Sunday, November 10, 2013 — continued:
As we rode towards Tanauan, we continued to talk with the couple that had been kind enough to give us a ride. We were especially interested in what they had heard about the storm, and for a while we spoke about the storm and what they had seen so far, but after a few minutes, the sobering effect of the view through the car’s windows slowly put an end to our conversation, and we just sat and watched as we passed more and more people, rubble, and ruin.
Sooner than we had initially expected, we came to a point where traffic was backed up. None of us being familiar with the area, we all assumed that this was the beginning of the jam of cars that were piling up because of the impassable bridge that we were expecting to find. They pulled off to the side of the road, and we got out. We thanked the couple for their kindness and offered to pay them for the ride. They kindly refused our money and told us that they had a sister that was a member of our church. They were just glad that they were able to help us in such a time of need. We thanked them again and started out on foot for the bridge.
Once we began walking, it turned out that the traffic jam was only a small one and that we were actually still quite far from the bridge. At first, the cars that were continuing along the road in the traffic jam were going slow enough that we were still keeping pace with them on foot, but as the jam cleared up, they began to pass us, and we began to wonder how close we actually were to the bridge.
As we continued walking, we joined a stream of people headed in the same direction. I don’t know what they were looking for because I didn’t ask them, but it was most likely refuge, relief, and relatives that they hoped to find to the north. The idea was not universal, however, and we passed a number of people that were heading south. More than once, I wondered if they were going in the other direction because they knew something that I didn’t, but weighing our options in my mind, I was still mostly sure that our chances were best in heading to Tacloban.
As the crowd began to thicken, there was one woman who sought us out and began to talk with us as we were walking. She told us that she was a member of the Tanauan Ward and that she and her daughter were heading to the Tanauan chapel for a special afternoon sacrament meeting that was going to be held for the people who hadn’t been able to make it to the service that was held earlier in the day. She was very interested to know how far we had come and how the members in our area had fared during the storm.
Just as with the couple that had driven us, the current circumstances not being entirely conducive to conversation, we ran out of things to say and continued silently on our walk. As the crowd continued to thicken, we passed a warehouse that had been heavily damaged by the typhoon. The warehouse was full of rice that had gotten wet during the storm, but food had become so scarce that the people needed anything that was available. People were salvaging or looting the rice (depending on how you look at it) and piling the sacks in rows by the side of the road. Many of the people that had been walking with us stopped here to pick up rice and return with it to their families.
The crowd thinned somewhat after we passed the warehouse, but it wasn’t long before we could tell that we were nearing the bridge. The bridge hadn’t been destroyed by the storm itself, but a small section had collapsed the night before, allowing only pedestrians and small, two-wheeled vehicles to cross the bridge. Since then, a large number of vehicles that weren’t able to cross the bridge had backed up on both sides of the bridge, almost blocking it completely, and only a small trickle of pedestrians and a few bicycles and motorcycles were able to make it through the gridlock. Dozens of motorcycles were stuck, sitting and idling in a few lanes that had formed between the larger vehicles that were turned off or simply abandoned.
After squeezing ourselves through the gridlock, we crossed into downtown Tanauan. I had been through the city many times, but never on foot. Passing through a stretch of road with relatively few people around, we took a quick moment to take out the water bottles that we had filled and took a quick drink. In one of the more unsettling moments of the ordeal, a guy who had been sitting in the shade of a large truck called out to us. He declared in an almost mocking tone that he had no water and that he wanted a drink. While we wanted to help him, we found his call to be mostly alarming. Concerned for our safety, knowing that if we were not going to make it through this ourselves, it would most likely start with dehydration, we quickly put the water back in the bag and kept walking.
The scene of destruction in Tanauan was not much different from that which we had already seen, except for being on a larger scale. Every building in the city was either destroyed or damaged, only the strongest cement buildings had survived the storm. Since the typhoon had hit two days earlier, the survivors had built a city of small shelters out of the rubble. If it weren’t for the breeze that day, the heat would probably have been unbearable for those who had no shelter from the sun except for a piece of corrugated steel.
As we neared the Tanauan Chapel, we passed the Region VIII Pepsi plant. I had seen it many times before, traveling between San Roque and Tanauan, but it too had sustained great damage in the typhoon, and inside, we could see mountains of blue crates that were used to hold the glass bottles at the plant.
We were relieved when the Tanauan chapel came into view mostly intact. As we approached the building, we saw a member who was working on his motorcycle, which had probably been flooded in the storm. The members there were very excited to see us. They were very concerned for the members and missionaries that we had seen since the storm had hit. The benches from the chapel had been moved to the foyer since the chapel had sustained considerable damage to the roof, and they were preparing to have a sacrament service within the next hour.
Among those who came to greet us were two of the four sister missionaries that had been assigned to Tanauan, in the Tacloban Zone. The storm had hit them very hard, and they had been hit by a very high, wind-driven storm surge. The water had risen so high, that they were forced to swim out of their apartment and to find shelter elsewhere. Since the storm had passed, they had been staying at the chapel and helping the members there. Among other things they had been helping them with first aid needs in a certain part of the chapel. While they had been thus engaged, in a rather unfortunate turn of events, the junior companions from both of the companionships went missing. The only information that they had was that after leaving their senior companions, they had left towards the market, supposedly to see if there was anything still for sale there (large amounts of certain foods, such as dead/unsustainable livestock or bananas from fallen trees, were temporarily available immediately after the storm). They were very worried about them, and they had sent several members to look for them to see if they had gotten lost or if something had happened. The sister missionaries asked that we would be sure to tell our Mission President, Jose V. Andaya, that two missionaries were missing in Tanauan when we got there.
We also had an unexpected second reunion with our Branch Mission Leader thanks to the mobility afforded to him by his bicycle. He said that he was making good use of the filter that we had given him, and that he was sharing the water he filtered with it. Worried about what everyone in Tanauan was drinking, the filter that the Branch Mission Leader was carrying around obviously not enough for everyone, Elder Oakes asked about the water situation of the members of the Tanauan Ward, and offered to give them his second filter so that everyone could have water to drink. They assured him, however, that they had plenty of water, and that it was clean enough for them. I had my doubts about their clean water supply, but didn’t say anything. I had an emergency water filter designed for the filter bottles distributed at the Missionary Training Center (MTC), but I had no bottle to go with it, and I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to find water as we got closer to Tacloban. Elder Oakes asked if they were sure that they didn’t need a filter, and was opening his bag, ready to give it to them, but they insisted that they didn’t need it.
After talking further, the Bishop offered to drive us to Tacloban on his motorcycle (they had put a few motorcycles in a protected courtyard during the typhoon), but said that he could only take us one-at-a-time. One of the most important rules for missionaries is the rule to never leave one’s companion. Weighing the risks, however, I figured that going to Tacloban on a motorcycle driven by a priesthood leader, even if only one-at-a-time, definitely beat walking the whole way. I accepted the Bishop’s offer, and said that Elder Oakes could take the first ride. I could remain with the Branch Mission Leader in Tanauan while I waited, and it would qualify as “splits.”
Hearing of the situation, however, one of the Bishop’s Counselors (who happened to have an operational motorcycle of his own) offered to go with us, and I wouldn’t need to wait while Elder Oakes went to the Mission Office. It turns out that it was very important that we were able to utilize this second motorcycle because no one had accounted for the road conditions that had developed that day, and if I had waited, I would most likely not have been able to make the trip until the next morning, or even later than that, since gasoline was in very short supply.
Grateful that we wouldn’t have to be walking all the way to Tacloban, Elder Oakes and I got onto the back of each motorcycle. In order to balance the weight on each motorcycle, they had Elder Oakes and me switch our bags since they didn’t want Elder Oakes and his heavier bag to have to be on the same motorcycle. After making these final arrangements, we set out for Tacloban in our little motorcade.