They who lost much: Pedro, 22 kinfolk; Ireneo, 31
(Third of a series)
THREE GENERATIONS OF SURVIVORS Pedro Lacandazo, 58, flanked by son Pedro Lacandazo Jr. (left) and 12-year-old grandson John Paul Madrigal, survived but lost 22 members of his family to the typhoon. DANNY PETILLA/CONTRIBUTOR
PALO, Leyte, Philippines—One found his voice; the other descended into his own dark, personal abyss.
Pedro Lacandazo Sr. and Ireneo Pasacao, patriarchs of two clans that lost the most members to Supertyphoon “Yolanda” (international name: Haiyan), have each carved paths to repairing their lives a year after the monster storm swept through Leyte province.
Pasacao, a 62-year-old fisherman, lost 31 members of his clan, including his brother Genaro, 74; sister Natividad Bendoy, 75; daughter Merly, 31; 10-year-old granddaughter Mary Vianney Hart; and 27 nephews, nieces and in-laws.
Together with three sons and a daughter, Pasacao survived the storm surges by holding on to a concrete wall for hours.
Lacandazo lost 22 loved ones, including his wife, Normacita, 60; brother Fernando, 55; five daughters, 11 grandchildren, a nephew and three in-laws.
Article continues after this advertisementHe survived the onslaught of storm surges by hanging on to steel bars in their concrete house.
Article continues after this advertisementHeaviest losses
Official village documents show that the Lacandazos and the Pasacao-Bendoy clan took the heaviest losses in Barangay San Joaquin (population: 5,000), one of the coastal villages in this town facing the Leyte Gulf that took a direct hit from Yolanda’s violent storm surges. San Joaquin lost 385 of its residents on that tragic morning of Nov. 8 last year.
“Those roaring and thunderous succession of three huge waves are still fresh in my memory,” said Lacandazo, a local businessman and freshly minted politician.
Palo Mayor Remedios L. Petilla designated him to the local village council after two sitting councilors—Pedro Napoles and Elizalde Requiz—perished in the storm.
“Mayor Petilla got scared because he (Lacandazo) was running around the village brandishing a bolo,” said a neighbor, who requested anonymity.
Lacandazo confirmed the bolo incident and admitted that he was angry and confused a few days after the killer storm.
Activist now for victims
“I just lost almost everybody I loved. What did they want me to do?” Lacandazo said.
LOOKINGHIS FUTURE IN THE EYE Ireneo Pasacao, 62, lost 31 members of his family a year ago. His T-shirt, however, shows his determination to survive the tragedy and begin anew. DANNY PETILLA/CONTRIBUTOR
“Everybody lost somebody in our village,” said Gregorio Papoose Lantajo, the 48-year-old barangay captain of San Joaquin. He lost his 73-year-old father, Gregorio Sr., a retired schoolteacher.
Lacandazo has become an activist, fighting for the rights of typhoon victims and survivors, and protesting the slow pace of government help.
“Yolanda was the first tragedy. But the turtle-like pace of government help is the greater tragedy,” said Lacandazo, who lost the barangay elections in October 2013.
Malacañang officials brought Lacandazo and his only surviving grandson, John Paul Madrigal, 12, to Bohol province during the Edsa People Power Revolution celebration rites in February. He said he had a picture showing him near President Aquino.
‘Used by Malacañang’
But Lacandazo claimed he was used by Malacañang officials—who are quite unpopular in this part of the country—for their own public relations purposes.
“I honestly feel I was used by those people,” Lacandazo said.
With almost his entire clan gone, fisherman Pasacao slowly descended into paranoia as he became resentful of neighbors and strangers, finding solace only in talking to his house a few weeks after Yolanda.
“I think the old man just went bonkers. It was very strange,” said a neighbor, who requested not to be identified.
Quick to anger
A widower even before Yolanda, Pasacao was quick to anger and quarreled with neighbors and close relatives, including his nephew Sergio Bendoy, a 52-year-old retired policeman.
“I understand what my uncle is going through but I support him because that is what family is all about,” said Bendoy, who lost his wife, Criselda, 52; daughters Marie Coleen, 20, and Marianne Joy, 16; and year-old grandson Matthew Jones.
At one time, Pasacao drove away American members of the Mormon faith from Salt Lake City, Utah, who volunteered to rebuild his hut destroyed by the typhoon.
“I was raised a Catholic; I will not let anybody who does not share my belief construct my house,” Pasacao said.
“I thought I was going to go crazy,” said Pasacao, who claimed he had found a semblance of serenity after lingering bouts of sadness, depression and deep personal doubts.
Still grieving from the loss of his wife Bienvenida to tuberculosis on July 30, 2000, Pasacao said his resentment finally gave way to acceptance and contentment after he started receiving various forms of help coming his way.
Acceptance
Now he owns two fishing boats and several fishing nets, and at least P30,000 in cash assistance given to him by local and foreign aid organizations.
Pasacao also reported that Catholic Relief Services, the international charity group based in Baltimore, Maryland, had agreed to help him rebuild his house.
“I do not know what our government can do without this aid from international groups,” Pasacao said.
Today, Pasacao and Lacandazo—who are distant cousins—are holding a joint commemoration of the multiple death anniversaries of their loved ones at a mass grave in front of the San Joaquin church, where most of them are buried.
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