Say a Little Prayer

The Philippines has been rocked by two super-typhoons in the past two weeks. Living in the city makes people forget how much we are actually in the mercy of nature. Manila did not really feel the effects of the typhoon, so it is easy to dismiss the human casualties of the storm as something so remote and distant, though the wall separating us from them is alarmingly thin.

Yesterday, Mrs. Boss went on a relief effort for the victims. She and the "ladies who lunch" set, with cameras flashing, gave away food, blankets and some cash to the victims. We made rounds in three Manila hospitals where the rescued were airlifted to safety. The flash of the cameras, the glitzy photo op, I realized that it really is very easy to forget the human face at such an inhumane tragedy. Every person had their own heart-wrenching story to tell, and I had to do everything in my power to stop myself from weeping. The older I get, the more compassion I feel for people; the more empathy I gain, I find it more difficult it is for me to be flippantly bitchy for no reason. I realized why I was there. Journalists are here to remind everyone that there is so much inhumanity in this world and and so much beauty at the same time.

There was so much suffering, so much pain. I wondered how the nurses do it. I couldn't face such horror every day. I don't think I can harden myself to such a degree. And to think, I only do this once a year, during the requisite Christmas photo-op. Everyone we faced had compound fractures; shattered arms and legs after huge logs carried by the swirling flood waters smashed their homes to bits. Children who didn't know that their mothers had died trying to save the youngest child, most probably a newborn. Missing relatives. It was just horrible, I couldn't believe that in Manila, we just had a bit of rain. In Quezon province, only 300 kilometers away, people were dying. A man buried in the mud for 24 hours before he was saved is now dying of lockjaw. A 10 year old girl asking for a Barbie doll. Her little brother, in a different hospital a few kilometers away, was catatonic, in a full body cast. He is too shell-shocked that he was is now absolutely unresponsive to the outside world. A 12 year old girl with a huge dent where the smooth dome of her forehead should be.

It was the loose logs that did most damage, I figured. They were the huge debris that left everybody homeless. No wonder everyone is calling for a log ban. The catch-22: They are also the ones who benefit from all that logging.

In the midst of it all, a weird, touching, and somewhat hilarious miracle. We met a 1-1/2 year old hydrocephallic child. His head has swollen to a circumference of 20 inches. His home was swept away. He was found and rescued in a river near their home two hours later. His fluid-filled head was bouyant enough that he floated, and his head kept him afloat so he was able to keep his head above water. His disease was the reason why he was miraculously saved.

We all have a responsibility to help. In the Air Force General Hospital in Villamor Air BAse, where all the airlifted victims are first brought to before they are transfered to other hospitals, There is a woman is in need of metal plates and screws to fuse her shattered leg together. The hardware would cost her P 15,000. She couldn't afford that, let alone the operation.
Mrs. Boss has written to the PCSO. I don't know how to help her, really. But if you have time, visit her at the Air Force Hospital, she won't be discharged just yet.

After the fact, I went to Starbucks with a couple of friends. Amid the tall buildings in a city that I love so dearly, I marvel at how lucky I am and how the onus of being so blessed requires us to give back.