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The Oct. 15, 2013 Bohol Earthquake: A True Story

By ARDY ARANETA-BATOY

MY TRUE STORY

This happened 11  years ago. But I can still feel the shiver today. This is my story. Oct. 15, 2013 (at the Manila airport while waiting for my flight to Bohol): “Bohol is devastated. Our houses cracked and the tiles look like they have been plowed by a herd of very angry animals. Our fences seemed to salute to an unseen power as they collapsed unevenly to the ground. Our churches have surrendered to the havoc. Lives have been taxed to what was inevitable.

As the earthquake shook Bohol at 8:12 this morning, Oct 15, 2013, I was on my way to the Manila Domestic Airport (from my pad in Pasig) to get the first available flight to my province, Bohol.
I shivered when my sons and sisters from Bohol called through the phone to break the equally BREAKING NEWS – that a strong earthquake just hit Bohol – and tremors continue to scare them.
And on the phone, they shouted and cried and shouted and cried to high heavens. I listened to them motionless and shocked. And their voices faded as they shrieked to run for safety and for evacuation to a higher area to save their lives.

They left their homes unmindful of whatever little treasure they have.

My 10:05 a.m. flight to the province was delayed as Tagbilaran airport was temporarily closed due to the earthquake. I wanted to fly on my own – fast! But, how? And my phone batteries were giving up. I was sitting on the floor in one corner of the airport.

Suddenly, I remembered that all my gadgets (chargers, connectors, etc) were already stuck into my suitcase –  properly arranged in the plane’s baggage area during check in time. But I did not give up. I wanted to know how my dear CJ and Princess and all of them were in the province. I braved to inch myself into the hearts of the airline attendants, at the front area, to withdraw my  baggage so I could get my mobile phone battery for re-charging. At the start of my request, they were businesslike and adamant to give in. But they melted when they saw that I was already crying a river using unintelligible words to explain to them that I needed to know how my family members were.

The plane to Tagbilaran finally took off at 1:10 p.m. The one hour flight seemed endless. As we were about to touch down, I craned my neck from my airplane seat, by the window, to get a glimpse – hesitantly – of the ruins of my dear province.

And my sight was blurred by my tears. I sobbed deep in my heart and silently whispered: BOHOL WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN! Or WILL IT BE?

At the arrival area, there were no baggage porters. Airport police officers were very kind and doting. Words were scarce but expressions of unanimous feelings were clear on people’s faces.

Then I saw my son, Chandy with dear Princess. I saw him bite his lips as he wanted to hide his tears. No questions were asked. We just spontaneously hugged with a hug no other hug could ever compete.

And the 3 of us proceeded to the hospital to see how Rose, my daughter –in-law (Chandys’s wife) , was. Thank God, her nurse’s uniform was given real justice as she continued serving the many patients who were already overflowing from the hospital rooms down to the nearby chapels. As she kissed me, I saw her wipe the tears on her cheeks, as if her tears could hide the reality of pain, anguish and uncertainty .

Then I was brought to the evacuation center where my sisters, brother-in-law, house helpers and dogs were. It was a very heavy sight. We embraced one another very intently as we listened to what was NOT SAID orchestrated by our sobs.

I saw our house aides, Russel and Estrella; they gave me a very tired but welcoming smile. The only animated gesture I got was the wagging of the tails of our dogs.  

I didn’t want to see darkness snatching the light of day. Yet it was already dusk and the black clouds were fast in swallowing what was left of the late afternoon light .

Suddenly, I received a call from Gerry, my other son, who currently stays in Cebu with his wife Mavis and son CJ. As I greeted him with a ‘hello’, I couldn’t hear any response except the sound of a young man unashamedly crying in disappointment as he said: ‘Mom, I saw the ruins of my Bohol on television and I am missing my childhood!’ Total darkness came in the evening as electricity has not been restored yet as of this writing.

But, with HIS ALMIGHTY POWER, HE is giving us the best light – THE MOON.

I looked up above and threw a message to HIM. “Dear Lord, you have already given me a very wonderful advance BIRTHDAY GIFT – my family safe and alive.”

And the moon still continues to shine as we are gathered with our folding beds and mats outside our comfort zones to snatch some sleep; making ourselves accustomed to the trembles that disturb us literally and emotionally and, yes, emotionally!    

Thank you for all your prayers!”

BY CHANDYMAR ARANETA BATOY

It has been 11 long years since the devastating 7.2 magnitude earthquake struck the heart of Bohol. The memories of that fateful day still haunt me. It was a quiet morning, the day of a Muslim-related holiday across the Philippines. I had planned to meet my friends at 9:00 am in Loon to spend the day at a serene resort. Little did we know that our plans would be shattered by the violent tremors that would soon engulf us.

I remember waking up late, my mind still murky from a deep slumber. Suddenly, at 8:12:31 am, the ground beneath me began to convulse violently. With a roar, my world was thrown into confusion. I rushed outside, screaming for my family to join me, but it felt as if my cries were lost in the cataclysmic roar of the earth. The 34 seconds of relentless shaking felt like an eternity, and in that moment, it seemed the world was ending.

The memory of that day still lingers, a haunting refresher of the precariousness of life. However, amidst the devastation, the resilient spirit of the Boholano people shone through. We dusted ourselves off, standing tall in the face of adversity, armed with hope and cooperation.

As this day comes to a close, the urge to pen down these haunting memories grows stronger. The bearable weight of those memories still lingers, a sign of the strength and unity that emerged from the rubble.

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