Beneath the Rubble

BAYUG ISLAND, Iligan City – For the skies, it was just another spit of rain, perhaps just stronger than in previous days.

But for people whose lives are shared with loved ones and are measured not by routines of Mother Nature but by family ties and relationships, the rains were a curse. A curse so mad, merciless and unforgiving.

And that curse is seen everywhere here in Bayug Island: devastated houses, coconut trees; shattered windowpanes, slabs of remaining concrete, crushed roofs; clothes; wooden dressers; sofas; refrigerator; photographs; mattresses.

The island, traditionally considered as the first settlement in Iligan, has now become a desolate land that breathed its last breath that fateful Friday night when waves, as if furious, came and pared off hectares and hectares of Bayug’s villages.

Located at the mouth of Mandulog River, the island has an estimated land area of 300 hectares, home to some 400 families scattered around 8 sub-villages.

Now, large portions of the coastal village are barren. There are only makeshift altars assembled out of left over pieces of wood, for candles and flowers for the dead.

Most of the survivors have sought refuge in cramped evacuation centers – public schools turned temporary shelters or tent cities donated by aid agencies.

Danny Gongob is among those who survived. But he lost his wife and two children.

I met him a day after Christmas Day, standing on a small square of concrete where their house used to stand, where the family used to live, where he slept with his wife and children every single night; where they used to spend Christmas Days together.

Now, there is nothing but a makeshift altar with a flickering candle and a bunch of pink and white flower petals for his missing loved ones.

And their dark red Spongebob mattress covered with the thickest mud, which he found a few meters away.

It was very dark when the storm came that night, he says. The grip of the waves was strong and howling, drowning the sounds of children who screamed for help.

But for Danny, there’s no time to grieve too long. He is back in Bayug only for a brief moment, as he will be going around the city and nearby villages in search of his wife and children.

Dodo Nagayag, another survivor, lost his mother and three siblings but he, too does not have enough time to weep.

To survive, Dodo must salvage whatever pieces of scrap metal left of their house and their neighbors’ too.  He will sell this for ten pesos a kilo.

With bare hands and some stones and slabs of concrete, Dodo tries to pull out from the rubble whatever rusty metal bars he could find and even the iron sheets crumpled by the waves.

Photos by me

Call for Donations: Art Therapy for Sendong children

This is from Malaya reporter Madelaine Cabrera. Hope we can all help. She is organizing an art therapy session for Sendong children on March 10, 2012.

Disasters can have a severe impact on communities, but the impact can be difficult for the most vulnerable in our society: The CHILDREN.

We can all help them cope in the aftermath of Sendong by reassuring that everything will be all right through more donations and prayers.

Let us unite on helping alleviate the pain of one of the most marginalized.

The American Art Therapy Association says, “Art therapy uses the creative process of art-making to improve and enhance physical, mental and emotional well-being. The creative process involved in artistic self-expression helps people to resolve conflicts and problems, develop interpersonal skills, manage behavior, reduce stress, increase self-esteem and self-awareness, and achieve insight. Art therapy integrates the fields of human development, visual art (such as drawing, painting,etc.), and the creative process with models of counseling and psychotherapy.”

Through your help, donations and pledges, we can all make this possible.

SUPPLIES NEEDED FOR THE ART THERAPY ON MARCH 10 WITH 40 KIDS:

Sketch Pads

Pencil

Eraser

Bottled Paints (Hand Painting)

Crayons

Bond Paper

Colored markers

Colored Paper

Safe scissors

Glue

Art Work Punchers

Pentel Pen

Cartolina

Modeling Clay

Story books preferably in Filipino

Coloring books

Musical instruments (Easy to carry if possible)

SUPPLIES NEED FOR GIVE AWAY AFTER THE THERAPY

Transparent envelope

Pens

Pencil

Sharpener

Crayons

Notebook

Candies and lollipops

Toothbrush

Sachet toothpaste

Mild bar soap

Sachet kiddie shampoo.

Interested parties may email madelainecabrera@yahoo.com or eyesgonzales@gmail.com

Living the Story: Sendong and the Journalists of CDO and Iligan*

Our story about journalists affected by tropical storm Sendong, published originally here and here, were carried today, January 9, 2012 by The Philippine Star, Interaksyon and GMAnews.tv. A shorter version was also published by The Philippine Daily Inquirer, quoting Jes's blog.

Thank you. Let's keep on telling their stories.

Again, we thank the Center for Community Journalism and Development and the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines for supporting this multimedia project.

Most of all, we thank the journalists we interviewed for sharing their stories.






(Photos by Jes Aznar as published on the Philippine Star)
*Title taken from the Interaksyon post

Dateline: Northern Mindanao

By Jes Aznar and Iris Gonzales

Their story started on a quiet Friday night, supposedly the end of another week at work, the start of a much-awaited weekend with loved ones, just nine days before Christmas Day. The place is northern Mindanao.

Cong Corrales

Leonardo Vicente “Cong” Corrales sat in front of a borrowed computer to write what just happened.  Tropical storm Sendong ripped through the province and other parts of northern Mindanao.

As a provincial correspondent for various local and foreign media agencies, Cong had to report on the devastation.  The storm had left hundreds dead, homeless and missing. The morgues were overflowing.  The streets were flooded. Cadavers were floating along with heaps of trash. Crumbs of homes were all over.

But after three hours, the only words that came out were: “Cagayan de Oro City. By Cong Corrales, correspondent.”

Saturday, December 17, 2011.  A few hours before, Cong and his family rushed to the roof of their wooden house to escape the flashfloods unleashed by the surging storm.

They waited for the waters to subside. In the darkness, they could hear the cries of pain. People were shouting the names of missing loved ones. The screams for help went on for hours, struggling to be heard amidst the sounds of the howling winds.

Cong’s home, the second floor of a two-story shelter, is along Burgos Street, Barangay La Consolacion, one of the hardest hit areas in the province.

The morning after the flood, Cong’s home was a portrait of mayhem. Everything was covered with the thickest mud and the stench of garbage filled the damp air.

But Cong did not have enough time to clean the trash.

He had a story to write.

“But I did not know where to start,” Corrales said.

Cong is one of at least 35 journalists from Cayagan and Iligan affected by the storm. Two Iligan-based journalists died while others lost everything.

Merlyn Manos

GMA-7 correspondent Merlyn Manos, a single mother to two children, was already asleep when the floods came.

She was in deep slumber in a worn-out white nightie, exhausted from a day’s work. She was out all day doing a feature story about the Christmas Village in the center of town.

Her son roused her from sleep. “The house is flooded!” he said in a shaking voice. Their house is a small rented space in Green Village, Hinaplanon, Iligan City.

Merlyn had no time to pack. She managed to slip on a shirt before they rushed out to the roof. They could not open the door, as the waters were already high. The only way out was through the hole for the air conditioning unit.

The winds were wild and the waves were punching hard. Merlyn felt it was the end.

“I felt then that we were going to die,” she said.

From above, they could hear the cries of mercy – loud, shrieking screams for help from mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, sons and daughters.

“We could not do anything. We were helpless up there,” she said. As Sendong battered their street, the shouts grew louder.

They went back to the house when the waters subsided. It was then that Merlyn realized she had lost everything.

“When I went to my room, I saw my laptop floating.  I said to myself, ‘it’s gone. It’s gone,’” Merlyn said.

But by 12 noon, Merlyn had to file a story. Her desk had called. She had to report something. Amidst the chaos, she managed to do a phone patch — a live report via telephone — as it is known in broadcast industry parlance.

Merlyn ended up reporting her own story. At that time, she did not imagine how she would be able to work again without her laptop and camera.

Jigger Jerusalem

Jigger Jerusalem, a correspondent of The Philippine Star in Cagayan de Oro, also lost his laptop in the flood; and everything else in the rented room where he stays.

“Now, I have to start from scratch again. I have to buy new things and tools. I need a digital camera and a laptop,” said Jigger.

But Jigger can’t bring himself to write just yet. The trauma is still very fresh. At night, he can still see in his inner mind’s eye the flood of mud that gatecrashed his room. He can still hear the winds and the screams from little voices, the cries for help; the sounds of panic, desperation and pain.

“I promise I will write again when the time comes when I can again function as a working journalist,” Jigger said.

On January 4, Jigger’s by-line appeared again on the front page of the Philippine Star. He wrote a story on the opening of classes in CDO.

Bonita Ermac

She works as a correspondent for Mindanao Gold Star Daily in Iligan.  When the floods came, Bonita, also a single mom, secured her son and her 80-year old mother.

“From our room, we went down to the kitchen. The waters were already high. We had to hold on to wooden bars in the ceiling. My 80-year old mother was with us. She was hospitalized after because of pneumonia.

After that, Bonita could not think of writing again just yet.

“I lost all my things,” she said.

Michael Kundimann (missing)

Leni Kundiman lost her husband, Michael and her home. Michael was a radio reporter and news anchor and the last time Leni heard his voice was at the height of Sendong’s wrath.

They held on to a rope just outside their house in Bayug Island in Iligan City but a shanty that had been washed away by the flood hit Michael. His voice trailed off and was never seen again since that night.

Bayug Island had been wiped out. What used to be a village where hundreds of families lived and survived the daily fare is now a barren lifeless land. There are no more homes, just makeshift wooden altars with candles and flowers for the dead. The laughter of children who used to roam around will never be heard again.

There’s only a deafening silence and an eerie shade of gray in Bayug Island and in the rest of Iligan and Cagayan.

But the story does not end here. Each and every journalist affected by Sendong will carry on. “Padayon,” as they say it. They will again find the words and capture the images. They will start again and again and they will keep on telling other peoples’ stories the way they used to do before howling winds and a merciless storm struck that fateful Friday night. 

(This project is produced by Jes Aznar and Iris Gonzales, in cooperation with the Center for Community Journalism and Development and the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines. To those who wish to help the affected journalists, you may call the NUJP office at at (02) 3767330.) 

Christmas Day in the City of the River of Gold

Photos by Jes Aznar and text by Iris Gonzales

CAGAYAN DE ORO – We can smell the stench of death even before we actually stepped on Burgos Street, a place where two rivers converge nearby, one of thousands of devastated patches of earth here in the province.

The putrid smell of decomposing bodies; of dead Carabaos, of cats and dogs; of men, women and children, pervades the air. I am standing in the middle of a long narrow road alongside Cagayan de Oro River. If pain had a smell, this would be it.

Both sides of the road are lined with houses devastated by the typhoon that struck in the middle of the night. The roofs are gone, the windows shattered. The doors are wide-open. The street is filled with remnants of the devastation.

Everything is covered with the thickest mud, smudged with soot and garbage: the heaps of clothes, bags, television sets, electric fans, tables, chairs, bed, curtains, pillows and whatever the residents have left. 

It is December 25, 2011 but here in the City of the River of Gold, where a tropical storm struck in the middle of the night while a father sang Christmas carols to his little girls, there’s nothing to celebrate.

There are no gifts to open, no jingling bells, no festivities, no laughter, just crumbs of homes to salvage.

Sendong, which came in the dead of night on December 16, left as swiftly as it came, killing more than 1,500 men, women and children and leaving many more homeless.

In makeshift evacuation centers, survivors swarm like mad dogs whenever relief goods arrive.

Novelyn Gales, 24 years old, lost everything to the killer floods. She is among the hundreds of evacuees seeking shelter here at Barangay Makansandig Evacuation Center.

Her three-year old baby is sleeping on a slab of plywood in a cramped space, filled with donations and shared with another family.

“We lost everything but we’re still lucky to be alive,” said Novelyn, managing a faint smile. When the floods came, she and her husband held on to a tree, the baby held tightly by both of them.

There was no time to pack anything else.

As I write this, the death toll has climbed to 1,500 according to the Office of Civil Defense: 891 dead in Cagayan de Oro and additional 451 in Iligan City.

Across the cramped evacuation center is the village where Novelyn used to live. Now, where tattered homes used to stand and little children used to roam around and play, there is nothing left but a clear view of the horizon, a devastated patch of land and a golden mosque with a crescent moon not too far away.

There is an eerie silence. By the side of the desolate village, a river of mud flows endlessly. Bloated cadavers were seen floating here the morning after the flood, Novelyn said.  Her dreams, like those of other survivors, were washed away, too.