You never forget a calamity like Super Typhoon Haiyan, one of the strongest ever recorded in the history of the world.
The sharp 300/kph wind that screamed. The eerie silence that followed.
Families spending their nights on rooftops amidst strong winds.
Homes built with lifesavings, swallowed by floodwaters.
Faces searching for family that didn’t make it home.
Children saw bodies lined along the streets, death normalized overnight.
Thousands homeless, orphaned, hungry, traumatized.
And yet, only days later, life went on. Just another disaster, another headline. In a nation so used to calamity, heartbreak can start to feel routine.
But what never becomes routine is how we rise.
Ordinary people turned into rescuers.
Strangers became family.
Even those safe at home found ways to help. Sending donations, amplifying calls for aid, offering comfort in whatever form they could.
I witnessed this spirit firsthand when I volunteered at Villamor Airbase.
Families kept arriving. Tired, hungry, and uncertain of what tomorrow would bring. Some spoke of wanting to return home to Tacloban once it was rebuilt. Many worried about food, jobs, and their children’s schooling.
I lost count of the times I tried to hold back my tears. You could see the exhaustion in their eyes, but also the quiet strength that refused to give up. I watched children play at the activity center. Too young to understand the devastation they had survived, yet laughing anyway.
The volunteers worked tirelessly. The leaders stayed calm, composed, giving clear instructions despite the chaos. For a brief moment, I saw what unity truly looked like.
And in the middle of it all, I knew one thing for sure: together, we shall overcome.