Some twenty-one years ago in 1991, I woke up to a breath-taking scenery of white outside our apartment window. It covered trees, cars, house roofs, and almost every surface where my youthful sight could reach. But it wasn't snow --- I was right in the middle of a small town in Mandaluyong. It was lahar ---thick, powdery, white traces of heavy ash fall.
For Filipinos, volcanoes and quakes were never common subjects over dinner until the eruption of Mount Pinatubo that historic June 15th of 1991 where white ash fall reached even our neighboring countries. Instead, these were mysterious matters of nature waiting to be unearthed in their own scientific cycles --- 100, 300, 600 years doesn't matter; we just know it will come.
And for Mount Pinatubo, it just so happened that its 600th year cycle came at the start of the twentieth century, threatening a good start to launching urban and suburban developments across Luzon. But there was one man, a Filipino so dedicated to his visions of making these forces of nature be understood by us, ordinary people. As he accurately predicted Pinatubo's eruption since an earthquake hit in July 1990, he never stopped leading Phivolcs in education, evacuation, and disaster preparedness projects. And though the eruption still left 847 people dead, tens of thousands of people below the tripoint of Zambales were saved, and 18,000 members of the US Air Force and their families left the Clark Air Base in Pampanga just days before the explosion because of the timely warnings. His name was Raymundo Punongbayan --- former Phivolcs director, and a late grandfather.
Hands-on was Punongbayan that he literally lived at the Phivolcs office to monitor the Pinatubo crisis. The Aetas of Pampanga were so used to his visits and teachings that they called him "Tatay." And on the aftermath of the world's second largest volcanic eruption of the 20th century, lahar, fault lines, earthquakes, and volcanoes became layman's terms. Why not? After all, we are sitting on the Pacific Ring of Fire and should be much aware of disaster mitigation more than anyone else in Southeast Asia.
His son Stauro would define him as "selfless and indefatigable," and would usually see him "lying on the sofa thinking of what else he could do for the country, for the people." Punongbayan never stopped --- until a helicopter crash killed him with 8 other members of the Red Cross. They were in the middle of a search for a resettlement area for the landslide victims in Quezon on that 28th of April, 2006. His ashes were scattered over Taal Volcano, a thing he always wished and told his children when he was still alive.
Though the government did not give much financial support to a very important department, he proved that this should not stop him from finding means to help his countrymen. I dare not call him 'lolo' as I can't even remember how many times I met him. But the country owned him, and that's what I most admired about Punongbayan. He led a simple life, but with much of a scientist and a Filipino's integrity.
We don't need to bleed ourselves researching on scientific subject matters to save thousands of lives. Perhaps we just need to put a little of our being a Filipino in whatever we decide to pursue, beyond support for a Fil-Am AI contestant or a famed boxing champion. So here's to three occasions this week: Mount Pinatubo's 21st Anniversary, Punongbayan's 75th birthday anniversary, and to the Philippines' 114th Day of Independence. Mabuhay. #
Thank you for writing about dad. God bless. :)
ReplyDeleteHello Sir! Our country will forever be grateful for his legacy. :) My Dad would always tell us stories when "Kuya Raymond", as they fondly called him then, was still living in Tondo, Manila with them while doing his studies. :)
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