Most of us, adult refugees (?), found sleep very elusive, thus, we gathered around at the veranda to view the flooded streets of Provident Villages. As power supply was already cut off, total darkness reigned as far as our eyes could see. Of course, catnapping was resorted to when we could not drive away strong urge to fall asleep. Once, during the wee hours, we saw a helicopter hovering at the direction of Cubao which flew away after a few minutes. Another instance, we saw a motorboat approaching our area but which eventually veered away. The night passed away and there was no sign of any rescuers who would extricate us from our plight or give us any relief goods that might augment what our kind benefactors who opened their house and shared their food and clothes with us.
The morning of September 27, 2009, a Sunday, we surveyed the dismal surroundings of Provident Villages which was a depressing view to behold. We saw other people grouping at the roofs of several houses high enough to be untouched by the flood waters. On a lighter note, the twenty feet raging flood waters prevailing the day before had mercifully subsided much thereby enabling some brave men courageously wade across the streets still submerged in some two to three feet muddy waters. Our attention was suddenly arrested by the commotion from a house across our place of shelter. From the veranda, our sight was confronted by the spectacle of a young boy aged ten years more or less and petrified to death by the muddy waters as he was carried along by three men. I could not bear such a highly pitiful picture that I ceased looking at the cadaver taken somewhere.
After sometime in that Sunday morning, I saw that some people were already out of the alley below the house we spent the night. Leaving my wife, the kid and her nanny, I ventured out to go to our place intent in seeing what happened to the apartment unit. Slowly, I gingerly waded through the ankle deep mud and along the concrete wall of the two-storey house adjoining our apartment building, making sure that my feet would find solid ground. Having refused the offer of a passing vehicle for a free ride, I finally reached our apartment gate and walked through a foot deep mud until our unit's door.
Extreme sadness fell on me when I saw the sorry state of our residence. The floor was overlayed with thick mud while the walls and ceiling showed traces of being submerged in muddy water, with our cabinet-divider lying on the muddy floor. Of course, my son and a nephew had already restored our refrigerator to its original position though thick mud was present everywhere in the ground floor. I climbed the slippery, muddy stairs up to the second floor. The beds and the cabinets were all covered with thick mud as well as the appliances removed from the ground floor. Indeed, it was a terribly sorry sight to behold while I gathered my thoughts on what I would do next.
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