Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Like a queen on her throne, tranquil and majestic raises the Mayon Volcano above the Albay gulf. But don’t let her calmness deceive you, her temper is feared even by the farthest villages across the lands. Too many times they have felt her mercurial rage, and when there was word among the people she was again about to erupt, they prepared for the worst, like they did during this times before, but no one could foresee that something else was coming towards their direction three moons later.

(Bugtong Road)

(Near Cagsawa Ruins)

(Bridge in Ginubatan)

It has been four months now since typhoon Reming made its way and brought the harshest winds in Bicol and black, roof-high mudslides that cascaded down from the Mayon and took many houses and families with it.

“The water came in so fast”, one of my grandma’s neighbor still remembers like it just happened yesterday. Within minutes the mud rushed into their houses gradually increasing in elevation. Some hurried to the first floor (if they were lucky to have one), others abandoned their home completely to the nearest and highest point they could climb to, and many weren’t that fortunate.

Like several around my grandma’s house in Malabog, Manong Puldo and his family found shelter in a church which was located on a nearby hill, as he decided to check up on their house later in the evening, he only came to find that little was left.

“Everything was gone.” he recalled for me that moment.

“Our things, the television, our clothes, not even a piece of underwear… Nothing was left.”

He pointed on the other side of the river. “That’s our house.”

(Manong Puldo’s house)

As I made my way through the devastated areas in Daraga (among other places I passed by) and visited a couple of evacuation centers, one cannot fail to notice that the progress in rehabilitating and rebuilding is unnecessarily slow paced. The lack of equipment and engineering vehicles such as bulldozers and excavators force the workers and inhabitants (and even children) to clean up the devastation more often than not manually. They spend their day digging through massive areas of black gravel and rocks and separating the sand from the stones with man-made coarse sieves, which is then loaded on trucks and transported to deposit areas (for further use I suppose).

“Thank You,” Manong Hermez said as I approached him with my camera. In his face I could see that he meant it. The lines in his expression revealed his age and that he had been doing this kind of work for a time.  It seemed that he was genuinely happy to see me, or that it made him feel not forgotten as I asked him if I could shoot a couple of frames. He gladly insisted and expressed his gratitude repeatedly. I can’t deny that moment moved something in me.

(Manong Hermez)

(Hard Work)

(young worker)

I spent a morning on the fields with a group of workers and I was already exhausted walking under the early sun. I went home with shoes filled with sand and dust all over me.

 

 

 

Right after Reming passed by there was news of the Cagsawa ruins being ultimately ruined, and this information is far from the truth. The opposite, the church, which was buried by molten lava in 1814, had become more than a tourist spot. Miraculously the mudslide split before it reached the church and streamed on both sides leaving it unharmed. Since then it had become a sanctuary for the people.

My first attempt to get to the ruins of Cagsawa failed, the streams of water from the widened river made it impossible to pass through the gravel area other than by foot, but this didn’t keep several tourists from visiting the church, I guess it gives them a sense of adventure. Since we were traveling by motor, I decided to go back next opportunity, which came the other day.

Unlike several nearby structures such as souvenir shops, restaurants - and I think there was some kind of park, the church’s bell tower stands tall and soundly. In addition to the postcards of Mayon and the Ruins, children made a business selling photographs of the devastation around Cagsawa. But moreover there is a change which cannot be witnessed through the eyes. Cagsawa ruins has become quiet, it is no longer solely a tourist attraction, but a holy place, a memorial for the victims.

In 1814 Mount Mayon erupted and buried 1200 people who gathered inside the church, thinking they would be saved. 193 years later everything around Cagsawa was buried, leaving the church ruins untouched. Is this the balance of nature? 

(Cagsawa Ruins)

(tourists)

Numerous inhabitants began to rebuild their homes on top of the gravel without waiting for the area to be cleaned, who can blame them, no one can live without some kind of shelter, and it has been four months. But as I hiked above the gravel and rocks, the thought there still might be (and most probably are) dead bodies underneath hunted be throughout. Among scattered pieces of clothes, unpaired shoes, deformed toys, and bed mattresses coming from nowhere, it wasn’t hard to imagine.

        Which reminds me of the case of Esthela K., who lost her sister-in-law and cannot claim the money of her insurance, due to the fact that the family is not able to provide the body, not even a piece of cloth of her sister-in-law as prove.

(A family)

(Buried)

“Mam, “ an aged man approached us asking my aunt as we were walking home,

“Whom will you vote for these coming elections?”

“Who ever can help us,” my aunt replied.

The man already knew that answer, yet there was little hope as his tone of his voice changed.

“We lived here,” the baseball cap made him appear younger, but a closer look revealed silver hair,

“Only my own family survived, but my cousins and their families are still missing.”

He pointed to several areas in the gravel.

“Our houses used to be here.”

It was hard for me to follow which spots he meant, everything looks the same… Even the people, like Manong Jakob and other individuals I’ve met during my stay in Bicol, many of them have similar stories to tell, an experience how they lost their houses and families, and how their hopes slowly vanishes into dust and ashes. They are willing to share them to you, hoping that someone will hear them.

(Manong Jakob)

For full-view and other images visit: seian-j.deviantart.com