Mardi Gras
So set him up, then let him fall
Turn him over in your hands
God save the King of New Orleans
- Better Than Ezra, King of New Orleans
I am one of those who were shocked to see a famous city like the Big Easy submerged in high water. Images of looting, rampage and squalor made me wonder if this is America at all. I was particularly touched by footages of police officers begging their comrades who have fled the county for security reasons to help them as they are sworn to do. Yes, you heard that right. I bit my lip and tried hard not to make a tacky comparison between our own police force and the New Orleans cops but I couldn’t. We don’t generally trust our cops, yes, but I don’t think Filipino cops would renege on their obligations especially in the middle of a calamity, even if they don’t have the trappings we once saw in Rescue 911. More often than not, we even complain that these policemen are always present, even if “their presence is the last thing we need at the moment.”
Now back to my own backyard.
I have lived in this low-lying part of Southern Metro Manila for the past 22 years, 16 if you subtract my 6-year “sabbatical” when I lived in the North. In this city by the bay, we brace ourselves for the perennial flooding come rainy reason. As a child, I would look at the window secretly wishing for the waters to rise. I would go out of the house (slamming the door to emphasize my rebellion against the old folks’ objections) and wade through the knee-deep murky water. I would join the Grand Parade of stranded people who had given up on public transportation and had decided to literally risk their limbs to reach their homes, or, surprise, surprise, to do their usual chores like going to the market just like my grandma. Who cares about the dead rats and roaches, the floating used diapers and nappies, human wastes in SM plastic bags? Who cares about skin infection and elephantiasis? I WAS FREE and this was my Mardi Gras, minus the blaring trumpets, the voodoo music and the party hats. I WAS FREE and I was doing what the adults were doing and on those days, proving to my self that I’m as able and as strong as the adults was such a big deal, an irrational obsession.
Many typhoons after, the thrill was suddenly gone. As the water level rose, I too began to grow. Joining the Grand Parade became a necessity. The fact that some people do suffer because of floodwater became harder and harder to ignore. The things that used to bring delight have suddenly lost its appeal one by one.
I still long for the day that the child in me will return if only to erase my fears and insecurities. I want to feel the cold wind as it dries up the rainwater in my face. I want to feel the triumph over such seemingly small things and eagerly wait for the next opportunity to move on. I wish to have the energy again, to join the next Mardi Gras.
