Another flood, another reckoning
In those six hours, I could have reached Baguio, with a stopover or two. Instead, I barely moved around San Juan.
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In those six hours, I could have reached Baguio, with a stopover or two. Instead, I barely moved around San Juan.
Last Monday, 17 August, I spent nearly four hours trying to find a way home.
I was fortunate. I was in my own vehicle, dry and comfortable. But as I checked my social media feed, flooding appeared at nearly every intersection along my route. Some were perennial trouble spots; more troublingly, some were new additions.
After four hours, I realized and accepted that I would not be getting home as planned. So I spent another two hours in a mall, waiting for the water to subside. Something I was grateful for.
In those six hours, I could have reached Baguio, with a stopover or two. Instead, I barely moved around San Juan. At one point, I almost wondered whether I should transfer my voter registration there.
The only flood I welcomed was the flood of quips from my KaTribu, Atty. Edward Chico. It would have been funny. Except it was infuriating.
From the driver’s seat, I watched pedestrians and commuters, young and old, soaked, walking and waiting. I could only pray for their relief.
I also noticed a rather elegant EV that could not move either. Our hardships were not equal, but we were both staring at the same water and the same traffic. I also prayed for both our anxious minds.
And we should not forget those who helped: officers who went beyond their duty, people who assisted the stranded, and those who voluntarily cleared clogged drains. Amid systemic failure, there were people who chose to act.
Climate change is real. Nature is immensely powerful. No government can promise that we will never flood. But flooding is hardly new.
Year after year, we spend on flood control projects. So if these projects were really implemented, why do new areas seem to be flooding? Was the design wrong? Was maintenance inadequate? Or, more painfully, were all the projects said to have been completed actually done?
These questions should not be answered with speculation. They should be answered with records, engineering, audit and accountability.
For the third consecutive year, it seems nature has conducted another audit. It does not read certificates of completion. It asks only one question: Does it work?
That is where our indignation should come from: anger rooted in injustice and demanding accountability.
In Cebuano, there is kapungot, in Ilokano pungtot, in Hiligaynon ogót; in Maranao, a person who is angry may be gaganin. But anger cannot be enough.
With every flood comes the tired explanation: the drains were clogged with our garbage. It is easy to dismiss, but we should not escape our own share of responsibility.
Garbage collection can be outsourced. We pay taxes for that. But before the garbage truck arrives, did we segregate our waste? Did we put it where it belonged? Or did we leave it by the roadside, sometimes beneath a sign screaming: “HEY, IDIOT, NO DUMPING HERE!”
If we demand accountability, we must also be prepared to answer for our share of it.
We have every right to be angry. We should be angry. But anger is wasted if it becomes a meme, a joke, resignation and eventually forgetfulness.
So do not merely post. Record it. Where did it flood? What project was built there? How much did it cost? When was it completed? And above all, does it work?
Flooding in Manila may not be exactly the same as flooding in the countryside. But water flows the same way. The fear is the same when it begins to rise. If we must speak in the language of our fellow citizens so that, even for a moment, we may meet one another, then let us speak it.
Our words may differ. Let them not end in the same silence.
Turn anger into memory. Turn memory into action. And turn action into accountability.
Then perhaps the current of accountability may begin to flow again, until it finally attains justice.
