It can be hard to picture exactly what a prolonged monsoon season looks and feels like here on the western side of Central Luzon.
The shift starts in June. The perpetually sunny skies begin to dull, and occasional afternoon showers roll in. By definition, a monsoon is a seasonal change in the direction of the prevailing winds. During this time of year, the wind turns southwest, pulling massive amounts of moisture off the ocean—a weather pattern known locally as the Habagat. By July and August, the skies are completely overcast, and we are locked into periods of heavy, relentless rain.
Occasionally, the atmosphere clears and becomes unexpectedly balmy. But that refreshing change is just a tease and a warning: heavy rain squalls are right behind it. When a squall hits, it literally roars through the neighborhood, hammering everything with wind-driven raindrops that feel like tiny missiles. The sound overrides everything else in the house.
The Daily Damp and Dangerous Waters
Most homes in the Philippines are not insulated, and there is no central heating. Unless you make a trip to a commercial laundry, there are no clothes dryers. Right now, the humidity is so high that wet clothes will not dry, and dry clothes become damp just hanging in the closet. Walls and floors grow slimy, and mold turns surfaces as slippery as winter ice. For the many families who sleep on mats on the floor, it means resting on cold, wet cement every night.
The nonstop rain brings severe hazards. In just the past couple of weeks, the saturated mountains have given way, triggering localized landslides that have crushed retaining walls and threatened upland homes. Down in the city, rivers have breached their spilling marks, forcing over a thousand Olongapo City residents to flee to evacuation centers.
Floodwaters have not entered our home, but we have been physically cut off on two separate occasions. Recently, while returning from picking up important medical tests for Nancy, we were nearly caught in a flash flood. We had to turn the car around on a traffic-clogged street as the fast-moving waters rose rapidly, eventually taking shelter at the local SM Central Mall for an hour until it was safe to navigate home.
Even inside, the dangers persist. Rainwater found its way into an electrical outlet in our “Dirty Kitchen”, a room in the house without a roof used for cooking with gas burners or charcoal or wood fire. The water-filled outlet caused electric arcs to pop and shoot across the room at 12:30 in the morning. The result: a terrifying indoor fireworks display. The room filled with smoke, an acrid smell, bright flashes, and a cracking noise as loud as a high-caliber rifle. The only reason our house did not catch fire is that absolutely everything around was simply too wet to burn.
The Economic Toll and the “Stoop-Work” of Recovery
When the weather turns like this, it isn’t just an inconvenience; it is an immediate economic crisis. A week of rain means a week without wages for tricycle drivers, construction workers, and market vendors.
Furthermore, when the flash floods finally recede, they leave behind a secondary, silent threat. Flooded homes and streets are coated in a thick, sticky mud contaminated with human bodily waste, as well as rat feces and urine, creating a severe risk for leptospirosis.
People, young and old and in between, have to scrape and scrub to remove the slime from their homes, streets, and neighborhoods. It is hard, heavy, backbreaking, exhausting toil. When it’s finished, you can’t go home and put on clean, dry clothes. Everything is wet and soiled.
Our friend Walter, who works for our landlord, has his family home in Bulacan, north of Manila. His home has been flooded for three weeks. His family still lives in it. The ground floor has water up to the bottom of the chair seats. They still sit around the dinner table for meals. They travel two kilometers by Banka (native canoe) to dry land.
No matter how much rain falls, you cannot dampen the Filipino spirit. We have seen it time and time again; Filipinos are resilient overcomers.
How You Can Pray:
- Pray for the physical safety and health of those in crowded Olongapo City evacuation centers, specifically for protection against leptospirosis.
- Pray for a break in the rain so the saturated hillsides can stabilize and the final cleanup can begin.
- Pray for endurance for us and our neighbors as we continue the slow and steady work of recovery.
