Bullit Marquez on typhoon Haiyan: 'Everything was levelled to the ground'
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Version 0 of 1. Days before Haiyan hit, the news had already been broadcast that a super-typhoon was brewing in the Pacific and that it would hit the central Philippines. On the day itself, all broadcasts ground to a halt, so I knew it was serious. There was no contact at all with people in Tacloban and Samar; the only reports that trickled in were from Cebu and Bicol. I decided to get a flight down to Tacloban with the Philippine air force. When we landed, there was only an hour of light left, so I stayed near the airport. I asked survivors where the casualties were. They immediately pointed to the chapel behind the destroyed National Police building. When I got there, I saw bodies of children and adults wrapped in blankets, only their feet exposed. A black cross was a silent testament to the catastrophe. It was too much to bear and I ran out. Outside, I saw a six-storey water tower. I climbed it and took 360-degree photos of the devastation. Those were my first pictures. <br />I went back to the airport and managed to find a building still standing, which was to be where I lived with airport traffic controllers and their relatives for eight days. The next day, I ventured into the city, walking and hitching rides. It was still raining, and a couple of miles from the airport I saw a lot of bodies lying along the road. Driving down a long stretch of coast, I didn't see a single building. Everything was levelled to the ground. And there were more bodies among the debris and floating in the water between cars. Survivors streamed back to the airport, hoping to board mercy flights. The next day, I saw a woman in labour on a stretcher and I followed her into a temporary "delivery room". There, another mother was lying on the cement floor full of debris, having just given birth to a baby girl. It was heartwarming to see new life coming into the world. Outside, people were screaming to get inside the makeshift hospital for treatment, food and water. Everybody was dazed, their faces riven with anxiety. A woman noticed my half-full bottle of water and begged me to have it all. Without a word, I handed it to her. Later that day, I was with a colleague waiting to try to do some aerial shots. I was lucky enough to bump into the secretary of defence, Voltaire Gazmin, whom I've known for 20 years, and the secretary of social work and development Corazon "Dinky" Soliman. Up in their chopper, we saw more and more destruction. Landscapes that used to be lush and green were now brown. Toppled coconut palms dotted the mountains like thousands of arrows released from the sky. As the helicopter hovered above our destination, Guiuan, in Eastern Samar province, we saw the whole town was ruined. It was only then I realised the huge scale of Haiyan and that man cannot hope to compete with nature.<br />In Guiuan, Gazmin and Soliman rescued a mother and child and an elderly man, who all boarded our chopper. As soon as we were airborne, tears streamed down the woman's face as she hugged her baby. It was such a relief for her to leave that place. Another day, while I was taking more photographs up on the water tower, a group of a dozen children accompanied by only two adults approached me. They began to cry and begged me to get help from social workers. Thirty armed men had stormed their village, so their parents had sent them to the city to seek help, afraid what might happen if they stayed behind. They had hiked for hours overnight and ended up by the airport at daybreak, with no food and water. I gave them my provisions of a bottle of water and biscuits. In front of me, they shared the biscuits and took turns to sip the water. Since then, many days have passed with people trying to pick up the pieces, living among the debris and in the rain with no food and water, as dead bodies lie unclaimed. The repercussions are still sinking in. Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning. |