From a bird’s eye view, the coastal region along Mindanao’s
southwestern shore was a ragged mess. Water crept through every vacant corner
and made it so only the stoutest of trees and sturdiest of buildings remained.
The mound of flotsam stretched two hundred kilometers or more in each
direction, coating the Celebes Sea in a filthy, heaving pile of waste. It
occasionally undulated in the sea swell, but for the most part, this collection
of a million miscellaneous things just floated in the bay.
“Air Convoy Lead, this is the USS Carl Vinson. Stand by for
a mission update.”
“Aye, aye, Vinson.”
Four tiny green helicopters hovered high above the waves,
just like they’d been doing ever since the tsunami crashed into the shore. The
four crewmembers were relegated to watching helplessly while the hangers-on
waited in vain.
“Look at it,” said Private Kesuma, “just an absolute mess.”
Specialist Gomez gently shook his head as he peered down at
the refuse, “All of Sarangani province must be down there.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Ralj.
Ralj’s thoughts weren’t on the material floating in the
muck, but the humans being – specks on the horizon holding on to the closest
available thing. It didn’t matter whether it was a piece of driftwood or an
oversized knock-off Ralph Lauren leather purse or an old wooden cross that once
hung on a mantle or a half-filled garbage bag with just enough of an air pocket
to stay afloat. At that very moment, anything was definitely better than
nothing.
“Convoy leader, we’re changing your mission from regional
triage to regional search and rescue. You’re now working under Philippine Coast
Guard Authority and assisting to PCG cutter BRP Batangas, call sign SARV-003.”
“Aye, aye, USS Vinson.”
“Your crews will be charged with locating survivors and
radioing exact positions to PCG authorities.”
“Roger that. Over and out.”
With the Philippine Coast Guard spearheading the rescue
mission, everyone had faith things would only get better.
Intact since the end of the Philippine-American War, the PCG
started out as lighthouse keepers and customs agents with a fleet comprising of
fifteen Chinese steamers. It also saw to the general welfare of any
non-government vessels as part of the Philippine Navy. In 1968, it was moved to
its own authority, working as a non-military humanitarian and maritime service
organization.
However, it wasn’t until the beginning of the 21st
Century that the PCG truly came into its own. With the imminent danger of
terrorist threats, the government began an aggressive campaign of acquisition,
purchasing four 56-meter Search and Rescue Cruisers and eight 36-meter patrol
boats from an Australian Shipbuilder. They also accepted four buoy tenders in a
grant from the US Coast Guard for general maintenance of coastal buoy markers.
In the wake of natural disasters like the Leyte flashflood,
the Philippine Congress passed the Coast Guard Law of 2009. The law made the
Coast Guard the prime maritime authority and law enforcement agency in
Philippine waters. That was also the impetus to step up acquisition of a much
larger Search and Rescue Fleet. First, the PCG purchased ten 40-meter patrol
boats from Japan and acquired a purpose-built search and rescue fleet that
included 90 military-styled rubber boats, 80 rigid-hulled inflatable boats
(known more commonly as RHIBs), and 300 aluminum-hulled watercraft.
“Philippine Coast Guard Cutter SARV-003, this is Philippine
Army Helocopter Convoy Lead Master Sergeant Juan Gonzalez.”
“Yes, Convoy Lead, this is SARV-003 BRP Batangas. We would
like you to proceed with Search and Rescue in the quadrant next to Maasim.
We’ve relayed our coordinates as well as our Area of Command to your control
console. Please proceed to the area right away.”
“Aye, Aye, Batangas.”
Four Coast Guard cutters waited at the farthest edges of the
fringe. Each PCG cutter was assigned its own Area of Command and monitored all
communications in their quadrant. Closer to ground zero, Of the twenty-eight
large, white patrol boats that formed a loose perimeter around the logjam,
seven were assigned to each PCG cutter. They patrolled the fringe for
survivors.
Big and small, countless numbers of boats buzzed about the
logjam like a hive of honeybees, each boat with its own particular task as
individuals were plucked from the sea.
“BRP Batangas, this is Convoy Lead. We have acquired a
target in the southern debris mass in the Maasim quadrant, How would you like
us to proceed?”
“Convoy Lead, this is BRP Batangas. Hover over the area and
assess the situation. If you can send personal flotation devices or rescue
rafts, please do so. If you are not able to deploy, forward a communication
message with location and any pertinent details for waterborne rescue.”
As the Parakeet buzzed overhead, rotor exhaust buffeted the
water, pushing large concentric waves outward from their target area. All the
while, a small girl doggie paddled against the current. She braced herself
between an old refrigerator door and a water-logged tree trunk. Each wave
bounced her between door and trunk. Each wave pushed the two things further
apart. The little girl decided to stay with the refrigerator, which was a very
fortunate choice. The bright green refrigerator door stood out among the
brackish water.
The little girl was Dalisay Rana’s little sister, Mariposa.
Unlike the rest of her family, Mariposa was an avid swimmer. She’d often
belly-crawled through a hole in the chain-link fence that separated the village
from the resort area. The children frolicked and played in the surf while the
hotel was built.
“BRP Batangas, we have a single female child, approximately
ten years old. She is holding onto a piece of white furniture. We’re sending
coordinates now.”
“Thank you Convoy Lead. We’ll send a craft right away.”
Not just one, but two aluminum-hulled boats quickly came to
Mariposa’s aid. However, the confluence of two wake patterns tossed the
refrigerator door about violently. Mariposa quickly stretched her body across
the door as the first boat approached. One of the rescuers tossed a length of
Marine rope, towards Mariposa. It uncoiled easily and splashed in the water.
The safety harness floated in the water just beyond Mariposa’s reach.
“Grab the harness,” said the rescuer.
“There are too many waves.”
Both boat and refrigerator door sloshed back and forth in
the water as Mariposa lay sprawled across the face of the refrigerator door.
“Alright,” said the rescuer, “we’ll come to you.”
He grabbed an oar and carefully paddled towards the little
girl. Although she was a confident swimmer, she’d grown weary from a day and
night of being in water.
“Use your hands to move closer so I can grab you by the
waist.”
Mariposa paddled the door to the side of the boat.
Meanwhile, a few of the other rescuers leaned against the opposite side of the
boat to provide a counter-balance. After they did, the rescuer reached out and
Mariposa reached up towards his grasp. He clamped his hands beneath her armpits
and heaved backwards with all his might. Mariposa sprung off the refrigerator
and up into the aluminum-hulled watercraft.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m freezing.”
“Let’s get you warm,” said the Coast Guard Officer as he
pulled a small plastic bag out of a small tool box. He unzipped the fastener
and produced a tiny foil packet. He unfolded it into a large silver foil
blanket and placed it over Mariposa’s shoulders. Mariposa thought the blanket
like a flimsy piece of plastic wrap as she pulled it taut against her body.
However, it did the trick as it immediately warmed her and that was all that
truly mattered.
“Where are you from?” asked the rescuer.
“I’m from Baluntay, but it’s all gone.”
“We know, but we’ll get you to a safe place so you can find
your family.”
“I hope so.”
It had been more than a day since she’d seen her parents or
Juntal and almost eighteen hours since she’d seen Dalisay. When the tsunami
swept Mariposa and Dalisay off the roof of the school, both girls were whisked
away at the water’s whim, pushed this way and that, thrown against tree trunks
and squashed between chunks of debris.
“Hold on, Dally!” Mariposa shouted at her sister.
Ironically, Dalisay was the one who had started after Mariposa when they were
first carried away by the current. Even as recently as the last month, Mariposa
swam to the marker buoys in the middle of Sarangani Bay while Dalisay just
watched from the beach. Against her mother’s wishes, Mariposa took escapades
with her friends from the Catholic school to any place that had water, even if
she had to borrow “racy” one-piece, full-body bathing suits from her friends
just to do it.
Mariposa had taught herself the doggie paddle, the
breaststroke, and the crawl. For all her life, she secretly wanted to swim for
the Philippine Olympic swim team. However, she also knew in her heart that
would never happen. She lived in the barrio, far from the Olympic-sized pools
in Metro Manila. She’d barely visited the local water parks with overcrowded
wave pools and slow-drifting inner tube paths. That wasn’t what Mariposa
considered swimming at all.
Her thoughts drifted as she stared blindly at the flotsam
fading in the distance – so near yet so far away.
“We’re going to take you to an RHIB so they can take care of
you,” said a rescuer.
Mariposa didn’t know what an RHIB was and she didn’t
necessarily care. She looked down at her fingers and toes, all wrinkled and
sickly, bloated with wetness and coldness. A Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat cut
through the water towards the watercraft. One of the rescuers quickly lashed
the boats together with two lengths of Marine rope. All six hangers-on were
carefully transferred to the RHIB.
“Tuck your feet under the side rails. We don’t want you
falling back in.”
Mariposa silently obeyed. The thick woven rubber material
was nothing like Mariposa had ever seen. It was rough and gritty like
sandpaper, but sturdy like some sort of space-age fabric. It quickly warmed
Mariposa’s rear as she sat on the edge of the tube. In fact, it warmed the
lower half of her body.
Mariposa sighed in relief as she glanced back to see the
watercraft speed through the debris field and quickly disappear from view.
There were so many others out in the muck waiting to be found, she thought to
herself. As she turned herself to face forward again, the RHIB cleared the
debris field and made a beeline for the patrol boat that waited only a short
distance away.
“You’ll all be transferred to the BRP Samar Island and from
there we’ll get you to the Batangas or Davao del Norte.”
The BRP Samar Island was one of the new SARVs in the PCG
fleet. It was 35 meters long with a short deck at the stern. As the RHIB sidled
up to the patrol boat, two guardsmen stood in the receiving area. They received
two lengths of Marine rope from the RHIB and towed the RHIB into place. They
quickly secured the RHIB to the mooring rings near the patrol boat’s stern.
“Give me your hand, ma’am,” said a guardsman.
Mariposa reached out and the guardsman tugged her over the
RHIB’s side rail and onto the landing platform. Now, Mariposa stood barefoot on
a thick metal grate. As she looked down,, her feet sloshed in the murky water
below. The boat bounced gently in the waves and the grate clapped gently
against the surface of the water. Before Mariposa could react, the guardsman
lifted her by an arm and directed her upwards. The rough metal stair treads cut
into the soles of Mariposa’s feet as she climbed the stairs. Still, she reached
the top without delay or complaint. The two guardsmen waited there grabbed her
by both hands and tucked their free hands under her armpits and placed her on
BRP Samar Island’s landing. Another guardsman removed the thin foil blanket and
tossed it aside. He replaced it with a heavy, red wool blanket. He shuffled her
along to one side where other survivors sat. He pushed down gently on her
shoulders and fit her between two strangers wrapped in red wool. Water from the
soaked boat deck quickly soaked the bottom of her blanket. Mariposa was all
alone, but she felt too miserable to take account of anything. Instead, she just
huddled up with the other survivors and tried to keep warm.
While Mariposa Rana sat on the back deck of the BRP Leyte
Gult, Eiselle and her brother James were driving through the mountainous region
near Lake Sebu.
“What’s going on with Mat these days?”
Eiselle shrugged, “You know better than me.”
“How do you figure?”
“He hangs around with the same people you do – you know, the
Jeep drivers and what-not.”
“Mateo and his buddies aren’t real Jeep drivers, they are
sometimes drivers. The guys I hang out with are serious about their business.
Mat’s still a little boy without responsibilities.”
Eiselle nodded, “he’s always hanging around the house,
bothering ma.”
“It’s too much drama. Between you and Mat, you’re going to
send her to her grave.”
“Me? I am the only one there for our mother.”
“Wait just one second, Eiselle. You’ve hardly been home for
a week and you’re acting like some sort of martyr here. You’re not mom’s only
caretaker. Me and your brothers spend lots of time fixing the house, cleaning
the house, running errands, and taking her wherever she needs to go.”
Eiselle squirmed in her seat and postured herself as far
away from James as she could manage, folding her arms and pressing herself
against the passenger door.
Jay pumped the brakes and jammed the Jeepney into second
gear. It rattled and growled as the transmission reluctantly grabbed hold. Jay
turned the wheel and proceeded up the mountain road. The Jeepney skittered
along the gravel embankment. Eiselle grabbed the handrail to brace herself as best
she could.
“Watch it!” she scolded.
“You act like you’ve never ridden in a Jeepney before.”
“Of course I have, but the way you’re driving.”
“Then sit back and relax already.”
Eiselle dug around in her purse and grabbed a pack of
cigarettes. She tapped the pack against the base of her palm and produced a
single cigarette. She pinched it between two slender fingers and spun the
cigarette until it sat between her lips. She flicked on the lighter and took a
long, slow drag. As she did, James averted his eyes from the road just to take
a look at her.
“You know how I hate smoking in my Jeeps.”
“Yes, but you always let me do it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t…”
She pinched her lips around the cigarette and inhaled fully.
Then, she blew a hot stream of exhaust of smoke through both nostrils as she
most always did. She loved the way the nicotine through the nose gave her a
sudden bump.
“The first time you saw me smoking a cigarette it was
sitting shotgun right next to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you hassle me?”
“I think it’s ugly.”
“That’s one man’s opinion. There are plenty of men in the
world who think it’s glamorous.”
“Well, I’m not one.”
“You’ve already told me.”
She hot-boxed the cigarette, taking one last, long drag,
before perching the stub between her thumb and middle finger. Then, she flicked
the stub forcefully out the window.
“There, no more ciggie to worry about. Are you happy now?”
James nodded lightly as he piloted the Jeepney through the
mountain roads. He glanced down at the fuel gauge. It sat on E. He quickly
pulled into the nearest roadside gas station.
“It’s time for some diesel.”
Jay deposited three crisp 500-peso notes into Eiselle’s open
hand.
“Put a thousand pesos in the tank and grab us something to eat. We’ll go up to Lake
Holon and take lunch.”
“Well, aren’t we the big spender?”
“Do you want to pay instead?”
Eiselle quickly withdrew her hand, tightly, wrinkling the
three notes in her hand. She picked up two on-the-go meals for her brother and
herself and paid the cashier. As she returned to the Jeepney, Jay had finished
pumping gas and was standing at the roadside talking to a mountain girl with a
bundle of raw sugar cane. Her skirt was vibrant: woven threads of brown and
white and gold formed diamond patterns from waist to hemline. She also wore a complete
set of handmade costume jewelry: beaded necklaces, ornate earrings, wristbands,
and anklets, too. Eiselle immediately knew the girl was one of the T’boli
people of South Cotabato. The girl
smiled brightly at Eiselle. Eiselle just pursed her lips and looked the girl up
and down. The girl turned to Jay. He paid the girl for a single stalk of sugar
cane and returned to the Jeepney.
“Just like old times,” he said.
“Just like it, I suppose.”
James handed a large pocketknife to Eiselle and she whittled
the bark off the thick, green stalk.
Then, she chopped it into small cords and handed a stick to Jay. As soon
as he began to chew, sticky sweet sugar filled his mouth. After a few minutes,
he withdrew the rough, knotty cord from his mouth and flicked it out the
window, just as Eiselle had disposed of the used cigarette butt a short while
earlier.
As the Jeepney bumbled up the ridge road, it passed small
huts perched all along the mountainside. Now, all sorts of people in colorful
clothes marked James and Eiselle’s entrance into the Lake Holon region.
Just before the Jeepney reached the summit of Mount
Melibingoy, Eiselle motioned to the roadside.
“Park here, park here!”
“There’s no room.”
“Sure there is,” she said, pointing to a small patch of
grass at the edge of a switchback. Jay wedged the over-sized Jeepney on the
grassy berm, cocked the front wheels, applied the parking brake, and shoved the
Jeepney into gear.
“I guess that should do it.”
Eiselle immediately climbed onto the Jeepney’s roof. Jay
quickly followed. She arranged the meals between them and quickly ran through
the Lord’s Prayer before taking a sip of her soda.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” she said.
“It’s the most beautiful crater lake in the country,” said
James, “maybe in the whole world.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been out of Mindanao.”
It was true. Unlike Eiselle’s cosmopolitan ways, James was
no world traveler. He enjoyed the simplicity of home and never wanted more than
that. Eiselle, however, had always wanted something more.
“You know, Arvind should see this. He could put a nice
mountain retreat right up there on the ridge.”
She pointed at the area of rich, virgin forest that topped
Mount Melibingoy.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, it would be a beautiful place for a resort.”
“It would be a terrible place, Eiselle.”
“How do you figure? This land was put here for the Filipinos
to subdue and use for their own good. Nature is our greatest resource, why
shouldn’t we share it with everyone?”
At the end of the day, those were always the kinds of twisted
thoughts that rolled around in Eiselle’s head. The only two things that
mattered were money and the ever-present moment. Even when it came to her dear
brother James, Eiselle knew she was always right.
Eiselle gathered up the remnants of lunch trash from the
roof and tossed them into the back of the Jeepney. Then, she wiped her hands
clean and climbed off the roof.
“Can I drive?”
“You want to leave already?”
“It will be dark soon and I want to see Maasim.”
“Alright,” sighed Jay as he tossed the keys to, Eiselle. She
quickly started the engine and the Jeepney growled angrily as Eiselle forced it
into first gear.
“You have to push the clutch the whole way down before you
put it in gear.”
“I know that.”
Eiselle tried again. The Jeepney complied in another noisy
growl. She let up on the clutch and the Jeepney moved forward in jerks and
jumps. However, it wasn’t long until she got the hang of the Jeepney’s sticky
clutch. Moving from gear-to-gear wasn’t much different from driving her car.
Their little escapade continued merrily along as Eiselle
sped through the gravel switchbacks along the mountainside. However, things quickly changed as soon as the
Jeepney crossed the mountain ridge that separated South Cotabato and Sarangani.
Two things quickly became apparent as the Jeepney coasted towards the coast.
First, the rocky cliffs that met the Celebes Sea remained largely untouched by
the tsunami. However, the low-lying beaches and seaside villages had been
washed into the debris field outlining the shore.
“Oh, dear Lord!” exclaimed Eiselle, “Look at the trash! The
water is so filthy.”
Maasim, a manmade resort area, had caught the full brunt of
the tsunami.
As they coasted into the lowlands, the road became increasingly
harder to navigate as ruins littered the streets. Of course, Eiselle Lee was
quick to voice her opinion.
“Look at all this damn dirty mess. Why doesn’t the
government do something?”
“Come on, Eiselle, it’s only been one day.”
“What on earth are we paying them for?”
“What can they possibly do in that amount of time?’
“Something,” spouted Eiselle, “…I don’t care what they do. I
just want something; such a mess.”
“They’re doing the best they can.”
“I don’t see any pucking gubernet opeeshals anywhere …”
“There’s so much to do.”
“I don’t care how much they’ve got to do. They should be
here now.”
As soon as the Jeepney passed into the outskirts of Maasim,
the roads were impassible. The resort town was a shell of its former self now.
Piles of heavy rubble littered the streets and people wandered about aimlessly.
Most had no place to go. Once again, another street along the southwestern
coast of Mindanao looked like an apocalyptic ghost town.
“There’s no way to
through!” exclaimed Eiselle.
“Oh yes we can, we’ll just have to take a detour.”
“I don’t know where you expect me to go.”
“Just pull over to the side of the road and let me take the
wheel.”
Jay soon regretted the choice to take the wheel. . The task
of finding a safe way through town would be hard enough without the added
misery of Eiselle riding shotgun. She was not only a frontseat-backseat driver,
she had an opinion on everything happening in the desolate streets of Maasim.
“Look at these crumbling hotels…somebody could certainly be
fixing that…and all these stray dogs running through the streets…and all the dirty
people taking whatever they want. Somebody needs to do something and they need
to do it now.”
“There goes Miss Know-It-All, complaining about everything
but never solving anything.”
The Jeepney stopped at a small incline overlooking the
coast. The sea sat straight ahead, stagnant and stinking with today’s aftermath
of yesterday’s tragedy.
“As I was saying,” spat Eiselle, “those gubernet opeeshals,
so much corruption, so much trouble. Nobody ever does anything in this country.
Everyone looking out for number one…”
.
No comments:
Post a Comment