I’ve opened a new folder on my desktop and called it “climate change.” A few months ago, I also opened “disaster” and in it saved articles on disaster management and risk reduction practices in different countries. That was after Ondoy. When I saved “climate change,” I’ve cut-pasted “disaster” into another drive. This is so because a few weeks ago, I found great excuse to get out of the city for a while. A scientific survey identified two of the most vulnerable areas in the Philippines: one, Ticao Island off Masbate; two, Gubat, Sorsogon. Both places seem to play like cusps against the yawning push of the Pacific Ocean. As I am writing this, my world has just made a brief halt from a journey from those two places. Small world, indeed, because at 11 a.m., I am now writing beside a window with a superb view of Mayon Volcano.
But let me tell you about Day One:
It was a humid Saturday night in Quezon City when I tucked myself into the cool Spanish music in Dulcinea. Meeting me that night was Maya, of the World Bank, and scientist CP David from the UP MSI. “We’ve met,” I told CP. It was a few years ago when Rock Ed Philippines came to Cebu. He was then finishing his doctoral studies in Geology and Environmental Science in Stanford University. At that time, I was also finishing my sixth bottle of beer with astroboy Lourd Ernest de Veyra and Gang of Rock Ed. Gang recalled how rock icon Bono of U2 smelled during a photo op. But let’s go back to Maya and CP.
“I was just mugged in Geneva,” said Maya, and showed us a few bruises on her elbow. Some guy sprang out from the bushes and grasped at her face. When she tried resisting, the attacker pushed him to the ground. She lost consciousness for a few seconds only to realize the attacker took her camera and bag. “Imagine, in a place like Geneva?” “Anyway,” she said, “let’s go back to Ticao and Gubat.” The World Bank is funding a project that will look at climate change in the eye with a rather holistic approach, and the best prototypes will be these two most vulnerable islands.
CP, on the other hand, had sent his invention, a mini-weather station, in these two islands. He had trained two people to man these stations. “I can text the machine in Ticao and Gubat, and I will get a response right away,” he said, and showed me a text message that showed exactly that minute’s wind velocity, temperature, and even amount of rainfall in Ticao. That, or the local weatherman himself can send the text message.
“How much does it cost to set up this station,” I asked. Just about P40,000, said CP. Either the stations in the Marine Science Institute in UP Diliman or Typhoon Preparedness Center in Naga will send the Ticao and Gubat stations weather updates. The local weatherman, in turn, will spread the news to the local disaster coordinating councils. With the monitoring going that quick and the information traveling faster than the storm, lives would be saved. “This idea should be sold to the LGU’s,” I said.
At this point, I was also catching the eye of the storm, swirling my fork on a plateful of green linguini. I felt the earth’s crust crushing in my mouth as I took the buttered toast. In the next few hours, I’d be taking the journey to Ticao and Gubat. By then, perhaps, I’d get a lesson or two about these most vulnerable islands in the country. It was almost midnight when I got back to the hotel, feeling like a vulnerable island in the quiet night. I needed a wake-up call, I told the concierge.
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