Four Strong Winds
At the time you’re reading this, I’m at the office and
I’m supposed to be working. A bulk of my job involves file transfers, and right
now the absence of internet connection has incapacitated my computer. The air
conditioners are down. The elevators are disabled. I had to climb 23 stories
just to sit idly in front of this computer.
I’m supposed to be annoyed. I’m supposed to whine. I’m
supposed to be cursing at how much of an idiot our country’s power suppliers
are. However, all of these are insignificant. The typhoon that started two days
ago has laid so many aftereffects that my predicaments pale in comparison.
Before I came to this office, I saw trees, columns,
roofs, signposts, and unidentifiable metals all lying in defeat from a stronger
force of nature. I saw animals at the roadside, wet and trembling while looking
for a shelter from the storm.
Before I arrived for work, I turned on the radio to hear
the DJ’s speak on how the typhoon had affected others: “A friend became hysterical when her car got struck four times by
galvanized irons”; “The papaya trees
that I’ve cultivated for years met an unfortunate collapse due to the wind”; “A
friend sent me text messages informing me that a person bearing the same name
as my coworker were found dead in the same place where the coworker lives.” These
were just a few narratives coming from the radio station’s (RX 93.1) avid
listeners.
Instincts tell me that these are just the
un-chilling, euphemized, and censored accounts of the typhoon’s ramifications.
As I sit here on this ergonomics chair, I wonder about the people who would no
longer be able to sit at all, with reasons such as losing the furnitures, losing
the money, or losing the health capabilities. With banks being closed, I wonder
about the families who need to undo all the damage as quickly as possible. With
floods still rendering many places unreachable, I wonder about the townsfolk
working in Manila who need to go back home to help their families. I wonder about the ones whose shelters have been extirpated by this debacle. I wonder not about who has lost everything; I wonder about how many has lost everything.
I’m sure that as of now, I’m joined by many who are also
lost in thought, wondering about the impact bought by the wrath of this menacing
monsoon. But in a few hours from now, many will stop reflecting. Electricity
will come back. Internet connection will be reestablished. Barhoppers will
continue their drinking and partying. Starbucks patrons will reenact their
social-status posturing. Politicians will resume in their politicking, scheming and squabbling.
Governments will use money in covering their own ass instead of donating. Those
who didn’t suffer much will stop caring for those who have suffered. It will be as if nothing has happened. Funny how easily these things become forgotten.
I sigh, for I am thankful that I am still breathing, but
can’t help but worry about those who have lost all hope, and ABOUT the
unwillingness of the many to help out.
You who have read this can, of course, start donating
money; or at least somehow contribute for the society’s welfare. That’s exactly what I’m hoping to achieve in writing this entry. In gratitude
of being left unharmed by the storm, let’s help out those that are not quite as
fortunate.
Because tomorrow, it might have been US who gets carried away by the wind.
