Last Saturday, my mother had to attend a teacher’s seminar in UA&P. By noon, Ondoy had been raging for hours so my mom decided not to finish her seminar and make her way home already. She waited for an FX at the Megamall terminal but none arrived. That’s where she met a woman named Angela, whom she now considers to be her angel. Angela was also making her way to Antipolo, where we live. She was the one who told my mom that they should just stick together and figure out a way going home. They made their way to the MRT Station in Shaw, where the lines snaked all the way down the stairs. They huddled with thousands of stranded passengers waiting for the train. They got off at Cubao station, where the flood was already knee-deep. Farmers Market and Gateway Mall were both closed so they could not take shelter there. Good thing, they were able to hail a jeepney bound for Antipolo. By the time the jeepney reached the Marikina bridge along Marcos Highway – traffic was at a complete standstill, the Marikina River was rising at an alarming level. They jeepney couldn’t move any forward so they had to walk from the Marikina bridge all the way to Santolan LRT in hip-deep floods.

The LRT station turned into a  refugee camp – with hundreds of stranded, dripping, muddy commuters having no way to move forward. So they slumped on the floor with the rest of the crowd, overcome with hunger, fear and fatigue. Angela volunteered to buy my mother food. There were two food stalls left open, and people were starting to fight over the little food that was left. The comfort rooms were filthy. The rain was not letting up. The cars along Marcos Highway were barely moving. At 2AM, Angela suggested they try to venture out again.

My mom and Angela pleaded, haggled and argued with a cab. But the driver wasn’t taking any passengers. An old guy driving an SUV heard them and offered them a ride. The two women were apprehensive, but they had little choice. They rode with the old man, who offered them sandwiches and water. They inched their way forward for hours and hours on end. Sometimes, the old man would fall asleep at the wheel and my mom would wake him up when it was time to move again. By the time they reached Sta. Lucia, my mom had been holding her bladder for 20 hours. So the two women said they would try to look for a bathroom. The old man, despite the traffic, offered to pull aside for them. My mother refused, and said they would just catch up with him. Traffic was barely moving anyway.

When my mom and Angela got back to the SUV, it was just a few feet forward. By the time they reached Kingsville however – the waters have already risen to waist level. It’s impossible for any car to go any further. So my mom and Angela, not wanting to spend another night on the street, decided to walk in the rain. They thanked the old man, wished him luck and went on their way. You can imagine how terrible the situation is – walking in waist-deep waters that are slowly rising, in the dark, while it’s raining. There were hundreds of people walking – each of them calling out to each other “Hey be careful, there’s a manhole there.” “It’s a little easier to walk here.” “Just follow right behind me.” Angela held my mother’s hand throughout the ordeal.

Finally, when my mom and Angela couldn’t walk any further because the flood was simply too high – a cargo truck arrived. It was the only vehicle high enough to get through the epic flood. One of the men walking with my mom and Angela hailed the truck and begged for a ride. He called on the driver to let my mom, Angela and another woman to ride on the front while the rest of them clung on the side of the door, or stood with the cargo in the back. Finally, they reached Masinag, where there were jeepneys making their way to Antipolo. My mom was so grateful to the truck driver who willingly offered them help, so she handed him some money as a token of gratitude. He refused, saying “Hindi na bale ma’am, kung ako naman po ang nangailangan pasasakayin niyo din naman ako di ba?”

My mother finally arrived at home noon of the following day, grimy and shaken, but also relieved and thankful. She never would have gotten home if it weren’t for these strangers. On a normal day, they would have probably walked by or drove by each other – without a word, or so much as a glance. But these weren’t normal circumstances. And, as a friend said, when the s*** hits the fan, our true selves emerge. Random acts of kindness, no matter how little, get us through the worst of floods and strongest of storms. So, I will always be grateful to these people who went out of their way not only to save themselves but extended a helping hand to my mom. They not only brought my mom home, but restored my faith in fellow Pinoys.

Writer wishes to remain anonymous. Submitted via bayanihan.ondoy@gmail.com