Cuddle weather for some, but an added struggle for many

Maria Miguelle Aquino and Gweneth Pablo

Hear the rumble of their drenched desperation. 

Yesterday, under the soft glow of a summer hue, children laughed as they painted the skies with their vibrant umbrellas while adults gathered to craft livelihoods on the road under the blaze of the sun. 

However, today, the sky screams with tears. Thunder roaring, lightning scattering, rain overflowing — the reality that mercilessly unfolded as they helplessly tried to save their drowning trade. They could only mutter for the rain to go away and imagine for peace to stop the ravaging waters.

The serenity of paradise is never meant to last against the tides of the winds. Philippines, an archipelago situated along the Pacific Ring of Fire, is home to several tourist destinations, yet the threat of the seasonal downpours still submerges thousands. Each year, as engraved by the Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA), the country dives into the rainy season from June to November, collecting a mean annual rainfall between 965 mm and 4,064 mm in its buckets. 

But underneath the weight of every drop, an agonizing truth floats. Behind every statistic lies the mere souls of ordinary citizens struggling to navigate their way across the floods — farmers relentlessly harvesting their remaining crops as the field progressively drowns, drivers gripping their steering wheels as passengers gradually wash from existence, and vendors mending their makeshift stalls as they too slowly become unable to earn. 

They fight fair in a reality that is unfair. What stands as a droplet of blessing for others breathes as the surge of uncertainty for them. 

A harvest at risk

For the backbones of the agricultural sector in the Philippines — the farmers — rain can be both a blessing and a curse. 

If Bea Arlene Mongcal, a woman of the Matigsalug tribe from Davao City, is to be asked, the rain has meant a bountiful harvest that could be sold to supplement their family income. Just as the soil finally rejuvenates after months of drought, Arlene’s family can now exhale in relief as they look forward to the restoration of their vegetable farm after all their plants withered during the intense heat of March and April. 

“Lipay kaayo mi nga nag-ulan gahapon. Ikaduhang adlaw pa lang gyud nag-ulan diri,” (We’re so happy it rained yesterday. It’s only the second day of rain), said Arlene during her interview with Sunstar. 

However, this is not the case for every farmer in the country. 

Just last year, torrential rains and consecutive low pressure areas caused an estimated ₱339.3 million in agricultural losses, as reported by the National Irrigation Administration (NIA). The losses were borne by 23, 385 farmers across eight regions of the country. Constant downpours sometimes cause overflow in dams and irrigation systems, which later lead to flooding. According to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, floodwaters can erode soil and expose roots, which can hinder the plant’s stability and its ability to absorb nutrients. 

Rather than letting the crops further rot, farmers often opt to harvest early despite their prematurity in hopes that they can save at least a few kilos they can sell to help meet their household’s financial needs. 

As the raindrops flow along the crevices of the road, they follow the path leading to the marketplace. The struggles of the harvest do not stop at the rice field, it travels until it reaches the auntie selling them along roads, praying that the vegetables she’s desperately saving from the wrath of the downpour sell out quickly so she does not have to incur the loss.

Over ₱311,000 worth of products was damaged after water seeped into the stalls of at least eight vendors at Iloilo Central Public Market during heavy rainfall back on January 2. What could have been a source of income that would last them for at least a month was gone in a blink of an eye. 

Between the fields and the marketplace lies a journey shaped by the same rain. Somewhere along that path, the blessing that once nurtured the crops can quietly become the burden that threatens the livelihood built around them. 

Down the drain

The fields of uncertainty plowed by Mongcal outlines the same story as Mario, only this time it stretched far into the ravaging sidelines of urbanity. 

“Kawawa ang taong bayan sa ganyang klase ng [sitwasyon], na katulad namin na isang kahig, isang tuka, na kapag hindi kami bumiyahe, hindi kami kakain,” (The citizens are to be pitied in situations like this, especially those who live hand-to-mouth, because if we can’t drive, we won’t eat.) were the words that erupted from the seething voice of Mario, 75, a taxi driver living in Manila, Philippines as he expressed the boulder that continuously anchors the gravity of their reality down, in a report conducted by the GMA Integrated News, the news primary division of GMA Network.

Howling winds and brimming floods standing at more than two feet, Mario helplessly stood at the sidewalks as he was forced to witness how his source of income became swallowed by the rising waters at the Kalaw Avenue, Manila. His family’s stomach could only grumble in the echoing empty abyss without the fruit coming from his steering wheel. 

In the middle of the murky puddles, only one truth can be seeped out of it — that the unforgiving burst of downpour drenches not only those who rely on the roads for living but also the passengers who seek to travel to their uncharted paths. 

“Malungkot po kasi sayang yung araw, since nandito na ako. Eh kaso po safety first po tayo…hindi po kasi mababayaran kung sakaling magkasakit man po,” (I’m sad because the day was wasted since I’m already here. But we have to put safety first… you can’t be paid for getting sick.) Jess Villamor, a jeepney passenger from the similar avenue, explained the weight of their hurdles coming from the continuous rain. 

Lost certainty, lost salary. The surge mercilessly steals every ounce of hope, trickle of faith, and drop of courage oozing in every living vessel. 

After the storm

The same rain is experienced differently by different people. Some may see it as a break from the sweltering heat that has been plaguing the country throughout the summer season, but for some the downpour signals another day of uncertainty. 

However, the Filipinos are no longer new to this season. The rain comes back every single year and it continues to threaten the livelihoods of many. But the rain only ever changes how they work, not why. 

Despite the rice fields being a bit muddier than usual, a farmer will continue to think about how they can put food on their table for the next few months to come — so they till and till regardless. While the roads are extra slippery, taxi drivers may slow down their speed slightly, but their dreams for their children who may already be in their final year in college remain steadfast. 

And while the rain continues to spray against the harvest that should have been fresh for consumers to buy, vendors will continue wrapping them up diligently with a wide sheet of plastic because if the rain refuses to stop, neither can they. 

Even if the storm brings them hardships, it also reminds them of the reasons they keep going. The rain may shape their days, but it has never been enough to wash away the reasons they rise to work each morning.