Quietly, Cebuanos do their share
JUST two hours after Supertyphoon “Yolanda” left, this doctor, her husband and their three children jumped into the family car. Their house, sitting between two hills that protected it against the strongest typhoon in recorded history, had survived. They wanted to see how the rest of the city had fared.
“Our main concern was to see if people needed help and if there was anything we could do to help them,” said the doctor, who shall remain unnamed.
“Thank God it wasn’t as we expected,” she said as she surveyed the debris. But she knew that they were the lucky ones.
Her fears were confirmed by a report blasting out of a transistor radio. A radio reporter giving choppy updates from the northernmost tip of Cebu island spoke of an evacuation center that was still being battered by jet-like winds.
Torn apart
The evacuation center, where people living on the coast had been brought to safety, was slowly being taken apart by the wind. It looked as though the roof was being ripped from the walls with a crow bar, said the by now hysterical reporter before his transmission was cut off.
The doctor said she and her family decided they had to do something right away.
Here in this city that was spared by the monster typhoon, ordinary people stood up and decided to help in their own “little way.” Away from the spotlight.
For the doctor, her family and close friends, the “little way” meant helping hundreds of families at Daanbantayan, a municipality in the northern tip of Cebu whose coastline was completely devastated.
To Daanbantayan
“The important thing is the first few days,” said the doctor. She and her friends rounded up whatever goods they had and packed them into relief bundles before driving in a convoy to Daanbantayan, even as news reports warned that the road to the north was not passable.
“We just believed it was,” said the 47-year-old general practitioner. While the doctor and her friends were bringing hope to survivors, several other residents of this city began looking for ways to help. In a small garage in neighboring Mandaue City, a group of twenty-somethings were bundling goods into relief packages. Another group was selling t-shirts, with the proceeds going to help both earthquake and storm survivors.
Everywhere it was the same. There were no cameras. You had to beg for an interview. Those who agreed refused to be named. “No pictures, please,” they’d say, almost apologetically.
They are not famous or recognizable names, nor are they affiliated with any group—Gilda Ledesma Rollan, Maria Therese Herrero, Johnrey Herrero, Rea Fontanoza, Andrie Fontanoza, Rosabelle Aldamita, Lorraine Deiparine, Noelyn Taghoy, Alfred Go. There were many others.
“We wanted to help our fellow Cebuanos,” said a 30-year-old salesman who barely escaped Yolanda’s wrath. His house lies within four blocks of the beach. “We were worried at first but we came out fine,” he said.
Obligation to help
The salesman, his wife and friends from high school got together and pooled rice, water, medicines and other basic needs into relief bags to be distributed in northern Cebu.
“I felt it was an obligation to help our countrymen,” said a businessman, who used his car rental shop to help deliver goods.
“We just want to help,” said the doctor, who would go on impromptu medical missions. She’d wake up, bring her three daughters with her and search for poor communities where she would give free consultations.
Her doctor-friend, who is even more of a bleeding heart, she said, would do the same. “And she is a cardiologist,” she said, noting that cardiologists are some of the most expensive doctors around.
“Helping is a lot more fulfilling if no one knows about it,” said the doctor. As they drove for three hours through unlit roads littered with debris, they saw other convoys in unmarked vehicles too. “They just want to help.”
Cruel reminder
A week after Yolanda, aftershocks still rock this city. It’s almost like a cruel, but gentle, reminder of how Cebu City was spared, and of how its residents need to reach out to those who weren’t.
And so the residents here continue packing bags of hope and distributing them to survivors. There are no stories about these residents. No photos of them going viral on social media. But they have this: people, wet and hungry, who crawl out of their devastation with thankful smiles, offering fruits from their ruined backyards as a gesture of thanks.
“When these people who have lost everything still have something to give just to show their gratitude, you know you have done something good. God knows you have done something good,” said the doctor.
“It doesn’t matter if no one else knows,” she said.—With a report from Edra Benedicto
