Angels on Wheels

Stories of Hope and Survival from the Volunteers of Oplan Hatid

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This book is lovingly dedicated to all the volunteers who generously gave their time, treasure and talent to help the survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) in the Philippines.

YOLANDA’S WRATH The fury of Super Typhoon Yolanda is clearly seen from the destruction of Tacloban City. Here, a ship lies aground after being swept by the powerful storm surges that killed almost 7,000 people and destroyed billions worth of properties.

Photo by ROLAN GARCIA

Stories of Hope and Survival from the Volunteers of Oplan Hatid

Editor and publisher: Junep Ocampo Cover design: Jasper Golangco Book design: Elmer T. Alitagtag Cover photo: Jing Gines This book is published by RightMedia Public Relations for OplanHatid. The editor has taken all precautions to ensure the accuracy of everything written in this book.

Any error in fact or attribution is not intentional.

Printed by Five Star Colorprint, Inc. 3451 Florida Street, Palanan, Makati City, Philippines.

Copyright Š 2014 All rights reserved

CHRISTMAS IN RUINS Despite the devastation, still the people of Tacloban City were able to celebrate Christmas in 2013 amidst the ruins that surrounded them.

Here’ a 10-foot-tall Christmas lantern is shown framed by a car’s side mirror. The lantern was the creation of twins Ronry and Ronnie Magduwa of Barangay Magallanes.

They used savings from the money they earned through the cash-for-work program of private group Tzu Chi Foundation to make the lantern.

Photo by ROLAN GARCIA

Prologue

In the Company of Angels

By JUNEP OCAMPO

“He will command his angels to protect you wherever you go.”

—Psalms 91:11

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N THE BIBLE, angels are usually sent by God to assist those who are in desperation. They provide nourishment for the body and the soul, and they often carry God’s message of love and forgiveness.

In the aftermath of Super Typhoon Yolanda, we did not see actual angels. What we saw were ordinary human beings — everyday Filipinos — who acted like angels. They came from everywhere — housewives, teachers, lawyers, doctors, media people, students, call center agents, etc. They rushed to the aid those who survived the strongest typhoon to ever hit land.

We saw them going to various places in Leyte and Samar. We saw them going to Cebu, to Iloilo, to Ormoc, and yes, we saw lots of them in

Tacloban City providing hope to those who had none.

And we also saw many of them in Metro Manila. At the Villamor Air Base, hundreds, no, thousands of angels came on board various vehicles and offered free rides to the survivors, bringing them safely to their loved ones.

This book contains their stories, narrations of varying lengths of actual experiences they had as volunteers of Oplan Hatid. From November 15 to December 1, 2013, these volunteers worked round-the-clock to drive to places near and far, sometimes during the wee hours of the night, armed only with their cellphones and their fervent desire to bring these survivors home.

Read on and get to know these volunteers and be touched by their stories.

After reading, you would know that in this present world where we live in, real-life angels still exist. u pROLOGUE

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INTroduction

Simply Good People

MANILA-BOUND More than 600 Tacloban residents displaced by Super Typhoon Yolanda fill the cargo hold of a C-17 Globemaster aircraft of the United States Navy on Nov. 22, 2013. These residents would later arrive at the Villamor Air Base and be served by volunteers of Oplan Hatid. Photo by by Petty Officer 1st Class Peter D. Blair.

By Pinky Concha-Colmenares

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OOD people exist, and there are thousands of them out there waiting for a call.

When the survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda started arriving at Villamor Air Base in Pasay City on Nov. 14, 2013, from out of nowhere, the good people trooped to the landing strip to welcome the strangers -- and give rides to their relatives in many parts of the country.

Some 20,000 evacuees have been given free rides by the estimated 1,000 volunteers who supported Oplan Hatid.

Volunteers waited patiently for their passengers – evacuees flying in via C-130 planes from Leyte and Samar. When the flight schedules were unknown, sometimes they waited for 12 hours just to “bid” their intention to drive the strangers to their destinations.

“There’s a group of eight for Quezon City,” the dispatcher announces through a microphone. Immediately, hands raise papers with numbers. The lowest number gets to drive the group. The next

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group is announced – “a group of five for Antipolo.”

Again, numbers are raised. The process goes on until the last evacuee is assigned a ride out of the air base.

In the few times that there is no one to drive a destination hundreds of kilometers away, the dispatcher announces the need for bus fare. There is no hesitance from the volunteers – hands raise up bills.

The most heartwarming moment was when P10,000 cash was placed in a box for a group of survivors whose destination was Ilagan in Isabela, about 500 kilometers away. That came in under a minute and no one asked for an accounting. Others even asked if more was needed..

That started the cash fund for more bus rides for those whose families were in extreme parts of Luzon. The evening I was there, a middle-aged woman sat alone among the volunteers. She took the “bid” for people who wanted to go to Baguio – by giving the bus fare. The ladies at the dispatching desk said she had been there for

hours, waiting to give bus fare, or perhaps find passengers going her way.

Once, in jest, the dispatcher asked if anyone can bring someone to Cagayan de Oro. A woman raised her hand, drove the survivors to Terminal 3, and purchased their plane tickets.

The biggest group of survivors that Oplan Hatid brought home were 80 people who were to go to Cebu.

But in the confusion right after the super-typhoon devastated Tacloban, they had lined up in the airport for any plane out of the horror they went through. They sat huddled somewhere away from Oplan Hatid’s tent, their traumatized faces calling the attention of the volunteers.

Oplan Hatid got them all to Cebu – the same thread of kindness from strangers providing the means to get them united with relatives and friends.

The heartwarming stories flow from the lips of volunteers. “It was our privilege to have driven them to their relatives,” many volunteers said.

The heartwarming stories flow from the lips of volunteers.

“It was our privilege to have driven them to their relatives,” many volunteers said.

Remarkably, these volunteers want to remain “nameless” and “faceless” – except for two who they have designated as their official faces for media interviews.

The spirit of real charity – of giving without broadcasting your identity – reigns in OplanHatid. Politicians who have sent vehicles to bring survivors have remained anonymous except to the core group managing the system. Government agencies have also been quick to respond. They sent several vans and multicabs.

Many faces became familiar in the daily crowd. Many people found giving as addicting. They just kept coming back to give more of their time.

There are hundreds of random acts of kindness that overflowed under that tent. You can sit there for two hours or two days and go home feeling good to just be privileged to sit in the company of angels.

Luckily, many of those stories are now in this book. Read them and be blessed. u INTRODUCTION

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Chapter One

How It All Began

JUST LANDED A military C-130 plane just landed on the tarmac of the Villamor Air Base. Onboard the plane are hundreds of survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda who lined up for days, rain or shine, just to be able to flee the seemingly hopeless city of Tacloban where thousands have been killed. These survivors were later brought to their loved ones by Oplan Hatid volunteers.

Photo by JUNEP OCAMPO

The Birth of an Idea N

By Chips Guevara ov. 13, 2013. I went to San Antonio Church to volunteer. I couldn’t park my car in the parking lot because it was too full. The church was overflowing with volunteers who all brought their cars. So I had to park on the street.

I went in and could not really help because there wasn’t enough work for everyone because of the overwhelming number of volunteers there.

So I went to the AFP gymnasium as there was a DSWD packing operation going on there. This was around 9 pm that night. Again, no parking, too many volunteers. Somehow I managed to park.

I approached a DSWD worker there named Dan. I asked him what else the DSWD needed, so he said they needed warm food for the volunteers and money

for pamasahe for the evacuees coming in at Villamor.

I said, “What evacuees?” So he continued to explain what the operation at Villamor was about. I thought, my gosh, we have so many volunteers with cars, I couldn’t even park! So I said, “Imbes na pera, kung libreng hatid nalang?” He liked the idea but said I should talk to their boss first, Director Alice Bonoan. So I texted Alice then called her. She loved the idea and said I should go ahead with it!

I was so excited to tell my friends at San Antonio. I approached them and told them about the idea. The reaction surprised me. I got comments like, “What? That’s so inefficient. You should rent buses instead of using cars.” Another said, “Imagine the carbon footprint you are going to create? As an environmentalist, you should know better.” I went home demoralized, and thought, gosh, maybe it was a stupid idea.

CHAPTER ONE | How It All Began

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My wife, Akiko, saw me at home looking glum. She asked what was wrong. So I told her what happened. She asked, “How many people criticized your idea?” I said, “Three.” She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Sus, three lang pala. You have a great idea, go work on it.”

That night, I posted it on Facebook, still hoping that my friends would see the good that we were about to do. I texted Alice that I might be the only volunteer. An hour after my post, Caryl Benjamin texted me asking how she could help. I didn’t know what to expect because I hadn’t gone to Villamor yet, so I said let’s figure it out tomorrow. “Meet you there at Villamor,” I told her.

The next day, I had to give a talk at ADB in the morning because people there were curious about the Veggie Oil Jeepney project, so I came quite late to Villamor. I had missed Caryl because she went off to drive a family. So Caryl is the first driver! But I met Golda, her sister, who stayed behind and offered to coordinate.

The first coordinator though was Glenda Dera, the DSWD team leader in Villamor at that time. Then following day, Glenda got reassigned, then Golda became the coordinator.

I was able to do two trips, then had to have an eye procedure done. My eye doctor told me that it was urgent because I had the onset of glaucoma.

The Sunday after that my father passed away, and I couldn’t go back to volunteer anymore. u 14

Stories of Survival

By GOLDA BENJAMIN

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any arrived with tattered sacks that contained remnants of their lives. Some only had one number of a family member in Manila- often their last chance of survival after the storm. A boy, just 17 years old, took half an hour trying to remember the number of his sister.

The stories were painful repetitions: they stood in line for days, hoping to get on the plane. No tents to shield their young children, even until today. No one distributing relief goods that they could see from where they were standing. A 7-month-old baby surviving on water with sugar. two- to three-hour walks from their homes to the airport. Not knowing if the planes were leaving for Cebu or Manila but most didn’t care. They just wanted to get out.

Many have families waiting for them. Some know where to go but don’t have money to get there. Those we could no longer fit in our tiny car, we gave our own personal money for as long as they knew where and how to get to their families

Metro Manila is not the easiest landing place for people. Imagine how much a free ride can do for a penniless family with nothing left but a tattered sack filled with muddied clothes, their fears, and yes, their gratitude that they are alive. here in Metro Manila. All of them, despite what they’ve been through, didn’t forget to say thank you.

They’ve been through a lot. If you can bring even just one family to the only home they have now, it would matter a lot. If you have money to spare, buy them lunch or dinner.

Editor’s Note: This was originally written by Ms. Benjamin as a status update on Facebook, and it was shared more than 2,000 times.

Oplan Hatid

By James Deakin

The Mission: Drive survivors arriving at Villamor Air Base to the homes of their Manila-based families or to bus terminals.

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We did that today for a family of four to Makati; for a family of six to Calamba, Laguna; for two sisters to the National Kidney Institute; for one 17-year-old boy to Bulacan; and for a family of four to Novaliches.

Seeing how the evacuees of Super Typhoon Yolanda were landing in Villamor Air Base and simply ushered to the sidewalks of Pasay to fend for themselves and find their own way to their friends and relatives’ homes without any means, Golda Benjamin, an international trade lawyer and DSWD volunteer, took to her Facebook account to express her concern.

Tomorrow, we will do it again.

Special thanks to my sister, Caryl Benjamin, who did all the driving and who always reminds us to give until it hurts.

We can do more. Please volunteer. Please tell your bosses to volunteer their cars for the day.

Please tell everyone you know. Send government vehicles. Spread the word.

Metro Manila is not the easiest landing place for people. Imagine how much a free ride can do for a penniless family with nothing left but a tattered sack filled with muddied clothes, their fears, and yes, their gratitude that they are alive.

Para sa bayan. Bangon Pilipinas! u

OMETIME last week, while netizens were brewing up their own storm on social media arguing over the government’s relief efforts and watching the Sanchez vs. Cooper bout usurp the upcoming Pacquiao fight, a small team of individuals were busy coming up with a very simple, yet touching relief effort that would really hit home.

WHAT MATTERS MOST Even though they lost their material possessions, many Yolanda survivors are still thankful that their entire families have been spared.

Photo by JUNEP OCAMPO

Cel Ocampo, the wife of my good friend and former motoring editor here at the STAR, Junep Ocampo, saw the post and it tugged at her heart.

So much so that she woke her husband up and demanded they do something about it. Always one to spring into action for a good cause, Junep spoke to some friends, including myself, asking if we could donate a ride. By Friday there were 14 volunteers.

CHAPTER ONE | How It All Began

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After witnessing firsthand the direct effect I had on someone’s shattered life simply by providing the final link in their chain of recovery, I posted a plea online asking for volunteers to do the same. Within 24 hours the post was shared 1,500 times and Villamor Air Base needed to be temporarily shut down to civilian vehicles because they were overwhelmed with support.

And Oplan Hatid was born.

The wheels were set in motion, both literally and figuratively. Manufacturers were quick to donate the use of their cars or vans, while motoring journalists like Eggay Quesada and Ardie Lopez, just to name a few, offered to drive. By Saturday, the Wall Street Journal and GMA Online had picked up on the story and called me for an interview.

The bayanihan spirit was hitting its rev limit. Private motorists poured in from all over Metro Manila. Lifeline Ambulance sent their fleet of driver-on-call vehicles to take people anywhere they needed to go in Metro Manila; Avis sent a coaster van, Hertz sent some cars, some folks sent their drivers, FX services and vans showed up to donate a free ride home––one guy even rented a cab for 12 hours. No joke. It wasn’t just inspiring, it was a Hallmark moment on wheels.

Volunteers drove as far as Pampanga, Olongapo, Isabela, Cabanatuan and Baguio. One victim landed and said he needed to go to Cagayan De Oro. As a joke, the Oplan Hatid team announced it on the 16

loudspeaker. To their surprise, a volunteer actually put his hand up, drove the guy to the airport and bought him a ticket. Same thing happened for 20 other people who needed to go to Cebu.

One company driver who was asked by his boss to work overtime was so touched after doing two trips that he refused to take his pay for the day. Another lady, Pie Palpallatoc, wrote this on my wall after finishing her first run:

It Forward. So I told her to pay it forward when they are already able to.

Another volunteer, Francisco Guerrero writes: “I was photographing an elderly man who had head, arm and leg bandages. He was being asked where he needed to go and who his family in Manila was. You had to see the look on his face when one of volunteers stepped in and said he could drive him there.”

“I also had apprehensions of taking in strangers with us but we decided to go for it. I realized after meeting the families that they are more scared than us and that they are the ones who are entrusting their families to us with the hope that they will be reunited with their Manila-based family soon.”

If you are concerned about where your donations go, this is one way of making sure they go straight to the typhoon victims. Aling Maribel’s family only had the clothes they were wearing and a chair they brought all the way from Tacloban that had sentimental value after it saved them.

I took her to the Pasig palengke for some clothes and supplies so they can finally take a bath after five days of sleeping and waiting at the airport, rain or shine. This is where we met a kind-hearted tindera who gave us six more pairs of shorts for free. That blew me away. God bless her!

Finally, they kept on thanking us from Villamor all the way to Montalban. I really wasn’t sure how to respond to it at first, but then I suddenly remembered the movie Pay

These are just some of the hundreds of stories you will hear in Oplan Hatid. Because more than just a ride, we are offering them love, care and respect.

Because while theoretically they may both achieve the same thing, it is one thing entirely to hand over cash to grab a cab than it is doing the deed yourself. Sure they both get you to where you need to go, but the difference between transporting and supporting is everything to a person who has nothing. u

Organizing It

FIRST DAYS AT VILLAMOR. Oplan Hatid is finally given its own tent at the back of the Villamor grandstand, with a megaphone as temporary sound system.

By Cel Cadahing-Ocampo

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T WAS the morning of November 15 when I read a friend’s FB post calling for drivers to help Yolanda survivors arriving in Villamor reach their relatives in Metro Manila. I was at the foot of the bed that time and immediately nudged Junep’s legs to tell him about it and how it was already possible to directly help the Yolanda victims.

Junep, who just woke up, growled and made a litany of why it was not possible to do it. And so an argument ensued which ended with me walking out of the room to go to my 9 am class. I felt bad. I wanted to do it myself but I can’t. I don’t drive.

After my class, I went home and saw Junep working on some documents. I still didn’t want to talk to him, so I waited until he went out of the room to look at the documents. The first document said “OPLAN HATID” typed in big bold letters. The second one was titled, “DRIVERS REGISTRATION.” I jumped from my seat and looked for my dear husband and excitedly asked him, “What are these for?” He answered me with nothing but a smile. So I asked him again, “I thought you were not interested?” Again, he responded with just a smile.

Junep, who just woke up, growled and made a litany of why it was not possible to do it. And so an argument ensued which ended with me walking out of the room to go to my 9 am class. I felt bad. I wanted to do it myself but I can’t.

I don’t drive.

CHAPTER ONE | How It All Began

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I inquired about the plans Ma’am Siony discussed the night before we left which was supposedly implemented that day. Distraught, Gemma could only shake her head. The only corner that had a semblance of order was Oplan Hatid’s. Leah served as the dispatcher; Caryl talked with the drivers; Golda coordinated with the DSWD staff.

He finally talked and asked me to get ready, as we would leave for Villamor the soonest possible.

I grabbed my bag for events organizing which contained the usual supplies of scissors, tape, pens, markers, etc., placed the documents and extra bond papers in a folder and we were good to go.

On the way to Villamor, Junep said he posted a call on Facebook for other drivers to volunteer. Several friends, most of them from among his acquaintances in the motoring media, have immediately committed to the task, one of those was James Deakin.

Junep made arrangements with a reporter whom he worked with in the past as an editor of a newspaper to help us find our way in Villamor. The reporter told us to coordinate our work with a certain Major Pilar. When we could not find Major Pilar we just went straight to the transport desk where we met a young woman manning it. She said she’s Golda, and yes, she’s coordinating the transport service.

Golda gave us a cute pink notepad where we wrote basic info and car details. She told us to wait for our 18

passengers. While waiting I volunteered to help Golda to cut more notepads for the registration.

There were no passengers yet that time so Junep wandered around Villamor to look for Major Pilar.

As more and more volunteer drivers were arriving, a woman approached Golda. She’s Caryl, she just drove a family somewhere in Metro Manila. Golda asked me if I could stay to man the desk so they can eat lunch.

Of course, I said yes. It was 3:00 pm.

Then an airplane arrived and I had my first experience as a dispatcher. Work was getting heavier as the area the soldiers call as “505” began to be flooded with survivors. A very friendly lady kept me company and assisted me especially when passengers needed to be searched from the grounds of Villamor.

During a lull, I finally had the chance to ask for her name. She’s Leah. She was supposed to drive for a family but had to give up her space to give her passengers more room. She just let her driver bring the family to their destination.

Golda and Caryl arrived from lunch and stayed on for a while with another original volunteer, Chips. The two ladies who were visibly tired later on asked if it’s ok with us if they go home early. I looked at Leah who said she could stay late, so I agreed.

While organizing my table, I saw Junep’s print out and decided to post it on the white board behind us.

Oplan Hatid was officially born.

Operations were already in full swing when we arrived in Villamor the next day. It was more chaotic than the previous day. Ma’am Siony, the DSWD team leader I worked with the other day was replaced by Gemma who was looking miserable with all the chaos around her.

I inquired about the plans Ma’am Siony discussed the night before we left which was supposedly implemented that day. Distraught, Gemma could only shake her head. The only corner that had a semblance of order was Oplan Hatid’s. Leah served as the dispatcher; Caryl talked with the drivers; Golda coordinated with the DSWD staff.

There were also new faces in that growing corner, Ruth was doing drivers’ registration and Bugsy was collecting cash from people who were too excited to give their P1,000 bills for bus fares for the survivors.

This was the day when the first Oplan Hatid miracle happended – P10,000 was raised in less than a minute as bus fare for survivors going to Isabela.

husband and wife tandem Motoring journalist James Deakin and wife Shelley work on the registration of volunteer drivers for Oplan Hatid.

The number of the volunteer drivers was on the rise as James Deakin began his call on his FB page. The room they call 505 was already getting too crowded for a sensitive mission.

When Gemma agreed that we should put the system back, I grabbed the microphone and passed it on to Leah with these words: “Remember how we did it yesterday, especially when an airplane arrives?

We’re going to do it again.”

And so Leah’s directive but calming voice boomed in 505. The system wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

That evening, Oplan Hatid was given a bigger tent at the back of the grandstand, as we requested. We wanted to be near the parking lot as our work involved vehicles.

That night too, Golda, Leah and I began to sit in the ManCom meeting, Junep finally found Major Pilar and began close coordination on issues concerning parking and security.

James Deakin’s FB posts about Oplan Hatid kept the volunteers coming. The dispatching duties were taken over by younger volunteers — Mia and Niño — who both turned it into a show on its own. Later on volunteer drivers like Che, Amber and Jim stepped up and took charge of dispatching and other duties. Then brothers Chris and James took the cudgels when the older ones were too tired to manage the tent.

After that, there was no looking back. u CHAPTER ONE | How It All Began

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THE OH gatepass Oplan Hatid volunteers tape this tag to the windshield of their cars to be able to get into Villamor Air Base.

They are able to get the tag after going through an online registration system that was hurriedly developed by volunteers from technology company Teleserv.

Chapter tWO

Volunteer Stories

Siblings Reunited—After 20 Years

By Allan Maristela

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TOOK in two groups of passengers in one trip.

The first group had two cousins from Tacloban who needed a ride to Pasig; the second was a couple who needed a ride to Tent City, Pasay.

Let me tell you about the second group—the couple were not evacuees from the Visayas; they actually came from Tanza, Cavite. So what were they doing in Villamor? And why was Oplan Hatid accommodating them?

Here’s their story:

Preciosa Corrales was doing her morning chores when a neighbor watching a morning news show alerted her that an evacuee from Leyte was being interviewed live on TV from Villamor Air Base and mentioned Perciosa’s name. The evacuee was looking for his siblings in Manila.

Preciosa rushed to the TV, and immediately recognized the man as her older brother, Romeo Corrales. He was from Basey, Leyte, and took the C-130 to Manila to get medical attention for a lump growing on his neck.

Preciosa, with her husband, rushed to Villamor Air Base. But when they got there,

Romeo was gone, and no one knew where he was. DSWD had no record where he went.

Somebody suggested to look for him at Tent City in Pasay, where some victims who had no relatives to go to are taken care of.

So Preciosa approached the Oplan Hatid tent for help. They were assisted and fed by volunteers, then they were hooked up with me.

Since it was just a short ride going to Tent City and there were only two of them, I decided to take in another group bound for Pasig.

We agreed to head to Tent City first to reunite Preciosa and her husband with her brother. But when we got to Tent City, the DSWD people there told us Romeo, with his daughter, was brought to Chinese General Hospital (CGH) for an operation. A helpful soul, one Mrs. Lopez, sponsored the medical expenses for his operation.

I dropped off my Pasig passengers and then proceeded to Chinese General Hospital in La Loma. We went through some slow

Tears were flowing down my cheeks as I witnessed their reunion.

They thanked me profusely and wanted to return the favor, but I told them to just pay it forward. traffic, but eventually reached CGH, where Romeo and Preciosa were finally reunited.

What made this reunion more heartwarming is that this was the first time that Romeo and Preciosa saw each other again after 20 years!

I’ll admit, tears were flowing down my cheeks as I witnessed their reunion. They thanked me profusely and wanted to return the favor, but I told them to just pay it forward. They would like to extend their whole-hearted thank you to Oplan Hatid and its volunteers for making this possible. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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THE FACE OF GRIEF Who knows how many family members this man lost to Yolanda? Maybe one? Maybe all? Who knows? His tears tell us everything. They make us feel the grief welling from inside of him as he sits inside a C-130 bound for Manila. GETTY

THE FACE OF GRIEF Who knows how many family members this man lost to Yolanda? Maybe one? Maybe all? Who knows? His tears tell us everything. They make us feel the grief welling from inside of him as he sits inside a C-130 bound for Manila. GETTY

Our Accidental ‘Hatid’

By AnneMac Santos

O

UR JOINING Oplan Hatid actually came as an accident. My husband and I went to Villamor Air Base that day with our five-year-old son to deliver the hygiene kits we prepared and loot bags for kids.

We wanted to teach our son compassion.

So we drove to Villamor at around 1 pm, dropped the hygiene kits at the designated tent, then went to the grandstand so our son could hand out loot bags to the kids there. We were done at around 2 PM and were heading out already when we saw the Oplan Hatid tent.

So we said, “Let’s volunteer,” thinking that it would be quick and easy. We’d just go to the tent, say, “We’re headed north, we can take five passengers,” and we’d be off. But we were wrong.

We ended up waiting for four hours. After two hours of waiting, our son started asking what time were we going home, how come we had no passengers yet, how come we were not winning the bids, etc. I admit, we were tempted to just go, especially since there was no shortage of drivers.

But we’d heard about the Oplan Hatid stories, and it inspired us to stay. My husband and I took turns entertaining our son, telling him to listen to the

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stories and pointing out that the typhoon victims had been waiting for days.

their belongings were swept away by the typhoon, but thankfully everyone in their family survived.

I started getting worried about who our passengers would be, what their stories would be like. I prayed to get passengers who were meant for us—I was worried about how our son would take it, how his young mind could fathom what he was about to experience.

On our way to Payatas, our son almost had a ‘nosebleed’ trying to speak Tagalog to the boy, Glen.

Glen: Limang taon na ako.

Our son: Kinder ako, eh. Lima na ako, eh. Really.

They spoke different languages but seemed to understand each other.

They played “Bato, bato, pick” and sang LupangHinirang—using different lyrics. The kids made the trip from Villamor to Quezon City very heartwarming and entertaining.

After four hours, our son raised our number and won the bid. He was ecstatic. The dispatcher asked him if he had a driver’s license, and he said yes!

Our passengers were a father, a mother and a five-year-old boy who needed a ride to Payatas. What were the chances of that? It turned out, they were not really survivors. They have moved to Manila a couple of months back for a better life. They travelled to Leyte after Yolanda hit to check on their families. All

Glen: Ngayon lang ako nagkaroon ng kaibigan na English ang salita.

They spoke different languages but seemed to understand each other. They played “Bato, bato, pick” and sang Lupang Hinirang—using different lyrics. The kids made the trip from Villamor to Quezon City very heartwarming and entertaining.

life goes on As the darkness of the night begins to envelope Yolandaravaged areas, a man and a boy light up a candle at the grave of a loved one. It is a sobering scene that tells us that despite the terrible things that happened, and the hardships that followed, life would go on. GETTY

FALLEN statue A man carrying an umbrella appears helpless as he stares at the statues of the monument commemorating the landing of Gen. Douglas MacArthurs during World War II. The statue of Carlos P. Romulo lies face down after being toppled by the strong winds of Yolanda.

REUTERS

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I was hesitant to take a photo of the family, but I wanted a snapshot of that moment so our son wouldn’t forget. So I just took a photo of the kids. The picture shows their exchange of Happy Meal toys.

Our son initially did not want to exchange toys, pointing out that they both made a choice and he chose the white one and Glen chose the yellow one. But Glen changed his mind and asked for the white one instead.

I asked our son, “How many toys do you have? How many does Glen have?” (Glen told him earlier that his toys in Leyte were all destroyed.) Our son took a deep breath, and gave the white toy to Glen. I know it was hard for him to give up the toy. But that night, he said that moment was his favorite part of our volunteer day. (The second was when he won the bid!) It was then that I realized that God gave us that family.

Since that “accidental” Oplan Hatid trip, we’ve gone back several times and our lives have forever been changed. I truly believe that all Oplan Hatid volunteers are given the passengers that are meant for them for reasons we may not know now, but eventually we will, because “hatids” are definitely not the end of our stories. u

A Letter To My Teen Hero

By BRAVO KILO

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OLLOWING is my open letter to my 15-year-old daughter, who volunteered with me. I hope this will inspire her to heed the call when the time comes for her to step up.

Biggie, Yolanda wasn’t just a typhoon. It brought our countrymen to its knees. We saw the plea for volunteers and we had to do something. Good thing I saw a plea on the Internet for transport volunteers—OplanHatid.

I’m glad you had the courage and insisted on going with me that first Sunday. You were so generous, giving away your stuffed toys. It’s always a source of pride for me to see you find joy in sharing.

we could find some food, the next batch of survivors suddenly arrived. You decided that a Tetra-pack juice would suffice for you. You recognized the greater needs of others, and you decided you could make a sacrifice. I couldn’t have been prouder of you. Thank you for finding us relief food hours later. Squatted at the rear of the Oplan Hatid tent, broken plastic utensils, bistek tagalog with steaming hot rice—I think that was one of the most memorable meals we shared.

Remember them?

You never complained. It wasn’t a bother for you when we had to walk under the sun just to get to the grandstand; and to walk back to get our car, carrying some of our wards’ packages. Your patience helped me check my temper and overlook the red tape/ bureaucracy imposed on the volunteers.

Remember how hungry we were, having only eaten a light breakfast? And before

q The mom who kept crying. When we brought her and her family home, they were suddenly surrounded by their family and neighbors who had no idea they were coming. q The baby who got sick in the car; the teenage girl who got sick in the car. I learned that I had to drive slower than usual, and to have plastic bags available thereafter.

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q The bunch of young guys who got to ride a plane for the first time, and felt that their balls were being pulled up to their necks. q The 71-year-old petite grandmother who still had wonderful eyesight and could still walk fast on dimly-lit, uneven floored, circuitous alleyways. q The girl whom I gave one of your stuffed toys to, insisting you wanted her to have it. And her father who offered a free haircut and massage should I return to their place. q The mother who did not actually know where her exact destination was. Luckily we were able to find a tricycle in the middle of the night, who led us to where we needed to go. q The bunch of teenagers received by an Army Colonel’s daughter, whose heavy bags we volunteers had to manhandle up six floors. q The old man I helped laugh again—he’s 77, a widower, and it was his first time in Manila. q The family of seven who survived only because they hid under the kitchen sink; the father had to wonder how they all fit in there. q They always insisted on just being dropped off at the street entrance. I had to insist that as long as my car would fit, we would go on until their doorstep. And eventually find that it was still a long way off, through very narrow alleyways.

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Remember when I always jokingly folded our bid number to show only the two lowest digits, so that we could win the bidding?

You always grabbed the paper and told me, “Don’t cheat, Dad. I’ll hold onto this.”

Although I found it funny that you didn’t dig my joke, I beamed with pride. You know what honesty is.

You asked me at the end of my first story if I cried. I told you, “Just a little.” I wanted to show you I was strong and cool. Let me admit it to you now, I cried every time I got home in the early mornings. I was truly awed and humbled by the magnificence and goodness of God I see from each of the Oplan Hatid and Oplan Salubong volunteers, from the heaps of relief goods from different donors, and from the strength of the survivors.

We were surrounded by the best crowd there ever was. You met the tireless and pioneering leaders of Oplan Hatid— James Deakin from whom you accepted the J Co donut; Junep Ocampo who took your picture. There was an overflow of generosity everywhere, and we were surrounded by heroes. How cool was that?

You dream of becoming a chef or a veterinarian someday. You will be what you want to be. My other hope is that you will also

be a volunteer; that when the time comes, you will find in yourself the means to heed the call for help from those in dire need. Should you decide to heed that call, you will find that others will be with you, heeding the same call.

You will all come in different sizes, different shapes. With your kind hearts, you will all be able to do what’s needed.

Now that’ll be really cool. Just like Oplan Hatid.

Love you, Biggie! Momsky and I love you.

Dad u

It’s About Being Human

By Charmaine Cua

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FATHER AND DAUGHTER Ornez Suena (Bravo Kilo) and daughter Biggie patiently await their turn at the Oplan Hatid tent. For Suena, the experience was a perfect opportunity for him to teach his daughter important lessons in life.

PLAN HATID was an accident for me. It was Sunday and I volunteered for my company.

Then I saw a good friend with his mom sign up for Oplan Hatid. I was about to go home but I thought, driving for the survivors might be fun.

So I registered.

He said, “Ate, okay lang ba mag-re-retouch lang ako kasi ang haggard ko na, e.“

I was really dumbfounded when the “bidding” started: Pangasinan, Quezon—I was surprised to see people raising their hands to bid for those with much enthusiasm.

And then he jokingly answered, “Korek kayo dyan. Ayoko naman mamatay na pangit ako.”

My first trip was just near Villamor. Mark, my passenger, was 18, gay, and proud of it. His mother was meeting Mark at the Balayan Bus Station in Batangas. So I drove Mark to the bus station near Coastal Mall.

Mark described what happened in Tacloban and how everything flew in front of his face at the height of the typhoon. He thought it was his last day to live, and he was so thankful to have survived such a horrific storm.

When we were almost at the bus station, Mark and I had a funny conversation.

Then I said laughingly, “Okay lang naman, noh. Hula ko ‘yan ang una mong iniligtas nung bumagyo.”

His mother texted me asking me not to leave her son until he boarded the bus so I waited for the bus until 2:30 AM. I accompanied Mark up to the bus door.

I firmly told him, “Mark, mag-iingat ka, ha.”

And he said, “Opo, Ate. Magkano ‘yung bayad sa bus? “ I handed over some money without any hesitation. Without words, he hugged me. It was a heartwarming hug — a real one. I remember how his mother thanked me again and again for accompanying her son.

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These experiences will always remind me that there is more to life than material things.

The experiences were really about being human and being accountable for others.

After that first ride, I drove 11 more families to their loved ones. It was an addicting feeling: the adrenaline you get from driving home families. I’ve heard different stories from different evacuees but all their stories have one underlying horror—they thought the day Yolanda came was their last.

Boarding the C130 and landing at Villamor Air Base with welcoming applause from the volunteers were special. Getting hugs and relief goods from volunteers made them feel that there was hope for them. They felt even more special when friendly volunteer drivers would get their bags and take them home to their loved ones.

Yes, hope and love turned out to be my main reasons for doing what I did. I don’t want to miss another opportunity; I want to live my life the way I should live it. These experiences will always remind me that there is more to life than material things. The experiences were really about being human and being accountable for others. u 30

Finding Happiness in Simple Things I

By Eribert S. Padilla

TOOK the late-evening flight from Davao to Manila on Nov. 22. From NAIA, I dropped by Villamor for Oplan Hatid. I was headed to northern Metro Manila but most of the passengers at that time were going south. So I was able to get

passengers past 2 a.m. Destination: Antipolo. It was an enriching and learning experience for me.

Inspite of their Yolanda experience, my passengers remained positive by finding happiness in simple things and experiences, like the turbulence

whenever their C-130 plane encountered air pockets.

Reuniting with some members of their family seemed to negate the trauma.

Reflection: How can I complain, sometimes, that life is difficult? u

Thank you, Manang Alicia, Regine, Erwen and #oplanhatid

RESILIENCE It is often defined as the ability to bounce back from disaster. Yes, resilience is a quality often seen in Filipinos. And yes, it is seen most clearly in children who, just days after a disaster, could already resume their lives and play.

Oplan Trabaho, ASAP!

By Iwad Ilagan

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EFORE we left the house for Oplan Hatid, my daughter handed me one of her teddy bears to give to a kid among the Yolanda survivors. One of our passengers was a little girl so my wife gave her the teddy bear. The girl immediately hugged it; the smile on her face paid us back.

On another note, we really need Oplan Trabaho ASAP. I was informed by one of our Oplan Hatid angels that a family from Ormoc who arrived onboard one of the first C130s (this was before Oplan Hatid was born) is now living in a kariton on N. Domingo in San Juan. The father is a farmer, can’t read or write, and the mother has no work. They have no relatives in Metro Manila yet they took the chance to come here.

We’d like to ask the DSWD for help on what we can do for this family. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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FIRST MIRACLE There were hundreds of miracles that happened during the course of Oplan Hatid.

And this was the first, There was a group of 10 that needed a ride to Isabela. Since nobody was willing to drive that far, OH simply called out for donations for bus tickets for the group. A total of P10,000 was needed. And it took less than a minute to raise it, with donors rushing to give whatever they could.

Sarap ng Feeling!

By NadyesdaPonsones Franco

A

KALA ko noon, mayayaman lang ang may kakayahang tumulong. Sa pamamamagitan ng Oplan Hatid, napatunayan ko na kahit wala kang hawak sa bulsa mo ni isang sentimo, kayang kaya mo pa ring tumulong sa mga nagangailangan. Disabled ako; isang tutor para makaragdag kita sa pagpapaaral ng dalawang anak. Ang mister ko ay nawalan ng trabaho nang magpalit administrasyon ang aming municipal government.

Sa barangay namin, may sasakyan kaming multicab para sa mga senior citizens. Nang manawagan ang Oplan Hatid para makapag hatid sa mga nanggagaling sa Visayas, naramdaman ko na malaki ang maggagawa ng multicab. Naghihintay lang naman gamitin ang multicab, dahil pangulo ng senior citizens organization ang mother ko.

Kinausap ko agad ang mister ko na magdrive para makatulong kami. Pero wala kaming ma-abono sa gas. Salamat sa isang kaibigan na nasa ibang bansa pa—napakiusapan namin siya na ang sumagot ng gas. Hindi nagdalawang-isip sa pagsagot ang taong ‘yun.

Kinausap ko agad ang mister ko na mag-drive para makatulong kami. Pero wala kaming ma-abono sa gas.

Salamat sa isang kaibigan na nasa ibang bansa pa— napakiusapan namin siya na ang sumagot ng gas. Hindi nagdalawang-isip sa pagsagot ang taong ‘yun.

Naka-tatlong hatid po kami. Hindi matatawaran ang saya na naramdaman naming mag-asawa nang hawakan ng matandang hinatid namin ang aming mga kamay pati na ng dalawa naming anak upang magpasalamat.

SALAMAT OPLAN HATID! Naramdaman namin ang aming kahalagahan. Dahil dito, tuwing nakapagbaba kami ng pasahero at pauwi na, naging theme song na tuloy namin ang “Reunited.” Sarap ng feeling! u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Some photos by

ARDIE LOPEZ

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leaving behind the devastation Those who were served by Oplan Hatid were survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda who chose to leave whatever possessions they once have just to escape the horrors brought by the catastrophe.

Many of them were still dazed when they arrived at Villamor Air Base. They came on board military planes, hoping to seek refuge in the homes of families and friends in the metropolis.

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One at a Time

By Nikki Madrid-Soriano

I

T STARTED with a call on Facebook. Typhoon survivors were arriving at Villamor Airbase and there was a need to transport these survivors to their relatives here in Manila. So my husband Ramon went to Villamor, hoping to help. That was Friday, Nov. 15.

That evening, Ramon drove a family of seven (five adults and two children) to Caloocan. The family originally came from Guiuan, Samar. They told him that they had lost everything, including the head of the family, their father, who was swept away as the storm ravaged their town.

Their mother was able to hold on to her two grandchildren as they scrambled to safety.

Upon arriving in Caloocan, the Daganio family was met by two more of Mommy Marcing Daganio’s children who were working in a small grocery. The owner of said store had allowed them to stay for three days in the warehouse, after which they had to find a place of their own. This tugged at my husband’s heart.

Before he left them, he said he would check on them once in a while to see how they were doing.

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Little did our passengers know that by doing this for them, we were already blessed many times over. No amount of money, fatigue and time spent could ever add up to the immense joy of seeing family members reunited.

The following day, we saw a bag of clothes that were not ours, sitting inside our car. A few hours later, one of the Daganio children sent a text message to Ramon asking about the bag. Ramon asked about their plans and she told him that there was a vacant apartment but it required the usual one-month deposit and one-month advance rental in order for them to avail of the place. Something urged Ramon to call out to his friends and tell them about the Daganio family’s plight and that any form of help for them and others like them would be such a blessing.

CHAIN OF HELP What happened at Villamor Air Base weeks after the onslaught of Yolanda was simply a chain of help — from Oplan Salubong that welcomed, nursed and counseled the survivors — all the way to Oplan Hatid that brought the survivors to the homes of their loved ones.

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OUR PASSENGERS This family was received by their Manila-based daughter who insisted that I accept her token of gratitude — some burgers and cans of softdrinks they had to buy before we arrived. I initially politely refused, but she said, “Pagbigyan mo na ako,” thinking we probably didn’t need her token of thanks. But it was more for her that we accept. It was a very humbling gesture, so we did.

Photos & Story by

ARDIE LOPEZ

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It was a long wait for us to finally get deployed with a family to drive to their temporary home in Manila, but that was definitely nothing compared to how long they had to wait in the most deplorable conditions.

Sunday morning, my husband met with the Daganios to give them their bag and to hand them some money to help them move out of the grocery warehouse. While feeding the family breakfast, Ramon received a phone call from a fraternity brother of his based in San Diego. His friend was going to give enough money so the Daganios won’t have to worry about rent for the next few months until they find jobs here in Manila. He was also going to collect money from fellow Filipinos working at the US Marine base in Oceanside, California to give to the Oplan Hatid funds that pays for toll fees, gas and even bus fares for the other survivors.

Anyway, being born and bred in Metro Manila, it was also my way of welcoming the evacuees to my hometown and show them we’re all not as bad as we’re portrayed to be.

And the goodness continued to overflow. Emails and calls started pouring in from friends here and abroad pledging to help in cash or kind. We were able to get a new stove, an LPG tank, electric fan, pots, pans and cooking utensils, plates, cups and cutlery, toys for the kids, clothes and sleeping mats.

The Daganios were overwhelmed with the help coming their way.

I’ve never doubted that Filipinos are capable of doing good. But the good displayed by our people this time is indeed something to be proud of. The aura displayed by all the volunteers not only for Oplan Hatid but the other programs as well was nothing less than infectious. There was no way you would not be moved by the spirit of charity and selflessness displayed by everyone involved. For every trip we took with these survivors, a neverending show of gratitude was showered upon us.

Little did our passengers know that by doing this for them, we were already blessed many times over.

No amount of money, fatigue and time spent could ever add up to the immense joy of seeing family members reunited and giving the survivors a respite from the woes they suffered. To be part of this was not only a joy, but most certainly a privilege. To God be the Glory.

We continued to volunteer for Oplan Hatid in the succeeding days, taking the late-night shifts after work and after putting our daughter to sleep. I decided to join my husband to be his live navigator (as opposed to a GPS) because the late nights and dark streets were not a good idea for my husband to drive in because he has the worst sense of direction.

Some of the Daganio family members are slated to go back to Guiuan in the next few months.

Through my husband Ramon’s friends at Yellow Boat Foundation, the Daganios will be part of the Adopt a Fisherman program that will provide assistance for the rebuilding of their house. They will also be given a new boat and other fishing equipment to help them get back on their feet. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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No Choice But to Leave

By Nina Serrano

I

GOT to know Oplan Hatid after I volunteered as counselor for Oplan Salubong. My first passengers were two boys, Jason and Joshua Meredith from Guian, Samar. They were last in line at the airport, so they were cut off from their family, who took the next flight. The boys asked to be brought to the Tent City in Pasay to wait for the rest of their family, before going to their uncle in Lucena, Quezon.

Coming to Manila was the only choice they had, really. So they travelled to the airport, where they had to spend nights outside the building just to be able to keep their spot in the line.

We made sure they were settled in the Tent City before leaving. When we were saying goodbye to them, Jason, who was 17, extended his hands to thank me. That was the best handshake I’ve ever had.

the building just to be able to keep their spot in the line.

I went back to Villamor and was assigned to a family who needed to go to Bagong Silang, Caloocan City. The family was made up of a grandmother, a couple and their two kids. The father and his 9-yearold son took turns loading their bags until the van was filled.

Coming to Manila from Palo, Leyte was the only choice this family had, really. Their home in Palo was destroyed; they were afraid of the looting; and there was a huge lack of food and water. So they travelled to the airport, where they had to spend nights outside 40

The welcome the family received at Villamor made up for some of their sacrifices. They were given sacks and boxes of relief goods which Rommel, the father, loaded onto the van, filling it up to bursting. To find our way to Bagong Silang, Reyna, the mother, just told me to follow jeepneys plying that route.

Upon reaching the house of their relative, I heaved a sigh of relief and told Reyna, “Now you can sleep comfortably on a bed.” She gave me her mobile number and asked if we could be friends. I kissed the hand of her mother, shook the hand of the father, and hugged the kids goodbye. And yes, it felt good. u

SAD REALITY Survivors had to line up for all the things they needed, including relief goods.

And they needed to line up for days to be able to get a ride on the C-130 planes.

DESPERATE FOR AID Survivors line up even in the middle of the night just to get relief goods from a military truck that passed by their makeshift evacuation site in Tacloban City. Hundreds of thousands were rendered homeless — with no acceess to food and drinking water — for days.

A Literal Relief Drive

By Cecilia Ejercito

I

’M SURE I won’t remember their faces, nor will they remember mine.

Never more than an hour together, never any face time, never much conversation. My hands were only on the wheel, eyes only on the road. Our interaction was limited to me opening my car, popping the trunk, and getting them to their destination. A few directions given here and there, and some small talk about the distance I was driving — nothing more.

I entered the base intending to repack goods.

The first orientation I attended was for Operation Salubong. We were warned to be extremely careful about what we said and did. The first rule was never to ask how they survived. Never express pity.

Never carry their baggage without prior permission.

Oh, and remember to smile. I was braced for an intensely emotional encounter.

But it wasn’t. The first family I drove under Oplan Hatid shared with each other updates on areas in and around Tacloban. They completed a rundown of who should’ve been in Leyte but left, and who needn’t have been in Leyte but stayed.

No hysterics—just your ordinary Sunday-lunch discussion. Some comments acknowledging familiar landmarks on the way to their home.

I picked up only bits and pieces of their conversation. I didn’t try to be part of it; I was still worrying about saying the wrong thing. But this I’m sure I understood correctly, and I continued driving with a heavy heart: “Tacloban smells like death.”

observing the roads and worrying about how little he knew and how he’d get around. Musing about how he knew Tacloban inside out — even the side roads and the shortcuts. I feel the same way about Manila. To be displaced from such familiarity, from a place that lets you feel like you’re the insider, can be exciting. But to know that none of it will be back, should you choose to return, must be frustrating to say the least.

But what I hope to remember — and I hope they’ll remember — is that at one point, amidst the doubt and lack of concern, we all managed to trust each other. It’s not the ideal situation a 23-year-old girl is expected to be in: alone in a car with strangers, speeding across deserted streets.

I knew nothing of who they were, how they were connected to one another, and whose house we were going to. What we shared was only that short ride (even shorter considering the absence of traffic in the wee hours of the morning) — that last link in the chain to a next step.

They volunteered to ride back with me to the highway so I wouldn’t get lost. I refused. I drove away, and that was that. I have their contact details from a form that Oplan Hatid requires for every dispatch, but I don’t intend to reach out, nor do I expect that they will.

But what next step? Building a new life in Manila? Perhaps. One of the boys was keenly

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potential passenger. They had somehow managed to send everyone off; drivers were in excess.

family”? So I took the car and hoped for the best.

of the men who welcomed them insisted on opening my passenger door.

During downtime, Krispy Kreme, coffee and some barbecue from a local celebrity were offered.

I eavesdropped as one of the “veteran” volunteers (who had been there far longer and far more frequently than I had) questioned a survivor—a mother carrying a three-week-old. The volunteer asked the off-limits question: “How did you survive? You held on to the baby?” She did.

I guess it’s cynicism (or fear) that comes with living in Manila and expecting the worst of people— especially strangers, especially men. I was put at ease only when I saw the boy in my passenger seat make the sign of the cross before we drove off, and when I learned that it was their father who would meet them at the landmark — a popular funeral parlor along Araneta Avenue.

He held out his hands, gesturing for mine. He shook my hand while thanking me—again, I could only understand bits of what he was saying. He seemed to be also asking about the rest of their family, but I could give him no information. Never mind, he said, and settled for the endless “thank you” instead.

I knew nothing of who they were, how they were connected to one another, and whose house we were going to. What we shared was only that short ride—that last link in the chain to a next step.

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We heard a new C-130 land. Sometimes it would be a false alarm, we were warned. Because they’re military planes, we can’t know what’s aboard until the plane opens. Sometimes it would be cargo, sometimes soldiers. Sometimes 100 survivors, if it was an American pilot; if it was a Filipino pilot, he’d squeeze in 300.

We didn’t talk much either, just a few apologies for running over potholes, and a few hurried phone calls taken and ended. At a certain point, somewhere in the middle of BGC, one of them started blasting “Jenny” out of his phone. Strangely comforting. We both knew this hit from the late 2000’s. It’s still running through my head tonight as I write.

Once the newly arrived survivors had been sufficiently examined and debriefed, I volunteered for the first family headed to Quezon City, without thinking. They turned out to be a couple of young men, and I was afraid.

But I’d already volunteered, and how could I say, “Hey, I changed my mind, give me another

When we arrived, there were about a dozen people waiting at the curb. It was a grand reunion at the witching hour, in the rain, on the sidewalk facing a funeral parlor. A few questions, particularly about the whereabouts of another cousin they’d been expecting. I popped the trunk once more, waited for them to gather their belongings, and was about to drive off when one

But as I said, I won’t remember him.

But what I hope to remember—and I hope they’ll remember—is that at one point, amidst the doubt and lack of concern, we all managed to trust each other. It’s not the ideal situation a 23-year-old girl is expected to be in: alone in a car with strangers, speeding across deserted streets. But nothing about this was ideal. Not for me; even less so for my passengers.

My stories are two among hundreds. There were drivers who brought at least 17 families to homes across Luzon; there were others who dedicated every single day to the operation. Some drove to as close as Taguig, one to as far as Baguio. That guy received a huge round of applause at the tent.

Over each day, the system was improved, with numbers and bidding and online registration. Over each day, I’d like to believe that we were each made stronger—drivers, dispatchers, organizers, marshals, counselors, survivors. u

HOUSE OF MATCHES? No, the house in the middle is just one of the scores of houses destroyed by the typhoon, and what appear like matchsticks are full grown coconut trees uprooted by the strong winds of Super Typhoon Yolanda in Eastern Samar.

REUTERS

oplan hatid inside vab Inside the Villamor Air Base, Oplan Hatid volunteers had to regularly take the electric shuttles to get to their cars parked at the Gate 5. Here, James Deakin converses with the shuttle’s driver at the height of OH operations.

A Day Full of Action and Color

By ARTEL SEBASTIAN

P

re-registered volunteer, charged with eight hours of sleep, equipped with GPS and maps, powered by McMuffins and McCoffee early morning at 6, me and my girlfriend went to Gate 5 energized and ready to serve and then the learning and experience started.

The day was full of action and color. It began with a mixed up instructions from security to reach Gate 5 waiting area and the procedures of operation but my journey on the other hand started with one Lolo bound for Tuguegarao. No, I did not drive that far, but the DSWD rep said he just requested a ride going to a bus terminal that would bring him there. Upon meeting him, the tired and lonely face flashed a smile.

Maybe because he knew he was about to go.

He requested several things – a usable pair of slippers and spare money to pay for his bus fare from Manila to Tuguegarao.

Believe it or not, in less than two minutes he was given a new pair of slippers and P1,000 by the Oplan Hatid angels and the DSWD people. It was like watching “Wish Ko Lang” in a minute.

Next was a group composed of a baby, a lola and a mother who uttered the words “My God” more than 30 times in between her fateful narration from Vilamor to Leveriza. While we were traversing the jammed Buendia Avenue, the baby started crying and suddenly threw up. The mother, knowing it would create a mess, selflesly used her whole body to absorb most of the vomit because she wanted to protect my car’s leather seat. I told her not to worry because I knew it would just require a car wash. I was touched by her sincere gesture of concern despite her traumatic past.

Then there was a family of four who almost occupied my whole ride with the things they brought. It was like “Lipat Bahay.” Two bags full of toys; several huge luggage full of I don’t know what; three sacks of relief goods and several others. Since there were kids, I turned on my AV system and let them watch funny videos and animation to entertain and make them feel comfortable. As we went along EDSA they began to talk about the scenery as if they were on a holiday trip. They even planned how to spend their birthdays while in Manila when

they saw Megamall. Oh well I said, “Tuloy ang pasada.”

There were also others like the guy who seemed he just escaped from prison and turned out to be my “pahinante” helping other passengers load and unload their things from the van with a smile.

A group of three who reminded me of the movie “Sana’y Wala Nang Wakas” because they kept singing from Villamor till they reached Fairview.

There was one lady who lives near our place, works in Manila but went to Tacloban to get some stuff. She admitted she just used the free ride to get home. And another lady who waited for more than seven hours just to get a ride from Villamor to Heritage Hotel.

All in all I only made eight trips. It was insignificant compared to others who drove the longest and farthest. But one thing is for sure, these eight trips all made a significant change in my life.

My Oplan Hatid experience has taught me to appreciate life and count my blessings, instead of complaining on what is missing. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Miracles on the Road

By Andros Gareth Guevara

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bout two weeks ago, using the company van, we were able to ferry two random groups of survivors to Antipolo and Pasig. This was at Camp Aguinaldo at the time so the system was less than perfect. We stood there waiting for about 30 to 45 minutes. At that point, the destination was not relevant anymore and we just got whoever needed a ride. We ended up getting the two groups, a trio of twenty-something young males from Tacloban and two old ladies from Samar.

As we headed to Antipolo to drop off the young men first, we all chatted about the localities they came from. Amazingly, these seemingly random bunch were all related! We found out that the three guys were second-degree grandchildren of the two elderly ladies!

It was a moment of delight which somewhat diverted our minds from the tragic stories we were initially talking about. Now there’s a second miracle.

We arrived at the place in Antipolo where the three guys were to stay. Unfortunately the hill leading to

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their cousin’s place was too narrow for big vehicles to pass through so they had to alight at the foot of the hill. They all had hefty bags of relief goods which would have been difficult to carry, especially uphill.

We noticed tricycles going up and down, so we told them to just take one and we’ll take care of the fare.

After hailing so many units, we were out of luck, all of them had passengers inside so they could not stop for us. After a while, we waved at a tricycle that we thought was a “pamasada” unit. Curiously, it stopped and then we found out that it was a water delivery trike and it was empty!

The driver was reluctant to pick up the three because of the large bags they had with them, but after informing him that they were from Tacloban, immediately the driver changed his mind. At once, he got off the motorcycle to help load the heavy cargo.

We offered to pay him for the service but he happily declined. Once everything was ready, we exchanged farewells and the survivors rode off, with smiles that simply melted our hearts. u

The driver was reluctant to pick up the three because of the large bags they had with them, but after informing him that they were from Tacloban, immediately the driver changed his mind. At once, he got off the motorcycle to help load the heavy cargo. We offered to pay him for the service but he happily declined.

LIKE A SCENE FROM A DISASTER MOVIE Unfortunately, this is real life. A man walks through smoke from fires in Tolosa town. People began burning debris to start clearing the area which, for weeks, reeked of the smell of decaying flesh. REUTERS

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Comments I Will Never Forget

By Ms. Faye Marie Arellano

I

was moved by the frequent feeds and FB announcements from several friends on my list regarding the devastation of Yolanda. Family and friends were reaching out from all sorts of media to seek out financial assistance and aid for the predicament they are in.

Our company, AQA Group of Companies under AQ Advertising, Inc., donated to several organizations and foundations. Some of our staff even went out of their way to visit organizations for packing relief goods. But I felt it wasn’t enough. News were overflowing about some goods not reaching their destination.

I’ve been reading feeds about Oplan Hatid and by chance, came across James Deakin’s profile. He informed me how to help, where to register, and who to look for. One Sunday morning, I bought dozens of ensaymada for the volunteers, knowing some of my friends have been assigned to OH for some time and they might be there, starving. When I arrived with

my team of drivers, we were greeted by OH volunteers.

“Akala namin lahat ng mayaman ay matapobre. Hindi po pala.”

They were so thankful that we were there.

We handed over the food to Che and her team registered our vehicles and our drivers, assisted by dispatchers, and discussed the route plan for the drop off. Our drivers were able to speak to several victims and their stories were heart wrenching that we had to hold our tears back while they were sharing their experiences.

“Nagtataka kami, sa news ang sabi 10,000 lang ang namatay. Sa amin 50,000 na ang bilang.”

We had 12 individuals to Antipolo for the first trip, and 15 to Malabon for the second. Since I brought my car, I wanted to help out with the volunteers but a family wanted to go home to Quiapo and I saw how eager they were so I volunteered my car. Good thing, I was with my fiancée that time since I wasn’t familiar with Quiapo. The family that rode with us was so thankful.

I couldn’t forget some of their comments while we were in the car:

In mere astonishment and shock, I was speechless.

“Buti na lang may mga tao katulad ninyo, sana pagpalain kayo nang mabuti.”

“Maraming salamat... gamit at bahay lang ang nawala. Salamat sa Diyos, walang nawala sa mga pamilya namin. Ang gamit mapapalitan, ang buhay hindi na maibabalik.”

Even friends and clients donated while this was ongoing. I appreciate the gesture and effort to share your blessings to the less fortunate. We will be back again and again to help more people reach their homes safely. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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3 Burly Men in a Tiny Car

By ARLENE DOGELIO

I

travelled from Marikina and arrived in Villamor at around 5 am. I went alone thinking every space in my compact Hyundai Getz was vital. After fumbling around Gate 5 to Gate 4 to the Oplan Hatid venue at the break of dawn, I waited for my turn. Within 20 minutes, I won the bidding in bringing a group to Quezon City.

When our conversation segued to their experience during the onslaught of the typhoon, the pierced, tattooed and burly Eduardo was reduced to a frightened, quivering, tearful child — expressing through tears his fear and gratitude.

I learned the group I was to drive for was composed of three persons with five bags. When we were introduced, I felt a bit uncomfortable 52

because they were big, burly men with piercings and tattoos and I, their driver, was a woman and alone. To make things more interesting, their five bags were five gargantuan bags. So my two passengers ended up seating at the back each carrying a giant bag on their laps.

The one seated in front was Eduardo, the leader of the pack. We started with the usual pleasantries of where in Leyte they were from, what time they arrived, and if they had already eaten. When our conversation segued to their experience during the onslaught of the typhoon, the pierced, tattooed and burly Eduardo was reduced to a frightened, quivering, tearful child - expressing through tears his fear and gratitude, in the same degree of enormity. I, on the other hand, was caught between being emotional because of his story, and being thankful that he was not somebody to be afraid of after all.

It was a very blessed opportunity to be of help to the survivors. It was a microscopic sacrifice and more than being a blessing to them, they were a blessing to me. u

Laughter in Adversity

By RAJAH ALISAN

“0

07! James Bond!” called out Ms. Mia. Its our turn to bring home a couple from Guiuan, Samar to their relatives in Brgy.

Silangan, Quezon City. While waiting for the car from Gate 5, Kuya Blas began sharing. He described how strong the winds of Yolanda were and how confident he was that their house could withstand it. Home was their refuge amidst the storm.

Kuya Blas, Ate Lucy and four children survived Yolanda yet left them roofless. Both in tears, one volunteer hugged Ate Lucy and held the hand of Kuya Blas as he recalled his daughter telling him, “Buti na lang Papa nandito ka. Siguro kung wala ka dito, wala na rin kami.”

Kuya Blas, a seaman, was strong, disciplined and resourceful. Leaving their 4 children with neighbors, he and his wife went to Manila hoping for financial aid from their relatives. On a lighter side, we asked them how it was to ride a C-130.

No one expected that they would arrive that day. As soon as the members of their family saw them, nag-iyakan na. One said, “Akala namin ano na nangyari sa inyo. Buti nabuhay kayo.”

“Ang init sa loob,” he said .“Nung may umutot sabay-sabay nagtawanan.”

Kuya Blas shouted “Bilisan nang amoyin yan para mabilis mawala.”

It was so Pinoy. We manage to laugh in times of adversity. We were fortunate that Kuya Blas knew the way. No one expected that they would arrive that day. As soon as the members of their family saw them, nag-iyakan na. One said, “Akala namin ano na nangyari sa inyo. Buti nabuhay kayo.”

It was a well-spent Sunday. Full of hope. u YOUNG SURVIVOR She may have witnessed the wrath of Yolanda, yet this little girl from Guian, Samar found happiness with a stuff toy given to her at Villamor Air Base.

Photo by JUNEP OCAMPO

CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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From Being Helpless to Giving Help

By GINA NILLOS DATU

W

hen Yolanda struck and I saw the devastation it caused, the first thing that came to my mind was to help. I told my husband I want to go to Tacloban and help clean up, find survivors, cook food, whatever way, I just want to help.

As days went by, my heartbreak intensified every time I saw people, especially the children, the sick and old people not getting the help they needed and my heartbreak turned to anger, frustration as I felt as helpless as the victims.

Then, I heard of volunteers needed to welcome the evacuees. Right away, I googled, I texted, I called people to register me as volunteer, but nothing came out of it. Then I saw OH on FB. This was Friday, November 15. I texted right away but I did not get a reply. Then my son Julio, a JCI member who was volunteering in VAB called around midnight and borrowed our car because there’s a family who needed to be driven to Angeles. Me and my husband said yes right away only to realize that it was already the wee hours of the morning and we thought of our son’s safety and his passengers as well. So my husband called him and offered to drive instead but our son was so adamant about it that we let him

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go. Of course both of us didn’t get to sleep at all after that, since we are monitoring them. He drove a family of seven plus two others who asked to be dropped off in Balintawak.

The next day, I didn’t know that my husband told our son to stay in Angeles with his aunt and sleep before driving back, I waited for him so we can do the rounds as well. He came back Sunday. I got so disappointed I asked my husband to drive Sunday night to Villamor but once again faced with a challenge of traffic going in and out of Villamor that we decided to go home.

At home, I opened my FB and saw again the call for volunteers for OH, I texted right away all my details and when I received the email from Junep Ocampo, with the OH Car Pass, my day was made.

Finally I will be able to help.

Monday morning, after I took the kids to school, I went straight to VAB and arrived at 9 am. I looked for Junep and introduced myself. He told me to enlist and after a short waiting time, I got my first assignment. But before that, Tita Ruth asked me if I could drive a family to Sariaya, Quezon. I told her I

already have a family to take to QC but if there will be no takers for the one going to Sariaya, then I will come back with my husband to take them. I admit, he is a better driver and he knows the way. So that was the plan. The family I drove to Diliman, QC were from Tanauan, Leyte, two mothers (who barely talked and I didn’t get their names), four children and a cousin, a lady named Erma. They’ve been lining up for five days with little food and water.

We got stuck in traffic that it took us almost two hours to get to Diliman. The poor kid, due to exhaustion and fatigue, threw up in my car.

Normally, I will be irked already, but this time, the Holy Spirit was working in me that I was not affected at all. Erma, the talkative one, whom I learned lost a sister, and a 2-month-old niece, was actually an employee of Shakey’s and hoped could find work in Metro Manila. I hooked her up with my sister’s company and she went for an interview and was already working there ever since. She facilitated the relief drive of my sister in Tanauan and as of this writing my sister, her daughter and some members of her company are there distributing goods to more than 700 families. Of course this is a different story all together.

After I took them, I drove my car to a car wash feeling a different kind of high. Ecstasy is what I call it.

I picked up my husband and drove back to Villamor.

When I looked for the family bound for Sariaya, Tita Ruth told me they’ve left on board the Adamson bus.

So I told my husband we will just wait for another assignment since there would be a plane coming in at 5:30 pm.

in our house but they refused. Understandably so, because after what they’ve been through, they needed to be together.

So off we went to Bulacan. I asked Remy (the wife) how she is and she told me that she just needed to get away, as far as she could from the misery that was Tacloban.

There was a group bound for Navotas. No takers, so I raised my hand, not really sure of the place, but with total faith in God that since I am doing something good here, He will be my guide. We drove for those seven passengers.

While waiting, I heard a DSWD lady talking to a man who was apologetic that he couldn’t take the family to Bulacan since his car had no space for baggage. I readily offered. While we are getting the family ready, I talked to the husband if he knew the address. I thought they were just going to a relative.

I learned that when the typhoon struck, the wife/ mother and her five children were alone because the husband/father was working in Bulacan as a security guard. He told me that they will be staying in a barracks with his co-security guards, seven of them, for the time being while he builds them a house, in a lot he rented.

I was shocked to hear that they will be sharing a space with seven other men. I offered to let them stay

She recounted how they survived. They were in a public school when the water slowly rose to her neck level. She was carrying her 5-year-old son and her other daughter while the rest were swimming to keep safe. She had presence of mind when she told her children to swim and not to panic, and whatever happens, not to go out, all the time praying that the water will not anymore rise.

They swam to the second floor of the building and stayed there until the water subsided. She said that a lot of people died in the evacuation center especially those on the second floor because they panicked when glasses got broken by the strong winds and ran outside only to be engulfed by the water coming in.

When we got to their destination, I gave them a blanket, some clothes and cash for materials for their house. I promised that I will be back and had been going back since just to see how they are and check on the development of their house.

I was able to drive three more families. In one trip, I took my 19-year-old daughter Ramona with me. We picked up some relief goods on the way to Villamor. There was a group bound for Navotas. No takers, so I raised my hand, not really sure of the place, but with total faith in God that since I am doing something good here, He will be my guide. We drove for those seven passengers. Rose, the resident of Navotas, left her husband and her 1-year-old baby, took the bus to Tacloban to fetch her lola, sister and nephews and nieces. She was stranded for three days in Matnog but that didn’t deter her from pushing through.

Rose was finally reunited with her husband and baby when I took them home to Navotas. The story did not end there. All the time I was doing this, my daughter Ramona was just observing and tried to be useful by playing with the kids and carrying stuff to and from the car. She was shocked when she brought their stuff to their house, when she saw how small Rose’s place was and that she couldn’t imagine how they would fit into that tiny, tiny space. On our way home, she said, “Thank you Mommy! “ That said it all. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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A DIFFERENT WAY TO CELEBRATE A BIRTHDAY Two days before her birthday, Adora de Leon Sunga of DPWH Region III (right, with glases) found the best way to celebrate. She rushed to Villamor Air Base to provide transportation for Yolanda survivors. She was able to ferry three families on Nov. 15, the day Oplan Hatid started.

She claims it was her most memorable experience ever.

Photo by JUNEP OCAMPO

A Different Birthday Celebration I

By MIKE CASIMIRO

t was our daughter Bianca’s 8th birthday weekend and instead of going out of town to celebrate, our family decided to do something noble to help our unfortunate brothers and sisters from the Visayas. We wanted to inculcate in our children the value of social awareness and being kindhearted so we decided to make them experience Oplan Hatid.

We went to Villamor Air Base with Bianca and our 4-year-old son Gian on November 30.

We registered and got number 148. Bianca was the one who would raise our number if we say to her, “Yes, we can go to that location.”

We followed her gesture by explaining that this process is called bidding. The bidding was a fun experience. You can see the willingness of all the volunteers to share a ride and bring home the evacuees to their families.

After waiting for more than an hour, we got out first passengers. We were supposed to bring a father and his daughter from Guiuan, Samar to a certain house in Makati where the second wife of the father was staying. We felt the daughter’s resentment in staying with her stepmother. She talked to no one else but us. Until we reached our destination, the 17-year-old daughter hugged my wife Eunice and thanked her with tears in her

eyes, saying, “God bless you po. I wish for peace and love in your family.” We were touched. My wife replied, “Thank you. I wish for that too for you and your family. You were given a second chance to live. Keep praying.” We found out that the father and daughter would be employed in the same company where the stepmother works.

It was almost 9 pm but we decided to go back to Villamor to find out if there were still more passengers waiting for a ride home. When we got there, everyone was packing away since there were no more C-130 planes arriving that night.

Ms. Leah made one last announcement if there was somebody willing to bring an elderly woman and her son to Kawit, Cavite. We immediately raised our hands. Fellow volunteers clapped their hands as a form of appreciation.

Ms. Leah recounted that Lola Norma and her son were supposed to be picked up by her sister. They have been waiting for more than three hours in the medical tent since her son was nursing a high fever and was extremely exhausted after waiting for more than two days in Guiuan. Travel time from Villamor to Kawit usually takes an hour but since it was a Saturday night, it stretched to almost two hours. Since it was their first time in Manila, Lola Norma kept on

saying, “Ang layo pala ng bahay ng kapatid ko.”

We were not familiar with the place but with the help of Google Maps and GPS, we were able to find the subdivision in Toclong, Kawit.

It was past 11 pm when we arrived at their place. Lola Norma’s sister hugged her tight and was very happy. In jest I asked her sister why she did not cry upon seeing Lola Norma, she said, “Wala na kaming iluluha dahil pagkatapos ng bagyong Yolanda apat na araw kaming umiiyak dahil hindi namin alam kung ano ang nangyari sa ate.” It was only five days after typhoon Yolanda that they got news that Lola Norma and her family were ok.

Upon leaving their house, a neighbor went up to us and said, “Bilib talaga ako sa mga Pinoy. Marunong at handang makiramay sa mga nangangailangan.” It was almost 12 midnight but our family went home with smiles on our faces after having heard those very kind words, words of appreciation that no amount of money could buy.

Everyone of us in Oplan Hatid were total strangers but the Filipino spirit of volunteerism and selflessness bonded us together to achieve one common goal. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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By GRACE BEJOSANO

I

got very nervous volunteering for Oplan Hatid when I realized the huge possibility of the survivors telling me the harrowing tales of getting through Yolanda alive and the more horrifying stories of the Hunger Games-esque scenarios that followed. Everyone had a story.

Every single one. And if you know me at all, I’m the type to cry at TV commercials. For the sake of brevity, I will tell you the ones that affected me the most.

My first shift was on Monday, Nov. 18, from 11 pm to 5 am. There were so many volunteers, and I was only able to make two trips to Cavite. My destination was Paliparan in Dasmariñas, Cavite, where a family of six were headed. They had a lot of relief goods from the tents lined up at the back of the grandstand. As there were six of them, the dispatcher put us in a convoy with another smaller car, which took three passengers. I got the other three and all their baggage.

SURVIVORS AND VOLUNTEERS Volunteers interview a survivor as Oplan Hatid moves to its own tent at the Villamor Air Base.

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While the other two at the back were asleep, the guide, a lady of middle age, and of seemingly middle-class social standing, was telling me stories, mostly confirming the things I see on TV on the rare occasions that I watch. But in her narrative, you know what’s most disconcerting?

She was referring to her kid as “casualty.”

Going Home With a Heart Light as A Feather Like, ‘’Ma’am, gusto ko pong ma-sure kung may casualty kame, para at least alam lang namin.”

She never once said son, until I asked her if she’s looking for a boy or a girl. And she was very chill about it, too. She was eating the candies I have in my car. Of course I was mortified but I didn’t let her in on it. She must be in mad shock.

They got off the car. I hugged everyone and told them good luck. I went home with a heavy heart.

In the 22-hour shift I pulled from 9 am of November 20 to 7 am of November 21, I managed six trips to Cavite. With the news that Oplan Hatid was being kicked out of Villamor by 12 noon of the 21st, I wanted to stay there until they drag us out of the base. But by 6 am I could barely keep awake and morning rush traffic was already building up. It just wasn’t safe for me to go on.

One of my earlier passengers was a family of six I took in another convoy with a very nice older couple who volunteered together. I would even dare say that they were among the lucky ones as they have a sister

Never once did I sense an air of defeat about them.

They were here to find jobs to be able to send money to their families Their determination was palpable, more so, their hope. who got married and is now living in GMA, Cavite, who went to Tacloban to fetch them all and take them to her home. No one among their immediate family died.

They seemed like a happy bunch, albeit very tired (there were two seniors and a blind sister). When we finally arrived, thank you’s and well wishes were exchanged and we were ready to leave. The last to bid us farewell was the sister who took them all in. She won’t stop saying how we’re so kind for taking them home. I said, “Mas mabait po kayo dahil kinupkop n’yo sila.” She then started tearing up, and said, “Hindi ko nga po alam kung paano ‘to. Basta

kung anong makakaya ko, gagawin ko. Kung anong nandyan, pagtutulung-tulungan namin.” It took every fiber of my self restraint not to bawl right there. It made it very hard to breathe.

My very last passengers were a couple of young girls. The two were cousins who were picked up from Dasmariñas highway by one of the cousins’ sister.

During the drive home, they were very animated in their stories about what went down in their town, but mostly they were angry that despite all the shit they had to go through, there were still those who have the gall to put the blame on them. They were also very worried about their schooling — from the delay due to the damage to the schools, to the tuition fees and their parents’ inability to pay, to the feared loss of their school records and the paralyzing thought that they spent the past two and a half years of their lives for nothing. But never once did I sense an air of defeat about them. They were here to find jobs to be able to send money to their families who chose to stay in the Visayas. Their determination was palpable, more so, their hope.

I went home with my heart light as a feather. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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The Start of Something Addicting

By AMBER JEWEL YU

I

t was Nov. 14, 2013 that I came across that message of Ms. Golda Benjamin asking for volunteers to go to Villamor Air Base since many of the evacuees were there waiting for a ride to their family and friends in Metro Manila.

After days of watching the news about Yolanda’s devastation, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Will I just watch and mope?” Something inside me said otherwise. Having been in the transport industry for quite some time made me more eager to go to Villamor and volunteer our services.

Nov. 16, we still had a scheduled rental, so I asked my husband to please clear out the following day since I was planning to go to VAB and help.

And that was the start of it all for me and my husband Jim. There were already a number of volunteer drivers arriving that day but since we got there early, and the capacity of our van was quite big, we were able to get our first passengers at around 11 am.

It was a family of nine going to Camp Aguinaldo.

It was Captain Royo’s family. His sister and her

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Words could not explain the feeling that we got that night.

We love being part of the Oplan Hatid Team and being part of its core group is an added bonus. family lost everything and the only thing that held them together was their faith. They could not thank us enough.

I felt more happy that I was able to help. An hour after and we were back at VAB waiting for another dispatch. That was when the numbering system started. Ours was 4, so at around 2:30 pm we were given another family to bring home, a family of eight going to Imus, Cavite. As they boarded the van, I heard a sigh of relief from them, “At last makakapahinga na rin kami.”

Kuya Rafael Galanza boarded a private plane just to get his mother and siblings out of Tacloban, they walked hours and hours to the airport taking a chance

for a ride going back to Manila, leaving all the ruins of Yolanda behind.

Before 5:00 pm we were back at VAB once more.

As we waited for a dispatch, we were able to meet new friends. There were free food and drinks, and the mood was very festive. Around 7:00 pm, I noticed a group of passengers sitting beside us, about 15 people with some kids and two elderly. They were headed for Valenzuela. Nobody has made a bid to bring them home yet. I knew they could fit in our van but since they were bringing several bags, it would be a challenge on how to fit them all into the vehicle.

“Pwede ko po kayo ihatid. Pero ok lang ba sa inyo na magsiksikan?” I asked them.

They immediately replied, “Opo, makauwi lang kami ok na.”

So there goes our third trip, the family of PO2 Celso Corre. They all had smiles on their faces knowing that in an hour or so they would be home safely.

The family narrated how they walked from one town to another for a chance to ride the C-130, with

PRIORITY PASSENGERS The elderly and the wounded are the priority passengers on board the military’s C-130 planes that evacuated survivors from Tacloban and other areas of Eastern Visayas to Villamor Air Base in Metro Manila.

GETTY

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BURNING THE MESS A man fans the flame as he burns tons of debris left by Yolanda in Tanauan, Leyte.

GETTY

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no food, no water, no nothing. They said they have realized that they could not just wait for help — they had to look for it.

They asked us if we were getting funds from the government for fuel. They were surprised to hear that all of us were private volunteers, giving free rides to our kababayans.

“Maraming salamat po sa maagang pamasko ninyo sa amin,” was the parting words I heard from them.

Words could not explain the feeling that we got that night. After Valenzuela we brought a family of 17 to Pasay City, two families to Imus, Cavite, and another family to Pasay near the bus terminal. A total of seven families in a day.

The feeling? It was addicting. That was the start of my daily volunteering with Oplan Hatid. My husband drove while I stayed behind at the OH headquarters helping with the dispatching and other admin work. It soon became a part of my daily routine, going to VAB and sometimes staying for the graveyard shift. OH did not only give us a chance to help in our own little way but it also gave us a chance to meet people who later on became my closest friends.

I love being part of the Oplan Hatid Team and being part of its core group is an added bonus. u

Overwhelming Kindness

By Riza San Pascual

I

AM BY NO MEANS an experienced driver.

I even had to ask one of my fellow drivers for directions going to EDSA from Villamor Air Base!

But I desperately wanted to help, even if it’s just to give a little bit of comfort to one family who went through so much already.

So, with my sister in tow, and after registering for unli-calls (for when we get lost), we headed out to Mandaluyong, Taytay and Cogeo. We talked about the town they just left, how money became worthless because nobody was selling them food.

It took them days to line up for the C130, but they consider themselves lucky because they have their lives and each other.

When they landed in Villamor, they said their hearts were so overwhelmed with the flurry of help given them. Everyone came to them with big smiles on their faces offering food, supplies, insisting they take more clothes to replenish what they lost. Lady volunteers were carrying their heavy bags and boxes, encouraging them to rest after their long journey.

Tears of relief came to Kuya Ian’s eyes. “These people do not know me, but they’re so eager to

“These people do not know me, but they’re so eager to help. Out in the Oplan Hatid booth, they’re even bidding for the chance to give me a free ride.”

—Ian, a Yolanda survivor help. Out in the Oplan Hatid booth, they’re even bidding for the chance to give me a free ride,” he said.

I said to them, “That’s just how we Filipinos are.

We have each other’s backs. You’d do the same for me, right?” To which they agreed, and started planning on what they can do for the others back home, wondering how they can send help.

To all our passsengers, I am honored to have served you. You have touched our lives in ways you can not imagine. From this tragedy, you will bounce back, move on, and grow stronger. God bless us all! u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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How God Answers Prayers

By MONETTE SEVILLEJA

M

y original intention was to volunteer for repacking at DSWD but a friend’s update on Facebook about “a mission to drive home survivors to their families” appealed to my heart more. It was something that would enable me to directly help those affected by the typhoon. However, I wasn’t familiar with the roads and therefore needed the help of a driver. Thus, after discussing the idea with my husband, we decided to go to Villamor the following day. He volunteered to be the driver.

On November 17, we arrived at the Oplan Hatid tent at 11 am. There were a lot of volunteer drivers already but not a lot of passengers. So when the passengers arrived, volunteers became excited to get the chance to drive them home. It was a bit chaotic at first but when Ms. Leah Lagmay saw what was happening, she recognized the need for a more orderly assignment of passengers to drivers -- the bidding system was born.

Drivers were handed out numbers, based on the time of their arrival at the tent. This was what they used to bid on the passengers they were willing to take. The lowest one got the right of first refusal.

During the wait for passengers to arrive, drivers were briefed about a few things:

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1) Passengers would be counselled by DSWD and drivers were requested to not ask questions about what happened or what the passengers experienced.

2) Passengers could be dizzy during the plane ride or from days of waiting at the airport, so it would be wise to prepare meds or bags they could use during the trip

The experience was another confirmation that the Lord knows our limits, listens to what we pray for, and thus gives us what we need and can handle.

3) There was a possibility that the family of the passengers would reject them so the drivers were advised to take them back to Villamor and endorse to DSWD if this happened.

had not won in the bidding. Due to the time constraint, I knew I could no longer bid for Laguna/ Pampanga or farther areas. I prepared to just bid for destinations within Metro Manila.

When I realized the risks that this task entailed, I prayed. I prayed that the passengers we’d take would know the exact address of their relatives. It would be difficult if the passenger knew only the name of the town or barangay and the relatives could not be contacted. I also prayed that should we be able to take the passengers to their relatives, they wouldn’t be rejected. It would be heartbreaking if we witnessed any rejection.

At 4:45 pm, a family of four bound for Makati needed a transport. I knew in my heart that this family was meant for me. I would win the bid.

The barker, though, said that the family had one condition -- that they be taken first to Villamor Hospital and wait there for 30 minutes before going home to their relative. We raised our hands.

We were selected. Once we were awarded the passengers, we were informed to wait further as the wounds of the passengers were still being treated.

Uh-oh. Our passengers were injured!

At 4 pm, after waiting for five hours, we still

Lots of questions came to mind. How were they injured? Could they walk? Would they need assistance going inside the car? Wheelchair? Should we carry them? If we should, could my husband and I do it?

Hmmm.

to go to Makati. When I told him we were taking them there, he was confused and began asking questions. Who were we? Why would we take them home? For free? At what time did we go to Villamor? How did we

I prayed that the passengers we’d take would know the exact address of their relatives. I also prayed that should we be able to take the passengers to their relatives, they wouldn’t be rejected. It would be heartbreaking if we witnessed any rejection.

The family of four — two adult men and two young girls — came to the tent an hour after.

They were a father and his two daughters and his brother, Kuya Allan, who went all the way to Tacloban from Makati to rescue them. The younger girl had a bandage on her right foot. Her father had some plasters on his right hand. They were carrying plastic bags containing their clothes. They looked so tired.

Apparently, the mother was in the earlier plane to accompany her son who was vomiting blood.

They got prioritized in the C-130 because of that.

The father related to us that they all drowned during the storm surge and his son drank a lot of floodwater.

We all took the e-jeep to Gate 4. At the gate, Kuya Allan was asking where he could find a taxi

know they (survivors) were coming? How did we choose our passengers? Did we really wait for six hours to take them home? Why would we do that?

Were there more like us? I tried to answer all his questions but I guess it all boiled down to one word: Volunteerism.

On the way, we learned a few more information about our passengers. Kuya Allan is a lay minister at the Sacred Heart Church in Makati. When the news of what happened in Tacloban broke, he wanted to go immediately to know what happened to his family. He hesitated for a minute because of what he heard and saw in the news (the looting, etc.). However, there was a voice that told him to go and so he did. He bought a plane ticket to Cebu and then to Tacloban. He carried a backpack containing first aid, food, batteries and whatever he could fit in it. He talked about looted gas and rice being sold at ridiculous prices. They queued

at the airport bound for Manila for a few days, rain or shine. They were served little food and water there.

They had their first regular meal in days upon arrival in Villamor.

Kuya Allan’s brother was quiet all throughout the trip. When he spoke, he just said these words, “Wala nang trabaho sa Tacloban. Umalis na yung mga negosyante. Wala na kaming pagkakabuhayan. Wala nang trabaho sa Tacloban.” The two girls also spoke in their dialect in hushed tones. They were talking about the family member then confined at the hospital. They were all worried and wanted to visit him. However, we were to go to Makati only because the patient was already transferred from Villamor Hospital to San Lazaro.

We arrived in Makati soon after. Kuya Allan was greeted by his wife and child who missed him dearly.

He thanked us and we also thanked him for giving us the opportunity to be of help to them. My husband and I would never forget what he said, “You already know the secret to receive more blessings.”

On a side note, the experience was another confirmation that the Lord knows our limits, listens to what we pray for, and thus gives us what we need and can handle.

As the psalmist said, commit your way to the Lord, trust in him, and he will act. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Their Thank You’s are All Worth It F

By IWAD ILAGAN

rom Batangas, my wife and I decided to take a couple of trips for Oplan Hatid. And before we left the house, our daughter handed us a stuffed toy to give to a kid as her donation.

Then the traffic enforcer saw the Oplan Hatid paper on my dashboard and saw him nod his head and saluted me. “Okay sir, take care!

When we arrived at Villamor Air Base, I felt the ambience of bayanihan. We registered in Oplan Hatid and waited. I got a family bound for Malabon — a lola, a couple, one teenager and three kids. I was about to ask them if they were okay but their faces clearly answered my question. They were obviously tired and still traumatized. When we hit the road, my wife gave the stuffed toy from our daughter to the little girl who immediately hugged it. I saw the smile on her face — an instant payback that gave me confidence in driving them home.

driving. We’ve reached the Rotonda and saw a traffic enforcer waving to us to park on the side. We realized we forgot to wear our seatbelts. We immediately buckled up and the enforcer told us about the violation.

We tried to have a little talk about their experience during the typhoon but they were speechless. The only words I clearly understood was that they were simply happy to be alive. I smelled something strange in them, a sign of the sufferings they had (no bath for a week). Their baggage were all from the relief goods.

They were not able to save anything.

I asked my wife to take my phone and open the Waze app to check which way we should go while I was busy 66

Traffic Enforcer: “Sir, you were not wearing your seatbelt.”

I was worried at first about the inconvenience I would be getting if I took the ticket but when I looked at my rearview mirror, I saw that my passengers already were asleep. They were indeed very tired and just needed to go home.

I talked to the traffic enforcer. “Sir, sorry I really forgot to buckle up as we are busy checking the map, I have passengers from Oplan Hatid.”

Then the traffic enforcer saw the Oplan Hatid paper on my dashboard and saw him nod his head and saluted me. “Okay sir, take care! Always use your seatbelt!”

I was so thankful and took a deep breath. I thanked the enforcer and asked which way to Malabon and he just gave me a hand sign. I did not want to use Oplan Hatid to take advantage of traffic rules. I was about to give my license but the enforcer just let me pass and reminded me about the seatbelt.

On our way to Malabon, the terrible traffic at the pier made us unproductive. We left VAB at 9:30 am and arrived in the place at 12:30 pm. When we reached the place, I helped our passengers unload their baggage. I was planning to take a picture of how excited they were meeting their relatives but my heart froze as I watched them. I could only smile, with a tear in my eye.

Seeing their family reunited was an achievement for us. Their “thank you” was more than enough payment for me. They gave me too much thank you’s with a smile. I told myself, “Kung pwede ko lang suklian yung thank you nila, baka sinobrahan ko pa.” u

SURREAL SCENE Children in Tacloban play inside a toppled bathroom.

REUTERS

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HAPPY REUNIONS Smiles mix with tears as families and friends are reunited, courtesy of Oplan Hatid volunteers.

Ang Pag-asa ni Rey

By JOEL CURA

B

AGO pa lang kami tumulak papuntang Guiuan, Eastern Samar for a Relief Operation ay nakita ko na nga itong Oplan Hatid, at nasabi ko sa sarili ko na magbo-volunteer ako pagkabalik ko.

Isa sa naging pasahero ko ay si Rey ng Burauen, Samar. Third year college siya sa course na Education, pangatlo sa walong magkakapatid, ang tanging may pinakamataas na pangarap para maiahon ang kanilang pamilya sa kahirapan.

Pagkasakay niya pa lang ng sasakyan ay ramdam ko na ang pagod at hirap na dinanas niya sa probinsiya at biyahe. Nagbarko lang daw sila mula Tacloban hanggang Navotas.

Three days, two nights ang biyahe nila.

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Sa tindi ng hirap na dinanas niya doon at ng buong pamilya niya, kaya nag-decide siya na lumuwas ng Maynila at makipagsapalaran dito.

Nawasak ang bahay nila at buong kabuhayan nila, namatay ang ibang kamag-anak pero buo ang pamilya niya. Sa tindi ng hirap na dinanas niya doon at ng buong pamilya niya, kaya nag-decide siya na lumuwas ng Maynila at makipagsapalaran dito.

Si Tiya Badang ang pinaghatiran ko kay Rey sa Cubao. Matagal din kami naghintay. Tinanong ko siya kung

kumain na. Hindi pa daw at gutom na gutom na. Kumain kami sa Shell Select.

At naalala ko na may baon pa pala akong pagkain galing sa HQ at ibinigay ko sa kanya ito. Ubos lahat. Gutom nga.

Mabait na bata, mataas ang pangarap, hindi hadlang ang kahirapan para hindi matupad ang pangarap niya sa sarili at sa pamilya niya. Lumuwas ng Maynila para maghanap ng trabaho dito, magsisimulang muli para ibangon ang pamilya.

Hindi matapos-tapos ang pasasalamat sa akin ng mag-tiya noong magkita sila at nang maihatid ko na si Rey. Nakakataba ng puso, nasa puso ko ang pagtulong. Nawa’y bago pa man maisapubliko ang kuwento kong ito ay may trabaho na si Rey. u

16 16

Validating the Goodness in People During the drive back home, Angelo I kept saying, “Kawawa naman sila.

By Dr. Genilou Jimena

FOUND out about Oplan Hatid thru my classmate’s FB post. I didn’t want to go alone. My boyfriend was sick, but his driver, Angelo (true to his name) willingly gave up his after-office rest hours and commuted to my place in Mandaluyong. We reached Villamor at 8 pm. I oriented him on the bidding system, so I could volunteer at the medical tent while waiting. The medical tent had more than enough personnel though, so I went to the OH tent. Families were already waiting there.

There was no bidding. We were immediately asked how many people the car could accommodate. I said six, the organizer said they had a family of seven. The family piped in, “Bata po yung pampito, sige na po.” I said, “No problem, kandungin na lang po yung bata.”

They didn’t have any bags, just plastics of relief goods from Villamor. We all packed in the SUV — three generations of Tatay Eduardo’s family. Only his son-inlaw didn’t make it, and they properly buried him outside the cemetery before they went to the airport where they waited in line for two days. They had no choice but to leave. They were vendors, and they had lost their wares, their house — everything except each other. Relief goods of rice and sardines, which only came once, were inadequate to feed everyone. His wife recounted their ordeal with a smile in her face, interjecting “maraming salamat” to me in between her 70

sentences. She said they would go back to Tacloban, once things are better and once school starts by January, she proudly says that one of her daughter is studying college there.

We reached Rosario, Pasig after an hour. Their beautician son had friends there who welcomed them with hugs and tears of joy. They thanked us profusely.

Tatay Eduardo seemed dazed; he had mentioned in the car that their friends had arranged to rent a room for them, but they had no rent money yet. I held his hand, slipping some bills to him. “Pang rent po,” I said. His tears welled up. Mine too. He said thank you (for the hundredth time maybe). We took photos, and I gave them my number in case they needed anything. They haven’t contacted me yet, and I wonder how they’re doing.

During the drive back home, Angelo kept saying, “Kawawa naman sila. Ang suwerte pa rin natin na hindi natamaan ang Manila.” Those were my thoughts, too. And unexpectedly he asked, “Kelan ulit tayo maghahatid, Doc?” I thought this would be a one-time thing for me, but because of that question, Angelo and I drove two more families from Guian, Samar that week. These families were more prepared though — dressed and packed with

Ang suwerte pa rin natin na hindi natamaan ang Manila.” Those were my thoughts, too. And unexpectedly he asked, “Kelan ulit tayo maghahatid, Doc?”

luggages — but survivors nonetheless, who had lost their homes and were thankful to be alive. They refused monetary donations, and even said they should be paying us if they could. They, too, would be going back once things are more stable. One of the fathers said that all he needed was a boat and fishing net, and he could start anew. How many people, especially here in the city with all the gadgets and gizmos, could truly say that? If you could choose two or three materials to restart your life, what would you choose?

OH was an experience that I would treasure. Thank you OH for the opportunity, and for bringing together people who are willing to help. One of my beliefs in life is that people are basically good. Thank you for validating that. u

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The Beginning of a New Life

By QUINTIN RAMOS

O

angels all Oplan Hatid volunteers are of varying ages and backgrounds.

They do not have any idea what kind of people they would be taking home.

N MY FIRST TRIP, I brought three men to Rizal.

They were part of a family of 15, six of whom died in the typhoon. The remaining family members decided to send their three surviving men to Manila to find work. The rest of the family—all women—would stay in their hometown, and were left with two cavans of palay. They would survive on this while waiting for their men to send money from Manila.

Another evacuee rode out the typhoon hanging from a tree.

He chose the oldest coconut tree he could find, climbed 15 feet and held on for dear life.

On our way to Angono, Rizal, I had a quick lunch with my three new buddies: Mang Jun, Raffy, and Leonic. I made sure we had lechon, as it is usually served during big occasions here in the Philippines.

In this case, we were celebrating their new lives.

inside a dog cage. Another evacuee, Crisencio “Cris” Justiniano, rode out the typhoon hanging from a tree. He chose the oldest coconut tree he could find, climbed 15 feet and held on for dear life.

They were ready to begin in their new home in Angono, Rizal, armed with just plastic bags full of possessions. They were strong. Very strong.

My next passengers were the family Moscosa: Nilo, Joy and their three-year-old son Jornel. All three survived the wrath of the typhoon huddled together

My last evacuee family: Marcelino and Cecille, siblings from Guian, Eastern Samar. They decided to try their luck in Manila after losing everything back home. We reached their cousin’s place in Pinagbuhatan, Pasig City after an early morning sortie. Just like everyone else, these siblings are ready to start a new life, surviving with just plastic bags of hand-me-downs. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Overcoming Helplessness Upon reaching Villamor Air Base, I was so touched S to see people from different social classes, and even foreigners, all volunteering to help these poor victims

By Jason Bangayan

O MANY things have transpired so suddenly within a span of a few weeks. My car broke down while I was fetching my best friend from the airport. God’s grace followed and it overflowed to me so suddenly.

Everything was a haze to me. Within a few days I was blessed with a brand new car by my parents. I don’t know how it even happened. All I know is I didn’t deserve it. It was clearly providential and God’s grace in action.

On the same week, Yolanda happened. News about the situation in the Visayas spread all over the Internet and on TV. I felt so bad and helpless, as some of my friends were in places like Iloilo and Tacloban, and they were somehow able to get through to me and were asking for help. It took a few days before they finally had signal in their areas. I was able to send them money through Cebuana Lhuillier. A few days later, my friends reported to me that even with money they are having a hard time buying the stuff they need because most of the stores were badly hit as well. That’s the time when I was able to grasp how serious the situation was in the Visayas.

I felt so helpless as I wanted to help. It’s a good thing I heard about survivors being transported to Villamor Airbase, and of Oplan Hatid. Upon reaching 74

out. I wasted no time in volunteering my brand new car in transporting these helpless victims.

Villamor Airbase, I was so touched to see people from different social classes, and even foreigners, all volunteering to help these poor victims out. I wasted no time in volunteering my brand new car in transporting these helpless victims.

There were so many admirable selfless souls who volunteered to take passengers to as far as Baguio. I was one of them. I was about to take my passengers when Mia asked me if I would agree to let this man along with his kid, take my passengers to Baguio.

Imagine that? Just when I thought I was the only one willing to take those passengers, suddenly there was this man who wanted to take on the challenge of taking them there. God’s love is truly overflowing throughout the operation. I nevertheless ended up taking this family to the back of Subic Municipal Court, which was also a long drive. u

SIGN OF HOPE A rainbow is seen over Samar where countless coconut trees were severely damaged by the super typhoon.

Drawing Inspiration From Survivors O

By Kat Posadas

UR DRIVERS: Jeric Herrera & Katrina Posadas.

Teamwork plus best tactics resulted to five families brought home safely!

Our Vehicle: Our CRV lived up to its description - Comfortable Runabout Vehicle.

Our Navigation Tool: The mobile app

WAZE served as our virtual guide in bringing the families to their destination. Most of the survivors were first-timers in Metro Manila.

They were able to have a quick field trip through WAZE routes.

It was easier to find their relatives in FB as they lost their mobile phones with contact numbers during the storm. We were also able to encourage our friends to help out in OH via our informative FB posts.

Our Communication Tool: Facebook served as primary communication tool for the survivors.

Our Inspiration: The familes who have survived typhoon Yolanda’s wrath.

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Our first family gave us the best introduction to the reality of Yolanda. Mom Vilma Guial is an admirable high school teacher in Tacloban. She made the call to travel to Manila, to allow her other relatives to temporarily find shelter in their Tacloban home. With her is youngest daughter Kaje and son Kim, who is so proud of having to save his guitar from Yolanda’s waters.

We were amazed at Kim’s disposition as he immediately asked for Red Cross contact numbers. He is so willing to volunteer to help out his kababayans in Tacloban. We were lucky to have eldest son Kim as our guide. He took his chances by going to Villamor Airbase for days to check if his family was able to ride the C-130. Thankfully, they reunited despite the lack of communication. Kim is a diligent scholar in the University of the Philippines which makes his whole family proud and hopeful for the future.

The second was the Yodico family. Ojie Yodico was quite a storyteller. The conversation went from the devastation caused by Yolanda to lighter topics such as the PBA and NBA games. We remember how he described the storm surge as the worst three hours of their lives. The family found refuge in their comfort room. They hid and held tight under the sink to be protected from flying objects and raging waters. We got the best compliment when Ojie described us as “Good Samaritans” in his Facebook comment. We also found genuine joy when we treated daughter Shamika to her first Jollibee meal.

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The Villanueva cousins Anthony, Joseph, and Bong are all heads of the family who took chance and boarded the C-130 to reach Manila. They safeguarded and left their wives and children in Guiuan, Samar and took the responsibility to ask help from their relatives in Manila. They wanted to immediately go back to Samar to rebuild their houses or if lucky, find a decent job in Manila.

Gina Lacbayo is a super mom. After Yolanda, she took her four daughters and traveled via bus and RORO from Samar to Manila. The painstaking 24-hour ride was worth it as it allowed them to find security in their Marikina home. After a few days, Gina went back to Guiuan to fetch her son Baron who was left with his grand parents.

Baron admitted to have joined the looting in Tacloban to get food items for his family. The Lacbayo family lost their eldest child in June. Gina sadly recounted her son’s sudden death and he considered Yolanda as the second worst crisis in her life.

It was unfortunate that we were not able to get the family’s surname. The head of the family was a Norwegian guy who was still shocked with the tragedy that his family experienced. It was lucky, however, that his Filipina wife was a strong woman who shared with us the realities in Tacloban. Her stories described their then comfortable life, which Yolanda took away in a day. She joked that Tacloban literally means “Takluban ng Dagat.” They requested to be brought to the nearest bus station so they can travel immediately to their caring friends in Pampanga. u

Smiles and Laughter Amidst Uncertainties

By Donna Lampano

C

MANILA-BOUND Yolanda survivors from Tacloban erupt in cheers as the C-130 they are riding lands in Villamor Air Base.

OUNT your blessings and pay it forward.

It was mid-afternoon of November 22, a Friday, with traffic and all, my Oplan Hatid buddy Stephanie and I took our first passengers of two families headed north to V. Luna Hospital and to Litex, Commonwealth. Apart from their bags, our passengers had with them boxes, sacks, and plastics of whatever belongings they were able to save with them during the ravaging storm.

Throughout our trip to their respective destinations, I was very careful in asking them questions about their experiences as I did not want to add to their stress and exhaustion. Most of them had neither eaten for days nor taken a decent bath and changed to clean clothes, as most of their clothings had been submerged in stinky, murky floodwaters for days alongside dead bodies of both humans and animals who perished from the storm surge. At the least I asked, “Kumusta kayo?”

They replied, “Heto po, na-Yolanda.” But they still managed to smile.

As much as possible, I kept my conversations with them positive and hopeful, rather than dwelling on what was already traumatic and painful. I realized that in situations like these, there is no room for drama and what these survivors need more is the strength and positive encouragement to move on despite the tragic circumstances.

Also, most of them were asleep inside the vehicle, obviously due to sheer exhaustion and trauma. Hence, my conversations with them were limited as I would rather have them rest and be comfortable during our four-hour trip through heavy Edsa traffic.

At around 10:30 p.m., we took our next passengers, a family of nine headed to General Trias, Cavite. This time, we convoyed with another angel on wheels volunteer, Noel Mendegorin, to fit the family of nine and their baggages. We took with us the three female members of the family plus a two-year old boy.

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The baby still had an obvious look of shock and would cry once in a while, but most of the time he was just quiet at the backseat and was content in gazing at the lights from buildings, cars, buses, lampposts, as we traversed the length of Coastal Road and Cavitex at close to midnight.

One of them actually just came from Manila before the storm happened. Upon coming back to Tacloban, Yolanda happened. Such was her luck!

But she said with a smile, “Buti na rin ho na ganun ang nangyari. At least po magkakasama kami.

Kumpleto po kami nung nangyari si Yolanda.”

Their little girl was wearing a white dress and a headband looking like a Disney princess, which for me signaled that everything would be okay and life would go on.

I asked the mother if they had already eaten and if her baby had already taken some milk.

The mother narrated that her son could not eat and there was no milk in the relief pack that was given them by the DSWD. I could just imagine how starved and exhausted the baby was already at almost midnight! When we reached their destination which was along the dark sidestreet of the long stretch of General Trias, Cavite, my Oplan Hatid buddy gave the mother some cash to buy milk for her baby.

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It was already past midnight, but still we went back to Villamor Air Base to bring more survivors to their relatives’ homes. We met 20-year-old Jorel Villamor and his 15-year-old cousin and their destination, Liwanag Compound in Pulang Lupa, Las Piñas City.

Jorel and his cousin are both first-timers in Manila.

My Oplan Hatid buddy and I are notoriously bad in road directions and do not have the slightest idea where Liwanag Compound in Pulang Lupa is. But, we took them with us anyhow at around 1:15 a.m.

Jorel is a graduating high school student in Tacloban. His only concern upon arriving in Manila is his graduation and in fact only saved his school ID. Jorel’s cousin was quick to tease him that the only reason he saved his school ID was for him not to forget his name in case he gets lost here in Manila. He even asked the volunteer social worker assisting them, “Papaano na po ako ga-graduate nito?” We had to assure him that everything will be all right and that he will graduate next year.

While Jorel was feeling uncertain about his pending graduation, his cousin asked for paracetamol.

The social worker asked, “Bakit masakit ba ang ulo mo?” And he was quick to reply, “Opo, sumasakit po ang ulo ko sa kakulitan ni Jorel kung ga-graduate pa siya o hindi.” Then, we laughed.

At one point on the road, we were all scrambling for directions and Jorel’s cousin blurted out to him,

“Huwag ka na munang maingay... tingnan mo, nalilito na sila.” Then, we all laughed again.

What amazed me most about these two young boys was that both of them still managed to be happy and ultra talkative while at the backseat of the car. They were teasing and making fun of each other and managed a joke or two all throughout our trip. Finally, we dropped them off at 2:30 am.

We took our last passenger survivors for the day at past 3 am. This time, we were headed to Pacita in San Pedro, Laguna. A family of five with three small children and their parents. They lost their home and most of their belongings, but the family is complete. Thank God! They were only able to save a few of their belongings and the rest were all gone. They waded, swam their way out of raging floodwaters, climbed up to tall trees and roofs and their hands tightly held to each other, never letting go. Their little girl was wearing a white dress and a headband looking like a Disney princess, which for me signaled that everything would be okay and life would go on. That night, I watched them walk and disappear through the railroad where we dropped them off, as we slowly inched our way out and headed back to Manila.

Different stories heard and told. All with a spark of hope and the will to move on and rebuild lives. All with smiles and laughter amidst uncertainties. u

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More Than Just A Ride

By JET DELOS SANTOS

I

met Kuya Raul the weekend of November 16 when I volunteered to drive passengers to their destination. He was from Guiuan, Eastern Samar. He was among the survivors who successfully hustled his way into a C-130 plane and fly out of Samar after waiting at the airport for three days.

He described the setup as “either you’re quick or you’re left behind.” He has a nephew in Valenzuela whom he could not contact, but he said he knew where he lives. As we crawled our way through traffic on the way to Valenzuela, he opened up a bit to talk about his family and their experience. I knew he was under a lot of stress and barely had sleep. I was careful with my questions as I also did my best to make him feel comfortable.

After two hours on the road, I asked Kuya if he was hungry but I could sense he didn’t want to inconvenience us. So he just said they were given food already when they landed in Villamor.

Nonetheless, I decided to pull over when I saw there was Jollibee. Once inside, I asked him what he wanted and he said, “Yung pang merienda lang.” As soon as his food came, though, I could

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Despite all he and his family had gone through, I can’t help but admire his strength and the positivity in his words. He was very hopeful even as he profusely thanked us many times. see how hungry he was. I let him take his time and he opened up more after a while.

His full name is Raul Eclipse. He is 41 years old, a husband and a father of five. His eldest daughter is 24 years old and his youngest daughter is 7. He is a welder and machinist in a small car repair shop. His wife harvests vegetables and sells them in the market everyday to augment their income.

Two days before the storm he met an accident.

On his way home from work he was thrown off his motorcycle when he ran over a dog. Some policemen found him unconscious and brought him to a hospital where he recuperated.

The day he was discharged was the day Yolanda struck. He said he was very thankful he was already a bit well when the storm came or

he wouldn’t have been there for his family at the height of the storm. They are used to storms, he said, but this one was different. He was almost paralyzed with fear but as his 7-year-old daughter clutched his leg crying he had to have presence of mind as they huddled with the rest of the family and tried to secure themselves. He shielded her and had his back against the wind which he said felt like a whiplash even inside the place where they evacuated. The noise was so deafening they couldn’t hear each other’s voices. After the storm passed, he said they couldn’t believe their eyes after seeing the destruction outside. Their house was gone and everything they had in it. He and his wife decided he should leave his family for a while and go to Manila to find work so he could raise the money to rebuild their house.

Despite all he and his family had gone through, I can’t help but admire his strength and the positivity in his words. He was very hopeful even as he profusely thanked us many times. We reached his destination half past 8 pm. I took note of his contact details and as I handed him some cash so he can have money while looking for work. I assured him I’ll be asking around for a job for him. u

The Long Way Home H

By AILEEN PIACOS

e didn’t say he lost his son when we asked him how his family was. He said he lost his father because he was too old and the water rose too quickly for him to get to the second floor of their house. It was only after about an hour in our ride that he mentioned that he lost one of his sons.

“Wala na, tinangay ni Yolanda,” he said with a crack in his voice. I guess Oplan Hatid volunteers are familiar with the silence that follows after the passenger tells them they’ve lost someone.

My sister Irhys and our friend Gino arrived at the grandstand by 6 pm. At 7 pm, Oplan Hatid announced that there were no more planes coming in. I noticed Mang Rudy when he came to the tent carrying his boxes of relief goods because he had red-rimmed eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was an evacuee because he seemed better clothed than the usual evacuees that I have seen. He has been standing beside our seats for about 15 minutes already, seemingly waiting for someone or something. After a few awkward glances, I finally asked him if he has a ride home. He said he wasn’t sure so I called the attention of the DSWD manning the front desk and asked if someone was taking the man home.

They couldn’t find his social worker but it seemed

no bidding was done for his ride yet. We then volunteered to take him to Hospicio de San Jose where he was staying temporarily.

Mang Rudy flew in from Tacloban the day before and came back to Villamor that day to get his cough checked at the medical tent. He was temporarily sent to Hospicio while he waited for any available humanitarian transport to Palawan where some of his kids were residing. After settling the trip ticket with the DSWD, my sister and I went to get the car while Gino waited at the tent with Mang Rudy. When we got back to the tent to pick them up, Gino announced that we would drive to the pier to buy Mang Rudy a ticket going to Palawan. Gino has somehow collected money from the other drivers and volunteers, enough to buy a ticket. However, at 8 pm we learned that the ticketing office was already closed. We drove by Makati to check the other ticketing offices, hoping to find one open but to no avail.

During the ride, we discovered that Mang Rudy hasn’t had any contact with any of his relatives in Palawan so we tried to search Facebook for any of his relatives. We found some pamangkins but none of his sons. Anyway, we sent them a message saying that Mang Rudy would be home soon. We then

He only needed a ride to Hospicio but we were able to send him home to his children in Palawan. headed to Hospicio and dropped off Mang Rudy, handing him the money we collected. He looked at the money and said, “Sobra.” We just smiled and said it was okay so he would have money to spend. He said he would buy the ticket the following morning and maybe the DSWD or Hospicio would take him to the pier. He was almost into tears with the kind gesture. We said our goodbyes and told him we’d check on him in the morning.

By noon of the following day, Gino texted me saying that Mang Rudy was able to buy a ticket but no one was going to take him to the pier. I learned later that Gino and Irhys went back to Hospicio, picked up Mang Rudy and drove him to the pier for his 4 pm trip.

Mang Rudy only needed a ride to Hospicio de San Jose when we chanced upon him. But by the generosity of OH volunteers and the responsibility that Gino and Irhys took upon themselves, we were able to send him home to his children in Palawan.

On November 30, after 30 hours of traveling, he sent us a text message saying he was finally home. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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BUNDLES OF JOY The two dogs Ira and Nanah brought joys to the survivors who arrived at the Villamor Air Base.

Here, the two watched in awe as an airplane is about to land.

Photo by

JUN DELLOSO

Man’s Bestfriend I

By PATRICK CANANEA

never planned to bring anyone with me as I was sure the people from Samar and Leyte would need all the space in our SUV. But, lo and behold, as soon as I opened the door of the vehicle, poof! These two cute dogs of mine were first to the rescue. jumping up on their own into the car. They were probably more excited and eager to help than me.

I dare not get credit for anything I’ve done the past two weeks that I’ve been doing such simple tasks. All I wanted was not just to highlight the greatness of humanity but even the unexpected help that other members of the Animal Kingdom could offer. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you my babies: Ira, the black beauty, and Nanah, the cute oreo.

Come to think of it, who else could make a devastated man get his hopes up in spite of all the tragedies that happened. Who else but his bestfriend?

We were able to ferry around 50 people back to their temporary shelters around the Metro, Antipolo and Cavite. If only given the resources, we would have done three times that number (feeling useless sometimes when I see my fuel tank almost empty and my wallet with nothing but P20 in it).

Back to the dogs. The joy and glee these dogs gave to a lot of people were immeasurable. Survivors got a brief sense of comfort when my dogs run around up and down the bleachers of the grandstand. Nanah even roamed around row after row of survivors. I thought she was looking for something. But knowing my dogs, she was surely scavenging for a bone or something edible. Yes she was scavenging for food, but not only that, I saw every child she passed by give her a tickle and smile. The joy in their faces was indescribable.

Probably the first laugh they had in weeks.

In our journeys to different places, the dogs were the only entertainment we had after all the tearjerking stories of the survivors. I would have cried like a baby if my dogs weren’t licking me in the face while driving. Some of them even wanted to keep Nanah. Maybe I should have agreed to let them keep her. You’ll know at the end of this story.

Ira and Nanah might not be aware of what they were up to but the survivors we fetched definitely appreciated the comfort they gave them. There was even a time when we had to wait for eight hours at the base, eagerly looking forward to welcoming more survivors but no one came. While I was watching Cignal TV, the dogs did their usual run around the grandstand and the runway, sometimes

even barking at the planes, seemingly shouting out for more survivors to come. This crazy act of theirs somehow uplifted the spirits of the sleepy marshals and kept them on their toes for any possible arrivals.

I would miss all the crazy stuff we did at the air base, even playing around with the wheelchairs while both of them fit themselves on my lap.

Once again we are reminded that there is no small deed that is unappreciated. It could come from me, my dogs, and most especially each and everyone of you can be an instrument of goodwill.

My dogs and I were looking forward to the next opportunity to help out. And I was sure there would be a lot more to do.

Sadly I’m only gonna be able to do it with Ira as I regretfully say that on the night of November 28, I lost Nanah near our house. For some reasons I guess she got out of the car without me knowing it as I entered the bank to run some errands. When I got back to the car it was just Ira trying to tell me something. Nanah was just a year old, hard at hearing and has poor eyesight. I really wish I would find her again or if not hopefully end up with a family who could love her more than I did. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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What OH Taught Me About Life T

By VANESSA SALVADOR

Oplan Hatid didn’t just bring hope and save the people we drove home. The project was so personal to me because it taught me how to live my life again. Oplan Hatid saved me.

BONUS TELECAST Oplan Hatid volunteers get a free treat while waiting to ferry Yolanda survivors — a live telecast of the Pacquiao-Rios fight right at the OH tent in Villamor Air Base.

he year 2013 had been a difficult year for me. I have been trying to nurse myself and act as normal as possible so I will be able to work and function day to day as a normal human being. I have a fulfilling job, I have a good, though not so perfect, family. I have good friends.

I have had my own share of heartaches but recently, one affected me more than I could imagine. I came to a point that I almost hit a bus while driving,

Unexpectedly, after knowing about the project from a good friend, I saw myself seeking help from friends who have their own vehicles too. I began to spread the news.

After two, three, four families/individuals I drove home, I realized, here I was complaining about a heartache yet lots were fighting not just for their own lives but living the trauma and mourning the loss of families and friends.

Once, the highway police stopped to ask me why I had to stop by the side of the highway for so long. They thought I was having car problems. When they checked, I was just crying and they didn’t even know how to say sorry for disturbing me. I didn’t even think of the accident it could have caused other motorists. I felt so stupid.

Those where the days I realized that maybe, maybe, I would soon leave this earth through a car accident.

Oplan Hatid didn’t just bring hope and save the people we drove home. The project was so personal to me because it taught me how to live my life again. Oplan Hatid saved me.

I was in this state of mind when Yolanda hit and the thought of leaving this earth through a car accident suddenly changed because of Oplan Hatid. I set aside my worries, sadness and personal problems. In short, tama na muna ang emo. It seemed God spoke to me and said, “There are more people out there suffering.”

I know there are a lot more inspiring stories this project has. Still, I took the chance of sharing my personal story. It may or may not inspire others, but for me, Oplan Hatid was something that will always remain in my heart. In this project I met different types of individuals.

All have their own share of heartaches, that’s for sure.

Despite that, we willingly shared our time to bring hope and smiles to our kababayans. We taught them how to start their lives again no matter how difficult it was. And that was priceless. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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The ‘Belen’ In My Car I

MUCH NEEDED TREAT Volunteer masseurs provide much needed relief to the tired and weary drivers of Oplan Hatid. Here, a driver of AVIS gets a free massage.

By ORBILL GARCES

learned about Oplan Hatid from a good friend, Eggay Quesada. He shared a link to the Teleserv site wherein I registered for the 9 pm shift of November 19. Prior to joining OH, my wife and I have given donations for relief victims in the form of relief packs but it just did not feel enough.

I came from work and headed for Gate 5. I was delighted to see Eggay there. I did not inform him I was volunteering but it seemed that when you have a genuine desire to help, it’s really contagious.

Eggay was driving survivors since yesterday so he briefed me on the whole process.

My very first trip was a family of three bound for Area C, Dasmariñas, Cavite. Francis, his wife, Rosalie and their 11-month-old son, Francis Emmanuel. We drove to Cavite at around 11 pm. They were a young couple who braved the trip to escape the chaos in Guiuan.

For the first time I heard the accounts from actual survivors. It seemed the local media was not reporting everything. They told me that there were no relief goods that came in the first five days after the storm. As early as the second day after Yolanda, people were already desperate. A security guard

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was repeatedly stabbed for not allowing people to get goods in a grocery store. A mall was looted and looters were stabbing each other in the commotion to get goods, even appliances which they could not even use due to lack of electricity. Relief goods came from Americans and from International Red Cross.

They only received two kilos of rice from the LGU and nothing more. They decided to go to Manila because their son needed milk formula which was very difficult to find in Guiuan.

My car, an old CRV, was full of relief goods on our trip to Cavite. But they told me that when they left Samar, all their prized possessions were in the black gym bag they managed to save. They were utterly amazed at the amount of help they received upon setting foot in Villamor. From “Salubong” to “Hatid,” everything was taken care of. They were wondering why this kind of help never reached Samar. Their wonder turned to amazement when I told them that most of the goods they received were from private organizations and most of the people working there including me were all volunteers.

Rosalie said, “Meron pa pala mga tulad ninyong tao dito sa Maynila. Sa Guiuan wala ka makikita kundi kalungkutan. Desperado na ang mga tao dun.

Maraming salamat sa pagtulong ninyo sa amin.”

I replied, “Hindi lang sa Guiuan dapat matapos ang mga pangarap ninyo. Malaki ang mundo at hindi lahat ng lugar ay ganyan ang pangyayari.

Huwag kayo makalimot na gumawa ng mabuti at sigurado ako magiging maayos ulit ang lahat.”

Francis and his family were seated in the back row seat of the car. I looked at them from the rearview mirror and couldn’t help but see in them “the Belen,” Joseph, Mary and the Child Jesus. They may have lost everything but they were hopeful to start a new life.

Arriving at our destination, Francis’ mother welcomed us crying. She never expected such generosity from total strangers. I dropped them off at around 1 am and headed home. I had various emotions while driving home alone. Happy to have helped, disgusted at the corruption in government, and sad at the situation our fellowmen in the typhoon-stricken areas had to endure.

Their stories were a wake-up call. I needed to help more but I had to make sure that the help I give would indeed be received by those who really needed it. u

16 16

16

A Chance to be a Blessing to Others I

By GEN CASTILLO

saw a post in Facebook calling for private individuals to volunteer their cars and time to help the survivors of typhoon Yolanda. The desire to be a part of this was so strong inside me that in spite of my fever, cough, colds and slight asthma, I pushed myself to be of service. I didn’t have any reason not to.

DAY 1: I arrived around 10:30 pm at Gate 5 and immediately registered Rafe (my Suzuki Celerio) for the program. I was initially appointed to take in the driver’s registration, which switched on my work mode. There were 37 other private individuals and the spirit of solidarity was all echoed in their eyes, hopeful to give back through this service.

Their heartfelt gratitude filled my eyes with happy tears. This exact feeling could never be replaced by any riches in the world.

I was assigned to transport two to Cavite around 3:30 am One was a registered nurse and the other was a call center agent. I went back to Laguna after and had my breakfast at Petron SLEX. Beautiful Day 1 indeed.

DAY 2: I went to work straight from my

OH duties and filed for half-day leave. I went home, then geared up again for Day 2.

Immediately off we went to Malate, Manila.

They were three siblings, two of them girls (Julie Ann and Jen) who were working in an advertising company, and the youngest one was a graduating student of Criminology. I asked them if any of them knew Cebuano/ Boholano dialect, and Jen said yes. I called then my adoptive family in Bohol and introduced them over the phone. I was so amazed even though I could not understand what they were talking about, except when Jen called me “gwapa.”

The phone talk was an unplanned move and I never realized that it would be of great help not only for me but for both parties.

My Bohol family members were earthquake survivors while Jen and her family were typhoon survivors. In my heart of hearts, I knew that they were trying to encourage one another — two strangers who have never met yet have instantly found friendship and compassion in each other.

When we arrived in Malate, I hugged all three of them and gave them a goodbye wave. Their heartfelt gratitude filled my eyes with happy tears.

This exact feeling could never be replaced by any riches in the world.

I went back to the camp and again, picked up my third family. Lola Anita, Ate Agnes and Gabriel, all headed to Commonwealth, QC. Seeing the effect of the Bohol phone call, I asked again if they knew how to speak Cebuano/Boholano dialect and Ate Agnes said yes. I immediately called my partner-in-drive (our bunso in Bohol) and let them converse all throughout the time we were travelling. Again, the phone call never failed to make us all laugh and forget about the tragedy that this family had been through. The Friday madness traffic failed to dampen our happy spirits. After two and a half hours of driving, we arrived at their humble abode and again, I gave my all-out-hugs and they in turn, declared and spoke blessings to me.

Unfortunately, exhaustion limited my physical capabilities and I decided to sleep right at the gasoline station. I woke up with a smile in my face, so looking forward for my next day’s duties. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Accidental Barker

By NIÑO BAUTISTA

I

t started as just one of those Fridays, uneventful and boring. I read through posts regarding the need to transport families from Villamor to their relatives but was not sure how I could help. I am not a driver, nor do I have resources to augment whatever they had. I was useless, I thought. I was not supposed to be there.

But I guess the Good Man upstairs had other plans for me.

My friend, Tina, sent me a SMS asking if I would like to accompany her to Oplan Hatid. I thought maybe if I take a couple of pictures, post it on Facebook and call attention for the cause I’d able to do my share. We agreed to staying for one run of driving a family to somewhere (as I knew the city more than her) and then call it a day.

We got to Villamor and saw the organized chaos that was Oplan Hatid. They had two people manning the booth (Ate Cel and Ate Leah) and were running out of supplies and manpower. I was thinking of a way to help when someone shouted, “Wala na tayong Dispatch Form.” So I volunteered to take some scratch paper and start writing makeshift

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forms for Ate Cel and Ate Leah to use. Twenty seven copies I made, but it was not enough. We needed more. There were four of us making forms (Tina, myself, a guy and a girl whose names I could not remember) but we were running out of paper.

More than that, Ate Cel and Ate Leah were being stumped with the bulk of administrative work, matching drivers with their families. So I asked them if I could just act as barker so that they can concentrate on working the paperwork. Maybe it was because they thought they could trust me or probably because they really needed the hand, whatever their reason was they said ok and provided me with a set of instructions to give out.

It was not long after that I called out to drivers to bring people around. An hour passed, and then two, and before I knew it I’ve been shouting out destinations and finding drivers all day. What was supposed to be a short visit became a mission. I stayed till every driver was gone. I was there with the last family to be sent out the next day. I promised Ate Cel that I won’t leave till the last family for the day has been taken home. That proved to be a promise that the dispatch unit (everyone from

All of a sudden, we started getting small donations from people who were not even in our tent. People from other tents were giving their share. A hundred pesos here. A few more there.

There was a deluge of support from people that by the end of it we were able to give fare plus pocket money to the family and even had extra for others who might be in similar situations.

Mommy Ruth, to the Valencia Brothers, to Jaworski, to Amber, and so many more) would keep during the entire experience.

As long as a family needed a ride, we tried our best to get them a ride home. Everybody goes home.

And I would like to share one experience in Oplan Hatid that I would never forget. Everybody is familiar with the story of Jesus breaking bread and feeding the multitude. The Feeding of the Five Thousand is one of my favorite miracle stories as a child growing up in a Catholic environment.

However, I did not expect to witness something similar to it. Not in real life that is.

On Getting Lost It was Monday. I was on my third day as volunteer barker for Oplan Hatid. We’ve survive two days of driving people home to their relatives.

It was going smoothly when I was approached by Mommy Ruth. She whispered to me her dilemma.

We have a family that needed to go to Isabela.

Now often, we would pass the hat and ask for donations from drivers so that we could give people headed to far flung places fare. But on a day when we had very few drivers (due to it being a workday), and having sent the last driver out already, we had little means to bring this family home. Mommy Ruth and I were desperate. We wanted to send them out but how? I looked into my wallet and all I had was P870.

I asked Mommy Ruth about the family. It was a family of five, with one baby. They knew how to get to their relative but were short in funds. P800 was not enough. Sadness enveloped me. I felt that I was failing this family and the group. I prayed to the Grand Old Man Upstairs to send a miracle.

I asked Mommy Ruth to call on the volunteer who was handling the family. Sister Marcie, their volunteer, introduced me to the family and I kind of said that I’d do something about their situation.

I told Sister that all I had was P800 and I was giving it out. She said she had some money and gave us another P500, though we were still short by a lot.

Desperate and with no driver to ask for donations, I took the megaphone and made a plea to anyone who could hear me. We needed to bring this family home. I asked anyone who gave a damn for help.

All of a sudden, we started getting small donations from people who were not even in our tent. People from other tents were giving their share. A hundred pesos here. A few more there.

There was a deluge of support from people that by the end of it we were able to give fare plus pocket money to the family and even had extra for others who might be in similar situations. Four thousand seven hundred and eighty pesos to be exact. It was such an overwhelming experience that I knew then that we were doing the right thing.

If God blessed us with small miracles like that, it ought to mean we were on to something special. u

By ERIC RAMISCAL

M

y fiancée and I volunteered for OH. We still didn’t know the procedure on how things would go. But when the planes and buses with victims of Yolanda started to come in, and the DSWD staff with victims started to come out from the grandstand, volunteer drivers like us got excited.

Our first trip was to Tandang Sora in QC. Haven’t been there for quite some time and I hoped to still remember the streets. We took C-5 from BGC all the way to UP but i was a bit lost when I saw the new flyover which was not there before. I told my passengers I was sorry because I missed the way.

I made a U-turn. My lola passenger started saying, “Paikot-ikot na tayo, saan na ba ito?” I didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable, to worry about where I would be bringing them. So I prayed. When I saw a bank with a Luzon branch signage, Lola started shouting “Luzon ito, Luzon ito.” I told her not to worry, one more U-turn and were in Tandang Sora. Thank God we reached our destination. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Mother and Child M

By MARITA GOMEZ

y heart was thumping hard when I heard the roaring of plane engines. We had been at the airbase for only a few hours, waiting for our turn to bring home some evacuees. Suddenly, everyone who had been glued to the TV earlier watching Pacquiao win was on his feet going to his assigned post. Servicemen, marshals, social workers, nuns, medics, and volunteers walked past me. It was as if a bell had been rung and they’d been recharged for their afternoon to graveyard shift. The energy was simply contagious.

Back in our tent, a lady started calling off from lists handed over to her. “Four adults, with 6 bags. Navohtass! I can see 34, 34, 34... anything lower? 28...17... I see 12! Going, going, you are the winnerrr!” she barked. A man stood proud and handed over his number as he was escorted by a volunteer marshal to meet his passengers. This went on for hours as we waited happily, clapping for those who “won”. We had 97 scribbled on our little piece of paper. Others had been waiting since early morning. I thought to myself it must be like this when St. Peter opens heaven’s gates. No one complains because everyone knows he will get his chance to enter. Eventually.

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Our turn finally came. We were assigned a lady from Guiuan. She had a 10-year-old boy and a little girl around four years old. We waited a bit more as she was cleared by doctors. Her children were silent in the car but she was warm and chatty, breaking into Waray from time to time which my husband partly understood. We didn’t bring them far as they had planned on going back to Guiuan where her husband and older son remained. We were told their relatives in Manila could not take them in, so they now had to be sheltered temporarily in the Tent City.

As they got down, I handed over a hygiene pack I had hastily prepared and told the social worker to call me in case they needed anything else. I made a mental note to check on their status the following week.

We decided to head back to the base and wait again. By nightfall, it started to rain. After dinner, we found ourselves with another lady from Guiuan and her 2-year-old girl. This mother was pregnant and was due to give birth

by December. She thought she would give birth while waiting for three days to ride a plane to Manila. We brought them to Naic, Cavite in an area still under development. Her husband

As we went farther down and made a left into the village she had directed us to go to, the road started to wind.

It was dark and surrounded by cogon grass on both sides. Trying to shake off fear, I kept praying for our angels to go before us. After what seemed like an endless stretch of road, we finally saw silhouettes of some men waiting near their barracks. was a construction worker there. At first, I was cheerful despite the steady drizzle. The roads were clear and well lit. Her daughter finally fell asleep on a towel I had given them so I decided to keep silent as I didn’t want to wake her up.

As we went farther down and made a left into the village she had directed us to go to, the road started to wind. It was dark and surrounded by cogon grass on both sides. Trying to shake off fear, I kept praying for our angels to go before us. After what seemed like an endless stretch of road, we finally saw silhouettes of some men waiting near their barracks.

JUST LIKE MARY AND JESUS An unidentified mother and her newborn child lies on the floor of a hospital in Tacloban City. GETTY

As soon as our car stopped, one of the men came rushing to open the door. I was moved by how this man, who must’ve been used to carrying cement bags, gingerly lifted his sleeping little girl from the back seat. She did not stir. It had been a long journey for her and she was finally home, safe in her father’s arms. I opened the other door to help the young mother out as my husband brought out their bags from the back of the car. Some men helped him and profusely thanked us.

I couldn’t see any of their faces in the dark and I was glad they couldn’t see that tears had welled up in my eyes. I squeezed our lady passenger’s hand as I said goodbye and promised to pray for her safe delivery.

My husband and I were silent in the car as we drove home. It was still dark but I was no longer afraid. There were no more plane engines roaring but I could feel something stirring inside me. Mother and child, mother and child ... the words kept running in my head. I closed my eyes as I thought about what our Mother and Child must have gone through that first Christmas. And then I looked ahead and saw light. u 93

How Humanity Should Be

By DADA FILIO

A

priest friend from Bohol who was himself a survivor of the earthquake sent funds to help me cover the logistics of hiring a van with driver. The van owner was generous enough to bring down the rental rate as his way of helping out. My Mom came with me. November 27 was the day we headed to Villamor to volunteer for Oplan Hatid.

It is heartwarming to read the stories and posts and how the drivers and passengers bonded. We also had a great time exchanging stories with the two families we brought to Valenzuela and Caloocan. In my heart I know God will take care of them, for theirs was not a victim story, theirs is a story of hope.

I would like to highlight the atmosphere and feeling at Villamor during that day, and I imagined it was like that every day. There

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If the world we live in will be populated with agents of kindness then I am sure that is how God intends the world to be. was KINDNESS everywhere and that will be my take on this whole experience, if the world we live in will be populated with agents of kindness then I am sure that is how God intends the world to be.

Thank you Oplan Hatid, as we brought the families to their final destination. Your crusade also gave me a glimpse of what humanity should be all about.

Mabait ang Diyos. Mabuhay ang Pilipino! u

I

saw James Deakin’s post calling for volunteers to drive survivors home. We had volunteered to repack relief goods that weekend but we still wanted to participate so we volunteered our company truck and assigned a driver. We were told to coordinate with Mr. Junep Ocampo. The driver made two trips that day, and was able to bring home four families. He drove to Caloocan then to San Mateo. When I talked to him after, he told me that he had an uncle who was still missing at that time so he was grateful that he was assigned to Oplan Hatid that day. At the end of the debriefing he told me that he was touched by the survivors’ stories and asked us not to pay for his salary for the day as his way of contributing something to the cause.

Wanting to go myself, I called up a buddy, Patrick Bautista, and agreed to volunteer during night shift. Our first trip was to bring Aling Marina and her four children to Lian, Batangas.

We got back to Manila around 2 AM and we decided to make a second trip.

We got to ferry Aling Mila and her two sons from Tacloban. They had to go to Olongapo and so we offered to take her to the bus terminal and pay for their bus fare. They agreed and on the way to the terminal, Aling Mila told us that they were at the hospital at the time the storm hit.

She had to go to the hospital because she was

That Certain Glow

By ROBERT TAN and JILL ELICANO TAN

bleeding. They even tried to go home during the height of the typhoon, she said they had to dodge debris while wading the raging flood. They decided to go back to the hospital when they saw people were being swept away.

Upon reaching home they discovered their house was totally gone, surrounding houses were flattened and sadly, no sign of any of their neighbors. She realized that if not for her bleeding they would’ve been gone too. As we were saying goodbye, she thanked us and smiled so sincerely. One could see in her face that she was beyond tired, yet she had a glow that I have only seen from another person. I’ll just say glow for lack of a better word, I have only ever seen this glow once before - from a friend, at the time he passed away from a heart attack. I know it’s weird and morbid, but it’s something I will never forget. When he collapsed, friends were lifting him to a car to rush him to the hospital. There was a moment I saw him smile and his face glowed! It’s as if at that exact moment all worries and problems went away. Of course when you pass, you leave all earthly worries behind, yes, but his face really seemed to light up for a moment. I can’t really find the words to properly explain it. Aling Mila had that

There was a moment I saw him smile and his face glowed! It’s as if at that exact moment all worries and problems went away. Of course when you pass, you leave all earthly worries behind, yes, but his face really seemed to light up for a moment. same glow. I’m presuming because she and her children survived something so horrific and maybe, everything after that seemed trivial. I will never forget how she looked. And I’m so happy to have met her. It made me stop and wonder about my own priorities.

It’s true what they say, Oplan Hatid is addictive.

We would see friends from our car club, Grupo Toyota, and from other car clubs, and the general consensus was that Oplan Hatid seemed tailormade for car enthusiasts. And every single one of us went back for more. Even my wife, Jill Elicaño-Tan came along one night and she was so touched and affected after hearing the ordeal of our passengers

that as we were unloading the survivors’ baggage she told me to tell them to contact us if they ever needed work. And they did. On December 2, DonDon, the father of the family that we ferried started work in my wife’s company. Another friend employed one other survivor we brought home.

On another trip, a survivor we ferried told me this unforgettable story: When the storm hit they hid in a single storey school. When the water rushed in, his sister was carrying a three month old baby, their brother’s child, in one arm, the other she used to hold on to anything so that they wouldn’t get swept away by the flood. Her load was hers to bear.

At that point it was every man for himself, “kanya kanya.” Eventually they had to punch a hole through the ceiling and roof to climb to safety, their mother, the child’s grandmother, told the girl to let go of the child already so that she could climb up and live. But she didn’t, she couldn’t make herself let go of the child. Instead she struggled to climb with one arm as she held on to the baby. Amazingly, they both made it on the top of the roof! I told our passenger to send me a text me if her sister ever comes to Manila because I want to meet a superhero! u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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A Lesson About Family

By ARBEE TARAGO

T

he morning after my first overnight of volunteer work in Villamor, Tita Ruth, Kuya Pablo, Tita Cora (my fellow volunteers) and I were having our breakfast at the break of dawn. The sun was beginning to shine at the sound of Christian music being played in the background. No C-130s yet after a busy night of de-briefing and transporting survivors thru Oplan Hatid’s early days.

Sitting on the bench with us were a motherin-law (MIL) and her daughter-in-law (DIL). They were part of the group originally destined to go to Cebu but were mistakenly brought to Villamor.

Both of them planned to go to Cebu to get supplies to bring back to Leyte. There was nothing to buy in Leyte and money had no use in the area devastated

by Super Typhoon Yolanda. The men in the family had to stay to make sure their home was safe. We all heard about lawlessness happening in the area right?

I noticed that the DIL was quite different from the rest of the survivors I’ve seen throughout the night. She was smiling and kept a bubbly attitude.

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The more important thing in this relationship maybe is the fact that she gave her daughter-inlaw the real chance and the real opportunity to be part of their family, simply because she felt it was her moral duty.

How could she? Everyone was either tired (the volunteers) or felt depressed and helpless (the survivors). After some small talk, and with her responding to my jokes with awesome bursts of laughter, it turned out she had more than enough reason to be. It was her first time to set foot in Manila and more importantly, she was pregnant with her first baby.

Tita Ruth and I talked to the MIL while the DIL was busy drinking coffee and gazing at the surroundings of Villamor and NAIA. I mentioned to the MIL that she must be very lucky to have a

DIL like the one she has. She readily agreed. She narrated to us how her DIL treats her like her real biological mother. She happily recalled instances when her DIL would sweetly care for her every time she didn’t feel well and how she showers her with courtesy and politeness back at home. But for the MIL, the more important thing in this relationship maybe is the fact that she gave her daughter-in-law the real chance and the real opportunity to be part of their family, simply because she felt it was her moral duty being both the more mature person and the mother in the family.

MIL shares that most, if not all, DIL’s or sonsin-law will try their very best to get the acceptance and, hopefully, the appreciation of their parentsin-law (PIL). It’s up to the more mature PILs to give them both the chance and the opportunity, and hopefully, the heartfelt appreciation, too.

It was a very rewarding chat with survivors that morning of November 14th. MIL and DIL, together with the others in their C130 batch rode a ferry back to Cebu for free. u

SURREAL ART A jeepney blown away by the strong winds of Yolanda lies on its side, with its reflection clearly seen in the water, making it appear like a piece of art. GETTY

The Bids I am Most Proud of

By AILEEN ILUMIN and RICHARD MARCELLANA

They were surprised to find out that we were not from DSWD or any government agency. They were puzzled why a regular couple who has a second hand 11-year old Starex, unfamiliar with Bulacan was willing to leave their daughter, sacrifice a day’s work just to bring strangers to their destinations.

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s a producer, I usually personally attend project bids. I do all possible research and pull all nighters to make sure I prepare a competitive proposal in order to win.

One day, I heard about another kind of “BID” in Oplan Hatid through one of my colleagues.

November is a very busy month for us at work so we used the cash donations that we were able to collect to rent vehicles. Our plan in the office was to take turns at work so each one of us will get the chance to send a family home without compromising our jobs.

I was looking forward for my turn but when I woke up I saw an update that Oplan Hatid was given a 12nn cut off to leave Villamor premises (survivors will be transferred to Camp Aguinaldo), my hubby asked me to do my work along the way so I can also experience the happiness of being an Oplan Hatid volunteer.

Without second thought, we drove to Villamor first thing in the morning. At first we only wanted to get the passengers within Makati area so I can go back to work in the afternoon knowing I also have

three ongoing work related bids that I’m working on for submission. We finally got our number upon registration. The first family (a total of 11 passengers) up for bidding is bound to San Jose Del Monte, Bulacan. At first, no one raised any number until one driver, Kuya Vir Montalbo, volunteered but his car can only fit four passengers. The barker announced they needed another vehicle to take the other passengers.

It took one eye contact with my hubby and I immediately raised our number. This is the first bid that I won in Oplan Hatid and the most memorable.

Memorable because it’s also our first time that we left our one and only 2-year old daughter at home with our nanny. We have never left her since birth. We only considered leaving her for a couple of hours since it’s for a greater cause.

On our way to Bulacan, we heard the heartbreaking stories of what the family suffered.

They were lucky enough that they didn’t have casualties from their end but they literally held on to each other, 11 of them, sick grandparents who are not even capable to stand anymore all the way to the toddlers. The water got higher and higher and the

wind blew like crazy challenging their grip. After some time, the storm passed. They may have lost their house but they were happy to be alive. After a few days and no sign of hope in Tacloban, they decided to take their chances and lined up for the C-130 planes and go to their relatives in Bulacan.

We let them share their experiences, when emotions were not that sad anymore, the family started asking questions about us. They were surprised to find out that we were not from DSWD or any government agency. They were puzzled why a regular couple who has a second hand 11-year old Starex, unfamiliar with Bulacan was willing to leave their daughter, sacrifice a day’s work just to bring strangers to their destinations. One of the curious relatives asked what do we get from this volunteer act. My hubby and I looked at each other puzzled and we smiled. It took us a few seconds before I even got the chance to answer, I said “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what to answer because in all honesty we NEVER thought of getting or asked anything in return, we are just happy to be given the chance to help”. The mood inside the vehicle became more at ease and the toddlers one by one fell asleep.

It was quite a journey. We never expected our search for the address will lead us to a place that even Google Maps and Waze couldn’t locate anymore. With all the twists and turns, laughters along the way with our misadventures, we reached the house at around 2:30 PM. At the same time, I got a call that I have another work related bid at 6:30 PM. We wanted to head back at once to Manila but one of the teenagers told us that their grandmother would like us to drop by the other house they were renting so they can meet us.

shapes and sizes. It’s like witnessing a miracle in the Modern Age.

The moment we reached the grandmother’s house, the grandmother & mother of the kids we transported cried as soon as they saw us. Both sick and could not even stand anymore, they stretched their arms wide open to embrace us. We didn’t want to cry so we won’t add to the heavy emotions of the family but it’s so hard to fight back the tears. Their daughter in Singapore called and also wanted to speak to us and upon knowing that we were just one of the volunteers who were helping out not asking for anything in return, conversation led to another round of tears of joy. That moment is something that we will remember for a lifetime; a day when total strangers met, when unconditional love comes in all forms of

The family didn’t let us go without them taking a group picture so they will remember us. Then we head back to Manila. My hubby was able to drop me off for my 6:30 PM work-related bid. With God’s grace, I also won that bid. I’m writing this article now while on my way to Singapore for my official meeting with a client. In this trip, I’m also looking forward to meet the daughter of the family that we drove to Bulacan who is already based in Singapore.

The families of the victims couldn’t believe that volunteers still exist in this age and time. What they din’t realize is their impact on us volunteers. They din’t know each opportunity to bring home someone leaves an unexplainable profound happiness in our hearts and souls. It rekindles faith. It gives deeper meaning to life, hope and love.

I lost and won a lot of work-related bids, but definitely the bids that I’ll be most proud of are the bids that we won day and night in Oplan Hatid. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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STATEMENT OF FAITH A girl stands by the window of what has remained of their home in Tacloban City, with a t-shirt hanging and proudly expressing her faith in Christ. Indeed, for the survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda, their faith in God has proven to be their best source of hope for a better future.

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“Itay, Papay!”

By JING GINEZ

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y wife Grace and I volunteered in Oplan Hatid, we brought our old but reliable 7-seater CRV and managed to fit Ruschelle, and her 4 kids plus her mother, Nanay Gorgonia, and a couple of plastic bags, mostly relief items which they got when they arrived at Villamor.

from her sisters. He said he could not sleep at all and feared that his family could be dead already.

Ruschelle tried explaining what happened and he was just glad that everyone was safe and reassured him that he will take the first bus tomorrow to be with them.

Grace asked her where her husband was and she answered that he is currently assigned in Isabela working as an operator of a mobile crane.

Ruschelle tried contacting him upon arrival in Villamor using a nun’s mobile phone but the line was choppy and they could hardly hear each other.

Grace tried contacting her husband again through my phone and we were successful. This was the first time that they were able to talk to each other after nine days. Her husband was mad for being cutoff completely from his family. He was on speaker phone and we could hear that we was crying very hard but later on flamed down knowing know that his entire family was safe.

Ruschelle and family shared how they survived Day 1 and 2 by eating rice that got wet. There was no relief operations in their area so on the 3rd day, a Sunday, the people in their barangay decided to take their chances and walk six hours from Palo to Tacloban airport after hearing reports from relatives that the military’s C130s were being used to transport people out of Leyte to either Cebu or Manila. Nanay Gorgonia, 66 years old, suffered minor wounds in her feet during the journey.

Ruschelle has a sister who lives in Paranaque and that was their goal, to get to Manila and seek refuge there.

He talked to one of his kids, the youngest, who kept on telling him in Waray, “Itay, papay (tinapay)?” That was enough to elicit laughter

When they arrived at the Tacloban airport, there was no relief goods yet so they managed by drinking water they collected from the rain. On Day 4, relief goods from international humanitarian

organizations started coming in. They started queuing already for the C-130 flights but it was only on Day 9, after waiting for six days at the airport, that they were given the chance.

Inside the van, one can tell that they have not taken a bath for quite some time. Ruschelle shared that she wasn’t able to save any of their clothes as their priority was to evacuate to a safer place. “Hindi ko na inisip ang kahihiyan, nakarating ako ng Maynila ng walang suot na bra. Di pa kami nakakaligo, ilang araw na.

Pero di na mahalaga yung mga gamit, ang mas mahalaga ay buhay kaming lahat. Hindi na nga lang namin kaya pang manatili sa lugar namin kasi walang makain, yung mga patay nagkalat pa din sa daan at takot ako na baka magkasakit na yung mga bata.”

We asked them if they had the chance to eat a full meal since Day 1 and they replied that they only had biscuits and water every day. We offered to stop at the nearest Jollibee and treat them to dinner but decided to just order take out so they can go home already. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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An Angel Among Men

By JANISE RUIZ

I

am not the type who would give random strangers a ride. But when I heard the call for volunteers via Oplan Hatid to transport Yolanda survivors to their families’ homes, I saw it as the most normal thing to do.

My first hatid was for a group of three siblings from Tacloban bound for Marikina. They’re the type you would readily allow into your car -- they’re pretty young female with probinsyana demeanor. As you could probably imagine, our conversations were very light but spirited, especially since one of them used to be a male and is now sporting a long blond hair and a pair of boobs.

My second hatid took a while to dispatch. The organizers had to match the passengers with the available driver and transport. After more than an hour of waiting, the barker announced that several adults from Guiuan, Samar are looking for a ride to Pasig through Pateros. Now, I know the whole Rizal area like the back of my hand as I grew up there. I thought, God I’m so lucky with my pasaheros. So I took the transport pass from the DSWD rep and got my vehicle. Little did I know

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These people were some of the nicest, most grateful, hilarious, and hopeful people I’ve met. And they deserve to be treated with kindness. Besides, my goal in life is to be an Angel on Wheels. that I was about to transport three grown men for a ride to a densely populated area in Pasig.

As soon as I met Ruben and his two other male relatives, all of whom were taller than I am (I’m 5’6”), my speech faculties would not function all of a sudden. Three adult men will be with me in the car -- all dark, muscular, and serious lookingmen. And I had to take them to God knows where.

Do I call home? Do I send my last words to my family? At that moment the typical tabloid headline flashed before my eyes, but my Catholic upbringing brought me back to my senses. I had to look at them with different eyes. And I was going to unite Ruben and company with their families soon. That’s what I was there for.

I introduced myself as I shook hands with each of them and got to know their names. After finding out exactly where they needed to go, we loaded what little belongings they had and off we went. Never mind their gender or appearance or MMA weight class (seriously, one of them looked like he was a fighter in the octagon). I felt like, if I’m fortunate enough to have the means and transportation, it’s a bit selfish to keep that blessing all to myself.

After an hour’s drive, we were at Pag-asa, Pasig City where Ruben’s family resides. There couldn’t be a more apropos place for them to start a new life.

On the day of my third run, arrivals of C-130 planes were few and far in-between. Finally, after more than two hours of waiting for potential passengers bound for East Metro Manila, the barker asked if anyone was willing to hatid a group to Maybunga and Manggahan, Pasig (two drops). Just my luck! I rushed to get my vehicle without meeting my passengers first. When I got back to the Oplan Hatid tent, I was introduced

by Jayzel, a social worker from DSWD, to my

Sister Act

By STEPHANIE FIGUEROA and TAMMIE FIGUEROA

passengers who happened to be group of five adult men. Oh, my dear Lord.

I thought: Ok, Janise, just act with confidence, self-assuredness, urgency, and, most importantly, compassion. These people have lost their homes and been separated from their families and communities. They have waited for half a day just to get on a cargo plane to Manila.

This was the home stretch for them. Literally.

There was no time to hesitate. I had to stop thinking about gender typing and prejudices against certain appearances. Right now, they were my kababayans—my brothers—who needed help. It may not be the safest or most convenient thing to do, but it does seem like the right thing to do.

I abandoned my initial discomfort of driving these complete strangers to their destinations as soon as I got to know them a little more. These people were some of the nicest, most grateful, hilarious, and hopeful people I’ve met. And they deserve to be treated with kindness. Besides, my goal in life is to be an Angel on Wheels. How could I say no to these amazing survivors? u

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ur first trip was to San Miguel, Bulacan.

We ended up convoying with another vehicle in order to accommodate a group who was going to Brgy. Labne in Bulacan. Fully prepared to make a pit stop en route to Bulacan for a late dinner and bathroom break we were surprised at hearing our passengers’ refusal of offer of fast-food dinner. “‘Di na po, nakakain na po kami. Sobra-sobra na po, busog na busog na po kami.”

And this would become a running theme of sort for the entire duration we volunteered for Oplan Hatid. The evacuees’ graciousness in the midst of their loss left us utterly flabbergasted. Had they wanted to talk about what they went through, we would have been all ears. However, since we volunteered for the graveyard shift, our passengers were understandably exhausted and simply passed the time sleeping through the journey.

By the time we all got to Brgy. Labne, they would not stop telling us, “Salamat, malaking bagay itong nagawa ninyo para sa amin.” But

those unending thank you’s were not enough. The family invited us to their town fiesta on the 30th of November, insisting that they would not take no for an answer.

So my sister and I obliged. And it was everything they had promised. Now it was our turn to say we were quite full from all the food they offered us! Before leaving, they extended to us another invitation, this time to climb what is locally known as the Banal na Bundok.

Suffice it to say that we wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Our subsequent trips for Oplan Hatid definitely made the two of us bond and brought us closer together. Meeting the other volunteers, these true-to-life heroes, and being able to call them friends, is one delicious the icing on the cake. It goes without saying that we’re proud to be a part of Oplan Hatid, and, fully aware that this is only the beginning, my sister and I will continue to heed its call for as long as we’re needed. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Seeing the Hand of God in Every Filipino

By TESS TUCAY

T

he devastation of typhoon Yolanda brought me to my feet. I started packing old clothes, buying canned goods, milk and cookies for relief, and donating cash to different institutions helping people in Eastern Visayas. But donating seemed not enough. I could not stand watching the news and reading stories in newspapers and social media. They were heartbreaking. I had to do something. I wanted to be actively involved in the relief operations, but I could not leave my work and my kids.

Then came the news that survivors were arriving in Villamor Air Base (VAB) via C-130 planes. There were calls for volunteers to welcome the survivors.

Then, there was a call for transportation to bring the evacuees to their relatives called Oplan Hatid. I immediately asked my husband to accompany me

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to volunteer. Being doctors, we went to volunteer first in medical services. When we saw a lot of doctors already attending to those who need medical attention, we decided just to help out in Oplan Hatid.

That night we were able to bring home two families. Just listening to their stories and helping in our own little way gave me a sense of fulfillment, a sense of self-worth. That was the start of my addiction to Oplan Hatid. For the days that followed, I asked friends, my son, and even my kasambahay to accompany me since my husband had to attend to his patients. VAB became a very familiar place for me. It became very near our house in Antipolo City. I didn’t mind driving to and from VAB during rush hours just to get one or two families to their destinations. I didn’t mind driving

I could not stand watching the news and reading stories in newspapers and social media. They were heartbreaking. I had to do something. under the heat of the sun or heavy traffic with windows open. I didn’t mind kids, and adults alike, getting sick inside my van. I didn’t mind driving thru narrow roads and unfamiliar places. My son didn’t even mind missing his lunch when we got lost looking for the survivor’s houses. I gave stuffed toys and a bucket of Chickenjoy to kids. I couldn’t help my tears every time I see the smile on their faces.

I’m happy to be part of Oplan Hatid. You see the hands of God in every Filipino. u

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NO STOPPING CHRISTMAS Super Typhoon Yolanda may have destroyed people’s homes, but it did not destroy their faith in God and in themselves. In fact, Yolanda could not stop the people of Tacloban from celebrating Christmas as seen in this photo.

‘Tuloy ang Pasko’

By DAVID, RIZA and MEG NARVASA

W

e saw an FB post inviting volunteers to transport evacuees from Villamor to their destinations in Metro Manila or Luzon. It was a Sunday and we felt it was something we could do that weekend after days of frustration with the relief efforts on TV. Little did we know it would change our lives and perspectives immeasurably.

Off we went to Villamor on Nov. 17, 2013 to volunteer for Oplan Hatid . We were number 66 and had to wait for four hours before we won our first passengers. There were five of them, all adults and all related to each other. Their destination was Valenzuela, unfamiliar to us as we are from the South.

During the car ride, they told us their stories.

About their terrifying collective experience. About the horrible conditions. About how they walked for seven hours to get to Tacloban airport and waited another 24 hours under the rain, sun and through another night time to ride the C130 plane.

About how they only had two bottles of water and two packs of biscuits that they shared among

Upon reaching their destination, they were again very profuse in thanking us, making us a little embarrassed by such display of gratitude. That night we went home feeling thankful for the privilege of touching their lives and in some small way bringing back Christmas in their hearts. themselves during this time. About how only one of them had been to Manila before, and over 15 years ago at that. About how they did not expect to be fed, given clothes and be treated so well upon their arrival. They in fact thought they would have to beg bus conductors to let them ride the bus since they only had P300 for the five of them and this might not be enough for their bus fare. About how very happy and thankful they were for the reception, food and relief goods they got and the ride to Valenzuela. About how they were hopeful they will find jobs in Metro Manila so that they could rebuild their lives.

During the ride, when we were passing by SM City North EDSA and they saw the huge lighted Christmas tree outside the mall, one of them said: “Ay tuloy pala ang Pasko dito sa Manila”. Everyone in the car became quiet after that, reminding each one of us of the terrible destruction brought by Typhoon Yolanda.

Upon reaching their destination, they were again very profuse in thanking us, making us a little embarrassed by such display of gratitude.

That night we went home feeling thankful for the privilege of touching their lives and in some small way bringing back Christmas in their hearts.

Since then, what we thought would be a one-time activity with Oplan Hatid became a daily ritual of going to Villamor and bringing home passengers to their destinations in Metro Manila and hopefully to a new beginning for their families.

Being part of Oplan Hatid has given us a better glimpse of the true meaning of Christmas and we pray that we never lose sight of it. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Bayanihan on Wheels

OPLAN HATID BY NIGHT The headquarters of Oplan Hatid at the back of the Villamor grandstand operated for 24 hours for 17 days.

By ROSANNA UNSON

T

he day after Yolanda hit, I was already seeing a lot of posts on Facebook on how to help. I began noticing my Facebook friend’s status updates. James Deakin and I were schoolmates in grade school. I began noticing a lot of my friends were posting about the air base and I was thinking that there must be something going on there. Then the words Oplan Hatid suddenly filled my home page.

When I finally learned what Oplan Hatid was about, I really wanted to volunteer. I wanted to do something together with my whole family. My life partner Ivan, myself and my two daughters. I was thinking that if we took my car, we’d have room to take just one survivor home. This unfortunate survivor may even have to have his luggage on his lap because my trunk is small. We couldn’t make hatid if we were just two. What about my girls? I needed them to experience what it was like to do something for someone

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who really needed our help, who had been through the worst.

Unfortunately, we had to do something else so we could do it together, as a family.

Yet, James’ posts read like a Chicken Soup for the Soul—Drivers Version, on a daily basis.

I couldn’t help but feel like I needed to do something, whatever I could do, to help out.

Then I remembered my editor had asked me to suggest topics of articles that I could write for her section, the Lifestyle section of GMAnews.tv When I gave her my topic, she immediately said yes and I knew that this was the best way I could help Oplan Hatid, by telling their story.

Our trip to Villamor was the same day that Manny Pacquiao had won the fight against Rios.

It was the day I saw a room full of people stand up when Jessica Sanchez sang the National Anthem when just a few months back, I had to call people’s attention in the theater because

Yolanda may have killed a lot of our countrymen, she may have torn parts of the Visayas to shreds, but suddenly somehow we were united as a people.

United in showing that we weren’t going to be beaten, that we would stand up and fight the good fight because we still could. they were sitting down when the song was played. Yolanda may have killed a lot of our countrymen, she may have torn parts of the Visayas to shreds, but suddenly somehow we were united as a people. United in showing that we weren’t going to be beaten, that we would stand up and fight the good fight because we still could.

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I was faced with this kind of unity again when I set foot inside the air base. I was politely escorted to some kind of information office at Gate 1 and then driven (yes, driven) together with my two girls to the grandstand by a kind Air Force guy in an Innova. At the site, I was met by DSWD workers who I had to ask permission from regarding interviews. I had to explain that I didn’t intend to interview survivors coming off the planes, I wanted to interview Oplan Hatid volunteers and, of course, James.

When I finally found James amongst the tents, he seemed really relaxed. Not tired or stressed out. Not even cranky. Considering it was a Sunday, I found that nice. James had a lot of energy about him; energy and zest and a general wellbeing that came from being a part of such a wonderful group of volunteers. Even when he tried to answer my question about why they were shut down for a while. “We don’t know, we just don’t know,” he said. He still seemed really positive about it.

“We just have to exercise a whole lot of patience because losing our tempers aren’t going to help these people and that’s what we’re here for, to help them.”

When I told him how I had wanted to do my own “hatid” with my family but how I had a painfully

When I came home that evening and I told my partner what he had said, there was a crack in my voice.

I actually had to hold back the tears as I was retelling the story.

This is something I saw that afternoon and that I’ve seen all over the Metro and almost everywhere I can turn — genuine concern and caring for one’s fellow man. I saw this at Oplan Hatid. small car he said, “You can do whatever you can to help. Not just drive survivors in your car.” He told me about how his wife was asking how she could help, what could she do and how he replied that she was doing her part by taking care of the kids without him, while he was there at the air base to do things.

He told me so many good stories. About how drivers were asked by their bosses to drive survivors, maybe on their day off or on regular work days and how said drivers would go back to the office or employer’s home and refuse to be paid, saying it was their contribution to the effort to help. He recounted

how one volunteer had done indecent amounts of driving, clocking in hundreds of kilometers and how he’d be back again and again to drive some more. There were so many people like this, so many volunteers doing their absolute best to help.

When I came home that evening and I told my partner what he had said, there was a crack in my voice. I actually had to hold back the tears as I was retelling the story.

This is something I saw that afternoon and that I’ve seen all over the Metro and almost everywhere I can turn — genuine concern and caring for one’s fellow man. I saw this at Oplan Hatid.

Can’t even say that when they closed shop on December 1 that they just went back to their normal, everyday, privileged lives and put the experience into the “One for History” portion of their lives. Now they’re on to Oplan Trabaho; an effort to find jobs for those survivors who are now in Manila. That’s taking it a step further. Taking up where they left off and doing the best to help, really help.

James Deakin’s Facebook update comes to mind: “Remember this is only the beginning. We brought them to their relatives and friends’ homes. Now let’s help them rebuild their own.” u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Through The Labyrinth of Narrow Streets

By ARNEL TIONG

O

n my first run as a volunteer I was to bring three adults—two brothers Jason and Joel, and their cousin Ana, to Manggahan, Pasig, It was a Saturday, past 11 PM and traffic was easing up.

Driving through C5 was a breeze and I thought to myself, this was going to be a walk in the park.

We reached the Manggahan area in no time.

I only had the name of the subdivision and a vague “malapit sa public” (which I assumed as public school) reference to go with, so my intention was just drive to the area and ask for directions.

I first stopped at a gasoline station. The gasoline boy said he knew the place and gave me the directions which I followed to the letter.

While I was driving, my wife chatted with our passengers and though I was busy negotiating the roads, I got to hear snippets of their story.

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“Apat na araw po kaming naghintay sa airport. Umulan-umaraw, andun kami, di kami makaalis kasi mauunahan kami sa pila.

Wala pong pagkain, konting-konting tubig lang. Yung damit namin nabasa at natuyo ng paulit-ulit.”

“Meron pong mga dumadating na may kakilalang sundalo, kaya pinapauna sila sa pila. Yung iba naman pag natyempuhan ng Amerkano at naawa, pinapasakay din agad.

Lalo na pag may bata o may matanda. Kaya kami naiwan na ng naiwan.”

After sometime, I had to stop again to ask for directions. This time from a security guard manning a closed store. He, too knew the place, but pointed towards another way which deviated from the first. But he sounded confident, I decided to follow his instructions.

Before I got into my car I pulled aside Joel, the elder of the two, and gave him some cash. He looked at it quite incredulously. His eyes began to moisten. He grabbed my hand tightly and mouthed an almost imperceptible “thank you”. It was the most heartfelt thank you I have ever received in my life. Suddenly all my frustration melted away.

After traversing a mishmash of kanan, kaliwa, deretso, we got to a labyrinth of narrow streets. Most parts were dark, with groups of people here and there, either drinking or chatting or doing something else. I drove very slowly fearing I’d hit a parked tricycle or worse a person or a stray dog. I was nervous. If anything happened, driving fast was not an option.

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“May mga nakapila nga pong nahimatay na dahil siguro sa gutom. Pero di din sila makaalis dahil wala din namang pupuntahan. Sabi ko sa kapatid ko maghiwa-hiwalay na kami baka sakaling may makaligtas sa amin.Pero sabi nya kahit ano’ng mangyari di kami maghihiwalay. Kung mamatay man, magkakasama pa din kami.

Nung ika-apat na araw po nabalitaan namin na mas mabilis ang dating ng eroplano sa Cebu.

Kaya’t naghiwalay kami. Si Kuya pumila sa eroplano papuntang Cebu, kami naman naiwan sa pila sa papuntang Maynila. Nung makakasakay na papuntang Cebu tinakbo na kami ni kuya. Sa wakas nakasakay kami sa eroplano.”

We finally got to our target street. But it was blocked by a gate and the only opening was a pedestrian door. Parking there and walking to the house would be hard as our passengers had three huge boxes with them. At this point frustration has taken over me. We have driven for more than an hour and now that we’re almost there, we couldn’t even go inside. Throwing all cautions to the wind, I decided to open the gate. I even had to move a couple of pedicabs blocking the way.

I made a lot of ruckus that I was expecting a bottle to be thrown my way. After I have cleared the way, I got back to the car and we started to drive down the street looking for their aunt’s house.

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After a while I asked my wife, “San tayo?”

“Villamor?” she replied. “Ok” I said, as I gunned the engine and sped off.

“Mas maayos ang sitwasyon sa Cebu. Madaming tumutulong at madami ding pagkain at tubig.

Naisip namin siguro ligtas na kami at di na mamamatay sa gutom. Panay ang bigay nila ng pagkain, kami na nga ang tumatanggi. Naisip namin sana dalhin na lang sa Tacloban dahil alam namin madami pang lugar sa Tacloban ang walang pagkain at tubig. Pag naalala namin yung mga ka-baryo namin doon naluluha na lang kami.

Sana makasakay na din sila kahit papunta sa Cebu para makakain na sila.”

It was a long and narrow street. The house addresses were confusing, with some having four digits, while some had three. At one point, I had to stop and extricate the side step of my vehicle from a kariton with which it got entangled. But after a few more minutes we finally found the house. Their aunt opened the door and gleefully greeted us. Our passengers got down, as I started to unload their boxes. I was so tired and frustrated that I just wanted to get out of there and head home.

sa Villamor, chineck-up kami, binigyan kami ng pagkain, tubig at mga gamit. Inalagaan po talaga kami. Sabi pa nila may maghahatid sa amin sa bahay ng tyahin namin. Sobrang saya po talaga namin. Sobrang pasasalamat po kami sa Diyos at naligtas kami at nakarating sa Maynila. Kahit sobrang hirap ang nadanasan namin, at least, tapos na. Makakasimula na kami ng bagong buhay.”

Before I got into my car I pulled aside Joel, the elder of the two, and gave him some cash. He looked at it quite incredulously. His eyes began to moisten.

He grabbed my hand tightly and mouthed an almost imperceptible “thank you”. It was the most heartfelt thank you I have ever received in my life. Suddenly all my frustration melted away. All I could say was “Welcome pards. Good luck sa inyo”. I got into the car, swiftly wiped my tears and started to drive. I saw my wife dabbed tissue on her eyes, too.

After a while I asked my wife, “San tayo?”

“Villamor?” she replied

“Two days po kaming naghintay ng eroplano papuntang Maynila. Kanina po pagdating namin

“Ok” I said, as I gunned the engine and sped off. u

From Taiwan with Love

By KATHERINA BERTUBIN

O

n the night of the November 14, I saw a post in FB that Yolanda survivors come to Manila and land in Villamor Air Base, needing to be transported to their families in Metro Manila or other parts of Luzon. I couldn’t sleep as I was very eager to go to Villamor, worried about the survivors who might have arrived and not have a ride. I went to Villamor in the morning of 15th of November. The families who needed to be transported would not fit in my small car. I was saddened, so I phoned friends and relatives to lend me their van, or perhaps give us a hand in transporting the survivors. As I was waiting and hoping that somebody will offer their van to me, I volunteered as Psychological First Aid (PFA) Counsellor. It was heartbreaking to hear that the survivor I interviewed, lost his entire family, some are confirmed dead, and some are missing including his father. As I finish my counselling task, still, no small group of passengers to transport. I decided to report to my regular day job, and I came back to Villamor after office at around 9 PM. Then, I met Mang Loreto, 78 years old from Leyte. I noticed he was limping, and looked like

I posted his photo on Facebook, and in less than a week, my message reached his daughter through the OFW community in Taiwan. Thanks to God for this life-changing experience. he was in pain. We carefully seated him in the car.

I was instructed to bring him to DSWD Fabella, Mandaluyong. On our way to Mandaluyong, I asked if he was feeling okay, he told me his lower back and hips were painful as a heavy and hard object hit him during the typhoon surge while he was holding onto a post. The concrete wall behind him saved his life as the water hit hard the wall and the post he was holding onto held him safely in place. However, a wood plank flew in the air, and fell onto his lower back. He said he never thought he would have survived, and was grateful to God, it was only a minor injury, as he witnessed people hitting themselves on walls, on hard objects, and then slowly drown. Roofs

fly in all directions and kill the people they hit. I could see in his eyes how terrifying the experience was during the strong surge.

I was wondering why I would be bringing him to Fabella and not to his family. He only remembers his nephew’s name and cannot remember his address in Cavite. Fabella will be his temporary shelter and the DSWD will be helping him locate his nephew. I managed to ask where his children are, and he told me, his daughter Rowena is in Taiwan, and he wanted to let her know that he survived and is currently in Manila, but then again, he lost her contact numbers in the typhoon.

He allowed me to take his photos, and told him that I will try to find his daughter and tell her the good news that he is alive and strong. I posted his photo in Facebook, and in less than a week, my message reached his daughter through the OFW community in Taiwan. Thanks to friends of friends who helped me find his daughter, and thank God for this life-changing experience. To God be the glory and the honor. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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The Lighter Side

By BUBUT VASQUEZ

I

was what you may call a major Fatherpacker!!! You name it, I was in ALL the major repacking centers from 9pm until around 2am the following day with other Fatherpackers and Motherpackers! My friends and I immediately heeded calls for manual help on tv, radio and social networks like Facebook. I knew all the centers; friends would call or text me to find out where the nearest repacking center to them was. My group of friends (my repacking team), which included my Oplan Hatid tandem partner Shella Faytaren, had the repacking mechanics down to a science. We were a team to reckon with, until one day, I woke with a frozen shoulder. My repacking career was clearly over! I had to abandon my post but the rest of the team soldiered on.

On the first day of my self-imposed rest (or the start of my official retirement from repacking duties), Shella F. decided to try and volunteer for Oplan Hatid at Villamor Air Base. We both heard of Oplan Hatid a couple of days before on Facebook, even as we were in the thick of repacking. Her first Hatid was down south, to Tanauan, Batangas for a family of two. She got back to Manila hours later.

This was to be the first of many for her.

On my second day of rest, I decided to drive to

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Villamor Gate 5 parking area. Surpringly, I could still steer even with a frozen right shoulder. After registration, I got my official Oplan Hatid vehicle pass and took the shuttle to the grandstand. There were only a few driver volunteers as it was already late in the evening .

As soon as I sat, they announced Valenzuela, Bulacan as the destination for one passenger evacuee.

Immediately, the female barker/dispatcher zeroed in on me, her eyes locked on mine. Then she announced on the PA system, “I can feel positive vibes coming from this man!” Patay ako!!! So, Valenzuela it was for my first Hatid... DEEP Valenzuela. That same evening, Shella ventured into Caloocan for her Hatid run...

DEEP Caloocan. After dropping off my passenger from Bislig, Leyte, I grabbed my phone and called Shella to ascertain her whereabouts. We were both hopelessly lost and navigating our way back would prove to be a major, major undertaking. Half an hour later, we finally rendezvoused on EDSA corner Quezon Ave. This misadventure called for some kind of reward.... an early morning hearty meal at Berouz along Timog Ave. Right then and there, we forged another team, driving in tandem for families of 6 or more for our future Hatid runs.

My stint at Oplan Hatid started on Nov. 16 until the very last day, December 1. For every excuse I had given the Villamor guards just to enter and park directly next to the Oplan Hatid tent, every destination bid ever made, every family we squeezed inside my tiny car, every heartbreaking story my passengers ever told, every kilometer traveled, every liter of gasoline consumed, every destination finally reached, every goodbye and thank you my passengers and I exchanged, it always felt that I could’ve done or given more. Because we had the luxury of going home to rest.... to eat and sleep. Our brothers and sisters from the Visayas didn’t, not even for a minute. I couldn’t even begin to imagine putting myself in their shoes, again, not even for a minute. Oplan Hatid volunteers did what they did for various compelling reasons. That is their story to tell.

It has been said that one could only feel compassion for others if one could somehow allow oneself to feel the pain of others. In my heart, the compassion I feel for our brother and sisters will never approximate the pain and suffering that they had lived through and will continue to experience for years to come. We could only give... and give some more, until it hurts. We cannot rest. u

Birthday Run

By Orbill Garces

N

ovember 23, my wife’s birthday. We decided to skip the birthday celebration and continued our commitment to volunteer for Oplan Hatid. It was already our fifth night shift.

At past midnight, we met our family of survivors. Maryjane, 29 years old, was from Ormoc. With her were her two sons, a 14-yearold and a 10-year-old, and her 7-year-old daughter. It was Maryjane’s first time in Metro Manila. They were all heading for Imus, Caviteher sister’s home.

In her hands, held tightly, was a piece of paper with an address and a telephone number. Her sister’s. They had not seen each other for 20 years. Not until Yolanda took away everything they had in the only home they knew. Maryjane said she already talked to her sister but the latter did not know they would be arrive that night. My wife kept on calling and texting the sister as we drove on to Cavite. No response.

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The search for her sister’s home was like finding a needle in a haystack. It was 2 in the morning. The houses looked identifical. No street numbers. No sign to distinguish one house from the other. My wife and I got off the car and started counting the houses until we found the right one. We knocked for more than half an hour. No answer.

We had to stop and with heavy hearts, we drove back to Villamor.

It was heartbreaking. We never had to return a survivor before. We knew Maryjane and her children were exhausted. Even the soldiers at Villamor’s gate expressed great sadness when I told them we were returning because no one was around to welcome our passengers.

Back at the tent, Bugsy and James helped us find the DSWD worker who processed Maryjane’s

It was heartbreaking. We never had to return a survivor before.

We knew Maryjane and her children were exhausted. Even the soldiers at Villamor’s gate expressed great sadness when I told them we were returning because no one was around to welcome our passengers. papers when she arrived. It was protocol for Oplan Hatid volunteers to turnover survivors when they had no receiving families. Those who had no homes to return to in Manila and its nearby towns had to be brought to the Tent Citya temporary shelter. The DSWD personnel on duty that night suggested that Maryjane and her

To be Alive is More than Enough family be sent to Fabella Hospital. We were all worried of the family’s fate. It was late. We had to leave the family with Bugsy.

Pained and worried, we walked back to the car. Suddenly, my wife received a text message: “ “Pasensiya na po kayo nakatulog po kami, andito na po pala kayo sa Imus, san na po kayo malapit?” It was Maryjane’s brother-in-law.

We ran back to the DSWD helpdesk to look for Maryjane. I found myself shouting: “Andito na yun ate niya, nakatulog lang daw at iniintay sila sa Imus!”

Tired but happy, we happily escorted Maryjane and her kids back to the car. Bugsy offered to find another driver for the family but we graciously declined. I told her it took us an hour to find the house and it would be faster if we were drive them home ourselves

as we already knew the area.

On our way back to Imus, Maryjane and her children were smiling. My wife told them it was her birthday and she was scared that our Oplan Hatid record would be tarnished if we could not drive them home. We told them we will never quit until our dear passengers were safe in their homes.

Maryjane’s sister was waiting in front of the house when we arrived. It was a reunion of sisters separated for 20 years. We didn’t just transport people to a destination. We brought them home.

On our way back to the car, Maryjane’s 14-year-old son approached my wife and said, “Ate marami pong salamat sa lahat. Tsaka po happy birthday!” This was enough to make her cry.

My wife said it was her best birthday ever. u

By FAYE SIQUIJOR

A

te Thess, Ate Ester, and Bermont could not stop talking about their Yolanda experience. What happened, how it happened, how afraid they were. To my surprise, they were still happy.

As we drove along Edsa, I could not help but smile and wonder at their strength. They said they were happy to be alive and for that moment, they said it was more than enough.

My Oplan Hatid experience made me see many miracles through the stories of each survivor. To this day, I believe that everything will be alright in God’s perfect time. This gives me a sense of peace. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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All in a Day’s Work I

By NOEL MENDEGORIN

joined Oplan Hatid on a Wednesday night, and continued for five more days/nights. During those eight trips I made, I heard a lot of stories from the survivors, as well as from fellow drivervolunteers.

After signing up online on Oplan Hatid’s temporary site, I drove to Gate 5 of Villamor Air Base to register. Then our group headed to the grandstand area to start transporting the survivors, after at least an hour of “bidding” and waiting. Finally at past 11:00 PM, a family of nine people from Palo, Leyte was assigned to me and Sir Nikko, another volunteer. Our destination, Carmona, Cavite.

to Villamor, which fortunately, the other volunteers said happened on rare occasion.

We split the group. Four people with ladies and a kid rode in Nikko’s vehicle, while I took the remaining 5 teenage boys. Their fathers and elder brothers were left in Leyte, as the evacuation program prioritizes the sick, the elders, the women, and children. Some of them haven’t been to Manila, so they were in awe when they saw the tall buildings. They also wondered why they didn’t see jeepneys and motorcycles along SLEX, like what they used to see in Leyte. One of the boys would like to see the closest SM mall.

With the sweltering heat, plus the fact that they haven’t had a shower for four days, my car reeked of unpleasant body smell within that trip. I was tempted to bring out my car freshener, but I didn’t want to offend them.

A DSWD social worker took our contact and vehicle details, then gave us our transport pass, so our vehicle will be allowed to enter the loading area of survivors. We were instructed to wait until the evacuees are accepted by their relatives or friends.

If rejected, then we take the evacuees back

Aside from the stories of deaths, destruction, lootings, and food shortages which we saw on the news, the boys told their first hand experience of Typhoon Yolanda as it ravaged their area. They talked about the three waves that went inland, with the third one as being the most devastating.

Their houses were destroyed, but they considered

themselves lucky compared with some of their friends and relatives who lost everything including loved ones. They also confirmed the news about rape cases, but not the kidnappings. When we reached Carmona, we heaved a sigh of relief when they were happily welcomed by their aunt.

On the second night, I was assigned to a family of 10 people, mostly women and a baby. Ma’m Stephanie and Ma’m Donna took some of the survivors in their car. We drove on a convoy thru heavy traffic along coastal road to their relatives in General Trias, Cavite.

One of the ladies among my six passengers told me that she decided to move to Manila to get a job, and to forget about the death of her two children.

Their home near the Palo shore was washed away along with her kids. Their other relatives were not as lucky, as whole families got killed by the typhoon.

After 1.5 hours, we arrived at their destination.

Michelle who was seated beside me at the front seat told me to stop at a dark grassy road side. I asked her if she was sure, as there were no houses there. She replied that there is a community there, but no electricity. True enough, we eventually found CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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this neighborhood of shanty houses along this dark “talahiban” part of the road, where her sister would receive them.

When we got back to Villamor, my next passengers were an elderly mother and her son from Tacloban.

They stayed in their 2-storey concrete house in Tacloban during the height of the storm. Since food is scarce and they couldn’t live in their roofless house, they decided to move to Sta. Rosa, Laguna.

After my morning class at Enderun College, I proceeded to Villamor Air Base, where I also took my lunch. Aside from many volunteers who help out in receiving the evacuees, there are good hearted individuals who sponsor meals and drinks for both evacuees and volunteers. For as long as a volunteer is not picky, he will never get hungry as there are so many free food, water, coffee, and even Coke.

Only a handful of volunteer drivers were available that time. The Oplan Hatid tent was overflowing with evacuees, some were seated but exposed to the noontime heat. I chose to bring a family of five (a mother, two daughters, two grandchildren) to their temporary home in Dasmarinas, Cavite. They came from Borongan, Samar, where the C130 plane took a few more passengers after initial loading in Guiuan.

With the sweltering heat, plus the fact that they haven’t had a shower for four days, my car reeked of 122

One of the ladies among my six passengers told me that she decided to move to Manila to get a job, and to forget about the death of her two children. Their home near the Palo shore was washed away along with her kids. unpleasant body smell within that trip. I was really tempted to bring out my car freshener, but I didn’t want to offend them. We took the Molino Road all the way to Paliparan in Dasmarinas.

Their house being made from light materials, was also destroyed. Only her husband and son-in-law were left in Borongan to reconstruct their house.

There’s not much space on the warehouse of her Cebu-based boss on Dasmarinas, but her daughters and grandchildren just have to accept any available option. She mentioned that the destruction in their place was not as widespread, but food was also scarce. A piece of egg sells at P 9.00 upwards. No vegetable available, and only the very rich people can buy meat if at all available.

Their destination in Dasma is much harder to reach, and easy for a stranger to get lost. Good thing that she asked her brother who’s now staying there, to guide me on my way out to Aguinaldo Road.

My second passenger that day was Lilibeth, a lady from a town in Eastern Samar. She was looking for her 13-year old son, who left a few days earlier with her older sister who also brought her own 13 children to

Manila. They lost contact, and with no known address of her sister or son here in Manila, she was advised by DSWD personnel to stay at Bahay Silungan near NAIA 1.

A DSWD social worker went with me to endorse Lilibeth in their temporary shelter. She’s thankful and amazed that there were lots of volunteer drivers who spend their time, effort, and gas & toll money, just to help the survivors. I replied that these are just small sacrifices, compared to what they have gone through.

Then finally there were these two Luzon-based adult sons who picked up their 69-year old father Luis, whose hip bone was fractured by a collapsed wall during the storm surge in Tunga, Leyte. One of the sons did all possible means to go to Leyte after the storm hit the area so he could get his father, who was left alone in their home in Leyte.

After surviving the storm, their incapacitated father was only given food by their neighboring relatives. It was only when his son had arrived, that their father was treated to a hospital in Tacloban. After a week, they were given the free light to travel to Manila. The father was too frail with his fractured hip bone, so he has to be lifted by his sons from a wheelchair. u

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Our One and Only Hatid

By ADELE MAY CRUZ

I

was looking for a place where we could offer our services. Then I heard about Oplan Hatid on Facebook. My husband and I were finally able to go one Saturday night on November 23. Unfortunately, after waiting for a while we were advised that the next C-130 that was arriving was going to be at 5 am the next day so we were all told to go home and rest and come back early the following morning.

there were so many kindhearted souls donating food for all the volunteers. My husband and I never got bored waiting because the atmosphere that we felt that day in VAB was amazing! It was so touching to see that so many people wanted to help and there were no complaints at all that we were all there for hours already. Everyone was just contented to wait for their passengers.

So next day we went back to VAB really early even if we usually spend Sundays resting at home.

When we got to VAB there were no evacuees yet to drive home so we stayed at the OH tent.

Finally, at around 2 pm, a C-130 finally arrived from Guiuan. We finally had our chance to drive home our evacuees, Jennifer and her niece Janice.

We decided to choose them because they were going all the way to Cavite and my husband and I figured best to go the distance since it was already late in the afternoon.

The whole morning not a single C-130 arrived.

Even if we were informed that the first C-130 would arrive after lunch, we still decided to stay in VAB even if we were already there before 7 am. It looked like there were no flights scheduled before the Pacquiao-Rios fight! Haha!

The morning was spent hearing about the different stories encountered by the angels on wheels. Mass was celebrated at the OH tent and there was a live showing of Pacquiao’s fight which was so cool.

Even if we were there really early, we never worried about where and what to eat because 124

Jennifer was a native of Guiuan but has been a resident of Cavite for many years already. She went home to have a vacation in her hometown and unluckily she was there when Yolanda happened. When we asked her what it was like, she described her experience in just a few words, “Delubyo talaga and nangyari!” In her hometown, there were only few casualties because the residents had evacuated early. But everything around them was devastated by the storm and the storm surge.

Even if we were there really early, we never worried about where and what to eat because there were so many kindhearted souls donating food for all the volunteers. My husband and I never got bored waiting because the atmosphere that we felt that day in VAB was amazing! It was so touching to see that so many people wanted to help and there were no complaints at all that we were all there for hours already.

According to Jennifer, they had no food and water for so many days. They were able to survive by drinking coconut juice and eating coconut meat. She and her niece had to spend three days and three nights falling in line just to be able to get a ride going to Manila. The rest of her relatives decided to stay in Guiuan because they wanted to rebuild their lives there. Jennifer had to go back to Manila for her family. She decided to bring her niece Janice, who was already in 2nd year high school, because all schools in Guiuan have been destroyed!

Jennifer also told us that her husband traveled all the way to Tacloban after the storm because he had to look for his father who lives there. She said that her fatherin-law was very lucky to have survived in Tacloban. Her husband and her father-in-law arrived in Manila a day before her.

We drove Jennifer and Janice all the way to the very outskirts of Dasmariñas, Cavite.

When we got to their house, her father-in-law, Tatang, was seated outside and when he saw Jennifer he embraced her really hard and you could really see in their faces the happiness and relief that they all survived. It really brought tears to our eyes!

Jennifer kept thanking and thanking us for bringing them home. We told her, “No! Thank you! Because we got a chance to know somebody like you, Janice and Tatang who went through a lot but were able to survive!”

People like them give us hope, that no matter the adversities we can survive!

On our way back, we were caught in Coastal Road traffic but it was one time we didn’t mind the traffic at all. Even if we had waited for hours at the VAB just for our one and only hatid, it was the most fulfilling and humbling experience for both my husband and I. It made us even prouder that we are Filipinos. That in times of trials we do survive because we all help each other. u

Perfect Passengers

By LILIA LIM

W

hile checking my FB account on November 14, I saw a post that asked for volunteers to go to Villamor Air Base. I asked my husband Vic if he wanted to go and volunteer. Without any hesitation he said yes and we decided to go the next morning.

We arrived at the base 7:30 am, went to the grandstand, registered at Oplan Hatid and waited for our turn to drive. At around 5 pm, I wanted to give up but my husband insisted that we should be patient and that we could pick up trash while waiting for our passengers. He asked me to bid patiently. I prayed to the Lord to please give us a change to drive at least one survivor family home.

Like an answered prayer, I found myself as the lone bidder for a family going to Novaliches.

Seven family members were assigned to us: a 62-year-old mother and a widow, and her four children, a son-in-law, and a baby. Two of her daughters and the son-in-law were deaf-mute.

My husband Vic and I looked at each other and thanked God for giving us a special family. We too

My husband Vic and I looked at each other and thanked God for giving us a special family. We too have our own special child.

I believe God intended for us to meet and drive this special family home to their relatives. have our own special child with atetoid mixed type condition, non verbal with mild cerebral palsy. Our daughter is 12 years old and does not speak yet. I continue to learn sign language so I can teach our child.

I believe God intended for us to meet and drive this special family home to their relatives. He knew we would understand special people with special needs.

Inspired by our wonderful experience, we went back to Villamor several times to drive survivors to the new homes they had after the storm. We thank the Lord for giving us a chance to be a part of Oplan Hatid.. To God be all the glory. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Strong, Courageous, Grateful

By JAZ FETALINO

B

ecause I don’t know how to drive, I told my husband that we should volunteer for Oplan Hatid when he returned from his flight to Dubai.

My husband is a pilot. I was surprised to learn that he already knew about OH and in fact, already signed up to volunteer.

The morning after he arrived, we headed straight to VAB, parked our pickup truck near the grandstand, and walked straight to the Oplan Hatid tent. At the tent, Niño kept us entertained with his jokes. By noon, a C130 landed and the bidding began. It was amazing how many volunteers were in that tent. For every group or family of survivors, several volunteers would raise their numbers to bid for the right to drive them home. To witness that was already a blessing.

Our hatid was a family of six (four adults and two kids) heading for Navotas. We bid for that family despite the fact that we had never been to Navotas!

On our way, they narrated their ordeal during the typhoon. The children kept quiet,

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The children kept quiet, obviously still traumatized.

They only smiled when they saw Luneta. The father said he was surprised that a lot of help was available in Manila while people in Guian, Eastern Samar were starving six days after the storm.

He said they had more than enough to buy food but money was worthless because there were no stores selling anything. obviously still traumatized. They only smiled when they saw Luneta. The father said he was surprised that a lot of help was available in Manila while people in Guian, Eastern Samar were starving six days after the storm. He said they had more than enough to buy food but

money was worthless because there were no stores selling anything. He decided to take his family out of their beloved hometown.

Despite their pain and loss, he was still very grateful for all the volunteers.

When they and the host relatives were reunited, endless thank yous were extended. At the end of that day, my husband Mike and I, felt happy that we got to drive that family home. Strong.

Courageous. Grateful.

Four days after, we returned to Villamor and were tasked to drive home a family of three to Bacoor, Cavite: mother, son, and daughter. I asked the mother how she was — I felt so stupid the moment I did that. She could not say anything. Instead, she just cried.

I found myself crying too. For a couple of minutes, we just held hands and cried.

We drove in silence. I no longer wanted to ask them questions about what happened.

Instead, I just offered them some chocolates.

The mother started telling stories after that.

I guess the chocolates lightened her load a

We Need to Help Each Other little. I was so happy to hear her children say that they were determined to go back to Leyte to continue their studies. They were hopeful that things would get better.

More hopeful when they saw how the people of Manila cared for them. They hugged and thanked us before we left.

They told to to extend their gratitude to all the volunteers at Villamor Air Base. We promised to get in touch with each other.

OH is the most gratifying act I’ve done so far. It was worth every second of my time. I still wonder how such task could be so addicting, how the urge to drive the evacuees home so contagious, and how a simple smile and hug so comforting on my part when in fact I wasn’t the victim. Yes, I found comfort from the families we served.

I found peace in knowing that they are now safe and warm in the company of their loved ones. OH is the best thing that happened to me this year and I will always treasure those moments as long as I live. u

By JANE LACAP

W

hen I brought Christ Mark and his friend to their uncle in Taguig I wasn’t suppose to volunteer as a driver, I was actually in Villamor to deliver the tents, laptop and printer to Oplan Hatid HQ after responding to the group’s FB post that they needed these things. But when my friend France asked me if I could volunteer, I agreed.

Christ Mark said, “Masaya pala dito sa Manila first time kasi namin, kasi ngayon sa amin malungkot talaga, mabaho, madaming patay. Yung magulang namin naiwan pa sa Tacloban kasi ayaw nila umalis doon, kaya dito muna kami sandali hanggang hindi pa maayos soon.” We were actually stuck in traffic, it took us almost two hours just to get out of The Fort where we’re supposed to meet his uncle. So they just continued with their stories.

They shared to us how they have survived Yolanda, how families we’re wiped out

With the sufferings they have left behind Christ Mark reminded us that we all had to help each other and give.

In parting he assured us that they will bounce back and move on with life. especially those who stayed in the evacuation center. They also mentioned that relief came after two days when foreigners started to air drop relief goods. With the sufferings they have left behind Christ Mark reminded us that we all had to help each other and give. In parting he assured us that they will bounce back and move on with life. He said, “Kailangan naming maging masaya kasi binigyan pa kami ng bagong buhay.” u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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The Family that Volunteers Together

By LIEZEL CANDELARIA

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n November 24, 2013 my family and I decided to volunteer in Oplan Hatid. I signed to bring survivors going to Makati and QC areas. When I got there I thought we had to wait for a long time.

We didn’t. The usher asked if I could bring home a family somewhere in Divisoria, Roxas Blvd area. I said I’m familiar with Roxas Boulevard so I said yes.

He pointed to a lady holding a little baby. I felt sad when I learned that this family had been waiting for a ride since early morning.

During the interview I was told that the area was in Parola, Tondo. I had no idea where that place was, so it was fine with me. Then I told my husband where we’re heading who then asked me if I had any idea where and how dangerous the place is.

He was concerened because we have our three kids and mom-in-law with us.

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Our passengers were all thankful for the simple help that we gave them. I wish I could still give them more. It pains to see these kids to grow up in that kind of area.

When we finally met the family, it was only then that I realized that they were four adults with three toddlers and a three-week old baby.

All of us must fit in our Trooper. I thought we can just sit at the back of the car. But after they put their things there was no room for us to sit. My husband fixed the back so my eldest daughter and I ended up sitting on biscuits container.

It was already lunch time so we decided to have

lunch at Jollibee. The kids were all shy they would not speak whenever you ask them if they want anything. I asked if I could take a photo of them for remembrance, they very shyly agreed.

When we got to their place in Tondo, kids swarmed around the vehicle that we had to wait until they finally left the car. Our passengers were all thankful for the simple help that we gave them.

I wish I could still give them more. It pains to see these kids to grow up in that kind of area.

I can only pray that God protects and guide them. May God bless this family.

My kids were tired after the whole experience but it was fulfilling to serve other families with our whole family. u

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Moments That Keep Me Coming Back

By PORTIA UYGONGCO

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ur first passenger was John. He lost his entire immediate family, except for his Manila-based father. He lost his mom and siblings. They all lost their home in Tacloban.

John waited for five days under the sun and rain at the Tacloban airport so he could board the C-130 plane to Manila to be with his father.

He didn’t even have a number or an address, but said he knew where his father lived.

Apparently shell-shocked, he just kept his head down and stayed silent during the wait and throughout the entire trip.

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I was slowly made whole again while witnessing a brother take tender, loving care of his siblings, all three of them falling asleep from exhaustion during our trip, finally arriving and having the sister who sat silent beside me throughout the trip suddenly jump out to hug her father.

n Discovering new roads and places as we explored together. n Being amazed that people who have met for the first time can work together so quickly for a common goal. From relay mate Hochi, convoy mate Marvin and almost-mate Claudia, to all the volunteers and organizers who put their brains, bodies, and resources together everyday for the survivors tirelessly. n Finding out that when you think someone has lost everything, they still have so much to give — this from the mom who said all the relief goods she received at Villamor, she will be sending home to Samar.

Barker Mia announced his destination jokingly: “We have one passenger to ... Cagayan de Oro!” The volunteers all looked around bemused.

When we finally left John at the airport with his ticket and dinner, he found it in him to give us the sweetest shy smile and thank you. From then on I was hooked.

After a while, I approached Mia and asked, “Can’t we just buy him a ticket to CDO?”

I am an addict, and these are the moments that keep me coming back.

Things moved quickly after that. Several volunteers worked together to find and book John a flight. Serendipitously, volunteer Hochi arrived on the scene and had resources in CDO. He asked his people to fetch John once he arrived at the CDO airport and to bring him to his father.

n Learning how to pronounce Guiuan and Tanauan correctly (still not sure of the correct spelling though).

n Being thanked by my passengers before they even get in the car.

n Learning the Philippine geography I never learned in school.

n Being thanked by my passengers incessantly before, during, and after the ride.

n Finding out that rice evaporates in weeks, and luncheon meat can turn into sardines. n Relief after receiving the text confirming “delivery” of our passenger to his family on the other end of the plane ride.

n Little girls and boys throwing up inside my car after their ordeal of the typhoon and flood, the wait, the plane ride. n Little boys in high spirits, excited to see Roxas Boulevard for the first time, even after a two-day bus ride n Hearing from passengers of lining up for five days and not being provided any food or water. n Hearing from passengers how big their CR is because they are not allowed to use the airport. n Hearing of soldiers who also try to give the survivors some of their own money to tide them over. n Heartbreaking stories shared by the survivors, of the wind that almost broke their eardrums and blew all their houses and trees away; of cowering in their CR for survival; of nature taking back a town leaving only sand; of the families they left behind.

I was slowly made whole again while witnessing a brother take tender, loving care of his siblings, all three of them falling asleep from exhaustion during our trip, finally arriving and having the sister who sat silent beside me throughout the trip suddenly jump out to hug her father. u

Thankful for Being a Volunteer

By MENNIE CALMERIN

W

hen we arrived at Villamor, honestly I was a bit overwhelmed with all the activities at the grandstand area and also thankful that I’m now a part of it. My first and only passsengers for that evening, was a family of three, a father and his two daughters, plus a relative already based here, who was able to accompany them all the way from Leyte to Manila since he was a volunteer with the Philippine Air Force. We had to wait for the father, who was examined and needed to be taken to the base hospital for some X-ray tests, because a concrete wall fell and hit him on the chest when the storm surge happened. While waiting, we talked with the relative, his name was Melchor, and he told us of the damages he saw and couldn’t believe that a typhoon can actually destroy a city. He even said, “Mam kung makakasakay kayo dyan sa eroplano papunta dun Tacloban para makita nyo...”

This time my passengers were not really survivors but were volunteer firefighters who were a part of a team sent to Tacloban City to help in the clean-up. They helped in the retrieval of dead bodies.

Sabi ko nga, “Naku, wag na ho, tama na yung nakita namin sa TV, baka maging pabigat pa kami dun, dito na lang kami, mas makakatulong pa.”

About an hour later, the father was brought back to the waiting area, and we’re told that he’s okay. We left Villamor a few minutes before 1 am and brought them to Barangay Payatas, Quezon City. Along the way, Melchor continued with his stories about what he saw there and kept thanking us for the ride.

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THE GRIM SEARCH Yolanda left almost 7,000 people dead, and about a thousand more missing.

For those who survived, not knowing if their loved ones are dead or still alive is the biggest question. Here, they search through body bags in the hope of at least finding the answer. REUTERS

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My next night to volunteer was Monday, Nov 18, and this time a much organized system was in place. This time my passengers were not really survivors but were volunteer firefighters based here in Metro Manila, specifically from Mandaluyong City. These three men were a part of a team that included other firefighters from different parts of Metro Manila. They were sent to Tacloban City to help in the clean-up. They helped in the retrieval of dead bodies, putting them in bags and burying them. They showed us pictures from their cameras of bodies in bags piled up in a mass grave. I asked them about the smell of the place, and one of them replied, “Naku ma’am, kahit sampung patong ang face mask, amoy mo pa rin.” They stayed there for eight days and said they always have sardinas for each meals. These men were also part of a team who were sent to Bohol after the earthquake, a week back home after that, they were off to Tacloban.

On my third night, I was able to make two runs: a family of three from Eastern Samar, to Bagong Silang, Caloocan City and another family with three members also from Tacloban City to Barangay Plainview, Mandaluyong City.

It’s good that these families, have members who are now based here in Manila and some

even have visited during holidays, so they were already familiar with the place or have someone who could look after and guide them.

On Nov. 23, after I registered and was about to take a seat, a DSWD volunteer asked me if I could take a family she’s assigned to, a father with two daughters from Leyte. They wanted to go to Manila and they have been waiting for a ride for about two hours already. I said, yes, of course. I brought them to Tondo, Manila. The father is based in Luzon and works in Cavite.

He went back to Leyte to look for his daughters whom he had lost contact with since the typhoon struck. He found them staying with a friend, and now they were all together again.

On Nov. 25, when we arrived at the tent, we saw quite a number of evacuees sitting there. I thought that they already have rides and were just waiting to be picked-up. I registered, got a number and took a seat to wait for announcement from the dispatcher.

It turned out that some of the survivors didn’t have drivers yet, I was told to just go to the table with the DSWD car pass forms and pick which destination I could drive to. We got passengers, going to Tambo, Paranaque, a

They showed us pictures from their cameras of bodies in bags piled up in a mass grave. I asked them about the smell of the place, and one of them replied, “Naku ma’am, kahit sampung patong ang face mask, amoy mo pa rin.” They stayed there for eight days and said they always have sardinas for each meals.

These men were also part of a team who were sent to Bohol after the earthquake, a week back home after that, they were off to Tacloban. mother with her 3 kids and her brother, from Leyte. Like my previous passengers with family members here, it’s the mother who is based here. She went back to Leyte, to bring her kids here, her husband stayed behind because he wanted to be there in case monetary help will be given to rebuild their house. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Good Karma

By PAT PARERO

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n November 13, 2013, I was on a night shift at work. By 4:00 AM, 14th of November I saw a post looking for volunteers who can help drive our fellows Filipinos from Tacloban to their families here in Manila. So by 6:30 AM I immediately went to Mckinley Hills to pick-up my fiancée. She got out by 8:20 AM and we rushed to VAB. We finally got in and I was able to talk to some DSWD reps. While I was talking to their leader, Golda came and asked who was in charge? Funny as no one answered so Golda volunteered to assist. Then Caryl, Golda’s, got a small whiteboard from their bag and began coordinating the transport volunteers. After a couple of minutes a C130 landed and we got our first passengers. They were bound to Antipolo.

I was driving a Mazda 3 while Caryl has a Honda Jazz. Unfortunately the first group had 19 members. We tried to find a way to make them fit in our cars but it was impossible. Caryl ran back to the table and was able to get another guy from

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While inside the shop, the two kids came running in asking for the washroom. Then a guy in the shop commented rather loudly that “those kids stink.” It made me angry, I walked to the guy and told him, he could have judged better.

DTI who fortunately has a Toyota Tamaraw FX. So finally, we were able to fit in all 19 members along with their belongings.

While on our way to Antipolo, the moms who was sitting at the back of my car was recalling heart breaking stories. She even had bruises all over her body.

On our way, Mr. Marcelino of DTI asked to stop in Petron Julia Vargas Station. While we were waiting I decided to buy something for the

kids. While inside the shop, the two kids came running in asking for the washroom. Then a guy in the shop commented rather loudly that “those kids stink.”

It made me angry, I walked to the guy and told him, he could have judged better. “Those kids along with all those passengers in the three vehicles outside came from Tacloban,” I explained. He then checked the kids and the people inside the cars and asked me, “Are they your relatives?” I said no and told him that we were volunteers who agreed to drive them safely to their relatives. He gave me a pained smile.

He turned around got his wallet out and bought some foods and drinks for our passengers. He talked to the store manager and asked for help. I was teary eyed with the sudden turn of events but was elated nevertheless.

What was even more surprising was when the manager shouted “Where are the relief goods?”

The manager later on handed the survivors packed goodies.

A Miracle

By NESTOR and MERLY DABI

Back on the road, the traffic along C5 and Rosario was bearable that we were able to get to their relatives way up Antipolo with no problems. It felt so good to see my first hatid safe with their relatives. By Friday morning I went back and saw familiar faces including Mr. Marcelino of DTI. On our way back, after bringing home a passenger to J.P. Rizal, I got a call from an unknown number. It was my first hatid, she asked me to go back to Antipolo because I mistakenly dropped a bag that belonged to me.

It’s a bag where I keep my wallet and other important things. My bag and wallet have been obviously opened but nothing was missing, not even a cent.

I was so thankful and thought that good karma is working. I took some money and gave it to them for their other needs. After which I called it a day. Come Saturday morning, I witnessed how Oplan Hatid operations grew, from the three drivers to a tent full of eager volunteer-drivers. u

A

fter reminiscing all 14 transportation passes that we have, the one that strikes our heart is the family of Tatay Benildo Oliva. They lived at Barangay San Jose in Tacloban City which is one of the areas devastated the most by Super Typhoon Yolanda. His family (a wife and two children) was living with his in-laws while he was working in Palao with his 3-year-old boy.

On the day Yolanda struck, his wife and her family didn’t evacuate. They thought Yolanda would just be like the usual typhoons that they had experienced. However, when Yolanda almost wiped out their house, and his wife, father and mother-in-law, his 13-year-old boy (a special child on a wheelchair) and his 5-year-old girl were all washed out by the rampaging storm surge and only clung to a truss of the roof of their neighbor avoid being tossed to the sea.

His father-in-law held on tightly to his son and daughter for three hours which they said was like an eternity. After the third storm surge, the old man, due to exhaustion accidentally let go of his son.

They tried very hard to find him afterwards but he was gone.

The rest of the family survived. They all thought the boy had died.

But when they returned to what had remained of their house, they saw the boy there. They all kneeled, cried and thanked God Almighty for saving them all. u

His father-in-law held on tightly to his son and daughter for three hours which they said was like an eternity. After the third storm surge, the old man, due to exhaustion accidentally let go of his son. They tried very hard to find him afterwards but he was gone.

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100 Lives in Four Days I

By AARON CONCEPCION

am a depressed man. I have a lot of problems under my belt right now and I felt hopeless since October of this year. I’ll not go into the details but it’s mostly about love life, personal health, and finances. I went to Oplan Hatid because I needed to keep myself busy, to forget about her, to temporarily get away from my problems, and to keep me sane.

Upon seeing the call for help through Facebook, I immediately picked up my phone and dialed the numbers posted for information regarding the volunteer work. The contact persons were not responding, so I guess I have to go there to check for myself if there really is a need for volunteer drivers.

I first went there on Saturday, November 16, 2013 where I had to look for the booth of Oplan Salubong, which was just a small desk in the midst of the tents by the side of the VAB grandstand. I don’t know whom to talk to so I just hung around for a while.

I was listening to the PA system when someone announced that they need more repacking volunteers to the gymnasium because there were no evacuees ready to be sent home. There were about 20 volunteer drivers so I guess I was not needed there.

When I got home, I tried searching for the Oplan Salubong page and I found out that those who

initially called for help already organized a page where volunteer drivers can sign up. They named it Oplan Hatid. I signed up for my desired timeslot which is 8: 00 PM onwards since I have to maintain my business during the day. When I first arrived at Gate 5, 8:00 PM of November 18, I was welcomed by about 10 volunteers, which had number stubs for bidding. After a while of hanging out at the waiting area, I got the gist of the bidding process and I got my first bid without competition. My first passengers: 6 adults and 2 kids bound for Arkong Bato, Novaliches. I had no idea where that was and so were my passengers so I turned on the GPS app on my mobile phone and started mapping my way through. We got there after about an hour and a half and I was invited by the family to have some coffee, but I politely declined saying that I needed to get back to VAB to send more evacuees home.

They were very thankful as they have been waiting for about 4 hours already at Villamor, adding to their 12 hour wait to ride the C-130 from Guian to Manila.

My ride on the way back to VAB was quite a breeze because it was already around 10:00 PM when I got back. I was excited to pick up new evacuees to be transported. I initially thought I

God really moves mountains. Some problems solved now, time to move on and go back to VAB for more Oplan Hatid. It got so addicting this time to the point that every day when I wake up, Oplan Hatid always comes to mind first and I was always thinking of the best time when I can drop by VAB. needed to bid again but lo and behold, there were more of them waiting to be sent to Novaliches, Caloocan, and Malabon and nobody bids for them either because they would not fit in their car or they were not familiar of the places the survivors needed to be brought to. I asked the dispatchers to give me those who have been waiting for a while and those who carry a lot of baggages with them, and I would try to carry as much as I could on my truck. So I drove to and fro VAB through the night that it got a bit mechanical already as if it has become part of my system. I went back the next evening and did the same, traveling to as far as the nooks and crannies of Caloocan, Valenzuela, Dasmarinas, Cavite, and Tagaytay.

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Right before the third evening of my volunteering stint in Oplan Hatid, I hanged around one of our construction sites and an idea popped up in my mind. What if I tried to bet on a lottery game, would God give me some luck and let me win for doing such acts of kindness? He did, and I won – but not the jackpot of the 6/49 draw. I got the 4-drawn digits on my ticket and I won P2,000!

I used this for my fuel expenses for Oplan Hatid.

Another significant event that happened was one of my previous clients called me up telling me to pick up my retainer check from him – after more than a year of sending him a collection notice!

God really moves mountains. Some problems solved now, time to move on and go back to VAB for more Oplan Hatid. It got so addicting this time to the point that every day when I wake up, Oplan Hatid always comes to mind first and I was always thinking of the best time when I can drop by VAB. Remember me telling you that I don’t like being seen crying in public? My last passenger headed for Tagaytay made me cry. She was a caretaker for a rest house owned by a rich family whose parents and siblings were in Guian Samar when the typhoon struck. Upon hearing from DSWD that her parents were at VAB and ready to be picked up, she woke up as early as 4:00 AM to meet her parents.

She waited for us at the Gate 4 of VAB since there were no shuttles available at the moment. Upon seeing her parents seated inside my truck, her tears 138

flowed slowly but steadily, expressing the very sense of joy in knowing that her parents are still alive. We went to Tagaytay to her boss’s rest house as she handed me some money to pay for the fuel.

I politely declined. She insisted that I stay there for some coffee to meet her boss. She even prepared breakfast for us while we waited for her boss to come out.

We had an hour of chatting and sharing about almost anything under the sun as “Ate” was listening to us. When it’s about time to go, Ate immediately hugged me and told me, “Salamat po sa pagtulong ninyo, nakita ko ulit ang mga magulang ko!” I tried to keep my tears from falling but my eyes couldn’t hold them anymore.

I quickly wiped them all with my handkerchief as I was boarding my vehicle. Tears started flowing hard when I started driving and I had to drive very slowly as I couldn’t see any more where I was going. Eventually my eyes dried up just before hitting the Tagaytay Rotonda and I went back to VAB to check if there were people that still needed to be transported. Gladly, I saw the Oplan Hatid tent overflowing with volunteer drivers awaiting the C130 arrivals as well as the Pacquiao-Rios fight.

I went home to rest and told myself to resume the evening of that day.

After a fe w days of recovering from the sleepless nights, I kept myself updated about the operations of Oplan Hatid. They announced that

Oplan Hatid will be closed from 10:00 PM to 6: 00 AM, my ideal time for transporting evacuees. I got a bit sad that I will not be able to do more volunteer work. I just thought to myself, “Give chance to other angels to help, madami na naman akong natulungan.” I recounted the number of persons I have brought to their relatives and I was surprised that I have already transported close to 100 people in those four nights that I volunteered for Oplan Hatid. It was truly a rewarding and touching experience where I got to talk to the evacuees personally.

Remember me telling you that I don’t like being seen crying in public? My last passenger headed for Tagaytay made me cry.

I hope I have touched the lives of my passengers as much as they did mine, knowing what they had to undergo I have become a changed man after this experience. I would never forget how humbling it was to give to others without expecting anything in return. I learned through this experience that there is more to life than all of these temporary problems that I face each day. I hope that everyone gets back on their feet and start giving back to others as well. Congratulations to a job well done for the organizers of Oplan Hatid. Without you, I would not be able to help others and I would not experience all of these life-changing events. u

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‘Parang Wish Ko Lang!’

By MA. CARINA MANGA

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t was raining that night. My sister Madol and I arrived at Villamor’s Gate 5 and we found only one man under a tent. Our initial thoughts were volunteers were no longer needed. All the while we thought that was the main OH tent.

But the guy told us that there would be a shuttle to take us to the grandstand area. So we waited for about 10 minutes and a van arrived, with the driver asking, “Anyone need a ride?” Not knowing where it would go, we just hopped in.

I even had to put the CD player on repeat mode because we knew she liked it. However, we noticed her cough. It was probably due to their experience waiting for the C-130 in Tacloban.

Kuya Mako told us they had to wait outside in an area with no roof. So if when it rained they definitely got wet. When we passed by the road going to Mc Kinley hill, Iya said “Jollibee.” We knew she wanted it, but it was already hard to maneuver.

Indeed, the action was at the grandstand area.

Volunteers, DSWD staff members, medics, and the survivors were all there. We registered at the OH tent they gave us a number. We said our route would be Marikina, Pasig or East area and we could accommodate five persons. In less than five minutes, someone asked, “Markina, one adult and one kid.” We immediately raised our hands. The DSWD personnel led us the way. There we met Kuya Mako with his grandchild Iya. We introduced ourselves ad had a lot of chit chat while waiting for the shuttle to transport us back to Gate 5.

It was in Libis that I saw another Jollibee, and this time we decided to stop as it was already 7 pm. Kuya Mako was a bit hesitant, but we insisted it was the least we could do. We ordered food for them.

On our way to Marikina, Iya was still full of energy, even singing, “Just Give Me A Reason.”

As my sister went back inside the vehicle, she handed the medicines to Kuya Mako and there

After having dinner, we proceeded to a drugstore. Without saying a word to my sister Madol, I parked the car and she said “Cai bili lang ako gamot ko.” But we both knew what she would really buy. It was the medicine for Iya’s cough and some vitamins for Kuya Mako.

he said something that almost made me cry.

“Naku! Maraming salamat! Di n’yo kelangan gawin to. Sobra sobra na. Parang Wish Ko Lang!”.

Those words struck me. The food and the medicine were nothing to what the show Wish Ko Lang gives, but I could really feel their sincere appreciation. It was such a wonderful feeling for us.

When we were already nearing Marikina.

I could really sense their excitement. Kuya Mako knew the directions. When we reached Parang, Kuya Mako asked us to park on the side street. We insisted to bring them directly to his daughters place. But he said the road going there was too narrow for the car. So we simply helped him carry some of his stuff to their place. There I saw his other daughters, Kuya Mako’s mother, and his grandsons crying. We bid them goodbye and went back to Villamor for another round.

That first night we spent at OH was really an eye opener. It was a tiring but truly fulfilling night. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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Out of the Way

By DIVINA CORAZON ULITA

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e are from San Pedro, Laguna; my husband and I work in Laguna. Therefore, a trip to Villamor Air Base would be considered “out of the way.” But isn’t that what makes helping noble - going out of your way to lend a hand?

On our way to our first night as angelson-wheels, we planned to ferry passengers to Alabang until Calamba, Laguna only, then head home because it was the birthday of one of our sons. We waited at the OH tent for more than an hour, and while there experienced the camaraderie that the angels shared. The ‘bidding’ orchestrated by the now-famous Mia was F-U-N with a capital F. At last, our chance came. A family of three was needing transport to Palasan, Sta Cruz, Laguna. OMG, that was a good 80 kilometers from VAB, and another 60 kilometers back to our house in San Pedro. However, when we realized there were no takers, my husband and I exchanged glances, and right there and then knew we had to help this family. We rode our old reliable Starex so we could ferry more people.

Good thing there was also a young family of four, a less than two-month old baby included, who

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were headed to their relatives in Macabling, Sta. Rosa, Laguna. Vroom, vroom... off we went.

Their stories were not far different from what we’ve seen on TV or read on print media and the Internet, but hearing them directly from survivors brought more goose bumps and elicited more OMGs. Soon enough after hearing their stories, you get to realize how lucky you are to have been spared from such a harrowing experience. And just as soon you make the resolve that the least you can do for them aside from your prayers is helping them out in any way you can.

The four members of the young family we brought to Sta Rosa were really lucky to have survived Yolanda. At the start of the storm, half of the roof of their house was blown away and they were left cowering in one corner all soaked from the raging rain brought by the storm. When they noticed the water rising, they decided to wade through to get to a neighbor’s two-storey house, and just as soon as they left their house, the rest of the roof caved in.

Before they can get to safety, however, the storm surge came rushing. They climbed atop a tricycle, but at that point have already surrendered their fate

to the Almighty, considering how precarious their position was. Luckily for them, their father who was already at the neighbor’s house, had the presence of mind to throw them a cable for a lifeline and they slowly moved to safety.

We met the same family again 5 days after we ferried them to Sta Rosa, this time to have the baby referred to a pediatric cardiologist friend. Apparently, the baby who was born a month before Yolanda, had a heart murmur at birth. Thankfully, the baby was found to be A-OK already. Another blessing from above, I surmise...

The morning after we drove some survivors to Sta. Cruz, Laguna in the middle of the night, my husband left for work. As he was driving off he mentioned about a meeting in Makati after lunch.

I expected my husband to be home by dinnertime, but at around 9 PM and he still wasn’t home. I called him up. It turned out he got out of his meeting in Makati after 5 PM, and decided to drop by VAB hoping to get passengers southbound. Since there were but a few drivers

at the tent that day being a Monday, he had to make two quick trips for two families to Buendia and Paranaque, then took on a third family who were bound to Sto. Tomas, Batangas on his way home to San Pedro.

He got home a little past 11 PM. I realized: Pwede rin palang gabihin sa pag-uwi ang asawa mo, at gutumin ka sa paghihintay sa kanya sa hapunan, pero tuwang-tuwa at proud na proud ka pa rin sa kanya pagdating niya.

The family he took to Batangas that night was a 76-year-old Nanay with her adult son who was so exhausted he fell asleep the entire trip. Nanay kept relating stories to my hubby about her children. My husband who is usually quiet while driving had to be polite and would ask Nanay a question every now and then, but Nanay kept on with her stories without bothering to answer his queries. It turned out Nanay was hard of hearing, and couldn’t have heard any of my husband’s questions during the trip, hence the one-way conversation. Well, at least Nanay was able to keep him awake and alert on the wheel. u

Ang Kuwento ni Nanay Petronilla T

By NHING ARAFILES

his story was from our second day of doing Oplan Hatid. We were assigned two families na sabay naming naisakay, five passengers for Dasmariñas and three passengers for Molino, both in Cavite.

Ang nagpaantig ng puso at nagpaiyak sa amin ay ang pamilya na inihatid namin sa Molino. Si Nanay Petronilla, may kargang bata. Nang papunta na kami ng Molino biglang umiyak at sinabi hinding hindi daw niya makakalimutan ang pangyayaring yun at hindi na sila babalik sa Tanauan. Her daughter’s description was “wash out” lahat dahil sinira na lahat ng bagyong Yolanda. At pinakamasakit pa ay namatay ang asawa ng kanyang anak matapos mabagsakan ng puno ng niyog.

Dumating kami sa paghahatiran sa kanila, Ang problem, hindi sigurado si Nanay Petronilla sa address. Wala rin siyang contact number pero alam daw niyang puntahan. When we got to SM Molino lalo siyang nag-alala kasi nag-iba na raw ang lugar. Sixteen years old pa lang pala siya nang huling makarating dun and now she is 56 years old.

Ang address na sinasabi niya ay Xavierville Subdivision sa loob ng Brgy. Pinyahan. Ang pag-aalala sa kalooban ko ay kung hindi namin makita ang lugar at ibabalik namin sila sa VAB na sadyang mahirap para sa kanila. Sa loob ng 30 minuto na paikot-ikot sa SM area ay natagpuan din namin ang lugar.

Ang tamang address pala ay Pinya Street at makikiraan sa Camella Homes Springville. Lord, thank you very much! After ilang ikot ay tumama din kami sa tulong ni Mang Eddi (Eh Di magtanong). Kakatanong ulit sa paligid. Pagdating sa Pinya Street ay nakita na ni Nanay Petronilla ang bahay ng nanay niya.

Pagbaba ng sasakyan ni Nanay Petronilla ay bigla siyang umupo sa lupa na ang tingin kay Lola ay hindi natinag at walang imik o ibang naririnig kundi himig ng isang iyak ng kaligayahan. Nagtagal ng ilang minuto kung saan umagos ang luha sa pisngi nilang dalawa. Luha ng pagmamahal at pag-asa.

Sa aming pag-alis ang luha ay meron ng kakamping ngiti. Ang pighati ay napawi at anumang dumating bukas, lahing Pinoy siguradong babawi. u CHAPTER TWO | Volunteer Stories

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fter two days of volunteering but always ending up going home tired and disappointed kasi wala ako naihahatid, I won the bidding by one point on the very last day of Oplan Hatid! Passengers ko were Tatay George, ang daughter niya na si Joanna and his apo, Alexis . They needed a ride going to Tandang Sora, na malapit lang sa house ng lola ko.

Kaya excited ako na nagtaas ng kamay with a smile.

Tatay George’s wife already died a couple of years ago due to cancer. He is a construction worker in Pasig but he stays in Fairview. He left Manila last week and was able to reach Tacloban by hitching a ride with the MMDA to fetch his daughter Joanna and her son Alexis. Sabi ni Tatay George, single mom daw si Joanna at maysakit kaya kailangan talaga niya sunduin sa Tacloban.

Yung bahay daw nila, natangay ang bubong at wala na rin daw silang ikabubuhay dun kaya they decided to go here sa Manila.

They were up by 2 am that morning and was already in line by 6 am at the airport. They were lucky that they were given priority as Joanna was sick (she has swollen legs and knees). They were allowed to board the C-130 by 11 am. They arrived at the Villamor Air Base at around 2 pm. We were able to leave for Tandang Sora by 4 pm.

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Mas Mabigat pa ang Problema

By JENNIFER ZOLETA

Before boarding my car, a lady from the DSWD gave me two barf bags just in case daw magsuka.

True enough, nasa Pasong Tamo Extension pa lang kami when Alexis already used one of the bags. I had to stop twice along the side of the road dahil hilo-hilong daw siya and nasusuka. I brought chocolates, candies and Bonamine in anticipation of biyahilo, pero no effect kay Alexis. By the time I turned right to EDSA, gamit na rin yung last barf bag. Luckily, may nasingit na small plastic ng Jollibee sa door pocket ng car so may extra pa kaming magagamit while traversing EDSA.

ko, grabe ang pamilyang ito, hindi lang si Yolanda and the aftermath ang haharapin, meron pa mas matindi. Joanna is still young at 26 to undergo such tragedy and pain. And what about her son Alexis?

Ano mangyayari sa bata?

When I turned off the aircon and opened the windows, medyo nakabawas sa hilo ng bata.

Pagdating ng Guadalupe, tahimik at nakaidlip na si Tatay George and si Alexis. I asked Joanna kung ano ang sakit and plano niya. She said meron daw sya sakit sa kidney. I cannot recall the specific sickness pero ang tumatak lang sa isip ko is according daw sa doctor, Stage 3 na daw. I looked at her and saw na nangingilid ang luha niya at nakatingin siya kay Alexis. She plans to go to Veterans Hospital para magpacheck-up and magpagamot. Hindi ko alam kung ano sasabihin ko at that time. Feeling

We arrived at their relatives’ house mga 5:30 pm na. Tatay George and Joanna were very thankful and panay ang sorry dahil nagsusuka daw si Alexis at naiinitan daw ako dahil kailangan patayin ang aircon. Sabi ko balewala yun. Sa loob ko, kung sila nga mas matagal na nainitan sa airport eh. Before I left, I gave them two small Christmas gift baskets para makatulong sa Noche Buena nila. Sobrang pasasalamat ulit sila at sobra-sobra na daw ang tulong na ibinigay ko. Nakaka-guilty dahil maliit na bagay lang yun pero kung magpasalamat sila, parang binigyan ko sila ng kabuhayan showcase. u

Ang hirap mag-drive as I was trying to control my tears and emotions. Na-break ang silence dahil nagising ulit si Alexis pagdating ng bandang Megamall at nag-umpisa ulit magsuka. I decided to take the side streets na lang para just in case he needs to go, mas madali mag-park sa gilid ng kalsada.

We arrived at their relatives’ house mga 5:30 pm na.

Tatay George and Joanna were very thankful and panay ang sorry dahil nagsusuka daw si Alexis at naiinitan daw ako dahil kailangan patayin ang aircon. Sabi ko balewala yun. Sa loob ko, kung sila nga mas matagal na nainitan sa airport eh.

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Alro and His Long Way Home I

By JUNEP OCAMPO

first met Alro Aguipo on Nov. 22, the day Oplan Hatid resumed after a brief intermission due to the sudden announcement of a transfer to Camp Aguinaldo. When a call from the Air Force was received, we decided to go back and resume operations at Villamor. It was almost 4 pm when I heard the barker announce the need for an ambulance to take a child with a brain tumor to the hospital. I knew right there and then that the announcement was for me.

No, I don’t drive an ambulance. I am just an ordinary media person who happens to know personally the director of the Philippine Children’s Medical Center. He is Dr. Julius Lecciones and we have worked together on various advocacies, one of which is pediatric cancer. Doc Julius told me to just bring the boy in and PCMC would take care of him.

So we split Alro’s group of nine into two. He and his parents, Alfredo and Rosarita, rode in my car, and the others took a van to Mayhaligue, Manila. I drove them straight to PCMC. It took us more than two hours due to traffic, and in the car, Alro, who was crying because of pain, was comforted by the music. According to his mother, 146

he was a good dancer. And he loved basketball.

I told him I’d buy him a basketball when he gets well.

When we reached PCMC, Alro was examined at the emergency room. His mother brought his records from the Quirino Medical Center. He was supposed to be operated on in October but this did not push through because the family simply did not have the resources to bring him to Manila.

Then Yolanda happened. The Aguipos finally got their chance. They hitched a ride with their neighbor who was taking the commercial flight to Manila. When they reached the Tacloban airport at 7 am, Rosarita couldn’t help but weep when she saw the long lines of people waiting for the C-130. She was crying on the sidewalk when a soldier noticed her. Upon hearing that her son had brain tumor, the Aguipos were prioritized.

At 1 pm that same day, they were on board the C-130 bound for Villamor.

All the while I thought Alro would survive.

The PCMC had committed to give him free brain surgery and free medication. But apparently, God had other plans for him. He was diagnosed with pneumonia and the operation was not pursued.

Then he got worse due to complications. On Dec. 13, a Friday, he passed on.

Alro’s parents were not around when God took him. His mother was confined at San Lazaro hospital due to measles, and his father was attending to her there. His father said that at the time Alro passed on, he witnessed some sort of apparition where he saw his young boy passing by the door and waiving at him. He looked so happy, Alfredo remembered. It was only later that Alfredo realized that the boy had gone to the afterlife.

When I learned about Alro’s death, I called up his mother and asked about their plans. She said her only wish was for them to be able to go home to Sta. Rita, Samar and bury Alro there, hopefully before Christmas.

So we coordinated with the Air Force. No more C-130s flying to Tacloban, they said. We tried PAL and Cebu Pacific. All fully booked. Then we tried RORO buses, but they would only take the passengers, not Alro’s remains. And it would be very costly to hire a funeral car to transport the boy’s remains to Tacloban.

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The Privilege to Serve

By ROMEO BAAS

O It was then that we decided to do it Oplan Hatid-style. Jaworski Garcia and Erik dela Cruz, two men I never knew before Yolanda, both volunteered. We also got three alternate drivers, among them was Arnold “Japs” Roperez, husband of Tere Roperez, who has been assisting the Aguipos at PCMC since Day 1. James Deakin was able to raise P36,000 for fuel and other needs. Donations amounting to P30,000 originally meant for the Aguipos’ transport were given to them as “pabaon” to help them get started when they get back to their place. And many more came the night before we left.

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It was a very long drive. Roughly 1,800 kilometers round trip. We took off at 10 pm of Dec. 20. We reached Matnog port before sundown the following day, which incidentally was my wedding anniversary. We slept in our cars while waiting at the port. We got to take the RORO to Samar after midnight of Sunday, Dec. 22 and finally reached Sta. Rita town at 10 am that day. We never got the chance to stay there for long. We just had a quick wash, passed by Tacloban for a quick tour, and took the long drive home to Manila, with a single goal in mind -- to get home before Christmas. And with God’s help, we did just that, arriving safely in our homes in the wee hours of Dec. 24. u

plan Hatid gave me the privilege of driving many survivors home. For every smile, I gained hope for myself and for the victims of Yolanda.

My first hatid was a 9-member family who had to go to Angeles City, Pampanga. One woman was pregnant, two kids were coughing, and three were throwing up during the ride.

Instead of complaining, I was just relieved that they managed to leave their place, surrounded and littered with dead bodies everywhere.

My second hatid, a couple, lost their 11month-old baby during the storm. Like many, they did not expect heavy flooding. In seconds, their home was filled with water. Their two children who survived, managed to climb to the ceiling. They lost everything. When the flood subsided, their car was hanging on a tree.

My third hatid didn’t lose a family member during the storm but they told me about their

My second hatid, a couple, lost their 11-month-old baby during the storm. Like many, they did not expect heavy flooding. In seconds, their home was filled with water. Their two children who survived, managed to climb to the ceiling. They lost everything. When the flood subsided, their car was hanging on a tree. neighbor who lost 11 members of his own family. With them was Ayeesha, a baby girl who was celebrating her birthday that day. I bought them cake and some food to celebrate and to be thankful for the life ahead.

The first time I volunteered was in the aftermath of Typhoon Ondoy. For the privilege to serve, I would do it again and again.. u

Helping in Any Way We Can

By TERE ROPEREZ

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e don’t own a car ,but my motivations in helping doen’t stop me. I immediately called a friend who has a car but just received disappointment with his response.

God truly works in wondrous ways. In the early morning of November 17, I read Junep’s post about a 6-year-old boy named Alro who has brain tumor. He said he brought the boy to the Philippine Children’s Medical Center for medical management.

On that same day, I tagged along the whole family, my husband and three kids to PCMC.We brought a basketball with us (it was also mentioned

by Junep that the boy wanted a basketball).

Upon seing Alro and handed him the toys, tears fell from my eyes. The boy was so happy seing all the toys and some food but as much as he wanted to play with all the toys, he couldn’t.

His hands were shaking due to the tumor in his brain.

On our way home my family was in high spirits because we learned the true meaning of blessings by extending help to people from whom you will never expect anything in return.

My heart felt the pain of his mother, seing Alro in great pain and her capacity to help was limited. I felt her agony.

Inspite of their situation brought by Yolanda, the family was just praying for Alro’s recovery ...

On our way home my family was in high spirits because we learned the true meaning of blessings by extending help to people from whom you will never expect anything in return. u 149

Chapter Four

Other Efforts

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Oplan Salubong:

The Heart of the Volunteer

By JANELLE M. KINTANAR

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HERE are lots of things to be said of what transpired in Operation Salubong inVillamor Air Base. As the daughter of one of those “ladies” who organized OplanSalubong, let me relay things as I saw them since Day 1.

NOV. 13 — I got a text from my Mom that they were assisting Yolanda survivors as coming off C130 planes. All they had was a small room. There they helped survivors process what happened to them, fed them, gave them clothes, and ensured that they somehow got home with the few vehicles they had on hand. They themselves raised money to provide transportation for a family bound for Baguio and to purchase an asthma inhaler for a child who needed it. At this point, they made contact with the DSWD who arrived later in the evening as they did not know that something like this was already going on in Villamor.

CAPTION PLS. Oplan Hatid was finally given its own tent at the back of the Villamor grandstand, with a megaphone as temporary sound system.

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AIR FORCE LADIES They started the relief work at Villamor Air Base which later came to be known as Oplan Salubong. Here, the Air Force Ladies, who are wives of Philippine Air Force officers, discuss how to improve the system.

NOV. 14 — They transferred to a bigger area as more survivors came. The main grandstand hadn’t been opened yet but there was a medical tent set up by the SM Foundation, a DSWD desk, an ukay-ukay station, a libreng tawag station by SMART, and nuns who were conducting stress debriefing. By this time my father and I walked around the venue and talked about how the different tents would be laid out.

NOV. 15 — I woke up to my Mom going around the house in distress as a C-130 plane arrived that morning with only a few military personnel on hand to attend to the survivors. She immediately went to the venue. That evening, I arrived at the venue to find it bustling with activity. Over the sound system, I heard someone asking for volunteers to bring a family to Batangas. It was the start of Oplan Hatid. I went in and saw half of the grandstand 152 52

full of survivors. There were also more volunteers this time around and more tents have been set up.

NOV. 16 — I woke up early and waited for my Mom to wake up. When she did, she told me that she could take it easy now because the DSWD was going to handle the operations from here on. After a few hours, she got texts from different volunteers, one of them being Junep Ocampo of Oplan Hatid, asking her to go back as the system was chaotic and no one was taking charge. We dropped her off the venue and I saw so many people milling about and an area where volunteers were being received. Different booths were set up with tarps specifying what they were, and I came to see that the operation finally had a name: Operation Salubong. By this time, the whole of grandstand was open to receive our survivors.

NOV. 17 — I coordinated with Nicole Gamo and we made improvements to the system and added more jobs for volunteers to handle. I will forever be thankful to Maya Guilatco and Dorothy for taking the responsibility of orienting from me, for Jenny Orlina and John for manning the grandstand, for Jayson Sunga for handling food distribution, for Ma’am Mayet for handling the food station, for Ma’am Eena for orienting the counselor volunteers, for Anabelle Cadelina and Racquel Jay Arlante for manning registration, for Jeff for heading the marshals and ensuring that even volunteers were attended to, for Tyna Torres for manning the clothes station, and Harvard Uy de Baron for taking my place.

NOV. 18 — It was on this day that I met Undersecretary Ronaldo Geron who asked us for our needs. We gave them a tour of the different booths we

had onsite and briefed them on how operations usually go. A plane had just landed right then and there and they were able to see how our operations usually went for themselves.

NOV. 20 — Ten RORO buses from Tacloban arrived and it was at this point that the ladies stated to the USec. Geron that they cannot attend to the needs of these survivors while attending to the needs of those coming off the C-130 planes.

A C-130 Philippine C-130 aircraft could carry 100-150 passengers at a time, a US C-130 aircraft could accommodate 200-250 passengers, and a US Globemaster III aircraft could hold even more.

There would be two to three of these planes landing at a time, sometimes even within minutes of each other. The grandstand would be filled to capacity with the survivors coming off the planes, and to add the survivors from land and sea would

A Worthwhile Adventure

I

By PAX AVILA

T WAS my rest day when I decided to drop by Villamor Air Base to volunteer. I never thought it would be the start of an adventure-filled month — and it would cost me my job.

I was a volunteer of Oplan Salubong, and I was tasked to be the main announcer at the grandstand. I never wanted to be the center of attention, but the sight of people coming out of C-130 planes moved me. I felt a strong urge to go beyond my limitations and stayed there for days.

We set up a system involving Marshals, Counselors, Cleaners, etc. We called ourselves the Avengers. We worked for 78 hours,had a

short break, then resumed for another 48 hours non-stop. In the process, I had unforgettable adventures and fulfilled a lifelong dream of working with airplanes. I even had the chance of chasing one.

One hot afternoon, a C-130 was about to head back to Tacloban. As it was slowly boosting up its engine, a volunteer approached me and shouted, “Sir naiwan po itong bata! Yung nanay n’ya po nakasakay sa C-130!”

So I carried the boy and ran to the tarmac. Air Force men ran after me saying, “Bawal po tayo dyan!” I told them, “Yung bata naiwan! Yung eroplano ang pigilan n’yo!” Luckily, they stopped the plane and the boy managed to join his mother.

But yes, I did lose my job in this adventure. It was supposed to be a two-day experience for me, but itturned out to be almost a month. I remember going to an admin meeting but Ididn’t hear any human voice. All I heardwas the loud buzzing sound of a C-130. I simply signed the documents and headed back to the base. Then I told myself, “OK lang. Ang importante nakatulong ako. Hindi ako dapat ma-guilty.” u CHAPTER FOUR | Other Efforts

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see cramped up spaces, volunteers spread thin, and survivors not cared for enough.

This was the concern of the ladies for which they held an audience with representatives of the Office of the President. It was during this same meeting that it was decided that operations would be turned over to the government, who decided to transfer operations to Camp Aguinaldo, something I truly am confused about because the system was working fine the way it was in Villamor. It was the decision of the government, not the ladies, to stop operations at Villamor and transfer them to Aguinaldo.

NOV. 21 — Karelle called me and told me that someone contacted her from the government side to make transition. As it was our supposedly last night, we gave it our all. I saw volunteers who had their shifts end at 9 pm staying until 12 noon to see the operation 154

through. Thank you Pax Avila, Armand, Mon, and Ferdie Braid for manning the grandstand and being head marshals that day. I went home around 6 am, exhausted and still confused about the previous day’s events. When I went back to the site at 11 am, things were chaotic.

DSWD workers were starting to leave despite survivors still arriving by plane. The supposed buses that were going to transport the survivors to Camp Aguinaldo, to be provided by LTFRB, had not arrived yet. It was only that morning that different representatives of the government agencies who were going to take over were present for transition. Volunteers were confused as to what the system would be and what to do with the survivors who were still there and who were yet to come.

It was during this time, as I was on my way to school, that I heard about this supposed “turf war” where it was stated that operations were being moved because the ladies didn’t want to give up

the limelight. What limelight? Did they think that the ladies started this because they wanted to be recognized and applauded? In the first place, what the Ladies Club started wasn’t supposed to be their job to begin with. They weren’t paid to do this and they most certainly did not ask to handle such an operation! It was thrust upon them when they saw that no one was helping the survivors coming off the C-130. They were the first to come to their aid, even before the media, the government, and all the civilian volunteers came onboard. I saw them go through sleepless nights even before operations became 24/7. I saw them asking for help from the government and the military. I saw them handling looters – civilians disguised as survivors or volunteers trying to make the most of the situation.

And this is how they’ll be remembered – ladies who wanted the limelight and started a turf war with the DSWD!

It was the decision of the Office of the President and the DSWD to change base. The ladies certainly weren’t prohibiting them from Villamor Air Base.

They don’t even own the place. If there was a supposed “turf war”, operations wouldn’t have been allowed to transfer back to Villamor Air Base the same day it was moved to Camp Aguinaldo. I ask that the public think before they comment and react on the matter.

to resume operations and scrounging up food to send to the site as food was running out.

Our volunteers that night welcomed an influx of survivors. They would be more apt to tell you what transpired as I was not present, discouraged and disheartened by what was coming out in the news and how the operations were being handled. I came home learning that the ladies were discouraged, short of prohibited, from going back to the site. I saw them hurting. I hurt for them too. We sent what help we could from home, calling OplanHatid heads

My mom has always had the heart to serve and has always preferred to stay in the background. If you must know, since Day 1 she has been operations manager.

I saw her tired on her toes and losing her voice. I saw her break down but still choose to fight. I have never been more blessed and prouder to call her my mother.

During this time that she can’t speak up and tell the truth, let me do the talking. I hurt for the ladies because they do not deserve the bad reports and negative

I came home yesterday to a somewhat empty home, learning from our household help that my mom was back at the grandstand, helping the DSWD with the flow and the process. This, despite all the negative press they got about wanting to be in the limelight.

comments they have been getting. When there was no one there for the survivors, they were there. When there was nothing to gain from helping these “displaced individuals”, no press, no money, they were there. They were all volunteers, and when the government wanted to take charge, they just followed orders.

Despite how it ended, I will not allow such negativity to taint my experience of Operation Salubong. This experience beats repacking goods, any time, any day. To have been given the opportunity to offer relief to our kababayans myself, in whatever way I could, may it be merely talking to them, playing with their children, giving them food and water, bringing them clothes and toiletries, and seeing them home, will be something that I will always be thankful for. Nothing beats seeing their faces light up when they see the warm welcome home they receive here. u CHAPTER FOUR | Other Efforts

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A Volunteer Pilot’s Experience

By Capt. DEXTER COMENDADOR 1ST Day,09 Nov. 2013/Saturday

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Y 0200, Yolanda left the Philippine Area of Responsibility and everything was so silent over our Operation Center’s communication network. We tried to contact our stations in Kalibo (KLO) and Tacloban (TAC) but there was no response.

AirAsia (AAZ) PresidentMaanHontiveros and CEO Joy Caneba gave the go signal to prepare two rescue flights to those two stations.

By 0600, two aircraft were ready to go carrying first responders and some supplies. CAAP ops center was hesitant to give the GO signal as they were unsure of the airports’ status. However, we had information from the PAF pilots that both airports were usable and clear of debris.

By 1100, CAAP gave the clearance to fly but suddenly backtracked. The authorities from Manila wanted to inspect the airport themselves because they got a tip that President Aquino would visit TAC the next day. On hindsight , it was an unnecessary effort because the PAF had already provided information that they had already inspected and cleared the runway.

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What struck me this day was the picture of a father carrying the lifeless body of his young daughter walking aimlessly, as if looking for assistance and comfort. I have a young daughter too and I could only empathize to the helplessness and pain.

PRAYING A survivor prays on the tarmac of Tacloban City airport as he waits for a ride on the military’s C-130 plane bound for Manila.

By 1600, the clearance was finally given for KLO and TAC, but it was futile to fly there as nighttime would soon fall in. It was a disappointing day waiting for the green light that was given late in the afternoon, but it became more frustrating when the authorities declared that only smaller turboprop planes may fly to TAC. Reasons given were: q ARPT NO GRD NAVIGATION EQPT AND RUNWAY LIGHTS (AAZ-The Airbus has its own stand-alone navigation equipment and does not need runway lights in daytime); q RUNWAY IS DAMAGED AND FULL OF DEBRIS (AAZ-Pictures and reports from PAF pilots reveal that the TAC runway is clear and usable); q NO STAIRS AND CARTS AVAILABLE (AAZThe pics reveal these were available); q AIRLINES WILL HAMPER PAF OPNS (AAZ-Former PAF pilots, like me and some other AAZ pilots, were trained to blend in emergency situations like this).

If these were valid arguments, then even the turboprops should not have been allowed to land in TAC either.

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2ND DAY, 10 Nov. 2013/Sunday

BY 0800, one aircraft was able to fly to KLO and perform its mercy mission. We continued to engage CAAP for a clearance to TAC as a batalionof PNP personnel and medicines for the lone-standing Divine Word Hospital needed to be transported immediately from Manila to TAC. For two days, the TAC ramp was not as busy as it would be five days later. We were just told to fly the personnel and supplies to Mactan.

3RD DAY, 11 Nov. 2013/Monday

I was seating in front of the TV and I heard the reporters and government officials appealing to the private sector for help in transporting relief goods to TAC. People were hungry and needed medical assistance, while looting was getting to be a problem. In my mind, had I been allowed to carry the troops and medicines directly to TAC on the first two critical days after Yolanda, these problems could have been mitigated.

On this day, we ferried the PNP and medicines to Mactan and the PAF C130s should have taken them to TAC. Unfortunately, the PNP reached TAC only on the next day, Tuesday, and the medicines got lost in the chaos. Looting became severe and the hospital closed down.

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On this day we took in sick and wounded refugees from TAC that the C130s brought in. We were ready , for we had assigned only cabin crew who were registered nurses.

4TH DAY, 12 Nov. 2013/Tuesday

We continued to ferry PNP personnel and supplies to Mactan only, while we ferried back refugees to Manila. An assistance team (together with the Red Cross) was set up in NAIA terminal 4 to attend to the victims and assist them until they get home to relatives or friends.

What struck me this day was the picture of a father carrying the lifeless body of his young daughter walking aimlessly, as if looking for assistance and comfort. I have a young daughter too and I could only empathize to the helplessness and pain of that father. I started to question myself: Have I done enough? Have I pushed hard enough to make the authorities realize the need for a more aggressive and more massive response? Have I allocated enough resources to help some more? I have asked the PAF to deputize us in this time of national emergency but CAAP, who lacked the resources themselves, would not relent. Meanwhile, the government continues to receive complaints

from the public for its slow and inadequate response to the disaster.

5TH DAY, 13 Nov. 2013/Wednesday

CAAP called for a meeting of all airline operators and asked for assistance to ferry personnel and relief goods to TAC. Of course, we all agreed. The other airlines got the morning (good weather) slots to TAC, while our free mercy flight would take the afternoon (possibly rainy) slot. On this day, we still fly our relief mission to Mactan and back.

Already, the AirAsia Foundation mobilized its resources for collection of donations from all its network flights and they offered free seats to Filipinos from abroad who needed to come home and look for or assist their relatives in TAC.

6TH DAY, 14 Nov. 2013/Thursday

This was the first day of our mercy mission direct to TAC. The ramp was so congested by then because aircraft from foreign nations were coming in too.

There was not enough space to maneuver the planes and not enough space to situate the relief goods. Five days after Yolanda, there were still a lot of refugees to take out and a lot of relief goods that needed to be taken in. We took out the sick and wounded, the elderly, the pregnant women and the children first.

DESPERATION The look in this man’s eyes show the desperation he feels as he stares at awaits for help at the Tacloban City airport. AP

I was seating in front of the TV and I heard the reporters and government officials appealing to the private sector for help in transporting relief goods to TAC. People were hungry and needed medical assistance, while looting was getting to be a problem.

A USAF officer asked me why paid commercial flights were being allowed into TAC in the mornings, while our mercy mission was getting the lousy afternoon slot. I told him that we were probably just a small airline not yet worthy to be heard upstairs.

We continued our mercy flights until 17 Nov 2013/ Sunday and we still continue to ferry relief goods to TAC, if needed, to this day. All in all, we ferried 868 volunteers (to include 585 PNP/AFP personnel), 893 victims, and carried 293 tons of relief goods. Air Asia Foundation was able to raise P97 million for the victims.

I wish we could have done more, especially on the first few days when our countrymen needed us most. u CHAPTER FOUR | Other Efforts

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Oplan Trabaho

By Ron B. Lopez

A On December 17, 2013, thousands of volunteers gathered at the Lapu Lapu monument in Luneta for a job fair that sought to give jobs to survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda.

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NNALYN Duterte, 23, is hoping to start her new life in Metro Manila after super typhoon Yolanda destroyed her home in Leyte. Now she has a job, as a call center representative.

Duterte is one of hundreds of Yolanda survivors who was given a chance to work by Oplan Trabaho, a job fair organized on December 17, 2013 at Luneta Park to give livelihood to victims of the destructive typhoon.

She admitted that she was surprised to hear volunteers clapping their hands after her name was announced among the hired applicants, especially since she is only a high school graduate. Duterte, who came from Marasbaras in hardest-hit Tacloban City, is the first hired survivor of Oplan Trabaho.

Alvinez said that he needed to go to Metro Manila after his home in Leyte was destroyed.

“Nothing was left of our house, only the floor,” he recalled.

Yolanda forced his family to live in different areas, he said, expressing sadness that he will celebrate Christmas far from his family.

He said with his classes indefinitely suspended, he will try his luck in Metro Manila.

“I’m nervous because this is my first job, but I know I can do it,” she told Manila Bulletin Online.

“It is hard to even get food where we lived, so it’s unlikely our classes will resume soon,” he said.

It was the same hope for Reñer Alvinez, a 23-year-old Information Technology student from Burauen, Leyte, whose dream was stalled by Yolanda.

The third-year IT student is optimistic to have a good start at the apparel shop Bench, where he was hired as an encoder. “I’m here, I need to start. I will grab this opportunity,” he said.

jobs for survivors It was an emergency job fair and the goal was to give jobs to as many typhoon survivors as possible. Employers came. And they made it easier for the survivors to get hired.

Noel Arcela, 30, from Ormoc Leyte, is looking for an opportunity to start again in Manila, too. He was shortlisted to be the driver of Pia Magalona, the wife of late master rapper Francis Magalona.

He admitted that he has no clue it was Pia who considered him. Pia was among the private employers looking for house help as a way to provide livelihood to Yolanda’s victims.

Arcela, who arrived at Villamor on Nov. 25 with his wife, said he needed to start again after their house was wiped out by the strong floods that ripped through their communitiy. Arcela was also a driver at Leyte.

job, as he needed more time to cope with the tragedy.

Quejada used to run a small store, but this was wiped out by Yolanda. But what he grieved most was the loss of his mother and sister, who were among the more than 6, 000 fatalities of the monster typhoon.

While he is a graduate of Marine Engineering, he said what he is looking for is a temporary job, as he still wants to restart his life in Leyte.

Like Quejada, those who could not find a suitable job at the one-day Job Fair were offered other opportunities.

Not everyone was able to find a job, though.

Elmer Ouejada, 31, from Salvacion, Leyte, said maybe it is not yet his time to find another

Ronald Lao, one of the volunteers from Oplan Hatid, has put up a taho livelihood seminar booth for unfortunate job hunters. Using the

P50,000 donations which he had accumulated from donors nationwide and overseas, he will provide interested survivors opportunity to sell taho, even without a capital expense.

He will train and provide all the needed equipment for making and selling taho, which has been his family’s business. Lao, currently unemployed, said his joblessness gives him an opportunity to volunteer full time.

“It happens for a reason. So I could devote my time helping others,” he said.

The same booth also offers professional etiquette training for those who failed to find a suitable job. The job seekers were briefed on the do’s and don’ts in job interviews, which could help them in their next stab at job hunting.

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James Deakin, one of the organizers of the job fair, was overwhelmed by the sequence of events.

“Never would I imagine this. It’s humbling to see this,” he said.

Teary-eyed he thanked all the volunteers of the event, which he said was united in social media by the spirit of volunteerism.

This initiative, which evolved from the Oplan Hatid, a volunteerism project which drove some 20, 000 Yolanda survivors to their families and relatives in the Metro Manila and Luzon, has proven how a simple initiative can bring help to the victims of calamity.

The compassionate 2,000-strong volunteers, whom he calls a ‘charity SWAT team’ and the private companies who shared their resources, made this possible. “With the will to do it, you can achieve wonders. It’s magic,” Deakin said.

Teary-eyed he thanked all the volunteers of the event, which he said was united in social media by the spirit of volunteerism.

Deakin’s message to the survivors: “Don’t lose hope, there are people out there who still love you and care about you.

This is a living proof that if we will give people a right vehicle to help, there’s no shortage of help.” u 162

Brighter Christmas looks like Christmas will be a little brighter for Yolanda survivors who moved to Manila.

Though OplanHatid, the volunteers who helped welcome, comfort, and drive out Yolanda victims to waiting family members or friends across Luzon, bade Villamor Air Base goodbye last Sunday, December 1, the organizers are already launching into the second phase of the operations: OplanTrabaho, a one-day job fair for Yolanda survivors scheduled for Sunday, December 15.

“Yesterday, I was asked again for the umpteenth time, ‘Why are you stopping OplanHatid?’ I answered as I always have: We are not stopping OplanHatid. You cannot stop it. OplanHatid is like a charity SWAT team that can be deployed at a moment’s notice to where we are needed most. So, while our operation in Villamor has been turned over, we, as a group of almost 2,000 active members, are not stopping.

We are just awaiting our next assignment. #abangan #oplantrabaho,” said unofficial OplanHatid spokesman and editor-at-large for C! Magazine James Deakin on Facebook.

The Department for Labor and Employment (DOLE) has already partnered with the operation. They have promised help through manpower and permits for the fair, which will take place at LapuLapu Circle in Rizal Park from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m., and will begin with the Holy Mass.

“OplanTrabaho aims to give Yolanda survivors a job — even short-term employment — before Christmas to help them start rebuilding their lives,” read the status on the OplanHatid Facebook page.

Companies and individuals who would like to hire Yolanda survivors will be required to pre-register.

In addition, job sites and agencies such as JobStreet. com and JobsDB.com are also on board.

In a phone interview with GMA News Online, Deakin shared that the next steps are securing the National Bureau of Investigation and the Social Security Systems’ cooperation in the effort, as well as informing all the survivors.

Jobs before Christmas

“The idea is to walk in with only your shirt on your back, and walk out with a job,” said Deakin in a phone interview with GMA News Online.

However, the OplanTrabaho job fair does not aim to provide careers for the survivors, as such an endeavor would take a lot more effort to setup Deakin said, adding “though if they do, then great,” “At the end of the day, that’s our motivation: Give them back their confidence, self-worth, and dignities in some ways. A job restores that, as well as giving them money for the Christmas period,” he said. “The goal is to get 5,000 people or at least the leaders of families some income for a few months while Tacloban is rebuilding.”

He also said that they do not mean to discriminate against the other jobless persons in Manila, but, “we’re

just trying to help with the surge of unemployment. We just want to use what we’ve got—the core team and volunteers—to help these people get back on their feet and get back to our normal lives.”

OplanTrabaho organizers hope to get survivors hired on the spot and the job fair is also meant to be a one-stop shop for requirements like an NBI clearance and an SSS number. Because of extenuating circumstances, even families are welcome to hire.

“If you have a requirement for a gardener or yaya, if you require services at your house, you can turn up yourself,” said Deakin.

Charity SWAT team

Deakin said OplanTrabaho’s website will try to provide a database of both potential employers and survivors looking for temporary work.

“It’s like a wish list,” Deakin explained. “We’ll be listing the jobs as vacancies and counting down until there are zero left.” Fitting, as the main and most immediate goal of the organizers is to get the survivors jobs before Christmas.

“We’re not trying to make a career out of this, or anything,” said Deakin. “None of us have put up anything of this magnitude before. We’re like an emergency charity effort. I like to think of us as a charity SWAT team.”

“If ever, the efforts will become something else, maybe Oplan Construction or something, I just pulled that out of the air. That’s just an example, we don’t know what’s next. None of us are doing this professionally. None of us knew we’d get this far.” he said. u — JDS, GMA News

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Oplan Kabuhayan G ive a man a fish and you help him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you help him for a lifetime.

On February 21, 2014, volunteers from Laguna drove all the way to Tunga, Leyte to provide vegetable seeds and teach Yolanda survivors the basics of organic farming.

This timeless adage was the guide used by Oplan Kabuhayan, a livelihood project that aims to teach Yolanda survivors better ways to produce food.

Through the help of First Laguna Agro-Forestry Corporation and the alumni association of the Laguna Polytechnic University, Oplan Kabuhayan brought seeds to the Yolanda survivors residing in the municipality of Tunga, Leyte who were also taught the basics of organic farming.

Engr. Rolando Rosales, who just recovered from a mild stroke he suffered less than a month before Yolanda struck, drove his trusty pickup all the way from Sta. Cruz, Laguna to Tunga. With him was Oscar Ortanez, an agriculturist, a Christian pastor, and two other volunteers. Aside from seeds, they brought with them boxes full of Bibles and sacks filled with rubber slippers.

Serving as coordinator and partner for Oplan Kabuhayan was Tunga town councilor Portia Dguman Pamat who donated her family’s land

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for the project. The land, a two-hectare farm, used to have coconut trees, but most of the trees were uprooted by Yolanda.

Oplan Kabuhayan began on February 20 with agriculturist Ortanez conducting a seminar on organic at the Tunga municipal hall. More than 300 Tunga residents attended.

The following morning, the residents trooped to the farm and began sowing seeds of various vegetables which they eventually harvested after two months.

The following morning, the residents trooped to the farm and began sowing seeds of various vegetables which they eventually harvested after two months.

The project continues to this day as the residents plant more variety of vegetables.

They are eyeing a possible partnership with First Laguna Agro-Forestry Corporation for the planting of rubber trees to replace coconut trees that have beed destroyed by the super typhoon. u

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Oplan Kalusugan T hey are both medical groups wanting to help survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda. And through Oplan Kalusugan, the Philippine Children’s Medical Center (PCMC) and the Canadian Medical Assistance Teams (CMAT) were able to do just that.

On May 21, 2014, doctors and nurses from the Philippine Children’s Medical Center and volunteers of Oplan Hatid and the Canadian Medical Assistance Teams conducted medical missions to 10 towns of Leyte and Samar.

Oplan Kalusugan was a series of medical missions to 10 towns of Leyte and Samar from May 21 to 27. Seventy two medical personnel participated in the mission, including 30 pediatricians led by PCMC director, Dr. Julius Lecciones.

The doctors brought with them more than a ton of medicines and medical supplies given by various donors, including United Laboratories and other pharmaceutical companies.

AirAsia volunteered to transport all supplies from Manila to Tacloban. The medicines were given for free to all patients and left to the local health officers to be given to other sick children in the area.

The mission was made possible with the cash assistance from CMAT which was used for airfare, transportation and board and lodging.

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Oplan Kalusugan provided medical services to thousands of children in the towns of Palo, Tanuan, Tolosa, Sta. Fe and Alangalang in Leyte and the towns of Sta. Rita, Basey, Marabut, Balangiga and Giporlos.

CMAT Executive Director Valerie Rzepka, and Director of Communications Kate Auger joined the mission. It was their second trip to the Philippines after Yolanda struck. They first served the people of Ormoc in their earlier trip.

Oplan Kalusugan provided medical services to thousands of children in the towns of Palo, Tanuan, Tolosa, Sta. Fe and Alangalang in Leyte and the towns of Sta. Rita, Basey, Marabut, Balangiga and Giporlos.

Oplan Hatid volunteers helped in organizing the mission. They include couple Pablo and Babyruth Guevarra, Monalie Dizon, Michelle Swann, and Arbee Tarago.

Local volunteers led by Tunga town councilor Portia Daguman Pamat served as the main coordinator on the ground for the mission. u

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Epilogue

Lessons Learned from Oplan Projects LESSON No. 1:

Anybody Can Help

I

f there is anything good that came out of super typhoon Yolanda, it is this: It brought the best out of every Filipino. All of a sudden, everybody we met, everybody who knew what we were doing, yes everybody, they all wanted to help. There was even this post from a mother whose son saw the call on Facebook. The son said, “Mommy we can do this, can’t we? We have a car. We can help these people.” And they came to volunteer.

One very unforgettable story came from another volunteer driver who had a family of survivors as passengers. When he reached their destination, he got so touched that he reached into his pocket and handed all the cash he had to the family. When he was about to go home to Merville, Paranaque, he realized that he did not have any money anymore for

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the toll fee. He explained what happened to the girl inside the toll booth and asked if he could leave his driver’s license and just come back with the money the following morning. The girl, having heard what he had just done for a family of Yolanda survivors, said, “Ako na po ang magbabayad nito. Tulong ko na po sa inyo kasi tumulong naman kayo sa iba.”

LESSON No. 2:

Miracles Still Happen

I

f you think the age of miracles is past, think again. Throughout the three weeks that we did Oplan Hatid we have witnessed hundreds of miracles. When we needed money for bus fares, people came literally running to give money. And these were 500 and 1,000 peso bills, not their loose change. On several occasions, we were able to raise up to P18,000 in a matter of minutes. One instance that I personally

witnessed was when P10,000 were needed to pay for bus fares for a family of 10 going to Isabela. Leah Lagmay, who was then making the announcements, did a countdown. People ran to donate. The P10,000 was raised in less than a minute.

LESSON No. 3:

Another miracle was when we organized Oplan Trabaho, a job fair for Yolanda survivors. We needed 100 tables and 700 chairs for the Oplan Trabaho tent at the Luneta. Less than 24 hours before the event, we still could not find a supplier for these tables and chairs because it was already Christmas season, and we were still trying to raise money to pay for them.

Then all of a sudden, a call came from Condura saying they were volunteering to supply the tables and chairs.

have proven this — Doing good to others is actually beneficial to one’s health. In the three weeks that we did Oplan Hatid, I averaged only 4 hours of sleep every night but I neither felt exhausted nor did I become grumpy. I was always on the go. And so were my fellow volunteers. It was really unbelievable to get calls in the middle of the night, say around 2 in the morning, from volunteers asking if there were still survivors arriving. “Naghatid na po kasi kami kanina pero gusto pa naming bumalik. Meron pa po bang ihahatid?” was their usual query.

Believe it or not, all of the things we’ve asked for in Oplan Hatid and Oplan Trabaho projects were answered. When I say all, I mean all. These include volunteer drivers in the wee hours of the night, the safety for our drivers, money for bus fares, toll fees and even fuel, food for our volunteers, money to buy supplies for the survivors, even down to the minute details of who would design the logo, the IDs and who would print the tarpaulin banners. Everything!

All I could say is, God has been on our side and has provided all our needs.

Doing Good is Addicting

I

One volunteer that is very hard to forget is a grandmother we simply call as Lola Groovy. She often just sit there with her apo and waited for passengers whose destinations would catch her interest. Once, the dispatcher asked for a volunteer driver to ferry passengers to Nueva Vizcaya. As expected, no one raised a hand. But Lola Groovy asked my wife who was seated beside her, “Malayo ba ang Nueva Vizcaya?” My wife answered, “Opo Lola, malayo pa sa Baguio ‘yun.”

Upon hearing this, Lola Groovy raised her hand. The

dispatcher was shocked. He asked, “Lola, sure poba kayo?

Malayopoang Nueva Vizcaya?” To this Lola Groovy replied, “Oo, sure ako. Nagsasawa na ako sa kahahatid sa Bulacan, sa Laguna, sa Fairview. Bigyan n’yo naman ako ng mas exciting!”

LESSON N0. 4:

We Can Do More

W

e wrapped up Oplan Hatid on December 1 and handed the operations over to the DSWD. Yet many of our volunteers continued responding to the need for drivers. For most of us, however, our attention quickly focused on something that was more needed: Jobs.

In two weeks’ time, we organized Oplan Trabaho. It was not easy. There were obstacles along the way. The Department of Labor and Employment initially wanted to stop us for not having a permit. We could not find a venue big enough for the crowd that we were expecting.

We didn’t have money for the logistics. We didn’t have people to work on the job fair.

On December 15, beside the LapuLapu monument in Luneta — which is a very fitting site since it symbolized the epilogue

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Visayan hero standing tall to inspire the Visayan survivors — 721 Yolanda survivors were hired on the spot and 384 others were shortlisted for further interviews. Volunteers armed with their own laptops came to assist in registration, Teleserv developed a system that made everything so efficient, employers came by the hundreds, all ready to hire people, and other volunteers assisted either by fetching the survivors, taking care of small children, assisting employers, or helping maintain order and cleanliness of the place. We even had a fashion booth where survivors who have been hired got free office clothes, shoes and bags.

Globe gave away 200 brand new phones and SMART gave thousands of free SIM cards with load. There was food enough for everyone. Nobody came home hungry.

More than a thousand survivors left with renewed hope for a better future.

The Oplan projects did not end there. We did an Ultimate Oplan Hatid for the boy Alro Aguipo and his family, then Oplan Kabuhayan, an organic farming project. Then we did Oplan Kalusugan, a medical mission for children in five towns of Leyte and five towns of Samar. Today, we are doing Oplan Tabang Isko, an effort to support the education of 15 scholars from Philippine Science High School in Tacloban City now studying at the University of the Philippines in Diliman.

I would like to finish this talk with a song that summarizes everything I’ve seen and experienced in all these Oplan projects. The song is entitled Ordinary People. The song goes like this....

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Just ordinary people. God uses ordinary people. He uses people just like me and you who are willing to do as He commands. He chooses people who will give Him all… No matter how small your all may seem to you.

Because little becomes much when you place it in the Master’s hands.

Oh just like the little lad who gave Jesus all he had… How the multitudes were fed with a fish and loaves of bread. What you have may not seem much but when you yield it to the touch of the Master’s loving hand then you will understand how your life can never be the same. u

INNOCENCE OF CHILDREN The Bible says the way to heaven is to be like a little child. And these little children — all survivors of Super Typhoon Yolanda — show how their innocence and faith in God could make them truly resilient.

Aknowledgements If Oplan Hatid is a series of miracle, then the making of this book is probably the biggest miracle of them all.

James Deakin and I were on board an e-shuttle in Villamor when we came up with the idea for this book. Our initial title was Wheel Power. We announced it at the closing party on December 1, 2013, set a deadline for contributions a week later, and hoped against hope to finish the book before the year ends.

We did not. Yet 11 months later, we finally did.

from Tacloban, including the one featured in the opening spread of this book. n David Narvasa for the high-res group shot from the OH closing party which we used for this book’s closing spread. n Jasper Golangco who designed the book’s cover. n Elmer Alitagtag who selflessly gave of his time and talent to spend long nights with me just to finish the layout of this book.

This collection of heartwarming stories — which James call “Sotanghon for the Soul” — would not have been published if not for the following:

n Dennis Leyva, John Yam and his daughter Carol, and their secretaries Bel Tubig and Mel Fernandez at Five Star Colorprint for all their support and their faith in the potential of this book.

n Cecile Baltasar and Bubut Vasquez who helped in the editing of the initial stories.

n All the volunteers who contributed their stories and photographs.

n Cel Ocampo and Golda Benjamin who helped in the editing of the final stories.

And most of all to our Almighty God who have shown us and continues to show us that with Him, nothing is impossible.

n Jing Ginez for his cover photo.

To God be all the glory and praise! u n Rolan Garcia for his super high-res shots

— Junep Ocampo

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Photo by

david narvasa

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“Oplan Hatid has a mission that would seem almost mundane—until one realizes that its volunteers are meeting an urgent need. Yolanda left so many families homeless and hopeless; in the initial days they had besieged the C-130 mercy flights to be able to get a ride out of the seemingly doomed landscape. Organizers realized that these survivors were landing at Villamor Air Base in Pasay City with no way to get to wherever they planned to go.

Oplan Hatid assisted them—and still continues to do so—in their first tentative steps to begin anew.”

‘Concrete Help’

Editorial, Philippine Daily Inquirer 21 December 2013 173

A week after Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) struck the central Philippines in November 2013, thousands of survivors fled their devastated villages on board military planes. When they landed in Villamor Air Base, they were ushered to the sidewalks of the metropolis to fend for themselves and find their way to friends’ and relatives’ homes without any means.

Private volunteers then began offering rides to these survivors. And using social media, they asked friends and family members to do the same. Their appeal was a hit. Within 24 hours, the air base needed to shut its gates as hundreds of private vehicles poured in to lend support. It was the birth of Oplan Hatid.

For the next 17 days, approximately 1,000 volunteers participated in roun-the-clock Oplan Hatid operations.

According to the Department of Social Welfare and Development, these volunteers were able to serve more than 20,000 survivors.

The experiences of these volunteers are now contained in this volume, edited, laid out and published by also a team of volunteers.

Read on and be inspired. Indeed, angels still roam this earth. And many of them are just in their cars waiting for an opportunity to be of service to others.