The ground has not stopped moving in the Philippines. Hundreds of aftershocks continue to rattle the islands, each tremor a cruel reminder of the devastation that struck days ago. Officials now fear the death toll, already too high, will climb higher still. This is not just a geological event; it is a human one.
In the streets of the worst-hit towns, the air is thick with dust and dread. Rescue workers dig through rubble with bare hands, their faces masks of exhaustion and grim determination. Families wait, clinging to hope that grows thinner with every passing hour. The aftershocks are not merely tremors; they are the aftershocks of trauma, each one reopening wounds both literal and psychological.
I spoke to Maria, a schoolteacher whose home collapsed on Monday. She now lives in a tent with her two children and her elderly mother. 'Every time the ground shakes,' she told me, 'I think it is the end again. We sleep with one eye open.' Her story is not unique. Across the region, thousands have been displaced, their lives upended by forces beyond their control.
The cultural shift here is palpable. In a country where community and faith are cornerstones, the earthquake has tested both. Neighbours who once quarrelled now share what little they have. Churches have become makeshift shelters, their pews replaced by rows of sleeping bags. The resilience of the Filipino people is legendary, but even legends have their breaking points.
Class dynamics have also laid bare their ugly head. The poorest neighbourhoods, built on unstable ground and with substandard materials, have suffered the most. The affluent, ensconced in modern buildings with seismic safeguards, have fared better. This is the human cost of inequality, laid bare by nature's fury.
As the aftershocks continue, the psychological toll mounts. Mental health professionals warn of a coming wave of anxiety and post-traumatic stress. The government has promised aid and reconstruction, but for many, the path forward is uncertain. They are not just rebuilding homes; they are rebuilding their sense of security.
In the face of such devastation, one cannot help but ask: what does it mean to be human? It is to feel fear, to hold onto hope, and to reach out a hand to those who have fallen. The Philippines is shaking, but it is also clinging. And that, perhaps, is the most profound observation of all.
