Aling Dolores would never forget the night she dreamed of that nightmare. She was soaked with sweat on her bed, being thankful that it was just a bad dream. But never had she thought that one year later, on the night of October 8, 2009, this fateful dream of hers would come true.
This is the story of Aling Dolores’ survival from the tragic incident that struck the humble village of Little Kibungan in Puguis, La Trinidad, Benguet.
No Tears
We found her sitting at a corner of what used to be the classroom of Grade 3 students in Puguis Elementary School. Together with more than 100 evacuees, she sought refuge in this school hoping to ease her from the gloomy landslide that raked everything she had. At 52, her wrinkles and gray hair proved to be testament to her battles in life. She seemed grief-stricken and puzzled for her great loss; but somehow she still managed to smile to everyone inside this makeshift camp.
Around her, people were chanting hymns… the atmosphere bearing a heavy mode of grief… In front her were the five plywood coffins of her daughter, her son-in-law, and her three little grandchildren who all died during that rainy evening. This classroom was a temporary funeral home.
Aling Dolores had not yet shed a single tear since the incident. Yet, a grave feeling of emptiness blanketed her being… an unfamiliar rope that strangled her breathing.
As the singing grew louder, Dolores courageously set off to revisit the night she cheated death.
Last Supper
“Sabali ti ulimek ken lamminna idi rabii (The silence and coldness of the night was different),” she said in a sinister tone. Typhoon Pepeng had already taken its toll on many parts of Northern Luzon. Some of her neighbors had just gone to Puguis Elementary School in hopes of a safer shelter. Amidst shrieking winds and jostling mud, she and six other relatives chose to share a meal’s bounty inside her house situated along a steep mountain crevice. Her daughter Jane, along with her husband Antonio and three children, feasted on their supper at a cabin just below Aling Dolores’ place. They stuffed themselves with adobo, and that was enough to send Jane and the four to a good night’s sleep.
Dolores seated cozily in her kitchen as the candlelight flickered on the table. A power outage had plunged their village in utter darkness. She was repeatedly lighting the candle, for the winds outside were putting it out. This could be an omen, she thought.
She dismissed her gut feel and tried to think of other things. Ah, it was indeed a relief to have finally paid this lot where their house stood. Just recently, a loaning firm had lent Jane with Php 15,000.00. They were then ready to hire a lawyer to grant them a title for their lot. “Pagtulung-tulungantayo nga mabayadan, Inang (We’ll work together to pay [the loan], Mom),” Jane had said to her mother.
A sudden gush of chilling wind entered her kitchen and caught her. The candle flickered and soon Dolores plunged into the dark. She lighted it again. Dolores was about to resume her seat when a terrible sense of foreboding enveloped her…
It was 10:30 p.m. This was the night. Her one-year-old nightmare would finally resurrect.
“Flashback”
A deafening roar erupted from outside her house. Thunder, she thought, stunned. But no lightning preceded it. As the noise grew violently louder, the floor beneath her feet started trembling. Earthquake! She hurriedly rushed outside and almost slipped – the ground was painted with mud. She was halted by what she saw.
A raging river of mud had appeared in front of her. Blocks of wood and cement twisted viciously, destroying everything in their path. Despite the darkness, she could see how the mud flow swept the entire slope like the hands of a ferocious giant. She screamed her lungs out… it was useless… people were already shouting and running for their lives. The sight almost paralyzed her from where she stood. Her nightmare…
Something
hit her from her side, and she stumbled to the mud just to find it
was one of his sons who bumped into her. He was scurrying towards the
treacherous mud flow. An unbearable wave of dread brushed her… she
wanted to stop Martin from going any nearer… What in the name of
God was he doing?
Alas! Her maternal instinct suddenly possessed her. In between slippery mud and heavy rain, she plowed her way to where Martin was directed. Jane and her family were in serious danger. She stumbled three times, bruising her ankles and elbow. She kept running. She could hear Martin shouting inside Jane’s cabin. She looked at the direction of the sound… then a cold shiver crawled up her spine – Jane’s house was already half-submerged in yellow-brown mud flow!
She could not think clearly. Her mind raced whether to brave the mud to save them or to stay calm and wait. Confusion got the best of her when the mud flow gripped her naked feet. Instantly, someone rushed and pulled her to higher ground. It was Martin. By impulse, she searched Martin’s side for signs of Jane’s kindred, but there were none. Then his son hurriedly ran towards her own house. She thought she would go crazy that very instant. Then… she heard an agonizing scream… it was coming from Jane’s cabin… “Uncle! Partakam! Kayat ko pay mabiag! (Hurry up, Uncle. I still want to live!)” Anthony! He’s alive, Dolores thought. She scampered across the tumultuous mud river to save his poor grandson. She could not afford to lose one; she had dreams for this child...
For the second time, Martin pulled her back. He was back with his brother Marvin alongside him. He had a long hose and a knife in his hands. In a swift mode, he forcibly swam across the heightening mud river and in to Jane’s house. Anthony must breathe.
Twisted Nightmare
Aling Dolores never thought nor dreamed of this. In her nightmare, it was she who died. But to what happened she had prepared no reaction. No teardrop would come out, no weeping. She just sat there on a chair in her kitchen.
It was 2 a.m. of October 9. Her four sons alternated doing CPR to Jane, Antonio, Jeanson, Aj-ann and even Anthony but to no avail. It had already been three hours since they managed to “rescue” them – the bodies unusually heavy with water and covered in mud. Dolores could do nothing but to stare at them – lips black and blue all over. They waited until sunrise, hoping that at one magical instant, life would spring back.
It never did.
Outside, the mud flow had receded, along with Jane's family's dreams, too. Fate, Dolores said, was mischievous.
Lamentations
The landslide left them and some 40 families homeless, forcing them to reside at the evacuation site in Puguis Elementary. Though her own house still stood, it suffered irreversible damage. Aling Dolores could not help but ride with the current of change that had mercilessly swept her entire village.
“Nakalipat tayo ken Apo Dios (We have
forsaken God),’ she said in reverie. “Ngem agsala-sala toy
panunot ko nga apay nangyari daytoy kenniami (But I kept thinking
why this happened to us).” In previous years, she had since
been a member of a Catholic league praying for the healing of the
sick. “Agil-ilot kami pay ti adda saksakitna (We even treat the
sick).” Only until then had she realized it was they who needed
their prayers. “Ania ti nagkamaliak? (Where did I go
wrong?)”
Of all the dreams she ached to fulfill for her family, why her nightmare? She had dreamed of her grandchildren studying on a private school, her daughter Jane landing a good job. She had dreamt simple dreams, like having a picnic with her kin, and drinking Benguet coffee with them during sunrise.
But there she was – drinking dole-out instant coffee in an evacuation site, at her daughter Jean’s wake.
She could not rid off such loneliness. All her dreams for them… gone… buried in mud… left in that instant graveyard of lost dreams. She surmised how stealthily death could come upon one’s sleep. “Awan naaramidanda (They were unable to do anything).” Anthony’s final beg for survival still haunted her. She could have done something… to hide that mosquito net the day before the landslide. If only she knew it might tangle him on his bed, pinning him to his drowning end… Martin’s knife could not cut the net, and the long hose failed to come on time. The mud had swallowed him fast. If only she had not given them the meat for their adobo...
Indeed, regrets come last.
In Memoriam
She may be lucky to survive. But the loss it brought her was as painful as death itself. For her, it was hard to live when all else had died. “Dakkel ti nabawas. Kanayon mo nga biruken isuda, kasla adda mapukpukaw (A lot has changed.You constantly look for them, like something is missing),” her voice finally broke and her eyes wet with mellow tears.
Everything is temporary, Dolores said.
Everything that the eyes can see will expire, even life itself. How
soon? She does not know. “Ni Apo Dios laeng ti makaammo. Isuna met
ti nangited ti biagtayo (Only God knows. After all, it was He who
gave life to us),” she said while looking at the remains of
little Aj-ann, her sweet one-year-old granddaughter.
Though the mountains and its people may forget all these in time, the bitter-sweet aftermath of the calamity would forever nestle in her mind.
Aling Dolores is just one among the many pieces that make up this infamous jigsaw puzzle that Typhoon Pepeng laid upon us. In the end, when the puzzle is completed, only then can we decipher if the whole thing is an image of hope – or despair.
Alas! Her maternal instinct suddenly possessed her. In between slippery mud and heavy rain, she plowed her way to where Martin was directed. Jane and her family were in serious danger. She stumbled three times, bruising her ankles and elbow. She kept running. She could hear Martin shouting inside Jane’s cabin. She looked at the direction of the sound… then a cold shiver crawled up her spine – Jane’s house was already half-submerged in yellow-brown mud flow!
She could not think clearly. Her mind raced whether to brave the mud to save them or to stay calm and wait. Confusion got the best of her when the mud flow gripped her naked feet. Instantly, someone rushed and pulled her to higher ground. It was Martin. By impulse, she searched Martin’s side for signs of Jane’s kindred, but there were none. Then his son hurriedly ran towards her own house. She thought she would go crazy that very instant. Then… she heard an agonizing scream… it was coming from Jane’s cabin… “Uncle! Partakam! Kayat ko pay mabiag! (Hurry up, Uncle. I still want to live!)” Anthony! He’s alive, Dolores thought. She scampered across the tumultuous mud river to save his poor grandson. She could not afford to lose one; she had dreams for this child...
For the second time, Martin pulled her back. He was back with his brother Marvin alongside him. He had a long hose and a knife in his hands. In a swift mode, he forcibly swam across the heightening mud river and in to Jane’s house. Anthony must breathe.
Twisted Nightmare
Aling Dolores never thought nor dreamed of this. In her nightmare, it was she who died. But to what happened she had prepared no reaction. No teardrop would come out, no weeping. She just sat there on a chair in her kitchen.
It was 2 a.m. of October 9. Her four sons alternated doing CPR to Jane, Antonio, Jeanson, Aj-ann and even Anthony but to no avail. It had already been three hours since they managed to “rescue” them – the bodies unusually heavy with water and covered in mud. Dolores could do nothing but to stare at them – lips black and blue all over. They waited until sunrise, hoping that at one magical instant, life would spring back.
It never did.
Outside, the mud flow had receded, along with Jane's family's dreams, too. Fate, Dolores said, was mischievous.
Lamentations
The landslide left them and some 40 families homeless, forcing them to reside at the evacuation site in Puguis Elementary. Though her own house still stood, it suffered irreversible damage. Aling Dolores could not help but ride with the current of change that had mercilessly swept her entire village.
“Nakalipat tayo ken Apo Dios (We have
forsaken God),’ she said in reverie. “Ngem agsala-sala toy
panunot ko nga apay nangyari daytoy kenniami (But I kept thinking
why this happened to us).” In previous years, she had since
been a member of a Catholic league praying for the healing of the
sick. “Agil-ilot kami pay ti adda saksakitna (We even treat the
sick).” Only until then had she realized it was they who needed
their prayers. “Ania ti nagkamaliak? (Where did I go
wrong?)”Of all the dreams she ached to fulfill for her family, why her nightmare? She had dreamed of her grandchildren studying on a private school, her daughter Jane landing a good job. She had dreamt simple dreams, like having a picnic with her kin, and drinking Benguet coffee with them during sunrise.
But there she was – drinking dole-out instant coffee in an evacuation site, at her daughter Jean’s wake.
She could not rid off such loneliness. All her dreams for them… gone… buried in mud… left in that instant graveyard of lost dreams. She surmised how stealthily death could come upon one’s sleep. “Awan naaramidanda (They were unable to do anything).” Anthony’s final beg for survival still haunted her. She could have done something… to hide that mosquito net the day before the landslide. If only she knew it might tangle him on his bed, pinning him to his drowning end… Martin’s knife could not cut the net, and the long hose failed to come on time. The mud had swallowed him fast. If only she had not given them the meat for their adobo...
Indeed, regrets come last.
In Memoriam
She may be lucky to survive. But the loss it brought her was as painful as death itself. For her, it was hard to live when all else had died. “Dakkel ti nabawas. Kanayon mo nga biruken isuda, kasla adda mapukpukaw (A lot has changed.You constantly look for them, like something is missing),” her voice finally broke and her eyes wet with mellow tears.
She knew she would miss how Jeanson
bullied her till she got mad, how Aj-ann used to ask her to comb
her hair, how Anthony and Antonio helped her with their chores, and
how Jane promised her of better living. It was undeniably painful to
accept this fate, this tragedy that tested her... as a mother… as a
human.
But despite all that had happened,
Dolores was thankful to all the volunteers and friends who earnestly
offered themselves to them. In times of need, she had known how it
felt to gain compassion upon losing a beloved. Love, she said in
Ilocano, is after all a universal thing.
Typhoon Pepeng had undeniably left Northern Luzon with a landslide of why’s. But the biggest question asked by all those affected remains unchanged: How do they begin?
Her nightmare has become a tragic part of Cordilleran history. It has claimed the lives of 81 residents, the highest death toll among the more than 50 landslides that scourged the Cordilleras. To date, there has been more than 340 confirmed casualties and almost 800 million worth of agricultural, infrastructure and economic damages all over the region – almost close to the 1990 earthquake. It has paralyzed Baguio City, fending the four major road networks impassable to vehicles for one week. The gravity of Baguio’s cripple plunged the city into the national limelight. Dolores’ nightmare was a hit.
A Single Piece
Typhoon Pepeng had undeniably left Northern Luzon with a landslide of why’s. But the biggest question asked by all those affected remains unchanged: How do they begin?
Her nightmare has become a tragic part of Cordilleran history. It has claimed the lives of 81 residents, the highest death toll among the more than 50 landslides that scourged the Cordilleras. To date, there has been more than 340 confirmed casualties and almost 800 million worth of agricultural, infrastructure and economic damages all over the region – almost close to the 1990 earthquake. It has paralyzed Baguio City, fending the four major road networks impassable to vehicles for one week. The gravity of Baguio’s cripple plunged the city into the national limelight. Dolores’ nightmare was a hit.
A Single Piece
Everything is temporary, Dolores said.
Everything that the eyes can see will expire, even life itself. How
soon? She does not know. “Ni Apo Dios laeng ti makaammo. Isuna met
ti nangited ti biagtayo (Only God knows. After all, it was He who
gave life to us),” she said while looking at the remains of
little Aj-ann, her sweet one-year-old granddaughter. Though the mountains and its people may forget all these in time, the bitter-sweet aftermath of the calamity would forever nestle in her mind.
Aling Dolores is just one among the many pieces that make up this infamous jigsaw puzzle that Typhoon Pepeng laid upon us. In the end, when the puzzle is completed, only then can we decipher if the whole thing is an image of hope – or despair.
