MY DIRTY STORY

SOMETHING SMELLS


By: Marilyn M. Soliven


I always love rain. The sound of rain, that steady hip hop music pelting the rooftop from the clouds above cutting off cars from the street, would lull me to sleep. It made me want to take long country-side drives or curl up with a good book. At night, I would listen to the croaking of frogs and the sound of crickets which was comforting.

It was such a treat for my brother, sister and I having a house beside the Mandalagan River. We learned how to swim on this river as kids. The river side was open then and had no need for concrete walls. The water was clean and small fishing boats would ply the route. It was uninhabited all the way to the Banago bridge. Never did I think rain and river would conspire against us now!

My story started one evening when it was storming and raining heavily. The torrents of the river could be heard gurgling a few meters from our dining room. Within minutes water was rushing up to our knees covering the entire ground floor. The higher the water, the stronger the swirl got to be. The dining table with dinner food still on top lay floating around with its chairs. The sofa, the albums with five generations of photographs, stereo and speakers, TV sets, library books, all these swallowed in muck.

I used my legs to monitor the water level. From ankle deep, it rose to my knee, to my thigh, to my waist and then to my chest… And I’m no Lilliputian! Electricity was still on. I had to tell everyone to stay away from sockets that were on every corner of the house. We had to get the kids to the second floor and move whatever could be saved to higher ground. This was only the start.

Water did not only come from the river. I noticed that now it comes rushing in from Lacson Street bringing in more garbage along with the deluge. This dreadful experience did not stop. Instead, the floods kept getting higher through the years. We had to build a concrete hump at the entrance of our house higher than Lacson Street but to no avail. The piercing twirls from the road were so strong it created a hole in the driveway deep enough to drown a man. The currents were even heavier than the river that portions of our walls toppled over. In one instance, as water was surging in, mother was trapped inside the bedroom unable to open the door. The repressive force of water locked her in along with two helpers. From the outside my brother pried a bedroom window and together in the dark, swam their way out to safety.

There was no slackness in me for disasters gave me energy and encouraged alertness. But I came to a point when I thought nature was penalizing man for his neglect - hospital syringes to be found everywhere, green surgical gowns, plastics floating with even more garbage around my waist turning round in corkscrew and a coconut tree stuck lengthwise inside our sala! Who needs purified water when I’ve slurped the quagmire? I did my microscopic imagination and never thought this time I’d be swimming the creek again!

When the flood subsides it draws everything along with it. What we did was close the decorative grills on the ground floor of the house. It acted like a sieve, filtering water as it held back furniture, appliances, bins, sofa and cushions, mattresses and many of the city’s delectable contributions.

The next day is the calm after the storm. This is when you stare at the devastation. Or count your blessings. No rice to eat in the kitchen. No dry clothes for everyone to wear. Thankfully we had people who offered help. Garbage was removed, uprooted trees cleared, mud scraped from the floor of the house. Furniture and belongings were laid out on the lawn to dry. This took days of cleaning and drying. Everything had to be scrubbed with soap and disinfected. And even then there was the lingering smell of decay for months. There were tedious things only you can do like sorting out drawers, cabinets, personal files and things precious to one. I had to strengthen myself over mementos that were never bound to be recovered.

News of heavy rain should put us all on flood mode status. Be prepared. Have a calendar that indicates the tides. Monitor the water level if you live right by the creek or river. Listen to weather updates. Have your trees pruned regularly, preferably during the dry months. Elevate cabinets with platforms or build shelving to permanently secure belongings.

There are solutions to the flood problem in Bacolod City. Each one of us should get involved. Join environmental groups. Encourage government to be more aggressive in flood control programs. Learn and practice Zero Waste Management. Plant trees and go green. This is a continuous struggle and we have to give it our unparalleled attention. Think clean!