I am Rosie Lillian Banaoag. Eight years old. My mother calls me ‘Rose.’ We live in a bungalow house at a humble subdivision in Cagayan de Oro City. Our neighbours here are very nice people. The children are very friendly. I even made friends to a lot of kids around here—Kate, Anne, Geraldine, and many others. Indeed, everyone makes a good neighbour here—here in this little subdivision which is, fortunately or unfortunately, just a few minutes' walk away from the river.
December 17. Saturday. Around 7 o’clock in the morning.
I could hardly move my body. I could hardly open my eyes. But when I finally managed to rise from my lying position, I was petrified by what I saw.
Mud. Thick sheets of mud. All brown and clayish.
Cars. All in a topsy-turvy. All not in good shape.
Furniture and electronic appliances. All covered with mud. All not in good shape.
Trees. All fallen down. Withered. All not in good shape.
Human bodies. All as white as snow. Wounded, scarred. All not in good shape.
I limply started to walk and surveyed the surroundings when I tripped and stumbled upon something. A mound of mud—or more particularly, a mound of a human body thickly covered with mud.
The face was almost unrecognizable because of the dirt and soil that masked the face. The body’s pair of pyjamas was tattered and ripped at the edges. And even through the thickness of the mud that coated the body, I could still see the pink, fancy watch fastened on her left wrist. It was a pink Minnie Mouse watch.
I could very much tell that it was a child. A child most likely of the same age as me.
December 16. Yesterday.
My mother was forcefully waking me up. I had no idea why.
“Rose, it’s the first dawn mass of the Misa de Gallo, remember? Are you coming with us or not? You sure don’t want to stain your spotless record.”
As much as I wanted to remain glued on my cozy bed, I also seriously wanted to attend the Misa de Gallo. As in seriously. Yes I am eight but I do not take Misa de Gallo (or Simbang Gabi for others) half-heartedly. They say that once one completes the nine dawn masses, his Christmas wish will be granted. And because I am a kid, I believed. And because I believed, I couldn't afford to miss any one of those nine dawn masses of Misa de Gallo. Also, I have an important wish to make this year.
And so, my family and I gleefully attended the mass at the subdivision chapel.
Morning broke almost unnoticed. Or maybe I was just too excited for our class Christmas Party later? I didn’t know. Then I yawned.
Today, Friday, is the last day of our class for this year. Next week will then be our Christmas break. Just like everyone, I could no longer wait for the break. I was all set for it just like how I was all set for our Christmas Party at school later: my gift for the traditional exchanging-of-gifts; the spaghetti my mother prepared last night for my potluck contribution; my utensils; and most importantly, my pink, lacy dress which my mother bought for me a couple of days ago which I was absolutely head over heels in love with.
Tick.Tock. Tick. Tock.
It was around nine o’clock when our class party started. Few intermission numbers. Children’s games. Christmas Kringle. I gave my gift to Kate and basing from her reaction, she really didn’t expect that it was me who picked her name. I was glad though that it was me. Kate is one of my bestfriends and I love her so much. I gave her a huge baby blue stuffed toy because I know she would like it. She was all-smiles about it as soon as she received it. Then the party was over.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The afternoon passed almost like a blur. Around two o’clock, the sky began to gather some dark clouds telegraphing rain. And minutes later, it started to drizzle. Yes, drizzle.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I really didn’t notice when the rain started to pour heavily. I think it was around five o’clock because that was the time I heard the rain noisily hammer on our roof. Meanwhile, inside our house, my mother and I were busy preparing for dinner. It was a daily source of delight to be doing this with my mother. I love her so much and every day I spend with her is a miracle.
Just this year, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage three. This news came like a low blow to the family. An emotional crisis. An unfathomable nightmare.
And this was the reason why I couldn't afford to miss any one of Misa de Gallo’s nine dawn masses. I had to complete it. I had to make that special wish for my mother.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It was already eight-thirty in the evening and the rain still didn’t bother to subside. It was now more violent, more crazy. My father just arrived home. We had dinner together and had a sharing about the day’s whirlwind of events. With the family complete, everything just seemed to be in perfect place. A true reflection of Christmas.
Tick.Tock. Tick. Tock.
I was now losing track of time. I think it was already ten-thirty but I was still wide awake. I was on my room rummaging through my friends’ gifts to me. Geraldine gave me some cute notebooks that had cartoon prints on them which I immediately piled on a shelf just beside my bed. Anne’s gift was something I expected from her—some fancy gems which she probably took from her collection of sparkling stones and gems. Kate’s was enclosed in a tiny box. When I opened it, a pink Minnie Mouse watch emerged from the box. I instantly tried it on. Perfect fit, and I totally loved it.
By this time, I was already getting annoyed by the blackouts occurring every now and then. By this time, I was still not sleepy especially with what my mother told me about raising signal number 1 in CDO because of Typhoon Sendong.
The pounding rain and the thrashing winds continued on.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It was almost twelve. The night seemed to have calmed. I was sleeping in my parents’ bedroom because the lights were out and I was afraid of the dark. I was irked and awakened by the indiscernible screams which seemed to be coming from the neighbourhood. As I adjusted my eyes to the dark, I noticed that my parents were out of bed. The candlelight from the bedside table was also starting to go off.
The panicky screams and shrieks of the people slowly began to be more audible in my ears.
“HEEEEEELP! HEEEEEELP!”
“FLOOD! FLOOD! GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSES NOW!”
“THE WATER IS ALREADY TOO HIGH! QUICKLY MOVE TO SOMEWHERE SAFE!”
I began to be frantic. I darted my eyes to wherever my parents could possibly be. Then, through the poor light coming from the lit candle, I saw my mother--with inexplicable terror spanned across her face--hastily running towards me. In what was like a split-second, she grabbed me in her arms and carried me outside our house. It was too dark outside.
I was already crying and shivering when the water abruptly elevated to a level equal to my mother’s chest. By then, I could feel that my mother was also crying. By then, cries and screams became louder. And by then, even through the total darkness that surrounded us, I somehow saw the dead body of my father wound up in the steel fences of the house next to ours. And I just could not take the sight. I closed my eyes and cried harder.
I wanted to clutch tighter my mother’s arms. But at the same time, I felt like all my energy was being drained. My whole body felt like giving up. My spirit too felt like letting go.
I fainted.
Christmas isn’t supposed to be like this.
December 17. Around 8 o’clock in the morning.
I could very much tell that it was a child. A child most likely of the same age as me.
But my attention was not towards the mud-packed girl with the pink Minnie Mouse watch. My attention was directed towards a familiar voice coming my way. A familiar woman I so dearly loved: my mother. I wondered why she was now barefooted and why her night gown was now torn and dirtied with so much mud. I also wondered why, as she moved towards me, she kept on scavenging every hillock of mud she passed by. She was hysterical in a way.
I tried to run towards her. To embrace her. But for some reasons, I couldn't seem to move my feet.
When she finally reached the place where I was standing, she wailed loudly. I didn’t get it. But deep inside me, my mother’s wailing was piercing my very heart. She didn't look at me. Instead, she fixed her mournful gaze at the hillock of mud beside me. At the girl with the pink Minnie Mouse watch.
“Mama, I’m here. Please, listen to me. Why are you so muddied, Mama? Why are you crying?”
But she didn’t seem to hear any word I say. She was now crouched down beside the dead girl’s body and was weeping over it.
“Mama, who is she?”
My mother was now feebly starting to wipe the layering mud from the girl’s face. As she was doing it, I also started wondering why the pink watch looked familiar to me. But I soon dismissed the thought.
“Mama, why didn’t you wake me up? Did we already miss the second Misa de Gallo? Now how can I still wish to make you better, Mama? Let’s go to the church now, maybe we can still catch up with the mass, Mama.”
By this time, I tried to cry. But my eyes didn’t seem to want to cry.
And by this time, my mother was done cleaning the dead girl’s face. I could now recognize her. I could now clearly recognize her. The events of last night started to flash like ghosts in my mind: the menacing gush of floodwaters, the banging and the scratching sounds of cars, appliances, kitchenwares, and others; the grotesque figure of my father's dead body; my mother's heartbreaking cry. I also saw myself break free from my mother's tight embrace and drift away from her. I saw myself drown underneath the murky water. I saw myself lifeless.
Meanwhile, few streaks of sunlight were now beginning to beam across the sky.
Then, pallidly, I made a quick glance at the corpse's face. At the tattered pair of pyjamas. At the broken Minnie Mouse watch I now clearly remember. At MY dead body! And for what seemed like eternity, I listened to my mother’s cry echo along the cries of the hundreds of mourning people within the city.
“Mama, don’t cry.”
***
My heart goes out to all the victims of typhoon Sendong's devastation last Friday night, December 16, especially in CDO and Iligan City. The feature article above is my personal tribute to all the people who were struck by the disaster. Let us continue praying for each other. :(
BECAUSE WE ARE MEN AND WOMEN FOR OTHERS.
