On the Ring of Fire, a tectonically active area of the Pacific Ocean, Mount Pinatubo rises high among the Zambales Mountains. It is an active stratovolcano on the island of Luzon, with rainforests around the hills, rice fields stretched far and wide in the valleys. In 1991, Pinatubo ejected 10,000 m3 of fallout. It was the largest volcanic eruption since 1912.
“umitim ang langit, kasing dilim ng gabi” (The heavens turned black, dark as night) my Lola spoke shakenly, recalling the twelve days of tectonic chaos. My family saw hell spew from the heart of the Earth. Yet, Lola was steadfast, embodying Bayanihan, our indigenous “mutual aid”, and hoped that all would end well.
It was June 13, in the second month of the semester at Clark Air Base, Pampanga, roughly 22 km from the peak of Pinatubo. With the first major magmatic eruption on June 7, it was unclear whether or not evacuations would be necessary for the area. My Tatay, in his early aeronautical engineering class, was startled by the loud tremors and ear-piercing explosion. “I was crying as the Airmen rushed us to large military vehicles… smelling the sulphur with my hair full of ash.”* Seismic tremors bore into his head, watching the heavens darken and lighting shoot as ash poured out. Ash Columns soared high, 21 km into the atmosphere, spewing volcanic matter and gases. Pyroclastic surges filled the river valleys, rushing down the mountain, covering everything in a layer of ash and volcanic matter.
To evacuate was to leave all his belongings behind under the fallen foundations of the boarding house, crushed by metres of ash and debris. An hour drive south from Clark, the Philippine Air Force deemed it safe in Guagua’s wetlands, on the edge of our peninsular province, Bataan.
Having felt the earthquakes on the days prior, Lola and the village were not prepared for what was to come. June 15 saw Pinatubo’s final climactic devastation. In Bataan, the extent of Pinatubo’s destructive power did not pass our northern border. But as the sky turned black, Lola’s face turned grim.
“We were scared, like it was the end of the world… People rushed home, unable to sleep as pounds of ash poured onto rooftops. Electrical and road infrastructure out of Bataan were destroyed. We were isolated from the rest of the nation.”
The collapse of the summit was felt throughout Luzon. As Pinatubo erupted, Typhoon Yunya passed north, raising the ash clouds 34 km into the air. Rain mixed with dacite tephra creating slushing lahar landslides, covering farmland, forests, roads and worse. “Towns in Pampanga were entombed by the rain and ash. Levelling the villages and removing them off the map. The highway to Manila was gone, people resorted to walking to the evacuee camps” Lola remarked.
The aftermath of this catastrophe left so much in chaos and so many in despair. 17 megatons of Pinatubo’s debris spread throughout the world causing global cooling by 0.5 °C. But back home, Lola and the community internalised the tenet of Kapwa, a shared innerself, through pakikisangkot, the act of joining a movement. With the rice sprouts crushed metres deep by the ash, she and the farmers of the town sought to assess the fields for insurance claims. Lola and her children went door-to-door to the surrounding towns seeking aid and donations, raising money for the Rural Reconstruction Movement. Prompted by seeing the slurry-covered roads and collapsed houses near her sister’s in Olongapo, they gathered water, rice, and other aid and packaged care boxes for the victims.
Even with destruction, reasoning looked towards indigenous beliefs. Local Sambali and Ayta myth states Bakobako, the angry turtle spirit, dug into Pinatubo’s mountainside, spewing fiery stones for three nights long. The ash nurtured the newly volcanic soil as if it was ‘ready to be made to grow’ (Pinatubo in Sambali). Thus, Apo Namalyari, the supreme moon-goddess of events, claimed this mountain. Elders preached her disgust towards the illegal logging and exploratory drilling, saying she enticed Bakobako to wreak havoc and restore balance.
With all the events attracting Apo Namalyari, I am still in awe with the community and its bayanihan. Despite catastrophe, My lola, my tatay, and the rest of the family continue this act of love and care for the community, one which all indigenous peoples know too well. Though getting back on track with life was tough, the seeds of change were planted. Blessed by the volcanic soil and Apo Namalyari, Lola continues her care for others, instilled and instilling pakikisangot to the newer generation, waiting to grow.
* All direct quotes translated from Tagalog unless otherwise stated.
