the gods of the upper air, reeking of expensive colognes and protected by parliamentary procedures only they could understand and most of the time mystify. At the end of the day, they will go home to the comfort of their homes, cocooned from the total social facts that they can articulate but will never actualize. Somewhere, we hope there is another god-one that punishes politicos and spares the massesˆa god who does not require an obligatory prayer but one who listens, and listens well.