Childhood in the Path Typhoon by Cecilia Manguerra Brainard

                          CHILDHOOD IN THE PATH TYPHOON

                                                 by 

                    CECILIA MANGUERRA BRAINARD

     TYPHOON HAIYAN - GROUP OF MEN CLEAR DEBRIS NEAR THE SHORELINE ON                   NOVEMBER 23 IN TACLOBAN.

 Filipinos are used to typhoons. I grew up in the Philippines knowing it has two seasons -- the "wet" and the "dry." More than 20 typhoons whip through the Philippines in a year. I could smell the rain when it was coming. I knew that if the moon had a ring around it, there would be rain the next day. I knew that the excited twittering of birds also meant rain was coming.

At a young age, I could gauge just how strong the typhoon was, not only based on the storm signal warnings, but on how thick and dark the clouds were, how heavy the rain fell, how strong the wind blew. It became instinctive to know how dangerous a storm was.

In Cebu City, where I grew up, a siren would blow the warning signals when a typhoon was approaching. Storm Signal No. 1 meant rain and some wind, but we still went to school. No. 2 meant stronger rain and wind. We were excused from school, but it was safe enough to go to the movies or to a friend's house. We would also listen to announcements on the radio. We knew a storm was coming, but the radio news gave us an inkling of its severity.

We took Storm Signals Nos. 3 and 4 seriously and stayed indoors because it meant the rain and wind were very powerful. The streets would flood; branches of trees could break; trees could be uprooted, corrugated metal roofing could come loose and fly about, electric power lines could break. It was dangerous to be outside. We stayed home with canned goods, water, candles and matches, because it was a given that electricity and telephones would be cut off during typhoons.

Almendras, Victor Rey 

Grade 11 St.Theodore