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Displaced by ‘Ondoy,’ dazed evacuees still dare to dream


The PhilSports Arena seemed like a setting for a tragic fiesta. Multicolored clothes hung on the railings around the basketball court. People sat on mats, talking. Children ran through the crowd with party bags in hand. Laughter was in the air—even if tears were more apt.

Whether its queuing for relief goods (center) or getting some rest (bottom), evacuees at the PhilSports Arena always have to share what is provided to them. Joe Galvez
Cramped refuge Life certainly was no party in the indoor sporting arena located inside the PhilSports Complex in Pasig City, where hundreds of families displaced by ‘Ondoy’ were given refuge. Sleeping bodies mingled with belongings on the floor. Those who could not sleep sat up and stared into space, most likely bewildered by the fact that all they really had left were the clothes on their back. In the crush of bodies and the struggle to stay sane in the middle of it all, some things are easily missed. A few mats away, a heartbreaking scene unfolded. A young boy struggled to open a can, with a spoon serving as his only tool for the task. A look of desperation overcame his face when his efforts still proved useless. Perhaps already weary of seeking help, the boy just abandoned the can and spoon in a corner. His seemed like a weariness common to all ‘Ondoy’ victims. Harsh aftermath More than a week after heavy rains brought by tropical storm ‘Ondoy’ left Metro Manila submerged in floodwaters, many people find themselves unable to move on just yet. They didn’t just lose their homes. Many also lost their loved ones. While there were those who couldn’t wait to put back the pieces of their shattered lives, others were still haunted by the wrath of ‘Ondoy.’ Modesta Visitacion, 72, a resident of Maybunga, Pasig said “nagpapasalamat nga ako na umaga nangyari [yung pagbaha] (I am thankful that it flooded in the morning). Lalo na kaming matatanda, maaring patay na kami kung gabi nangyari yun (We could have died if the water rose at night, especially the older people like us)," Modesta stated.
Some 470 residents from six baranggays in Pasig find refuge at the PhilSports Arena after tropical storm 'Ondoy' brought heavy rains that submerged their houses in filthy flood waters last week. Joe Galvez
According to Modesta, she and her husband had long wanted to go back to Bacolod, their hometown. But their lack of resources had hindered their homecoming. Ironically, ‘Ondoy’ had taken away their Pasig home, just as poverty had kept them from going back to Bacolod. Rodolfo, Modesta’s husband, who had been listening intently to his outspoken wife, could only say wistfully, “Sana naman matulungan kami (I really hope someone would help us)."
The evacuees are regularly given hot food and other relief goods at the center (bottom). Even if they have to sleep on awkward spaces of the arena (center), evacuees find the set up comfortable, a welcome change from other evacuation centers. Joe Galvez
Hope floats Others, who had somehow come to terms with losing their homes, were thankful for the small mercies that came their way. “Siksikan pero okay naman din, okay ang dating ng pagkain (It’s crowded but it’s okay. We are given food often)," said Connie Casabuena, also a resident of Maybunga, Pasig. A single banig (woven mat) marked the small area of the arena that served as living and sleeping quarters for her family of six. In another corner of the court, a smiling Ruby Marcelo said, “Okay dito kasi di mo na kailangan magluto (It’s nice here because we don’t need to cook)," clutching her baby in her arms. “Ang daming nagrereklamo, ayaw nilang magpasalamat sa mga biyayang pinagkaloob sa kanila (A lot of people are complaining, they are not thankful for the good things they receive)." Halfway home But as good as things may get at the PhilSports Arena evacuation center, it’s just a temporary shelter. “Sana mawala na yung baha (I hope the flood subsides)," Ruby said. “Kung hanggang tuhod na lang, babalik na kami. (If the water is at knee-level, we will go back.) Titiisin naming ang amoy ng baha. (We will endure the stench of the floodwaters.)" The ticks of the wall clock, which lay flat on one of the mats strewn across the evacuation center, marked the time until Ruby and the rest of the evacuees could rebuild their lives. No doubt each of them hoped there wouldn’t be too many ticks until they could all finally go back home. - GMANews.TV