Recalling in song
Recalling in song
Updated 11:52pm (Mla time) Dec 27, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A10 of the December 28, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.
EVEN before tidal waves hit Asia, were bitter lessons from typhoon-ravaged Aurora and Quezon fading from the media's radar screens? The Inquirer's resident economist, former Socio-Economic Planning Secretary Cielito Habito, frets this is so.
Not quite. Striking stories come from a lady-lawyer. Now, a cloistered nun, her monastery, Karmelo, in Infanta, was turned into storm refuge overnight. Here are excerpts from Sister Lorenz Teresa Bautista's letter to other Carmelites:
"I'm writing this using a little kerosene lamp. 'Tringki' they call it here. Sunday before typhoon 'Yoyong' hit, Fr. Charlito Colendres delivered an Advent homily at Karmelo: 'Gumising ka.' His target? Illegal logging that ravaged Aurora province.
"Monday, the weather turned nasty. A tricycle brought Father Cha. He couldn't believe what he saw: 548,000 board feet of lumber needing approval for release! A sawmill here? But logging is banned. Father was deeply affected and restless in his homily.
"In the afternoon, the winds howled. 'Lorenz, this is a storm,' Sister May says as we washed our clothes. The lights go out later. At 11:30 p.m., the phone rings. Very odd. 'Jedalyn?... Flooded up to the waist?' I hear prioress Sister Carmela answer. 'But the rains have stopped. What? You're on the second floor? Paano yan? OK. Take care.'
"Silence ... shattered by the phone again. I join Sisters Lenie and Cora around the phone. 'Marianne? The waters are high? Lenie, she wants you to call Manila.' Soon, Sisters Lenie and Ester Marie report that the line is dead.
"Bad. How can the flood rise so fast? Karmelo is on the highest point in already elevated Barangay Tongohin. Five kilometers away, the town is already flooded. Water still rising. God save us.
"The prioress wakes the other sisters. Past midnight, we're all before the Blessed Sacrament exposed. Then, knocking at the parlor door. The first of 30 or so evacuees seek shelter. Sister Lenie opens the chapel.
"A truck comes later with more refugees. Others arrive on foot. Whole families, neighbors ... the grown-ups stunned, children crying ... clothes torn, wet, muddied, unshod ... clinging to each other, to few rescued possessions ... Karmelo Evacuation Center was born.
"We're enclosed nuns. We're not 'trained' to do this. But God worked in our ignorance.
"As evacuees poured in, each sister knew her role. Kitchen and endless cooking -- Sisters John Mary and Cora; medical aid-Sisters Kate and Lenie; chapel and guest house evacuation center -- Sisters May, Dulce and myself; and of course the command posts -- Sisters Carmel and Esther Marie.
"By flashlights and tringki, we cook, turn the monastery inside out for clothes, bedding, medicines, etc: everything we can give. Christmas giveaways disappear, program costumes -- finally our own clothes. Non-stop medical treatment; non-stop cooking, non-stop rummaging for clothes, slippers, etc.
"There are 'non stop-stories of grief.' With a fractured arm, Lucy tells of her daughter Therese, nine years old, torn from her by rampaging floods. A woman pokes the mud with a pointed stick hoping the blooded tip will reveal the body of her daughter. It turns up a known illegal logger's corpse.
"I was giving a three-year-old boy a T-shirt. Wet, he clung tightly to the chapel grille gate. No matter how I gently coaxed him, he wouldn't let go. Trauma. He'd probably been told not to let go, lest he drown.
"There was no time to run ... 'Drop a coin and as you bend down to pick it up, water is around you,' one evacuee explained. The town is submerged in 15 feet of water. Dead people, animals, bloated, decaying ... huge logs everywhere. One report stands out: while trying to save children, Father Cha was hit by a log and swept to his death.
"Karmelo sisters were anxious for their families. But no one verbalized it. It was a luxury compared to our evacuees. We smiled to give people hope. At recreation, we tried to make our laughter carry over the lashing cruel wind to strengthen them. But at Mass, we couldn't help but cry. Yet, never did Karmelo sacrifice prayer. We prayed the divine office faithfully, singing, chanting, pauses. No short cuts.
"But water and mud now laps the monastery driveway. A log bangs against our overflowing creek. At 7 p.m., we're told to expect Signal 4. On retiring, I say a final prayer of abandonment and gratitude. Will our eyes see tomorrow?
"The gift of a new day. Yoyong spared us. We check our refugees, sleepless but fine, thank God. They speak of 'good news': a baby was born at the evacuation center. These people are incredible.
"Seeing nuns cleaning up, the children help. Monday, they were at death's door. Eleven-year-old Wendy saved two sisters by clinging to them as floodwater rose higher than their house. Here she was sweeping, making no big deal.
"Help is now coming in. Choppers can be seen over our skies. The sisters have nothing left to give. The people need more than prayers this Christmas ... something to use, eat, wear...
"There are reasons to get mad ... really mad. [Unlike Asia's tidal waves] this calamity was man-made. We will all stand before God someday.
"But there are reasons for hope too: truly good people who helped. Perhaps, their stories will see light someday.
"Danny who kissed the body of his four-year-old daughter Casai, before burying her in a mass grave, composes songs. He might capture these events better in song. He said he'd try."
Updated 11:52pm (Mla time) Dec 27, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A10 of the December 28, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.
EVEN before tidal waves hit Asia, were bitter lessons from typhoon-ravaged Aurora and Quezon fading from the media's radar screens? The Inquirer's resident economist, former Socio-Economic Planning Secretary Cielito Habito, frets this is so.
Not quite. Striking stories come from a lady-lawyer. Now, a cloistered nun, her monastery, Karmelo, in Infanta, was turned into storm refuge overnight. Here are excerpts from Sister Lorenz Teresa Bautista's letter to other Carmelites:
"I'm writing this using a little kerosene lamp. 'Tringki' they call it here. Sunday before typhoon 'Yoyong' hit, Fr. Charlito Colendres delivered an Advent homily at Karmelo: 'Gumising ka.' His target? Illegal logging that ravaged Aurora province.
"Monday, the weather turned nasty. A tricycle brought Father Cha. He couldn't believe what he saw: 548,000 board feet of lumber needing approval for release! A sawmill here? But logging is banned. Father was deeply affected and restless in his homily.
"In the afternoon, the winds howled. 'Lorenz, this is a storm,' Sister May says as we washed our clothes. The lights go out later. At 11:30 p.m., the phone rings. Very odd. 'Jedalyn?... Flooded up to the waist?' I hear prioress Sister Carmela answer. 'But the rains have stopped. What? You're on the second floor? Paano yan? OK. Take care.'
"Silence ... shattered by the phone again. I join Sisters Lenie and Cora around the phone. 'Marianne? The waters are high? Lenie, she wants you to call Manila.' Soon, Sisters Lenie and Ester Marie report that the line is dead.
"Bad. How can the flood rise so fast? Karmelo is on the highest point in already elevated Barangay Tongohin. Five kilometers away, the town is already flooded. Water still rising. God save us.
"The prioress wakes the other sisters. Past midnight, we're all before the Blessed Sacrament exposed. Then, knocking at the parlor door. The first of 30 or so evacuees seek shelter. Sister Lenie opens the chapel.
"A truck comes later with more refugees. Others arrive on foot. Whole families, neighbors ... the grown-ups stunned, children crying ... clothes torn, wet, muddied, unshod ... clinging to each other, to few rescued possessions ... Karmelo Evacuation Center was born.
"We're enclosed nuns. We're not 'trained' to do this. But God worked in our ignorance.
"As evacuees poured in, each sister knew her role. Kitchen and endless cooking -- Sisters John Mary and Cora; medical aid-Sisters Kate and Lenie; chapel and guest house evacuation center -- Sisters May, Dulce and myself; and of course the command posts -- Sisters Carmel and Esther Marie.
"By flashlights and tringki, we cook, turn the monastery inside out for clothes, bedding, medicines, etc: everything we can give. Christmas giveaways disappear, program costumes -- finally our own clothes. Non-stop medical treatment; non-stop cooking, non-stop rummaging for clothes, slippers, etc.
"There are 'non stop-stories of grief.' With a fractured arm, Lucy tells of her daughter Therese, nine years old, torn from her by rampaging floods. A woman pokes the mud with a pointed stick hoping the blooded tip will reveal the body of her daughter. It turns up a known illegal logger's corpse.
"I was giving a three-year-old boy a T-shirt. Wet, he clung tightly to the chapel grille gate. No matter how I gently coaxed him, he wouldn't let go. Trauma. He'd probably been told not to let go, lest he drown.
"There was no time to run ... 'Drop a coin and as you bend down to pick it up, water is around you,' one evacuee explained. The town is submerged in 15 feet of water. Dead people, animals, bloated, decaying ... huge logs everywhere. One report stands out: while trying to save children, Father Cha was hit by a log and swept to his death.
"Karmelo sisters were anxious for their families. But no one verbalized it. It was a luxury compared to our evacuees. We smiled to give people hope. At recreation, we tried to make our laughter carry over the lashing cruel wind to strengthen them. But at Mass, we couldn't help but cry. Yet, never did Karmelo sacrifice prayer. We prayed the divine office faithfully, singing, chanting, pauses. No short cuts.
"But water and mud now laps the monastery driveway. A log bangs against our overflowing creek. At 7 p.m., we're told to expect Signal 4. On retiring, I say a final prayer of abandonment and gratitude. Will our eyes see tomorrow?
"The gift of a new day. Yoyong spared us. We check our refugees, sleepless but fine, thank God. They speak of 'good news': a baby was born at the evacuation center. These people are incredible.
"Seeing nuns cleaning up, the children help. Monday, they were at death's door. Eleven-year-old Wendy saved two sisters by clinging to them as floodwater rose higher than their house. Here she was sweeping, making no big deal.
"Help is now coming in. Choppers can be seen over our skies. The sisters have nothing left to give. The people need more than prayers this Christmas ... something to use, eat, wear...
"There are reasons to get mad ... really mad. [Unlike Asia's tidal waves] this calamity was man-made. We will all stand before God someday.
"But there are reasons for hope too: truly good people who helped. Perhaps, their stories will see light someday.
"Danny who kissed the body of his four-year-old daughter Casai, before burying her in a mass grave, composes songs. He might capture these events better in song. He said he'd try."
posted by Dante at 10:45 PM
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