Kathy Novak
BY Kathy Novak
When Typhoon Haiyan hit the Philippines in November, I was in Manila visiting my mother’s side of the family. We didn’t think much of it at first, because typhoons are a regular occurrence. About eight or nine batter the Philippines every year. This one was different. It was the strongest tropical cyclone to make landfall in recorded history. More than 6,000 people were killed.
Tacloban was one of the hardest-hit areas. It is also where my grandfather grew up, and is still home to our huge extended family. So travelling there to cover the disaster for SBS World News was more than just an assignment.
We lost one of our relatives in the typhoon. Another survived the storm, but passed away four days later from pneumonia. My cousin, Nani, told me the experience was like “something you’d only think happens in the movies”.
She was bunkered down at home with her husband and two young sons. As the water rushed in, it became clear they would need to swim, clutching their two- and three-year-olds, to the second floor of the house next door.
The next day, looters ransacked the grocery store they ran out the front of their house. She was terrified they would break into their home too. It took six days to get evacuated on an air force plane out of Tacloban. They had no plans to come back.
Nani and her family started a new life in a new city. Her parents have been trying for half a year to convince her to visit Tacloban again. Last month, we both went back for the first time. Walking around the city and seeing what it looks like now, Nani spent most of the first day in tears.
Typhoon Haiyan, known as Typhoon Yolanda in the Philippines, was one of the strongest tropical cyclones ever recorded, which devastated portions of Southeast Asia, particularly the Philippines, on November 8, 2013.
It is the deadliest Philippine typhoon on record, killing at least 6,268 people in that country alone. Haiyan is also the strongest storm recorded at landfall, and unofficially the strongest typhoon ever recorded in terms of wind speed. As of January 2014, bodies were still being found.
Life is slowly getting back to normal, but it is clear there is still so much to do. And the city appears nowhere near ready for the next typhoon season, which starts around now. Some houses have been repaired. Others are abandoned skeletons.
Down by the water, massive cargo ships that were washed up on the shore haven’t budged. That area was home to hundreds of squatters, whose makeshift homes were flattened in the typhoon.
Those who survived have come back and built new homes, in the shadow of the ships, and in the path of the next storm, seemingly unfazed by the daily reminder of how dangerous it is to live there.
Typhoon Haiyan, called typhoon “Yolanda” in the Philippines, caused catastrophic damage throughout much of the islands of Leyte, where cities and towns were largely destroyed. As of April 17, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC) confirmed 6,300 fatalities across the country, 5,877 of those taking place in the Eastern Visayas. The actual death toll remains unclear, with the total loss of life estimated as low as 2,500 by President Benigno Aquino III.
As of November 13, Red Cross estimated that 22,000 people were missing while approximately 65,500 people were listed as such through Google Person Finder.
Google, however, cautioned that this value is not to be read into, as shown during the 2011 Thoku earthquake and tsunami when more than 600,000 names were listed in contrast to the final death toll of roughly 20,000.
Looking at photos of the area before I went back, I thought they were there because they hadn’t learned their lesson. Talking to the people, I learned they have nowhere else to go.
The government and aid organisations are trying to move people out of the danger zone. But seven months on, thousands of families are still living in tents. One mother told me her children still cry whenever it rains.
One of the tent cities I visited is on the grounds of a school. While refugees are living there, the school is not being rebuilt, and the students haven’t returned to classes.
Local and federal agencies want to act strategically, so that new homes are built to withstand years of typhoons, earthquakes and mudslides. But red tape and bureaucracy is also holding up construction – even of temporary shelters.
Thousands will still be living in tents and in shacks by the water during this year’s typhoon season. There is a plan to evacuate before the storms hit, but I struggled to find many buildings in the city that look fit to act as shelters.
Nani isn’t the only member of my family who felt forced to leave Tacloban. Other cousins moved to Manila because their offices were destroyed in the storm.
They haven’t been rebuilt and their jobs no longer exist. They all hope to come back one day, but doubt that can happen in the near future.
People in Tacloban seem to accept that after a disaster so huge, it will take years before the city is back on its feet. They’re doing the best they can to rebuild their own homes and lives, and hoping that the next typhoon just isn’t as powerful as Haiyan.
THE GUARDIAN
BY Kathy Novak
When Typhoon Haiyan hit the Philippines in November, I was in Manila visiting my mother’s side of the family. We didn’t think much of it at first, because typhoons are a regular occurrence. About eight or nine batter the Philippines every year. This one was different. It was the strongest tropical cyclone to make landfall in recorded history. More than 6,000 people were killed.
Tacloban was one of the hardest-hit areas. It is also where my grandfather grew up, and is still home to our huge extended family. So travelling there to cover the disaster for SBS World News was more than just an assignment.
We lost one of our relatives in the typhoon. Another survived the storm, but passed away four days later from pneumonia. My cousin, Nani, told me the experience was like “something you’d only think happens in the movies”.
She was bunkered down at home with her husband and two young sons. As the water rushed in, it became clear they would need to swim, clutching their two- and three-year-olds, to the second floor of the house next door.
The next day, looters ransacked the grocery store they ran out the front of their house. She was terrified they would break into their home too. It took six days to get evacuated on an air force plane out of Tacloban. They had no plans to come back.
Nani and her family started a new life in a new city. Her parents have been trying for half a year to convince her to visit Tacloban again. Last month, we both went back for the first time. Walking around the city and seeing what it looks like now, Nani spent most of the first day in tears.
Typhoon Haiyan, known as Typhoon Yolanda in the Philippines, was one of the strongest tropical cyclones ever recorded, which devastated portions of Southeast Asia, particularly the Philippines, on November 8, 2013.
It is the deadliest Philippine typhoon on record, killing at least 6,268 people in that country alone. Haiyan is also the strongest storm recorded at landfall, and unofficially the strongest typhoon ever recorded in terms of wind speed. As of January 2014, bodies were still being found.
Life is slowly getting back to normal, but it is clear there is still so much to do. And the city appears nowhere near ready for the next typhoon season, which starts around now. Some houses have been repaired. Others are abandoned skeletons.
Down by the water, massive cargo ships that were washed up on the shore haven’t budged. That area was home to hundreds of squatters, whose makeshift homes were flattened in the typhoon.
Those who survived have come back and built new homes, in the shadow of the ships, and in the path of the next storm, seemingly unfazed by the daily reminder of how dangerous it is to live there.
Typhoon Haiyan, called typhoon “Yolanda” in the Philippines, caused catastrophic damage throughout much of the islands of Leyte, where cities and towns were largely destroyed. As of April 17, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC) confirmed 6,300 fatalities across the country, 5,877 of those taking place in the Eastern Visayas. The actual death toll remains unclear, with the total loss of life estimated as low as 2,500 by President Benigno Aquino III.
As of November 13, Red Cross estimated that 22,000 people were missing while approximately 65,500 people were listed as such through Google Person Finder.
Google, however, cautioned that this value is not to be read into, as shown during the 2011 Thoku earthquake and tsunami when more than 600,000 names were listed in contrast to the final death toll of roughly 20,000.
Looking at photos of the area before I went back, I thought they were there because they hadn’t learned their lesson. Talking to the people, I learned they have nowhere else to go.
The government and aid organisations are trying to move people out of the danger zone. But seven months on, thousands of families are still living in tents. One mother told me her children still cry whenever it rains.
One of the tent cities I visited is on the grounds of a school. While refugees are living there, the school is not being rebuilt, and the students haven’t returned to classes.
Local and federal agencies want to act strategically, so that new homes are built to withstand years of typhoons, earthquakes and mudslides. But red tape and bureaucracy is also holding up construction – even of temporary shelters.
Thousands will still be living in tents and in shacks by the water during this year’s typhoon season. There is a plan to evacuate before the storms hit, but I struggled to find many buildings in the city that look fit to act as shelters.
Nani isn’t the only member of my family who felt forced to leave Tacloban. Other cousins moved to Manila because their offices were destroyed in the storm.
They haven’t been rebuilt and their jobs no longer exist. They all hope to come back one day, but doubt that can happen in the near future.
People in Tacloban seem to accept that after a disaster so huge, it will take years before the city is back on its feet. They’re doing the best they can to rebuild their own homes and lives, and hoping that the next typhoon just isn’t as powerful as Haiyan.
THE GUARDIAN
