ONDOY (A True Story)

The floodwater came Saturday morning, on the 26th of September, 2009. It was brought by the typhoon which the Philippine Weather Bureau named 'Ondoy'.

It was around 9 a.m., when I was informed by my next-door neighbor that the water on the nearby creek was about to overflow. I was relatively knew at Cristimar Village, arriving just nine months earlier.

I was not so worried. We were in Antipolo, a city on a mountain, so I thought, the floodwater couldn't rise so high. I was wrong. As it turned out, Cristimar Village became a catch-basin for the rainwater that poured down the city.

By 10 a.m., I and my next-door neighbors were on the roof, drenched by the rain and, at times, chilled by the gusty wind. I could see other families on the roof of their respective single-story houses, also braving the rain and the wind. Some were with young kids.

After about an hour, we were invited by the occupants of a nearby two-story apartment to stay with them while waiting for the floodwater to subside. Carefully, we made our way to the apartment, walking from roof to roof. Everyone on the roof managed to reach the apartment, even those with young kids.

Not long after we got to the apartment, there was a call for all able-bodied men to help rescue three women who were trapped inside their bungalow house. It was right behind the apartment where we were taking shelter. I was not eager to go. I only had coffee that morning, and I didn't feel having the energy to pull people from the floodwater and onto the roof. But I went just the same because all the other able-bodied men responded, and I thought it would be embarrassing to be the only one left.

We were five, and not equipped for the task. With our bare hands, we tried to remove a sheet of galvanized iron from the roof of the bungalow house to create an entryway down to the three ladies. Then somebody found a crooked iron pipe, once used as a pole for a TV antenna, and placed it beneath the G.I. sheet that we were trying to remove. He held one end of the pipe, I took the other end. Together, we jerked the pipe up to force the sheet off the roof. But the other guy was much stronger than I was, so the sheet slid towards my right hand and sliced the skin on the back of my thumb.

I dropped the pipe to attend to my profusely bleeding wound. A woman in another two-story apartment waved a bottle of isoprophyl alcohol at me. I understood what she wanted to convey. I went to her, reached out for the alcohol, and then cleansed my wound with it. I didn't know who she was, I must have been just a stranger to her too, but I was moved by the kindness that she showed. Indeed, in times of calamity, the kindness of strangers appear.

Finally, the other guys were able to remove the G.I. sheet and created an opening. Through the opening, we could see the ladies. Two appeared to be standing on a chair. Still, the floodwater was up to their abdomens. The third, old and so thin, was lying on a mattress that, fortunately, was floating. One guy went down, disregarding the danger, to help the ladies go up the roof. I'd say, on that day, he was the Man.

Pulling the ladies up wasn't easy. The ladies failed to shut off their electricity, so, the electric wires on their ceiling, soaked by the rain that got trough the opening, were live and grounded. The electric current stung the men as they pulled the ladies onto the roof.

The daughter of the bed-ridden woman was the first one pulled up to the roof. It needed several attempts. She was so weak to hold on to the men on the roof, perhaps weakened by her fear. She probably had thought that they were really going to drown. When she was finally pulled onto the roof, she was unable to stand up. I held her upper right arm to help her stand up, a tall woman, and then I led her to where we were taking shelter. It was the most that I could do, my wound was still open and was occasionally bleeding.

Next was the bed-ridden woman. It was quick. The guys who pulled the old woman up handed her to me. On both my arms, I carried the woman to the apartment. She wasn't so heavy. The third woman, the housemaid, was already on the roof when I came back.

We were feeling good when we went back to the apartment, we five men. We didn't talk much, mostly just smiled at each other. No one even bothered to get anyone's name. Well, we only need one name to remember, Ondoy.