A year ago, Typhoon Pablo walloped Cateel, Davao Oriental, and Compostela Valley. It was one of the strongest storms to hit the country to date. I remember the owner of the restaurant where we had a drink the night I was in Cateel telling us over a bottle of San Miguel Light—as he joined me and Nunoy—about that horrifying night last December.
"My brother-in-law, who is a member of the US Navy, called my wife the day before," he narrated to us. "The typhoon was so huge that the US Navy and the US atmospheric office started monitoring it. He warned us to get away from Davao Oriental. I was able to send my wife to Davao the day before. That morning, I tied up some of the restaurant's stuff. People who saw me asked what I was doing; nobody thought at that time that Pablo would be that strong."
Post Pablo Cateel: Aliwagwag Falls
The Aftermath and the Rebuilding
Everyone has their own story to share. The house I stayed at belongs to the family of a fellow travel blogger, Olan, who graciously offered to host me upon reading about my plans to visit his hometown. Their old house was totally destroyed by the wrath of Pablo's winds and has since been redesigned and rebuilt at the time of my visit last July. Still, traces of debris, houses with no roofs, bent-over steel posts, and cut-off trees were still visible all over Cateel. A few months after that December night, the people of Cateel are still actively picking their lives back up.
Around Cateel, you could see newly constructed houses built by the Caritas Foundation and other charitable organizations. A big warehouse set up by the World Food Program is still operating in the area. Olan's brother, Nunoy, told me that the sheer amount of help was staggering. People from various legitimate NGOs from all over the world trooped to Cateel and shared their rebuilding expertise.
I heaved a sigh of profound thankfulness hearing about that. Faith in humanity restored. I followed the news of Pablo's onslaught from fellow travel bloggers who were able to visit Cateel and Compostela in the immediate aftermath. We held a fund drive at our office to help in the relief efforts. Olan's group in Davao successfully spearheaded the "Help Cateel" organization, which—just like what the Iligan Bloggers Society did during the aftermath of Typhoon Sendong in 2011—became the absolute model of online calamity relief drives by tapping the vast influence of social media.
The Healing of Aliwagwag
"I was standing at my veranda when I saw a whole roof fly forty feet up in the air before it tore apart in all directions," the owner of the restaurant continued. As I listened to his story, I could visually imagine raw scenes from the movie "Twister." From the stories I heard, I was able to paint a terrifying picture of those dark hours. The sky was black, the winds coming from both directions—brought upon by the circling movement of Typhoon Pablo—carried heavy rainwater directly from the sea. It ravaged the town for four straight hours before leaving behind torn-down houses, uprooted trees, crumpled gymnasiums, twisted electric posts, and a literal mountain of trash littered on the streets.
Cateel is widely known in the traveler's circle because of an unusual, towering waterfall located almost an hour away. Aliwagwag Falls is a majestic multi-level waterfall, exceptionally wide and entirely surrounded by dense forest. I had seen it in pristine photographs before, and the Pablo-aftermath images of it were completely heartbreaking. Pablo really tore it apart, to say the least.
When I saw it last July, Nunoy told me the surrounding forest is finally starting to regenerate. Just like the resilient townsfolk of Cateel, the natural environment around Aliwagwag has also slowly rebuilt itself. Aside from a giant, uprooted log lying across the water path, there was barely a sign left that it had endured one of the strongest storms of the decade.
The Resiliency of Cateel
We spent a couple of hours resting at the foot of Aliwagwag Falls. Being there, all you hear are the rushing, flowing waters. The sky was golden with rays of light beaming directly through the canopy. That calm feeling is a stark, haunting contrast to those four violent hours of battering from Typhoon Pablo. While riding the habal-habal driven by Noy, I saw a makeshift sign nailed to a surviving tree saying, "The People of Cateel thank all of you."
I was powerfully reminded that even in times of great suffering and destruction, humanity takes up the cudgel for one another and is always ready to lend a helping hand. This was a full year before "Typhoon Yolanda" would again hit us strong and leave most of the central archipelago paralyzed. We all know about the massive response from everybody—the volunteers, the relief operations, the international aid.
For three straight years, from Sendong that hit Iligan and CDO to Pablo and Yolanda, we were hit unimaginably hard by the forces of nature. Yet we bounce back each time, pick up the shattered pieces, and manage to stand up after so much struggle. I can only hope that these natural calamities will finally give us a break.
It rained heavily that night, and as I was trying to sleep alone in the guest room of Olan and his brother's house, I imagined exactly how quickly they were able to rebuild the roof and the walls that safely sheltered me from the rain that very night. I felt deeply grateful being safe from the harsh trappings of nature. I closed my eyes and wondered what kind of absolute terror the people of Cateel experienced the night Typhoon Pablo came. "Parang delubyo" (Like a deluge). I heard that exact phrase from at least three different people who bravely shared their survival stories with me.
Other than the personal stories and the few remaining scattered debris, Pablo's destructive presence is almost forgotten. The people have since bravely continued with their lives. After we visited Aliwagwag Falls, we went to a nearby beachside and joined another of Olan's brothers, Dong, and his friends singing lively karaoke songs. A group of young kids played basketball in a beat-up hoop nearby.
I wondered deeply about the trauma they had inside. If they had any, it wasn't noticeable as one of the kids kept swooshing the ball flawlessly into the net. This is true resiliency, I told myself—the ability to boldly bounce back after a battle against a very powerful force of nature. Just like the resilient waters flowing along the beautiful Aliwagwag Falls, life simply goes on—far stronger than before.
