A few weeks ago, Baguio City was greatly affected by Typhoon Doksuri. The tragedy was more significant after we found ourselves isolated in the dark for 3 days.
Without access to radio, internet, and signal to contact people via text messaging, the world revolved around our house, the flickering light of the candles, and the constant patter of rain on our rooftop.
Oblivious to the damage the typhoon caused the city and neighboring provinces, we sat in the dark, keeping ourselves warm and moping up all the leaks from the non-stop rains. Days after the typhoon left the Philippine Area of Responsibility, it still pulled monsoon rains along with it leaving us stuck in the dark needing to keep our mops at hand.
There was something novel in a world that felt so small and the stillness during those 3 nights.
1. What Work Deadlines?
Day 1- Tuesday afternoon rolled along with the winds and the rain. Even before dawn set in, electricity was cut, and the rains had no signs of letting up. We expected landfall up North on Tuesday and exit the county the next day.
Even if it was downgraded from a super typhoon, we were not expecting a sleepless night.
Instead of sleeping early for a long Wednesday of reports and reviews, I found myself up almost all night moping the water that seeped its way through our roof and walls.
There were no evident leaks but a constant flow like a faucet you could not seem to shut.
The water ebbed and flowed with the torrents of rain. We stayed up moping the leaks through the walls that no bucket could catch. If not, we would have woken up to a mini pool all over the second floor—nothing more than an inch or two of water, but water that would have damaged so many things, nonetheless.
2. Lesser Light
Day 2- Screen light and sunlight were scarce.
The little sunlight that hazed through the thick typhoon clouds indicated that the night had passed, and we were given another day. After hours and hours of mopping, the light behind the clouds gave us hope that this ordeal would be over soon.
Without electricity, light shed from computers, cell phones, and the television was gone, or scarce. Leaving us with a few hours of daylight and occasional phone checks to see if the signal returned.
Although able to reschedule my important call for the week that day, there was still the fear and need to let my clients know someone else would assist them and I had no clue if the rain would let up and the electricity will be restored.
Without the presence of artificial light and the available option to recharge your gadget, daylight—though hidden behind thick clouds—felt like a gem. Before I knew it, the hidden sun was setting on the horizon, and the night was taking its place like the changing of the royal guards.
Living at the mercy of natural light and its limitations felt like a break in the fast-paced, high-tech world.
Limiting the screen time and the day to only the hours the sun is bright enough to pierce through a thick sea of clouds, was a hardwire I did not know I needed. Something I wish we did more often.
3. Peace in the Pitch
Day 3- Two Nights of Complete Darkness.
As the sun set the next day, the darkness took the night. I found myself enveloped by its rare but somewhat gentle embrace. Familiar yet strange, cold yet inviting.
It was a moment of peace.
It was the dark that played with the patter of rain and the sound of my family calling it a day that made the dark an old familiar friend.
Sitting in the stillness of the night and hearing life continue to move forward felt familiar—a distinct feeling of home. Even if a flashlight was just a switch away or candlelight was just around the corner, it was good to be one with the stillness.
In the pitch black, you really could not do anything other than zone into the night and tune the revolving world out. Suddenly, you are face to face with a night and the depths of its darkness to explore, a retrospection of a day that went by, and one of never-ending water.
Wrapped in the darkness of nature and lullabied by its cries and howls, the world and its troubles seemed to melt away.
4. Friends With Time
Day 4- In a world where the winds were howling, time somehow stood still on the ground.
Morning and afternoon were muddled into light and the darkness into night.
The days felt longer than they should have, and the nights felt like days with all non-stop downpours.
In some strange way, time seemed to be on my side—after a long time. There was no need to overestimate myself and over-commit. Work and everything else was canceled for the residents in my area and I was left without a choice.
The physical world around me stood still, the greater nation and world, forgotten for a moment.
Stores were closed, the food stuck in our refrigerator needed to be consumed fast, and we were slowly depleting our water supply. How we all wished to recover from the damage of the typhoon quickly, but how we all wished we had the time to sit as the world recovered.
And yet in the free stillness, my peace was robbed by the feeling that I wasted all that time catching up on sleep and trying to get to work. There was more that could have been done, but the body is weak, the work is pestering, and the blankets are warm.
After parasitically intruding on our friend’s house to use their internet, charge our phones, and finally get back to work, four days of supposed freedom from the stress of work felt like a fever dream. And the stressors came crashing down. Electricity was restored and I was back on the edge of a people-pleasing, client-facing corporate drone. Once again, time left me behind.
Busyzi 