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Predicament: The Floods Of Manila 3/25/2012 9:03:29 PM
It’s raining again, not here in Portland Oregon, but in my thoughts about my childhood experiences in Manila. When the monsoon comes, devastation occurs. I remembered watching the rivers raged on television with the squatters waiting on their roof for some relief. Some will be swept away and they die. They would hail down helicopters but not even those helicopters will be of use to them. They would just be there, some were standing and some just remaining listless of the plight they were having. And all I can do was watch them.
I remembered Yoling, a nasty storm. I woke up with the winds beginning to howl. As the day grew older, the wind became stronger and instead of shutting the windows, we decided to open all of the windows so that the wind would tunnel through and not affect our roof; for if the wind could not enter our house, the roof will be blown off. The winds of Yoling howled. I went out our kitchen door and watched the storm. There was a lull during that time but again, the winds turned high pitched. The storm was twirling and it was returning to give the city another bout of its windy fury. My dad said that he was going to see how his brothers were doing. And I insisted that I go, but he denied me the pleasure of experiencing the big storm. When he returned, he saved his brother through a rampaging stream (now, a river) through ropes tied to their bodies. The roof of our next door neighbor, the house of my mom’s brother, got their roof blown off; the whole of it.
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Thank heavens we were in Quezon City were there were not much houses, yet. (Of course now that the population had balloon, our place was at the center of Metropolitan Manila.) There were much vacant lots, then and roofs blown off would settle in another part of the neighborhood.
But in gentler storms, we would play in the streets under the rain. We would run to and fro, and we would play with water that gushed out of a broken dripping gutter. When we were prohibited to play in the rain, I felt that mom prohibited us (my sister and me) to wallow in that glorious shower because it was so much fun. But it was for our own good. She didn’t want us to get sick. It seldom floods in Quezon City for it was on a high ground.
But in Manila, it’s different. We played in the floods. Since our grandparent’s apartment was elevated, the floods did not go into their home. It would just crest on the sidewalk, well almost. But if you were on the streets, the floods would be waist deep (to a child.) The floods would be inundated with gunk and debris and garbage. But to wallow in it was so much fun. I know, I know. It was dirty and such. But to a child it was all fun. We would wash out legs and feet, though, after we had our fun and watch from the window the flow of debris and people.
We still consider ourselves lucky not to experience the brunt of the storms and the floods. Imagine having fun instead of standing on rooftops or sitting listless on them just waiting for help. Before our time, it must have been worst since the drainage system was not yet developed. I don’t know how the Philippines was now. But I heard that in the last storm, entire neighborhoods were inundated and the cycle went on.
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