THE IRONY OF INDEPENDENCE DAY (IN MY MIND)

photo by: Kim Ashley Escalona

THE IRONY OF INDEPENDENCE DAY

(In My Mind)

By: K. Ashley

       

There are always events in your life that you couldn’t just simply dismiss to forgetfulness. Like those good times when you found a new friend to play with; probably for other kids, that time when your dad bought you a brand new play station, or that time when your mom took you to a play land where unlimited toys can be had; or maybe that time when your kindergarten crush helped you put on a temporary tattoo you got from a bubblegum.

Those are memories where you found excitement, love, happiness, joy and laughter. You may even say that those memories are worth remembering because those are “good” memories.

But what about those scary albeit painful memories? Those times when there were only mental snapshots that indicate almost unbelievable fear or prospect of pain.  However, behind those emotionally threatening incidences, lie potent scenes where courage, compassion, bravery and love bloom and take root.

Painful memories are worth remembering to me. Not because I love remembering the feeling of pain and getting hurt, but rather because I saw what is past the pain; and feel abundantly fortunate seeing things not seen right before my eyes. As John Mayer succinctly says it, I believe I can echo it well too; such as that, I am “Alive in the Age of Worry”.

Around 6:00 PM, 12^th of June 2007, Philippine Independence Day

Droplets of water fell from the sky as I tucked my seven-month old sister at the backseat of our old battered-up car. After securing my sister, my next duty was to open our gate, and I did.

It was around six-o’clock in the evening and we were bound for a Bible-study in the city. It was only the four of us- my mom and dad, my sister and me. I just turned eleven years old that time.

Just moments after I got inside the car, a drunk,  who was a known small time bystander in our area who happens to be our neighbor just living three house away from ours, suddenly approached our vicinity and started an avalanche of threats and gestures of physical violence.  It was few minutes of shouting foul things about us.

Uncontrollable, he was getting wild like a lion ready to devour its prey. He kept on yelling senseless things at us. Our neighbors I believe were too afraid to get out of their houses. Everything around was silent except this drunk with a bottle in his hand. When he was not satisfied with the yelling, he smashed the bottle he was holding onto the pavement right before us, to scare us; and he was effective. He scared me.

My dad calmly asked him what was wrong, but the drunken man kept on yelling nonsense things, his words were gibberish due to intoxication. He was getting wilder and evidently was calling the whole neighborhood’s attention.

Minutes later, this drunken man’s gang mates entered the scene and was holding him back trying to calm him down. They were dragging him out of the area but he still kept on threatening while being dragged.

It was somehow a relief for me that this man was already out of the scene. Somehow, there was something in me that still believed that that wasn’t over yet. And I was so right.

Past 9:00 PM

The street where we live happens to be known then, as listed as of one of the most dangerous streets in our city.

After an hour and a half from the Bible-study on the opposite side of this city, we drove home immediately because the rain was already pouring heavily.

Right after we reached our street, I sensed that something was wrong; something odd.

Our whole neighborhood was still so quiet and the fact that it was still nine in the evening. It was pretty unusual.

When our car arrived in front of our gate we noticed that in the middle of that pavement were shattered glasses, it looked like glasses of beer bottles, and it looked like it was done on purpose.

So my dad decided that he would be the one to open the gate instead of me because he sensed something dangerous in our surroundings; and my mom and I sensed it too.

The moment my dad opened the locks of our gate, that same intoxicated man appeared and attacked him. Action began.

Looking on at the scene, it was ultra frightening. Remember, this was just a few days after my 11^th birthday, and this was a scenario far from my imagination to happen to us. I was shaking; hysterical. We were all shouting inside the car. Mom was frozen stiff, yet shouting and crying at the same time.  I looked at the back of the car and I saw the drunken man’s gang mates coming our way to attack us.

I didn’t really know what to do and everything was happening so fast.

I looked at my dad from the window and I can see him being mobbed by these people and I looked at the back of the car and I saw one other young  men each,  carrying either a hand-made gun (sumpak) , knives, rocks or 2x2 planks of wood in their hands.  They looked as if bent on hitting if not, killing people.

The moment I saw them coming towards us to the car, my mom got out to help my dad out. She was hysterical too. Then it was only me and my seven-month old sister in the car.

I immediately locked the doors of our car, hoping that they wouldn’t get to open it, but they were holding rocks and planks of wood; and the moment they discovered that I locked the doors they started smashing the car’s windows or its hood. I threw my arms around my sister trying to cover her incase the window glasses break into smithereens. It was an instinctive gesture on my part to cover and protect my baby sister.  

Miraculously, despite their strength and weapons in hand, the car windows didn’t even crack. They hardly made a dent. Amazing. 

It was not yet the time to rejoice though. The attack was relentless especially on my dad. I forgot how many exactly were there. One thing for sure, as one behind-the-scene-witness later told us, they kept trying to load the gun, but every time they attempted to reload the gun many times, successfully fired while testing it, but when they reached us or my dad, no shot was ever fired successfully.

Some precious minutes later, a neighbor took Tal out, brought to safety my little sister by bringing her to the next house.  Tal (my kid sister) looked shock and was all wet with the rain shower.  With mom inside the gate with dad –still shouting and crying for help – and Tal in the other house, and I, was left all alone inside the car.

Trying to stay calm but couldn’t, panic totally overwhelmed me.

These men tried to kill my dad right before my very eyes. For me, that was the worst scene an eleven year old child has to watch. I was hopelessly crying and shouting for help.

I scanned my surroundings and looked for my mom from the inside of the car. I saw her trying to grab a hold of these aggressive men, but she was without match with them. Good thing they never did something to her, except the torture of seeing her husband getting mobbed by a couple of men she hardly knew.

Everything didn’t make sense. I was too young then.

Still confused on what to do next, I decided to run to where the action was taking place.  So I did.

That was the most stupid thing I have ever done.

Because when I got there, this one ugly looking ogre took an eye on me and then went to my direction. He had that smirk on his face as he tried to lift his hand with a plank of wood right at me. I couldn’t run away because he got me cornered in a wall.

Timely, my dad, being attacked by a number of men, saw me, and yelled at the man who was trying to attack me. He told the man to fight with him instead of me. 

Maybe, just maybe, because he was challenged, he did let me go. The man immediately got out of my way and the scene took an even more ugly turn. As my dad ordered me to run towards a safer place (inside our house),  he started to face around three or more men who took turns and simultaneously, attempted to hit him, as another , again and again, tried to shoot him with their gun. Mommy told me later that she almost fainted just seeing that big bolo almost landing on dad’s body.

All I was thinking at this point was that my dad was already dying, if not dead.  But then I heard his voice, he still called out to me which means that he’s still alive and fighting. That gave me hope.

There were few minutes of help from one neighbor and his wife, but when the guns appeared, they secured themselves and left us.  

Thankfully, someone from our neighborhood called the police.

A few minutes later the police arrived and these the attackers immediately took off.

I found myself shaking and crying in our kitchen with two bread-knives in my hands as if ready to attack.

Then, my dad and mom came and saw me there. They hugged me and told me that it was over.

I looked at my dad and I was shocked that he was almost unhurt, except for blood oozing from one of his upper arms. It was simply a miraculous night, and no other way to explain it. With all those that the attackers prepared, we were unscathed? Too many miracles in one night.

When the police arrived, we immediately looked for Tal (my sister). She was alright, but she couldn’t speak. Her face was blank and pale and she was like that for almost a week. My dad had sutures that night, while my baby sister eventually got admitted to a hospital within that week.

For almost three months though,  fear stalked us; and me in particular. I was afraid to go out of the house and I didn’t want to go to school because of the fear that the same people would come after me; and I’d get nervous whenever I’d hear someone shouting.

There were legal ramifications for those men. Of course, the best thing that happened was that all of us recovered from the fright and sense of physical insecurity. This is the other miracle.

That Independence Day is so significant to me now, because despite the thing that befell us, things beyond our control, and things or events which highlight our insignificance and puny strength, there is such a reality which we cannot see or feel.

I saw God in those instances.

I was liberated from bad and scary memories; liberated from dread and prospect of things that are beyond our control – my control. Faith in God taught me that I can live freely and face uncertainties, because no matter what may happen, and even when these awful things happen to us sometimes, God delivers, God makes miracles, and God restores.

I keep seeing how gracious God is to us – especially, particularly during that time, that fateful evening when we got mobbed, and thereafter.

Happy Independence Day everyone. 

And have a real God-given one!

Summer Breeze

"STREET MAN"

"LOG-GIRL"

PHOTOGRAPHER: K.ASHLEY

random

Photographs and memories
Christmas cards you sent to me
All that I have are these
To remember you

Memories that come at night
Take me to another time
Back to a happier day
When I called you mine

But we sure had a good time
When we started way back when
Morning walks and bedroom talks
Oh how I loved you then

Summer skies and lullabies
Nights we couldn't say good-bye
And of all of the things that we knew
Not a dream survived

Photographs and memories
All the love you gave to me
Somehow it just can't be true
That's all I've left of you

But we sure had a good time
When we started way back when
Morning walks and bedroom talks
Oh how I loved you then...

song by Jim Croce <3

#3 Post Sendong issues

Two months after the Sendong calamity, many survivors are already stable in the tents given by the government. These survivors are often supplied by different kinds of charitable organizations.

Some evacuees I interviewed even bragged about the abounding clothes given to them. Not only clothes,  but a lot of these evacuees are given free medical check-up (including dental and eye check-ups), food supplies and even cash gifts. But, behind these fortunate survivors lies an unrecognized purok with approximately 50 families unattended.

The damage in this purok was as extensive as Hinaplanon, except for the logs. This area was badly hit but some sectors of the local government unit failed to recognize it as a “hit” area. That is sad because those people in that area had experienced scarcity in food and resources, not to mention the epidemic diseases.

Because of it being unrecognized, that purok is deprived of help from the government. Residents there said that during that day (after the calamity), many of them were left starving. Good thing that some of the food they recovered were still edible and they were able to share it with their neighbors.

But this alarming issue does not only involve their problem on resources but also health. The epidemic diseases were on an epidemic scale, threatening the children and not only the children but also the adults and the seniors. Leptospirosis, a circulating disease caused by the unsanitary environment is threatening the very lives of the residents.

The more or less fifty families living in that barangay are deprived by those free Stress debriefing sessions enjoyed by the evacuees in tent cities.  Traumatic experiences if not dealt with may bring further damage to a person.

Few charitable organizations have already visited there, but as many volunteers would say, it is not enough. The residents cannot cope with the damage that Sendong brought to their purok, not on their own. They needed help. I do hope that the government would soon respond to this alarming situation.

#4 Cries of the heart

Barangay Hinaplanon is one of the most hardly hit areas during the destruction of typhoon Sendong or “Washi”. During those perilous times, a family of six struggled just to save their very lives.  Fredo or many would call him “Perding” did everything he could just to save his family.

Perding and his wife Nene with their four lovely children, Jojo (13 yrs. Old), Jessa (11 yrs. Old), Jorem (5 yrs.old), Jean (3yrs.old) were living in a “barong-barong’’ just one-hundred meters away from the Hinaplanon (Mandulog) river.

According to him, there was a heavy pour of rain as early as six in the evening. Aside from the heavy rain, the wind was blowing as if it was competing with the rain. At around eleven in the evening, the water was already slowly rising.

It was around past twelve o’clock dawn when Perding’s daughter Jessa, who was still awake because she couldn’t sleep due to the bothering noise cried as she saw and heard a raging “Tsunami like” water coming towards their home. Perding, startled by his daughter’s cry, immediately grabbed his son Jorem who was lying beside him, then he heard a loud “boom”. His house submerged in just seconds.

He heard his wife crying for help, but he just couldn’t find her; the bulk of logs kept pushing him away from the crying sound, with his grip fixed on his son’s hand.

“It happened so fast, every second the destruction advances, I couldn’t think properly… I was just shocked” says Perding while wiping the tears in his face.

A big log crushed their house, Perding and his son Jorem escaped the house just seconds before. The log separated Perding and his son Jorem from their family.

Thirty-minutes after, Perding carried his five year old son while avoiding the logs that came in their way, Perding did his best for him and his son to survive, finding ways to get to a safe place.

Perding held his son Jorem after a big metal-like object fell on Jorem’s head knocking him unconsciously. While Perding cried for help, the raging waters kept pulling Jorem away from his father as though the raging waters were trying to separate them. Fortunately, Perding was able to get hold of a branch of a tree, and there they stayed for six hours till the water receded.

After six tiring hours of finding a stable place and avoiding logs, Perding, who was still in a state of shock, hopefully searched for his missing family, while Jorem was brought to a secure place by the “Tanods.” Jorem later, was treated in a nearby hospital.

It was 6:30 on that fateful Sendong day when Perding saw the lifeless body of his daughter, his three year- old Jean who was asleep when the flashflood and logs destroyed their abode. Perding cried over the body of his precious baby girl; hugging and kissing her lifeless body. It was a heart-rending sight for everyone to see. However, many were also minding their losses, some numbed already for the exhausting hours having to save and rescue loved ones and property.

Two days later, Perding was reunited with his eldest son Jojo, who had his own story of surviving.

“I tried my best to save mom, but I couldn’t keep the logs from us” says Jojo, teary-eyed.

According to Jojo, his mom was with him when they got out of the house, they tried pushing the logs away but their slight build was no match to the massive fallen trees and soon the two were separated. It was a single giant log that went their way and as they were struggling to reach for the other’s arms, Jojo soon heard his mother’s shouting and crying for help-it was a hysterical cry, just the same as his which soon faded away in the night. Before long Jojo realized that he might not be able to find his mom.

Three months had passed but Perding’s wife, Nene and daughter, Jessa are both still on the list of the 181 missing people in the city of Iligan.

As of today, Perding and sons Jorem and Jojo are one of the evacuees living in the tent city in Luinab. They are dependent on relief goods that many organizations are providing.

They lost their home and loved ones. Jojo is still hoping that maybe his mother would just be out there and would be just soon be finding her way to them. His father Perding is still shocked and would not talk at times; this he says, are the cries of his heart: one day they would be reunited and be a happy family again.

#2: Lifeline

       A picture of a lifeline is like an anchored line thrown as a support to someone falling or drowning. A lifeline is regarded as a source of salvation in a crisis. Support that enables people to survive or to continue doing something. It is a line thrown from a vessel that people can cling to in order to save themselves from drowning. That is what the dictionary says.

December 16-December 17, 2011

I remember that evening so well. So clear that sometimes it still haunts me whenever i hear rainfall.  A month has passed, but memories are still so fresh that it couldn't be forgotten so easily.  

It was ten in the evening when the water rose and gradually entered our house.  This was not extraordinary since a heavy rain usually results to water seeping into cracks at the kitchen part of our house. My six year old sister was with me in our room, while my parents were trying to stop the water from coming in. Then by around 12 midnight, electricity was out. I tried to sleep as I was very tired all throughout that week. 

At approximately two-o'clock dawn, the rain stopped and all water was taken out from the kitchen. Because of that, my parents decided to rest and sleep as they were already so exhausted by this time.

I was half asleep when my mom entered the room and accidentally pricked her hand from a wood on our door, thus, leaving a tiny piece piercing her nail.  My dad tried removing it, but it was too hard for him since it was very dark. Hearing the commotion I stood up and volunteered to help my mom as I couldn't stand her hurting finger. She sounded so much in pain over so small a wound. Little did we know this episode was instrumental in us from being being trapped inside our house and escape injury or even death.

Whenever I remember that scenario (my mom being pricked by the piece of wood) , all I could think of is that it was a blessing in disguise because seconds later when that happened, I heard a loud bang and bubble-like sounds coming from the outside.
Immediately, I asked my dad where the sounds were from. He was alarmed by the unusual sounds too. So he rushed outside to check out what was happening and what caused the odd sounds.  Just a few seconds later, we all heard wave-like sounds that seemed coming towards our direction.

It was then that my dad, who was still outside checking in the dark, shouted and called us to come out of the house immediately. He told us to leave everything and just run as fast as we can to get out of the house. Mother went ahead to heed his instructions while I also jumped up in quick response.

I immediately grabbed my cellphone because it was the only thing within my reach and I carried my sister to the living room.

When I reached our living room, the water is already rising, and our windows which were closed were already dripping with water from the outside, which meant that the water was already high and still rising.

It was very dark and the only light we relied on was from a tiny flashlight in my dad's key chain. Immediately, my dad carried my sister, while I tried opening our front door, but it was already locked tight probably due to mounting pressure of water and mud.

I tried pulling the door a couple of times, but it never budged an inch at all. Unspeakable fear gripped my heart. My mind was saying, "we are getting trapped, we are getting trapped."
Fortunately, my dad was very quick and opened our back door. And upon opening, we just realized that water was so high and the current so strong, that we were all trying to swim while heading towards our gate.

I grabbed my 80-year old grandmother by the arm to keep her moving, because she was too old to run or wade through the thick water as we were doing.

As soon as we reached our garage, my mom told me to open the gate so that we could escape out towards the street by car. It was only this time that I found myself in panic mode and my body was shaking. Then I realized I couldn't breathe properly.

It became worse when I tried opening the gate and saw the raging water neck-high filling our street. What I saw was our street had become raging torrent; like an angry river.

I was really shocked that I wanted to cry but couldn't cry because I couldn't sort out my emotions.
In those few seconds we were talking, my dad then told us that our next resort was to climb on the roof, and if the water reaches the roof, we would swim to find a higher place. That was the plan.

I was the first one to reach the roof, I climbed via the roof of our car.
Now, whenever I look back, I still don't know how I did that; those tiny pieces of my coming up the roof evade me.

My mom, pushing up my sister, and then dad helping grandma followed, and I immediately carried my sister over me because I was in  a secure spot on our roof.

We stayed on the roof for almost seven hours, as we waited for the water to finally recede and it seemed like ages. I was crying and shaking the whole time, punctuated by assurance that help could come anytime, or a sense of humor deriving from sounds and scenes from the other houses. This was all happening while still in the shadows, amidst the backdrop of high water below and intense blackness of dawn.  I kept telling myself to wake up, convincing myself that it was all just a bad dream. Everything was just surreal. I kept denying while in that situation, that this was happening to us.

I kept crying to the point that I couldn't catch my breath. I just couldn't understand what was happening that time. I was scared. I thought that we would die anytime. It was very agonizing; emotionally excruciating. My cellphone was literally a light and a beacon. One of our lifelines that time, this small gadget connected us to some loved ones who started to pray for us in the distance. But God, in prayer, knows no distance. When I finally held myself and started to pray, I found myself having the ease to breathe, finally; until light started to come from the horizon.

While on the roof, I realized that nothing really lasts in this world. But I know that; we know that cerebrally, cognitively. Earthly existence is wasted if spent too much on things that in the final analysis do not matter. In the end, what matters are the things that are not seen, that which has Life; that which cannot die or end.  I have encountered within me and discovered for myself that life is so fragile. Have I done what I am supposed to do? The purpose why I am here on earth? Have I done what is not wasteful? And what are these that should last? Then, on the roof, and until today, I have been sorting all these things and my 16 years of existence.
What the "calamity" showed me in real time, more than in 4D was beyond fear itself. There were decisions and steps to be made.

Because of what had happened, I realized so many things.
That in a snap our lives would be gone.
That God gives and God takes away.
All the more, there is a realization of a few non-negotiables: the reality and nearness of God in Christ (He is Real); that anytime, death is undeniably true and real; that there are choices we can and still make about what to do with our lives; that there is no such thing as coincidences or accidents (there is a plan, God's plan); and that, lastly, (heeding instructions, even small ones) are critical. The list can still go on, but I have just chosen the pressing ones.

And I kept thinking what really matters, what really lasts.  I remembered a quote from a book I read saying:

"Only one life twill soon be past, Only what's done for Christ will last"

 A picture of a lifeline is like an anchored line thrown as a support to someone falling or drowning. A lifeline is regarded as a source of salvation in a crisis. Support that enables people to survive or to continue doing something. It is a line thrown from a vessel that people can cling to in order to save themselves from drowning. 

This post is entitled "Lifeline". Sooner or later we all will see in life that everything fails. We have tangibles which we consider as our lifelines in our lifetime. The splinter on my mom's finger, my cellphone, the car, my dad's assurances, his instructions, were all tangible lifelines. But wrapping all these material and human connections, is one main ultimate Lifeline. It is a person, a huge, uncontainable Person.

 When we feel so helpless, where do we get help? From people? They are humans too as well and they will fail. Our lifeline is our source of Salvation, and when I think of Salvation I can only think of one person - Jesus Christ. The true lifeline. I could look forward everyday, because I have hope. I know that everything happens for a purpose.

This is really a comforting thing.

Right now, my family is already safe and we are moving on. We can even be thankful that we are included in the flashflood, because  It is easier to sympathize when you experience the same thing.

I am thankful that I realized  what really lasts. Life is really, really, so short. In my perspective, I am determined to make my life count. And I know my True Lifeline. I hope people will do too.

Highschool lasts forever

. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.." 

I remember quoting Charles Dickens' "A Tale of two cities" during my audition for the debate team of our school last year. And eight months later, I was awarded as Debater of the year. Debate is one of the things I missed doing. I wish I could go back to highschool where my friends and I would laugh and have fun endlessly. I miss those long talks and unending adventures. 
After our graduation I felt a very deep anguish inside me. Looking at my teachers, friends, classmates and schoolmates for the last time was a very heart breaking moment. Knowing that there were lots of possibilities was of grave concern then; such as when my bestfriend told me that she won't be staying in Iligan for long. The plan was to move to Butuan for college. That idea was hugely an upsetting one. Neither of us (me and my friends) would be in the same school nor the same course.  That was pretty sad.

College is a very different world for me. No room for my immaturity, I can bear with that. What I couldn't imagine is the fact that I no longer have my friends or "barkadas" with me. 

I can see the positive side, though,  like I always do, fortunately. :) Haha

The Lord has been very good to me. He provided me new friends and my churchmates.  Their presence quenched my deep craving for friends.  The student ministry of our church has been a blessing to my life. It kept me fulfilled and occupied.

I can see that college has no place for my immaturity, and therefore forced me to change. I can say now that I am a little different than last school year. 

I can say that I am no longer a girl;  I am already a lady.

I realized that having a "crush" is just a waste of time and I've been wasting my time for the past years for that. It's not just worth it. 

I see that patience is indeed a virtue. I know that Love can wait. I believe, that the Lord, if ever He'll let me marry, already reserved that perfect guy for me. So, no need to hurry :) Love is waiting, 'till its right.

I hope my friends and I would be reunited, and when that happens I would cherish every minute of it.

'till we meet again.

By your dearest kimuy, now a kolehiyala. :))