Tsunami Warning

I rolled around groggily in bed trying to sleep through the afternoon heat, my back drenched in sweat even with the fan blowing directly on me at full blast. I had left school an hour earlier than normal to try and catch some rest and kill the headache that was accompanying my sore throat.

I lost hope in actually sleeping and laid still on my back with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of voices downstairs and the sound of my cell phone beeping somewhere from inside of my sheets tangled under my feet.

Text messaging is a regular part of my life here as it is was at home. This is our means of communication with other volunteers, co-workers, hotels, Peace Corps staff, etc. My phone beeped again. I attempted to find my burgundy Nokia phone with my feet by feeling for vibrations somewhere at the edge of my bed. Success. I dragged the phone up my bed with my foot until I could grab it with my hand, not once opening my eyes. Yes, I am this lazy. I open my eyes just a sliver in order to read the texts that had come through, ‘Just FYI Leyte is under a tsunami warning,’ and ‘I don’t think I’ll make it to Palo tonight, we have a teacher send off that I just found out about.'

I gave sluggish one or two word responses to each text and then let my eyes close again. At this point I actually begin to process my text messages.

A tsunami warning. Is this like a tornado warning at home? What does that even mean?

My phone beeped again. This time from ‘PEACE CORPS’ informing all peace corps volunteers that there had been an earthquake in Japan and all Pacific coast volunteers in low lying coastal areas should seek higher ground due to a tsunami threat expected in the next half hour to two hours.

Interesting. I have no idea what that means.

My phone beeped again. This time it’s my closest PCV neighbour who lives just a few blocks away, ‘are you home?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m on my way over.’

I guess I should get up now.

I rolled out of bed and shuffled around my room until I found my laptop. I sleepily clanked down the steep metal stairs just in time to greet Holly, the volunteer I was expecting. She followed me to the dining room which I utilize as my interneting room.

Google. Tsunami Warning for Leyte. I scanned.. ah, bingo. 1-3 meter waves could be expected.

Holly and I exchanged glances that said ‘we have absolutely nothing to worry about.’ So we decided to stroll through Palo. Kids were playing in the streets, men were enjoying their barkadas every few blocks or so, and women were wandering around getting their chika from their neighbors.

Our community was obviously not concerned. As we walked through Palo, we talked to our Warden and our Regional Manager and expressed to them we felt safe. They also did not seem concerned. Holly and I aimlessly walked through Palo for awhile until it was dark and I wanted to rest again. (Headaches are death in the Philippines).
Anticlimactic, right? I thought the same thing until I saw damage Japan suffered. Yesterday, while walking through Tacloban I made an obviously grimace that another volunteer noticed. My grimace was for a newspaper headline that showed that the death count in Japan had reached 1,300. Today, BBC suggests 10,000 will be reached.

I never once felt scared until after I already knew I was safe. Receiving emails from my best friends up in the middle of the night their time made me realize that what happened in Japan was real, and just because we were fortunate enough not to experience any repercussions from the earthquake doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened.

My heart goes out to Japan. I am thankful for our safety and I am thankful for my lack of fear. I wonder what it would have taken to make me feel genuinely scared in that moment. . .