Its a Small world after all: Singing and Dancing through the Rubble: reflections on a week in Tacloban

After a 32 hrs of international travel followed by an hour of shut eye in Manila where my hostel cost me $4 while my taxi there cost me $20, finally ending with a much needed Cebu airport massage for 3$ from the Blind Society, I boarded my last leg from Cebu to Legaspi with the mission of swimming with whale sharks on my mind. I was ready to dig into my "Culture Shock- The Philippines" book to drown out the safety take-off stewardess shpeal (that I had heard 5 times already with in the last 2 days) when they surprised me with a new diddy..."it is a federal offense to steal flotation devices, resulting in a $1,500 USD fine"....What?!?! Who in the world would steal a flotation device from an airplane?!?! Are they inlaid with copper? Do they even actually float?!? I always thought the floatation devices on airplanes served more as an emotional safety blanket purposed to calm the terror rather than legitimately save lives. After 3 more flights and a week in the typhoon war zone of Tacloban, each flight departing the tarmac with the same $1,500 threat, I began to realize why this federal defense warning was so necessary.

webs of electric wires that strained out the drowned
as the water surged back to sea

I landed in Tacloban after a touristy week of diving undisturbed coral colonies of tropical fish, river cruises romantically lit by 1,000s of fireflies illuminating trees like fern gully or the tree of life in Avitar, late nights of videoke accompanied by endless assortments of marinated meats and liters of red horse, and treks to the secluded tricycle-free rice terraces of Banaue. Tacloban, once a tourist spot competitor, is now like landing in a war zone. The road from the airport to the city hall is lined with villages (barangays) of UNICEF canvas tents. Each tent, housing displaced generations of family members while they wait for the construction of their homes and neighborhoods to be completed. (I later learned that these donated UNICEF tents, meant to serve as aid and shelter for the masses of displaced taclobanians, have acted more as a smoldering oven, boiling infants and elderly to death in the Filippino blaring sun.)

rubble of homes left empty from un-inhabitable from the roof high surges

Common sights on my jeepeny ride through town included boat barges like a noah's arc perched in the middle of neighborhoods, promising nothing more than shade for basketball matches and chess games and a constant reminder that another wave of death is only a season away. People living in rubble, boats in trees, metal roof tops curled up into permanent tubes. Electric wires spiderwebbing across streets that had acted as body strainers entangling the dead from getting washed out to sea. No street lights once the sunset resulting in increased sex trafficking and nightly violence. The only thing looking new were the churches..... this was life....7 months post disaster.

ship left high and dry in the middle of a a village

always an opportunity to keep up on basketball skills despite
homelessness

I, by happen stance, ended up in the office of the Director of Environmental Development which lead me to a personal meeting with the City Hall Director of Social Welfare and Development upon my first day in Tacloban (sometimes being bad at remembering names pays off;)). I heard stories of fathers swimming to high ground with 5 infants undertow, teenagers being nose deep in water as they lift their family members to safety, families waking hours through dead bodies to get into town for supplies to survive...the stories trail on. And these were the stories of those providing the relief aid to the Barangays worse hit; the social workers attending to broken families, translators assisting missionary therapists and medical aid, youth workers educating the Barangay children and families on the increasing dangers of sex trafficking.

As I sat in the office of the Social Welfare and Development director explaining the work of ArtsAfterCare and how we are hoping to use the expressive arts to assist in the healing of trauma post disaster; she replied, "Can we have the program for our own social workers? They have just been giving and receiving no aid themselves, but they too are survivors of the typhoon and need healing!". Tacloban is a cesspool of first degree and second degree trauma....in fact, all of the Philippines suffers from the shared experience of trauma due to natural disasters. Each year typhoons, floods, and earthquakes crumble homes and take family members. Everyone has a story of survival and loss.

resilient and hopeful smiling faces of the children of the most devastatingly hit branagay

Yet walking the streets and markets, sharing a marinated stick of adobo or a moto ride with a local, splashing in waterfalls and launching off coconut trees into ocean waters with the herds of kids...you would have no idea you were encountering victims of trauma. They greet life with a continual smile and song. What is their secret to overcome annual disaster trauma and loss? "Karaoke and Dance!" was the answer i was given. In the middle of bustling malls and open fields of rural barangays you'll see, or more likely hear late into the night, the voices of the resilient and hopeful Filipinos belting out their deepest emotions through the love ballads of Frank Sinatra, Journey, Beyonce, and the Spice Girls. Flash dance mobs of Zumba dancing block the streets of Tacloban. They bring their shower solos and bedroom dance moves into their community and enjoy the opportunity to laugh at and with each other. Maybe we should put aside our EMDR pointer sticks and therapeutic couches, for at least a moment, and venture from the safety of our acoustically in-tune showers and always agreeable mirror dance partners to grab that karaoke mike or street corner and let it out! Laugh and be laughed at! Express!