It started when Mom asked me how my trip was going, hoping Bangkok had better weather than rainy Manila. She said it was pouring non-stop at home. In my 20+ years in Magallanes Village, I only experienced flooding once and it remained in the garage, never entering the house. Thinking this wasn’t any different, I brushed it away as something that would quickly subside.

But Mom’s next messages were alarmingly more distraught: “water levels are rising really fast…” Worry settling in, I turned on the TV in my hotel room and watched as my country got drenched, divided, and – to my horror – drowned.

Our street instantly turned into a ginormous public pool. That’s our neighbor across us. Photo by my brother, Enzo.

I frantically asked how my family was. “Water up to fourth stair; we’re all on the second floor; have some crackers for food… we saved what we could.”

During the flood: water went up to the fourth stair. Photo by my brother, Enzo.

Besides our helpers, I was the only one with a room on the first floor. My overly-active brain started imagining the worst. My computer! My graphic novels! My film rolls! My journals! My pictures! All mine, mine, mine. Me, me, me. Until I had the most important realization: I could lose my family. And I was miles away.

SHIT.

I told my Mom: “Plan easy escape route. Unbar fire exits. Ration food. Keep me updated.” I texted Ramon that our house was flooded and to check on my family now and then. But texting and praying was all I could do. At one point, I heard myself whisper, as if not fully accepting it: “I’m sorry I’m not there.”

On the morning of the 27th, Mom texted that the water level was down. They were able to cook food and the house was in ruins. Mon texted too, saying that he just came from my house to help and added “I’m sure you know the situation.” He went off to help in other relief operations thereafter. Several friends (most of whom I haven’t heard from in awhile) texted and called saying they heard about Magallanes and asked how I was. A lot of calls for volunteers were sent too. Wow, that bad huh? I thought.

After the flood: furniture everywhere! Photo by my brother, Enzo.

My room. Photo by my brother, Enzo.

I got back at 4am on the 28th, two days after the storm. I entered the house and it was everything we’ve seen on TV: damp, dark, stinky. CHAOS. I enter my room first, at a loss at what else to do, and I don’t recognize anything from my previous set-up. Funnily, I thought I was Alice entering a Wonderland where shoes were on chairs and chairs were on tables; where pictures were runny; where paintings and artworks were wet and soggy; where stuffed doggies rested on electric fans. Only this Wonderland wasn’t as fun and nothing like the Cheshire Cat was disappearing.

When everyone woke, I find out the full story: the four cars parked in our garages were full of water and needed to be towed and repaired; our electric wires were zapped; bags and bags of wet clothes, curtains, and sheets needed to be sorted and washed; more food needed to be bought; the whole house needed restoration. Our lives came to a forced stop to start a new one.

Mon helped and even tried to dry The Inksquad business cards, peeling them apart, one by one.

Our new front yard design. Exquisitely done with a built-in electric fan, plus a 3-tier sculpture of water jugs!

Tired from travel, I didn’t have time for a breather. I plunged from the plane to post-Ondoy. I didn’t bother to unpack, I had no place to put my clothes.

My unpacked luggage from Bangkok.

For a week and a half, I lived off my luggage and borrowed clothes from my brothers. It was tiring work, even though I arrived at a relatively “clean” stage of the situation. I could only imagine what it was like to sort through everything right after the flood. I could only imagine what other people in worse situations were going through.

While throwing out runny photos and unreadable letters, I looked around and the tears eventually came. I was — to put it simply — heartbroken. My treasures were nothing but useless piles of muddy glop. One of my most loved pieces — my signed Stardust graphic novel by Neil Gaiman (I’ve had it for about 10 years) — was beyond saving. I guess my dream of stalking him in another country is now a must.

It was difficult to submerge myself in house restoration work then work on TIS stuff then teach my art classes. I felt displaced, distant. I helped out with relief operations to channel my pent-up energy elsewhere and change my scenery. I tried talking it out with my co-teachers. But the weird feelings remained. Even as I write this, a lot of emotions are stirred within me, not fully knowing what I should do about them. Maybe TIS Ondoy shirt-drive will help keep me sane.

I concluded several things, all of which I’m sure everyone who experienced the flood could verify. One: how easily humans attach themselves to material things. It takes awhile to “extend” yourself through a computer, or maybe a letter, or a book, or clothes. But it can disappear from you in seconds. How feeble of us to foolishly relate to an inanimate object, knowing full well they become trash eventually. Two: how powerful we humans are with the ability to create and recreate. As I threw the bulk of my memorabilia, I thought: Damn, no more memories. I caught myself and shook my head, feeling silly: I’ll create new ones then. My artworks are all gone, but that just means I’m challenged to make better ones.

Soggy warped artworks and photos. Threw most of them.

Three: A good friend couldn’t have put it better, “It’s a good thing your family is water proof, albeit soggy.”

We love to document our lives. We hoard, we store. We keep and own outlandish objects, desperate to leave a physical trail of ourselves behind. But when it’s our time to leave, it’s our time to leave. No possessions are brought to the grave. The only truly lasting piece of us are lodged in the hearts you’ve encountered and touched.

Ondoy was a physical and emotional cleansing for me. And, for that, I am actually thankful the storm came because a facet of life was made more real to me: Simplify your living, you don’t need the fluff.

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You can check out my Picasa album for more photos. Or see my brother’s raw videos: Floodventure 1 and Floodventure 2