The Winds

It maybe due to the holidays, or the cold breeze... because I couldn't seem to bring myself to sit down and write about what happened after my flight. I have lots of thoughts about what to write, but the problem is I couldn't sit down. It's not that I don't have the time. I actually have a lot of time; being here in our home all the time. I then realize that this might be the same thing that happened when I stopped writing during Ramadan. I wish I am a writer so I can officially say this is writer's block. But I am NOT.

Anyway, I got here during one of the worse times that people can remember. And I am sure this is also one of those times that will be remembered for a long time. Ondoy and Pepeng went one after the other, and I got here when our people were still cleaning up what they left. I saw the pictures. But I wanted to be there, to smell the stale flood water, to ride through the flood. I told myself I will do it before my operation. And I did.

I particularly went to the street where I grew up... P. Burgos St.

My sister and I rode the pedicab from about 500 meters away which was in front of the church. As the pedicab waded through the floods, I was having goose flesh. I am seeing more than how I imagined. The mess they left with our Kababayans. But as we go through, I started not to look at what these two typhoons had done. Instead, I started to look at what our Kababayans are doing.

The pedicab driver kept pedaling, and I saw his feet turning white from long periods of being soaked with not-just-water but flood water. I see these people moving around continuing with their lives.

Then, I thought: We Filipinos are really very strong people. And as they tweeted a thousand times during Ondoy and Pepeng:

"Where I came from, everyone is a HERO."

I believe this is so.