August 1, 1990, 11:30 in the morning. The phone in Aunt Mely’s house rang. It was Judith, the second to the youngest among Aunt Mely’s children, who answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sino ‘to?”
(“Hello, who’s this?”)
“Si Judith po.”
(“This is Judith.”)
“Hello, Judith! Si Auntie Aleja mo ito. Nandito kami sa Villamor Air Base!”
(“Hello, Judith! This is your aunt Aleja. We’re here at Villamor Air Base!”)
“Sino ‘yan, Judith?” Aunt Mely asked.
(“Who are you speaking with, Judith?”)
“Inay, si Auntie Aleja!” she replied.
(“Mama, it’s Auntie Aleja!”)
Aunt Mely rushed to the phone, relieved and excited.
“Aleja, si Mely ‘to! Naku! Salamat sa Diyos at tumawag ka. Alalang-alala kami sa inyo. Nasaan kayo ngayon?”
(“Aleja, this is Mely! Thank God! You finally called. We were worried about all of you. Where are you now?”)
“Nandito kami sa Villamor Air Base. Kararating lang namin galing Baguio. Sumakay kami sa eroplano ng Philippine Air Force.”1
(“We’re here at Villamor Air Base. We just arrived from Baguio. We rode one of the planes of the Philippine Air Force.”)
“Si Boy at Tina, kumusta sila?”
(“How are Boy and Tina?”)
“Nandito sila, kasama ko. Mabuti naman sila, sa awa ng Diyos.”
(“They’re with me. They’re okay, by God’s grace.”)
“Hintayin n’yo kami d’yan. Susunduin namin kayo,” Aunt Mely said.
(“Wait for us. We’ll fetch you.”)
“Wag na, Mely! May mga buses dito patungong Luneta. Hintayin na lang ninyo kami d’yan.”
(“There’s no need to, Mely! There are buses here going to Luneta. Just wait for us at your place.”)
“O, sige. Kumain na ba kayo?”
(“Okay. Have you all eaten?”)
“Hindi pa.”
(“Not yet.”)
“Dito na lang kayo kumain! Ipaghahanda ko kayo.”
(“Then just eat here! I’ll prepare food for you all.”)
“O sige, Mely. Hintayin ninyo kami r’yan.”
(“Okay, Mely. Wait for us there.”)
Mrs. Afable hung up the phone.
Then, she walked with Boy and Tina to a waiting bus in front of the Villamor Air Base Relief Operations Center (VABROC) building, with just bags of clothes on their shoulders.
. . .
Mario Vicente grievingly looked at the collapsed Chrisitan College of the Philippines building, now associated with death. The American marines from Clark Air Base who had volunteered for the rescue work had already departed the rescue area.
Only a few Filipino soldiers were left in the area with civilian rescure volunteers, still hoping that one, two, maybe three students trapped under the collapsed edifice were still alive.
Mario saw an old woman sitting on a pavement, her palms covering her face.
Feeling pity for the old woman, he approached her to give comfort.
“Lola, talagang ganyan po ang buhay…”
(“Grandma, that’s life...”)
“Ang apo ko… Ang apo ko…” she said with controlled grief.
(“My grandchild… My grandchild...”)
Mario decided to keep silent.
“Wala na yata ang apo ko… Iniwan na yata ako ng apo ko…” she continued crying.
(“My grandchild is gone… My grandchild has left me…”)
Mario knew that only a miracle could make the old woman’s grandchild survive. Sixteen days had passed since the killer quake had struck!
Sitting beside her on the pavement, he wanted to say words of comfort, but none came from his mouth.
He didn’t know exactly how she felt.
He didn’t know what to say.
. . .
“Pale, filst time nangyali ito sa Dagupan,” a Chinese businessman told Mr. Guillermo.”
(“My friend, this is the first time this tradgedy happened in Dagupan.”)
Grace was seated near them, listening to the conversation. She didn’t go back to Baguio anymore, for classes in all levels remained suspended.
“Sampu taon ko inipon pela pampatayo building ko. Ngayon, sila na building. Collapsed na!” the Chinese businessman complained.
(“I saved money for ten years to put up my building! Now, my building is gone. It has collapsed!”)
“Talagang ganyan, pare… wala tayong magagawa.”
(“Sometimes, that’s the way things are, my friend… We really can’t do anything.”)
“Pale, poble na naman kompale mo. Noon, ako tinda taho pala kita. Ipon ako pela pala sa building ko. Ngayon… wala na building, pale… Ako tinda na naman taho!”
(“Buddy, I’m poor again. Before, I sold soybean curd to earn money. I saved money for my building. Now… my building is gone… I’ll have to sell soybean curd again!”)
Grace didn’t know whether she would laught at, or feel pity for the Chinese.
The Chinese businessman reminded her of the story of the man who built his house on the sand.
. . .
A Sarao jeepney full of relief goods was going up to Baguio City in Naguilian Road, now open to traffic.
The jeep only had three passengers: the driver, Reverend Orlando Manalang, and Brother Ben Cervantes.
Brother Cervantes felt pity on the thousands of people walking down Naguilian Road, escaping the isolated city.
“Ang daming bumababa,” Reverend Manalang told Brother Cervantes.
(“There are so many people trekking down.”)
The latter was anxious for his family. How were they? Where were they?
Brother Cervantes saw a familiar face walking down with a group of students. It was Wilfredo Agnir, one of the members of his Saturday Bible Study-Fellowship. Brother Ben asked the driver to temporarily park on the side of the road.
“Willie!” Brother Cervantes shouted.
Wille looked at him. “Brother Ben!”
He walked to the jeep after asking his fellow “marchers” to wait for him.
“Bakit kayo naglalakad?” Brother Cervantes asked.
(“Why are you on foot?”)
“Wala kaming masakyan, Brother Ben. Wala ng bus na bumababa.”
(“There are no public vehicles available, Brother Ben. No buses are travelling down.”)
“Kumusta ba sa Baguio?”
(“How’s Baguio?”)
“Chaotic! Halos wala nang makain, at mabaho! Saka marami pang aftershocks, kaya nag-decide po kaming bumaba na lang kahit kailangang maglakad.”
(“Chaotic! Food is scarce. It stinks. And there are still frequent aftershocks. That’s why we decided to go down even if we had to walk.”)
Brother Cervantes bit his lip. The Baguio City he knew was in ruins.
“Wala na po ang Baguio, Brother Ben. Taon ang aabutin bago ito muling makabangon.” Willie said.
(“Baguio is gone, Brother Ben. It will take years before it can rise from the ruins.”)
. . .
“Matakot naman kayo sa Diyos!” Bal Lopez, one of the announcers of DZRH, thundered in his late afternoon program.
(“Have you no fear of God?!”)
“Pati ba naman biscuit at canned goods para sa mga biktima ng lindol, nanakawin pa ninyo? ‘Yang isang mayor sa Pangasinan, hindi ko na babanggitin ang pangalan at nakakahiya. May balita kami from reliable sources na ang mga relief goods para sa kanyang mga kababayan ay ibino-bodega n’ya. Ano ba naman ‘yan, Mr. Mayor! Mahiya ka naman! At saka ‘yang mga pulitiko d’yan, tigil-tigilan muna natin ang pulitika. ‘Yang mga provincial officials d’yan sa Nueva Vizcaya. Ang balita namin ay nilalagyan n’yo pa ng ‘LOVE CORY’2 ‘yang mga relief goods na idini-distribute n’yo. Hindi naman galing sa Malacañang ang mga relief goods na ‘yan, kundi sa mga private donors! Ano ba naman! Tigilan muna ‘yang pulitika! Malayo pa ang 1992!” Bal Lopez said indign
antly.
(“You would even steal biscuits and canned goods for the victims of the earthquake? There’s a mayor from Pangasinan, who will not be named because what he’s doing is so disgraceful. But we have news from a reliable source that he is keeping relief goods for himself. What kind of behavior is that, Mr. Mayor?! Have you no shame?! And to other politicians, please stop campaigning so early. We have news that some provincial officials in Nueva Vizcaya are placing ‘LOVE CORY’ stickers on relief goods being distributed. But those relief goods were from private donors, not Malacañang! What kind of behavior is that! You’re already campaigning now, when elections are still at 1992!)
Aunt Mely and Rose’s mother were then in the living room, listening to Bal’s tirades. Mrs. Afable had a late lunch. Boy and Tina were upstairs, together with Aunt Mely’s children.
“Talagang walang puso ang ibang kababayan natin!” Aunt Mely said with disdain.
(“Some of our countrymen are really heartless!”)
“Samantala, narito ang tatlong pinakahuling nahukay mula sa gumuhong Hyatt Hotel sa Baguio City. Isa sa kanila ang buhay! Siya’y si Arnulfo Pinga, buhay pa after sixteen days! Himala ito! Ang dalawang patay… Antonio de Guzman, isang staff ng Hyatt Hotel, at si Daniel Lardizabal. Si Daniel ay isang fifth year engineering student sa University of Baguio. Ayon sa kanyang identification card, siya ay taga-Urdaneta, Pangasinan!”
(“Meanwhile, three more persons were taken out from the rubbles of Hyatt Hotel. One of them is alive – Arnulfo Pinga! He’s alive after sixteen days! It’s really a miracle! The two dead… Antonio de Guzman, a staff of Hyatt Hotel, and Daniel Lardizabal. Daniel is a fifth year engineering student from the University of Baguio. Based on his I.D. card, he is from Urdaneta, Pangasinan.”)
“O, Diyos ko! Si Daniel!” Mrs. Afable exclaimed.
(“Oh, My Lord! It’s Daniel!”)
“Sino ‘yun?” Aunt Mely asked.
(“Who is that?”)
“Boyfriend ni Rose. Patay na s’ya.” Mrs. Afable, bit her lip.
(“Rose’s boyfriend. He’s dead.”)
“Kailangang masabihan si Rose. Tawagan natin siya mamayang gabi,” Aunt Mely said.
(“We need to tell Rose. Let’s call her up later in the evening.”)
Mrs. Afable was silent.
She wondered how her daughter would react to the news that the man she loved had gone to be with the Lord.
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. . . FINAL CHAPTER . . .
Even The Grass Bleeds Page 12
