HOWL:
verb, intransitive
1. to make a sound like an animal howling
The winds of supertyphoon Yolanda (Haiyan) howled through the trees, whipping the branches into a crazed state of submission. These 215 kph winds are one of the reasons why typhoons (supersized or otherwise) are so scary – the winds seem to make nature come alive. No, scrap that. It reminds us that nature IS alive, strong and unrelenting. It reminds us that we are but a small part of the tapestry of the earth. In spite of all that we have, we co-exist with some things that are mightier than us.
And the howling begins to taunt us. Helplessness sets in.
2. to utter a similar cry, as in pain or rage; wail
“How can this happen to us?”, we howl in confusion and desperation. We, who are still shuddering from the 7.2-magnitude earthquake of three weeks ago. We, whose nerves still have to revert to normal from the aftershocks that move the earth beneath our feet. Christmas is already here, for Chrissakes. We’ve already strung the lights and hung the parol. And then, the Sinulog! The Basilica is in ruins!
verb, transitive
3. to express or utter with a howl
Who can we go to when all our safety nets are in danger of being torn and tossed to the winds? We turn to God, in whatever name that we call god, God. We uttered our prayers so fervently, with a cry, with a whisper, with a howl.
Thursday night came and Yolanda introduced herself slowly, gathering steam and then stomping her way across and around Cebu for three hours. She was not a pretty sight. Yet the Cebuanos continued to pray, to the young catechist called Pedro who just became a saint a year ago. To a mighty saint and archangel, pleading for his protection. To the Mother of Christ to whom the province had been entrusted.
The intentions spread like lively wildfire, across SMS, FB and Twitter accounts, matching Yolanda’s speed and accuracy. It ran across the continents where all the other Cebuanos and Filipinos live. And friends of these warm people also prayed, for our hearth and home.
noun
4. a loud laugh
“Mao ra diay to?” (Was that all?), we howl in anti-climactic laughter. The city is getting drier and alight (thank you VECO) once more. We venture out of our homes and see that, well, we were spared. We were looked upon with grace and care. We surrendered and our humility did not go unnoticed. With our prayers, we now know that we are not as helpless and as little as we previously thought.
Funny how it had to take one supertyphoon to change our mind-set.
Funny how one thing can take layer upon layer of meaning.