Finding that Rainbow after the Rain: A Tale of a Typhoon Haiyan Survivor.

Rainbow days after the massive typhoon.

Just an hour ago, I had spoken to *Marco, an old friend of mine, about his nightmare.  He is one of the survivors in Tacloban, the city completely devastated by Typhoon Haiyan.  And just an hour ago, I heard a story of despair, hope, blessedness, mercy and love.

The story started off with me welcoming him in the cafe with a hug and an eager question of, 'How are you?' .  He faintly answered  'floating', as he tried to make himself comfortable on the chair opposite to me.  Truly just 8 days after the incident, the memory and the wounds were still fresh.

Everyone in Tacloban were well aware of the incoming threat; people living alongside shorelines had been evacuated few days prior the incident; panic buying were rampant the night before the typhoon.  People tried to prepare themselves for the greatest typhoon known to modern history.  Little did they know that stored food and a roof on top didn't really cushion them for what was to come.  Houses were easily washed away like boxes made out of matchsticks, winds were howling blowing violently as ever, sea water was gushing in massive currents, everyone was trying to hold on to dear life.  Marco who then was checked in Grand Manor hotel, stayed outside his room just in case a flying object from outside would hit his room's huge wall glass;  he placed his luggage in the comfort room thinking to hide there just in case the building collapses; he wrapped fire hose around his body just in case he needed to jump out of the nearest window.  He was thinking of all possible ways to prepare himself for the worst.  The chaos lasted for hours, and had trickled down until the damage had revealed itself upon the survivors.  The once Tacloban city had turned into a remnants of war.

In his desire to get out of the ghost town, he decided to head on to Tacloban airport where he met a number of survivors along the way, and together they managed to make their way cautiously on top of the remains of dilapidated houses and buildings; they walked along the major streets where bloated bodies of drowned kababayans were lying randomly on both sides.   They've heard moaning somewhere beneath the rubbles; they've seen people walking aimlessly striving to find their lost love ones.  Hopelessness and weakness were seen everywhere. Surely, it was a war.  Once again mankind had fallen victim over the wrath of mother nature.

After almost 2 hours of walking towards the airport, 2 days of not eating and sleeping well, and having to nap on the ground, he finally was able to land in Cebu and was reunited with his sister.  And today, he's in Davao to tell me about his experience, to take me with him, as he went back to the nightmare he was telling me about over a chat in facebook - our first contact after the incident.  The images he showed me on his phone were no different as to the ones I've seen on tv, the only difference was that his face was in them.  As someone who didn't experience the tragedy, I empathize, I feel hurt, but I know fully well that I was just scratching the surface of what he had been through. His hurt was way deep.   And yet amongst all tragedy, the despair, pain, agony, hunger, and suffering, I saw mostly a renewed spirituality- an immense feeling of thankfulness of the mercy and protection that he feels came from above.

I see him now, stronger, better.  

I see so much the irony and polarity of life- that there's strength after suffering, that there's blessing after the pain, that there's joy after a tragedy.

I am glad that Marco lives to tell about it, because I know that he will never be the same again.  He is now more awakened and more appreciative of life and see things only a survivor from a life threatening event can see and understand.

For a diamond would have to undergo friction, shaping, molding, pressure, abrasion, cut, sliced, until, alas, it glitters and glows and becomes all that it was made out to be...

* - Not his real name