It was a regular weekday for me as I channelled my senses to a brand new set of school pressure. However, on another side, there was something different yet relatively memorable on that faithful day. The wind was pounding hard outside, whistling to an extreme blast. The rain was unusually brutal as it seemed like pieces of nails thrashing hard on the roof of the house I stay. I never bothered that much though since things like that are very much normal in a town like Lucban (a town in Quezon Province).
An hour later, the wind and the rain had become scarier. I and my room mate were clueless to the reality of the situation as well as the impending danger ahead our course. It’s nothing very normal, if you are studying and living in that place for two years. Trees were already uprooted, roofs are beginning to be ripped from their tight hold and there was an outcry of panic from neighboring households.
We never thought that a killer typhoon was already hours away to sweeping the track we took to take refuge to our own homes. Unknowingly, as students passed by the house where we were staying and declaring that classes were suspended, we decided to head home, some twenty kilometres away from Lucban, to the city of Lucena.
My roommate was hesitant at my suggestion because of the possibility of an accident on the road but I jokingly stressed, which somehow I later regretted, that I would rather die at the comfort of my family than solitarily wait for my doom in that narrow room. It was honestly just a joke because I literally don’t have any hint on how strong and powerful that typhoon was. And so, I won the argument.
We hastily packed our bags and placed everything in order before we left, that is far away from the windows so that if ever rainwater comes in, our belongings wont end wet. Our weather-beaten umbrellas were no match for the volume of rain thrashing down our path, the same as the gust of wind that pushed and pulled us on the road towards the jeepney terminal.
We reached the terminal on time because the barker rhapsodizingly mentioned that it was the last jeepney to travel for that day. I was more surprised than happy to be informed with the idea since it was only eight in the morning and jeepneys normally have their last trips in the terminal at 10 PM. This, again, made me somehow comprehend the seriousness of the weather condition. My room mate even asked me to turn back and just stay at our boarding house but still, I was determined to go which left him no choice but to come with me. I guess, it’s because I sensed a great adventure on the road, that’s why I never yielded from the challenge of the cruel weather condition. I don’t know, but whenever I hear that there’s a typhoon, I somehow get excited than scared of them. I even wanted to become a storm chaser someday had an opportunity come.
By the time the jeepney started moving, the weather was beginning to calm down. I was dejected, instead of being glad because the adventure seemed to pass away with the silence of the whistling wind. We reached the town dividing Lucban and Lucena apart - Tayabas, and the weather had considerably improved. I can even see the sun ready to shine behind the rain clouds as the environment became visible than before.
The rain had stopped and the wind became silent. But alarmingly, the sight of trees, electric posts and several sturdy houses knocked down on the road made me depressed. I thought about the condition of my family back home. At that moment, I remembered that I haven’t talked to them yet because the cellphone signal was off and telephone lines were cut down in Lucban. How strong is this typhoon?, I asked myself.
The condition was generally peaceful when we reached the city. You can’t see people roaming around for they were busy doing some last-minute repairs of their houses to shelter them from the storm. I thought everything was already okay and I was positive to reach home without any trouble on the way. My house is a jeepney ride, then a tricycle ride away, some five kilometres from where we were dropped by the other jeepney. I thought Typhoon Milenyo (Xangsane) had spared us. But I was wrong.
We boarded the last jeepney travelling towards the city proper. While on the road, we and other passengers noticed something very dark in the sky and the noise told us that danger was brewing fast. We were shocked at the immensity of darkness that enveloped us several seconds later.
The road professed zero visibility, a total black out from reality, coldness made us shiver, the fast flow of wind shut us away from all hopes we could muster but more than anything, the danger of a clash with an approaching vehicle dawned upon us harboring greater fear among every passenger.
Some of our co-passengers were already asking for mercy to all the saints they know. Women were shrieking a loud cry of agony. Others were asking the driver to stop for a while and let the tempest die away before we proceed again.
The sight was horrible. Leaves, tree branches, plastics, metal sheets, posters, tarpaulins, signboards, flowepots and many more were literally flying, some banging the jeepney causing us a lot of tremor inside. It was like a scene in the movie Twister because it seemed like I’m inside a tornado, just waiting for the right time to crash me into pieces.
Never did I feel such dread in my eighteen years of existence in this world and never will I forget such a sight and feeling. Yes, I prayed. I prayed that if ever I did not survive that cruel condition, I hope somehow, my family would find my remains complete and unscathed. If you were in the same situation, you’d honestly think that only a miracle could save you from the danger of death; you’d just submit your wholeness to the Almighty as your last gleam of hope.
The weather became even more unkind as we moved slowly toward the city proper. The driver finally gave up. He wretchedly told us that he has to stop permanently, at the opening of the city proper because there were several instances that the jeepney was almost turned down by the wind. I sensed fear in his tone. No one complained, but everyone was wet by that time because the rain found its way inside the vehicle. My problem was, I still have to travel for two to three kilometres more to reach home.
Me and my room mate decided to part ways afterwards. He decided to wait somewhere safe until the weather permitted him to head home. I settled to continue the fight with Milenyo. The streets were flooded. My umbrella gave up. Darkness was still lingering and the typhoon ruthlessly pelted more rain accompanied by a growling wind.
There was nowhere else to go. I walked at the heart of the city and signs of establishments were already flying and falling on the ground. I was lucky to dodge one flying across me had I not turned back to see where I was. I would have died at that instant. It’s still not my time to die, I told myself.
But the battle wasn’t finished yet. Everything I have was soaking wet. Even the things inside my bag: my notes, my school papers, my clothes, my phone. I was freezing. I feared that if I would not die by the viciousness of the storm, I’d be killed by hypothermia.
Wait, I thought I saw a signal on my phone. And God, I did. I called home and they said they’re fine. Thank God. But God, I wasn’t. I said I’ll be there in a minute’s time if I’m lucky and they were shocked to know that I left Lucban and was battling my way to get there. We ended the conversation with an exchange of “take care.” When I hung up, I simply smiled with the notion that no matter how much I take care of myself, with one shot, I’d be off in this world. I somehow let out a wide grin.
Afterwards, a driver offered me a ride to the provincial capitol site where I luckily caught a passing tricycle. Still, nothing can be seen ahead and everything around me was in total chaos. I was thankful to reach home safely. I paid the driver twenty pesos, triple the price of any regular ride. My family was happy to see me safe, unharmed but wet, totally wet. By then, ironically, the weather started to calm down and winds refrained from its terrible howl. Was I being tested? Was that a challenge? Questions like that sprang to my head because anyone who experienced the same would have questioned mother nature why, of all the people, I was the one she chose to inflict her vengeance!
When I know it was perfectly safe to go out and after the chest-high flood drained away, I took a little journey around our place and I discovered the wide scale damage caused by the typhoon. I became even more glad to know I survived that deadly typhoon after seeing the dreadful aftermath. I went to the place where I was nearly hit by a sign board and I saw it, a few meters away from where I last saw it. God, I’m lucky, I asserted.
On top of these, I am thankful that I am able to share this adventure now etched in my head with a body that is complete and unscratched. But no matter how much fear that adventure brought me into, I would never forget the lesson I Iearned from this battle: Death is sometimes, a matter of choice. Why should I learn this in a traumatic way? But, considering all these things, I must confess that if given the chance, I would be happy to have such a life-threatening experience again. Believe it!
photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typhoon_Xangsane
Date Retreived: May 14, 2008
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