This essay was originally published on Sojourners Magazine on January 28, 2022
In the Philippines, it is common to refer to the country as “Inang Bayan” or “Mother Land,” as this land we call home is lush and inviting. I was there when our Mother wept. In 2013, Super Typhoon Haiyan ravaged the lands of the Philippines, taking at least 6,300 human lives in its wake while 1,800 others remained missing. Costing an estimated 5.8 billion dollars worth of damages, Haiyan became one of the deadliest and costliest typhoons to hit the Philippines.
I saw their faces. I felt their tears on my fingertips. I watched their homes crumble, laid to waste as tribes and families were displaced by the typhoon. Traditional crowns are important to the Badjao community, but these cultural artifacts were ruined as a result of Haiyan along with their royal garbs and beautiful necklaces. All that was left were fallen trees, animal carcasses, ruined homes, and damaged places of worship.
The Badjao people rebuilt their homes and communities with their bare hands; they were decimated yet again almost a decade later by another deadly storm: Super Typhoon Rai. On Dec. 16, Rai made landfall at 1:30 p.m., local time. Rai became a powerful Category 5 typhoon that rivaled the deadliness of Haiyan. Rai took 405 lives with it, left 82 people missing, and displaced more than 129,000 Indigenous Filipinos.
It has become common for typhoons to coincide with Christmas fiesta each year. Filipinos are tired, weeping, and dying as a result of these typhoons; many are now looking for the root cause of these disasters and for ways to mitigate the damage in the future.