It was just another blog entry when I wrote that I love the cold, but that the rains should stop because some areas in the provinces are in danger of landslides and there are no more room for the newspapers and TV screens for any more mass deaths.
But now tragedy strikes home.
The whole word is practically watching the Philippines. Planes, trucks, rescuers, sacks of rice, clothes... when you see familiar faces and relatives on television, the news sometimes don't matter, there is an alternation of blankness, then sadness, then fierce hope, then tears, then blankness. I see footages inserted with sad instrumentals and I want turn off the TV or sue the editors. It's different when you are directly affected. A muddied child would always be little Kimkim in your eyes, hoping that your happy and smart 8-year-old cousin made it.
St. Bernard is where I come from, hometown of my mother, place of my childhood, mountains of memories...
My cousin is still inside that classroom in Ginsaugon elementary school, or probably among those who made a tapping sound on the roof, feet and feet below mud and rocks. Yesterday the rescuers, my uncles among many, had more hope than ever that there are still those alive.
Please, please, just make the weather cooperate, and the operations swift. 2days without food and with limited oxygen is hard enough.
Prayers are needed.