home is the sailor, home from the sea

7/31/2019 Home is the Sailor, Home From the Sea

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17 December 2004

Dear Family, Friends.

Hello from Pasay City. Yes, Im back at work, after a 3-day adventure to

Infanta, Quezon and a 2-day sick leave. Thank you for your prayers for my

safe return; this letter is proof of that

Thursday, Dec. 2, my two officemates and I slept overnight at our office and

we left in our 6-wheeler truck the next morning at 1. For the first three

hours, it was a pretty uneventful ride. Things only started to tense up the

closer we got to Mauban, Quezon. See, the road there is still under

construction so we had no choice but to go very s-l-o-w-l-y. So picture an

extremely bumpy dirt road, coconut trees all around, total darkness save for

our headlights (this was at about 4 in the morning), and the occasional

rains. For quite a long time, we were the only ones on the road, which is not

a good thing when one is in the territory of Nice People Around. It was

really quite a tense ride for all of us and we didnt breathe easy until

daybreak.

We finally reached the port of Mauban at

6:10 a.m., Friday the 10th. The place

as my brother puts it showed organized

chaos. The dock, as expected, was

overloaded with relief goods; some had

been there for over 4 days already. The

bad weather often prevented large sea

vessels from docking at the port so the

transport of relief goods to the

devastated towns of Real, Infanta and

Nakar was at a snails pace.

We were not advised to unload our goods at the dock

and that, for us, was a huge dilemma. By pulling

strings, we were able to convince the military to

accommodate the shipment of our goods so we were

directed to the Quezon Power Plant, where truckloads

of relief items had already been lined up for

transport. (These trucks had been there days ahead

of us; priority was given, of course, to the heavy

equipment needed for road-clearing and construction

efforts.) We were at the Quezon Power Plant by 8 in

the morning where we waited outside for about 2

hours, allowed to enter the compound at around 2 inthe afternoon, and were able to unload our goods in

the ship only at around 4!

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(top, left, right) At the dock of the QPP; waiting (some more!) by our truck;

PNV 550 Bacolod City

Our plan to set sail at 6 in the evening was

postponed the next morning, again due to the

very bad weather. We were all supposed to sleep

on-board the ship but my officemate, who has

motion-sickness, didnt relish the idea of

staying overnight there. So we camped out at the

security outpost instead, which was happily

equipped with a hot-and-cold water dispenser and

conveniently located right in front of the

Praise-God-theyre-clean!-portalets (portable

toilets). But it rained terribly hard that night

so it was verrrrrrrrrry cold!!!

Finally, we were able to set sail at 8 in the

morning the next day (Saturday the 11th). Our

passage was again uneventful that is, until a

huge piece of lumber hit our main propeller,

the impact of which we all felt from the

stockroom where we were all bunked (we look

like refugees, dont we?).

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From the deck, one can see floating pieces of timber that had already been

sliced apart by our propellers. (The flash floods have been attributed to

illegal logging and evidence of that could be seen everywhere.) But that

particularly huge piece of lumber really jammed our main prop and we all

tensed at the awful, awful sound. We heard the main prop try to rotate but

they eventually had to kill the engine to prevent further damage. Our second

prop didnt fare any better so, for about 15 minutes, we were set adrift on

the Pacific Ocean, midway between the ports of Mauban and Dinahikan. The

Protestant group with us started singing Amazing Grace, which I found quite

consoling, especially since I already felt like panicking. (I would have

reallyfreaked out if they had chosen to sing Nearer My God To Thee.)

We finallyreached the port of Dinahikan at 2

in the afternoon, after a 6-hour crossing.

Again, organized chaos greeted us: military,

socio-civic groups, cargadors, people waiting

for relief goods.

Nila and I had to disembark first and look

for our contact, while our messenger remained

on board with the relief goods. (It was easyfor unattended goods to be pillaged,

especially with all the confusion going on.)

It took another hour of waiting before our

goods were finally unloaded. While

waiting, we watched as other

organizations unloaded their own

relief packages in the multi-

purpose center of the Dinahikan

public market.

Just when I was beginning to feel a

sense of accomplishment (for we

were close to the end of our

mission), I heard a young child

ask, Ma, sa atin na kaya yan?

(Ma, is that for us already?) The

mother replied, Hindi anak, sa

Infanta yan. (No child, that is

for Infanta.)

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Immediately, my officemate and I wanted to cry. We couldnt do anything. Our

relief goods were still in the ship, and even if they werent, the moment we

give them something from our supply, wed be mobbed and crushed by the others

still waiting. When I decided to sneak them some money, the mother and child

had already left. Neverhave I felt so utterlyuseless in my entire life. I

guess if there is one thing that incident taught me it is to help the moment

you are given the opportunity to help.

We finally were able to locate our

friends from the Social Action Center of

Infanta and turn over the goods

accordingly. (I absolutely detest these

must-be-taken-for-documentation-purposes

shots ) After the turn-over, we had to

feed the multitude, that is, the 30 or

so cargadors who helped unload our

relief goods.

We called it a night at around 10 in the

evening and stayed at Ate Florys house,a short walk from the pier. (I learned

something else when I was there: that

given the tense ride in NPA territory,

stormy seas, and stalled propellers,

when faced with a flying cockroach, give

me Ka Rogerand his New Peoples Army

ANYTIME!!!)

We had to sleep in the near vicinity of

the pier because, according to the navy,

the ship that would take us back to

Mauban the next day would leave at 8:00

a.m. We should sign up in theirmanifesto by around 6:30. So by 6:40, we

were at the pier, not knowing that, by

6:00, the ship had already left!!! And

thats where our real adventure began

for we were left with no choice but to

take the long, land trip back to Manila.

Instead of waiting for a military truck

that could take us only as far as Nakar,

we decided to go with a soldier who was

on his way to visit his brother in Real.

(That soldier had started his leave that

day. He was off to help his brother who

didn't anymore feel like searching forthe bodies of his wife and 4 children.

Much has been printed about the plight

of the people of Infanta, but quite

little has been said of our heroic soldiers. Until the relief and rescue

missions are over, they will continue to serve the people of Quezon, often in

terribly squalid surroundings. It was an honor to have worked with so many

fine, young men and women.)

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From the port, we took a tricycle to Infanta, then another tricycle to get to

the town proper.

Knowing that Tito Roly (a.k.a., Bishop Rolando Tirona of the Prelature of

Infanta) was in town to celebrate mass, we hurried to the elementary school

(center of relief and rescue operations), hoping to hitch a ride back to

Manila. We didmeet up with Tito Roly but, sadly, we couldnt join him in the

ride back as we werent included in the choppers manifesto (understandable).

So by 11:00 in the morning of Sunday the 12th, off we went, deeper into

Infanta town proper. And I mean that literally. We had to walk barefoot in

knee-deep mud, to get to a jeep that would take us to the next town. The jeep

took us to as far as a bridge that had collapsed, so we had to get off, cross

the stream to get to the other side, and board another jeep that took us to

yet another town. In that other town, we had to get off at another collapsed

bridge, cross that (while yelling at a bulldozer operator who almost scooped

us up), and take two more jeep rides. Finally we had reached a depot where we

boarded a bus for Pagsanjan, Laguna. This was at around 2 in the afternoon

and lunch consisted of a piece of bread, a hard-boiled egg, and a few sips ofwater. This was, for us, manna from heaven. At this point, after witnessing

so much destruction, feeling everyones desolation, smelling the stench of

animal waste, and seeing markers where dead bodies had been discovered, none

of us had the right to complain. We were going home and we had bread. Others

like the young mother and father in the jeep with us who were traveling

with their 4-month old baby, 2-year old son, and very little else had

nothing.

The photographer in me was dying at this point I had run out of film. The

film supplies I brought were only good for as far as Dinahikan, where we

turned over the goods. None of us had any inkling whatsoever that we would

reach as far as Infanta. Every time I saw something worth capturing on film,

I could only gnash my teeth in frustration. Then again, now that I think of

it, maybe I was meant to run out of film. After all, there is something

terribly intrusive about documenting tragedy maybe that was Gods way of

providing the people I met with some privacy?

I honestly have no idea how long it will take for the towns of Real, Infanta

and Nakar to get back on their feet. As of this writing, road clearing has

finally begun, allowing ever so slowly the entry of more heavy equipment and,

more importantly, relief and medical missions. But the task of removing the

gigantic pieces of lumber from the residential areas has yet to start. It

still rains periodically in the area so the mud, still knee-deep in some

places, has yet to subside and set. As I told them at home, I know now how

the world must have looked like during Noahs great flood.

In that kind of scenario, one wonders how Christmas will be celebrated inInfanta, named after the Infant Jesus. But Filipinos are optimistic and as

Tito Rolys poignant text message of this morning says

Sa gitna ng katahimikan, isip koy gumagala

Sa gitna ng katahimikan, hinagpis ng taoy nadarama

Sa gitna ng katahimikan, bulong ng simoyy nagpapaalala

May bagong umaga! Simbanggabi na sa Prelatura ng Infanta!

Halina, Hesus, Halina!

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Gen. Nakar Town (http://floodingnews.com/)


6/6

(In the midst of silence, my mind wanders.

In the midst of silence, the anguish of the people is felt.

In the midst of silence, the sound of the wind reminds us...

There IS a new dawn! It's the time for Dawn Mass in the Prelature of Infanta.

Come, Jesus, Come!)

Love. Prayers. Peace.

Nicole

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