A WEEK since its first signs of unrest, Taal Volcano remains in Alert Level 4 indicating possible explosive eruption “within hours to days.” While its symptoms take a backseat now that allow people to take a breather, the science beyond the surface—measured in number of plumes, quakes, ash, levels of SO2 emissions, or even where the wind blows—tells a different story.
How something so critical to remain largely unpredictable escapes me. How something beautiful turn so deadly—that one, we’re not so surprised. For some people, Taal’s volcanic vomit on January 12 may just be an episode of spectacle. For others hearing this for days now, it’s developing news. Unfortunately for others within the danger zone—this could be the new norm until it calms down.
What we “see” often takes more weight than what really goes on. People coming to terms with surviving this terrible ordeal get by with “we’re okay” because it’s actually a day better than “run for your lives.” Everyone is in search for the familiar. Everyone wants a semblance of normalcy. To be honest, we all just want to go home.
Because yes, to leave town we call home is never an easy decision. To live off with nothing but a go-bag is hard. Evacuation must convince the mindset more than the raging heart. It appeals to fear than hope. That’s why we want to jump out to head home at any semblance of calm. We want to go back and check on our homes. That’s why we want to open shop and say it’s business as usual. At this point, we all pray for the volcano to go back to sleep.
Alert Level 4
TALISAY. That day started with Ma’s text: “Pen, update mo nga ako kasi puputok daw ang bulkan.” THAT, seeking confirmation, even if she literally lives just across the Taal lake and volcano.
I asked her to get ready to leave.
Then the series of texts came in. All looking for a “fire escape.”
“Pen, Alert 3 na.”
“Nak, Alert 4 na!”
“Naulan na ng bato!“
“Tawagan mo si Tita Vangie.”
“Wala na tao di-ne.”
“Wala nang masakyan.”
My mother came crying for help and we were rendered frantic at our own helplessness. Thank God for family helping family. Tito came to get Ma and my sister. Instinct brought them to higher ground—in Tagaytay—only to descend back to Talisay a few hours later to sundo my other tita with special needs.
That night, the road down to Talisay was made more difficult because there were no lights, and the evening fog worsened with ash. With the windshield in low visibility, Tito turned his shirt into a makeshift mask, stuck his neck out the window and drove with one foot on his pedal and probably the other foot in the grave. Tita beside him, the navigator, shrieked “left,” “right,” “abante” and all kinds of curses to say “stop!” Mother, dear mother, said, all she could contribute at that point were prayers good to last a year that night.
What comes next was coming home to a house in disarray with cracks and “gabok” everywhere, and shattered ceiling due to the hardened ash in the gutter that weighed like bricks. Seeing the house was not fit a place to sleep, they slept in my other tito’s place with one eye open knowing the restive volcano is still in their backyard. When they hear the night rumbled, mama said she couldn’t tell if it was from the sky—of lightning and thunder; or from the ground—from quakes. And that whole time, we were in touch with mom and the titas with battery-saving one-liners as sign of life.
“Gdnyt nak. 10%”
To evacuate or not to evacuate?
The following day, the sunrise came with the debate on evacuation. My mom was ready to leave. My titas, veterans as they are, have defied all calls to flee, saying they have seen the Taal this way in this lifetime and will only uproot themselves when it erupts. My sister, at one point crying and frustrated at why is it even an option to risk life and limb, finally said: “Hindi po kasi kayo natatakot mamatay!”
We made every effort to convince them all to leave at once. I asked mom and sister to go ahead. I told my brother to go there but opted to focus on how best to bring them here instead. They finally left Talisay. We all managed to breathe only when they were in safer grounds in Sto. Tomas, then finally with us in Manila. We finally got hold of them. Then the titas followed. A few days later, we are lucky to have them all safely in Sta Rosa, Laguna.
I find that the lifespan of interest in a disaster depends on two things—who you know and how to help. We remain thankful to friends who reached out. I’m thankful to my housemate J for allowing my mom and sis to stay at the apartment. I am indebted to family for centering me at such a difficult time. We remain hopeful how the country looks inward to aid the evacuees and send relief to the displaced. We look up to reporters, medical professionals, and disaster managers stepping up to help us all. I am, however, astounded to learn not everyone is this understanding. I’m aghast that some even resort to jokes or fake news to exacerbate an already difficult situation. There must be a special place in hell more fiery than the Taal Volcano’s own lava for people of this sort.
“Inhale, exhale.” With overpriced N95 masks, of course. We all have more important things to do. ###