• RICHARD T. CABALLERO JR.
Two weeks after Typhoon Tino devastated Negros Occidental, communities are still recovering. The onslaught claimed about a hundred lives, inflicted over P1.3 billion in damage, and displaced thousands of families from their homes and communities.
But behind the numbers are lives; mothers and fathers, children as young as six months old, whose voices have been silenced forever. Their loss serves as a heartbreaking reminder of how fragile life is, especially when faced with nature’s unexpected fury.
On November 15, President Ferdinand Marcos Jr visited the worst-hit towns of La Castellana and Moises Padilla, places shattered by loss, destruction, and despair.
An hour before his arrival at La Castellana Elementary School, which now serves as a refuge for hundreds, 25-year-old Mary Rose Samolde from Barangay Robles sat quietly inside a classroom, clutching on hope for a better tomorrow. She waited for the president’s arrival, hoping for a helping hand that could help their life rise from the mud and the wreckage.
Mary Rose’s voice trembled as she recounted her tragic ordeal. “It’s a blessing it happened in broad daylight,” she said as her eyes filled with sorrow. “What if it had happened in darkness?”
“Mayo lang gani kay adlaw ma’am kay kung gab e damo gid guro may napatay (it was a good thing it happened during the daytime because if it had been night time, many more would have died).”
Her words echoed the fear and helplessness that many victims felt; an unspoken question lingering in the air: Why did this happen?
Rodita Ariola, 48, bravely shared her story. On November 4, as the typhoon roared through their community, her family was trapped between life and death, fighting to survive amid flash floods and ferocious winds. Despite their home being filled with debris and mud, they held onto hope, grateful that all of them made it out alive.
Their homes, battered but standing, bore witness to their resilience. Yet, not every family was fortunate after the typhoon.
Jessa Mae Valencia and her family in Barangay Bonifacio Extension lost everything. While others rebuild their shattered homes, the Valencias are left with nothing but tears. “Wala na ma’am, duta nalang bilin (it’s all gone, only the land is left),” she said softly as tears streaming down her face.
Hours prior to the Presidential visit, the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) responded with relief efforts; P10,000 for fully damaged houses, and P5,000 for those partially damaged. But for families like the Valencias, this aid was merely a drop in the ocean. Rebuilding a home with limited resources is an uphill battle, and many feel the weight of inadequacy “makabulig man ma’am pero kulang-kulang pa (it can help, but it is not enough).”
Throughout their different experiences, one common cry echoes in the hearts of victims: “It was unexpected; this was the first time.” The shock and disbelief linger, questioning how such tragedy could strike without warning.
Inside the evacuation centers, classrooms shelter 40 to 50 individuals each, serving as temporary sanctuaries amid chaos. Food packs and relief supplies pour in, yet many see these as mere Band-Aids, quick fixes that cannot mend broken lives or heal deep wounds.
As the national government offered P95 million cash aid for severely affected localities in the province, the leaders vowed to use the fund for recovery efforts while the victims held onto their hope of greediness to not prevail in times like this.
In reality, questions swirl – why did this happen? Was there something upstream of Kanlaon that triggered this disaster? Why did some victims not evacuate despite warnings? Whose responsibility is it, those who refused to leave, or the government allegedly permitting illegal activities upstream of the volcano?
The answer was uncertain but authorities were now conducting an investigation to reveal the truth behind the unexpected tragedy.
This tragedy underscores a painful truth: Nature’s fury is uncontrollable, but response, preparedness, and compassion are within our grasp.
Let this be a wake-up call. The government and locals must not only rebuild what was lost but also strengthen their resolve to protect and uplift those most vulnerable. A nation’s strength is measured by how it cares for its people in their darkest hours.*
