The waters off the port of Lawaan, Eastern Samar was calm and crystal clear on the afternoon

of the 7 th
of November 2013. The feel of the water was so alluring that I literally jumped into the water to enjoy a
carefree swim that soothed the humid feel on my skin. Later, amidst the twinkling stars and the crescent
moon on a clear dark night sky, I sat beneath the cross in front of the parish church pondering about life
and thinking about home and the people I’ve left behind. The breeze was cool and relaxing as I sipped
my cup of coffee and stretched my arms and legs-sore from all the swimming I did. Lawaan, a small town
at the most southerly tip of the Samar Island- 513 kilometers from home- was almost a paradise.

Twelve hours later, the place became worse than hell.

Super typhoon Yolanda unloaded its full fury, with wind speeds up to 315 kilometers per hour into the
little town of 12,000 people. The winds howled with such deafening rage and the rain poured with
blinding intensity that visibility was down to almost zero

Ninety-nine percent of all structures were damaged and thousands were made homeless. A dozen
people died –including the father of one of my young students. Even graveyards were not spared, tombs
were swept aside by strong gales, and a rotten cadaver was hideously thrown out in the open. I can still
imagine the stench that those brave policemen who conducted the recovery operation faced.

Disaster. Panic. Compassion. Humanity.

Lawaan, along with other towns and cities of Samar and Leyte, and to a lesser extent the entire country
was devastated by the calamitous disaster of 2013. Scores of people abandoned their homes in panic,
scattering into a frenzied diaspora, some never to return. Prices of goods that were previously taken for
granted climbed into astronomical proportions. A sense of despair loomed and threatened to
overwhelm the population.

The disaster brought out the worst part of humanity. Looting and stealing were prevalent across the
land. Stores and home were burglarized.

The disaster ALSO brought out the BEST part of humanity.

Never in my life had I seen such compassion, and charity came to help those in need. Thousands of tons
of supplies ranging from rice to ropes, from energy biscuits to mosquito nets, from t-shirts to tents were
brought in to assuage the sufferings of the people. These came in by varied means, from the classic
carabao-drawn carts to the most modern tilt-rotor aircraft and state of the art warships.

Those were days of sufferings but days of compassion, faith and humanity as well. I can remember the
tears and anguish, the determination, the courage, faith and hope of the people as we celebrated the
first holy mass after that great disaster.

I wish that the disaster never happened. I wish the death and destruction never occurred. But I am
thankful that I was there. I am thankful that I experienced the all the sufferings and tabulations brought
about by the disaster. I am thankful that I was able to be there and help.
But how did I end up on this place hundreds of miles from home? How did I end up stranded on an
island with no electricity, no cellphone signal in after an apocalyptic disaster?

The Answer.

On March 2008, five and a half years before the disaster a small thin boy, barely 16 years old walked the
steps of the UNHS stage, the song “Impossible Dream” faintly fading in the background. He gave a
rambling valedictory speech in mixed English and vernacular, thanking his mother, the school and
recollecting the experiences and values UNHS had inculcated into him. That this thin and sickly boy
whose father abandoned him as an infant and whose mother struggled to juggle the menial jobs and
caring for bed-ridden daughter, will graduate as top of the class was indeed an impossible dream.

But I did graduate as a valedictorian of class 2008.

Through hard work and countless struggles, with the help of God, the guidance of my teachers, the
indefatigable support of my mother- I came through.

And with this honor, doors of opportunity opened for me and I was able to become a scholar of Ateneo
de Naga.

Armed with the values that UNHS had planted and Ateneo further cultivated and developed, this small
boy grew into man. A man with and for others. And so after graduating, I decided to become part of the
Jesuit Volunteers Philippines. This gave me the opportunity to be assigned as a volunteer teacher and
guidance counselor for the Divine Child Academy in Samar.

But it was during that speech one fine evening in March 2008, while looking at the faces of my batch
mates, teachers and the parents present, it was at that time that the seed of the desire to serve was
sown.

And so, on that date, November 8, 2013, while the full fury of Yolanda was being unleashed, I, a proud
product of UNHS was there in the middle of the action as a witness to a disaster. I was also there as a
participant in the successful effort towards relief and recovery. November 2013 was indeed the worst
and the best part of my life.

A Call.

I do not wish to write this piece to aggrandize myself or to trumpet my achievements. I wish to share
this very significant experience as a call. This is a call for the new generation of students of Union
National High School to think about giving service to the community. You do not need to go far from
home to be of help. You do not need to join the JVP or other volunteer groups. Each day there is an
opportunity to give compassion; the secret is in seeing each and every person you encounter as brothers
and sisters. You are all fortunate that 10 years on, you have the benefits of all the modern technology
and convenience. Is it not better a good thing to share these conveniences to others? Think about it.