My family’s experiences during the worst tragedy that has ever befallen my hometown, the city of Pagadian. At around 12:11 AM of August 17, 1976, a 7.9-magnitude earthquake struck the Moro Gulf and had triggered a series of tsunamis in many parts of Mindanao including our city, claiming thousands of lives.
Around 20 to 30 minutes after the tremendous earthquake, a neighbor shouted to my father, “Run! Water! The sea!” my father shouted back asking for clarification, but nobody answered him anymore. So my mother said we had to run too if people were already fleeing, thinking that our city was under siege.
My father took my four-year old sister; my mom carried my two-month-old youngest sister; I was assigned to my twelve-year-old eldest brother; and my eleven-year-old brother and ten-year-old sister were told to stick together. Then we all went down passing under our house because my parents were still convinced that we were being attacked by rebels. It was common in our city before to build a house whose flooring was a few feet above the ground due to frequent high tides or floods from the nearby sea and river. The space between the ground and our floor, silong in the local dialect, was about four feet.
Our place then didn’t have the wide concrete roads which are now prevalent even in the coastal districts. Jamisola Extension then was but a narrow unpaved path which became flooded with people on that fateful night.
When we reached the path, all of us were immediately swallowed up by the deluge of people all running for their lives; and we were separated from each other. Shots were still fired and I was fascinated by the bullet flashes across the sky and kept asking my brother what those lights were. But my brother just told me to stay quiet and keep on running. Just imagine the scene from the movie “Deep Impact” where people went up the hill to flee the rushing water. Although we couldn’t see any water and didn’t really understand why we were running, voices were heard saying that the sea had risen, making us all the more confused. Tsunamis were then unknown to many people in our place, especially for a third grader like me.
Throughout the exodus, my mother’s shouts could be heard too calling her children one by one as if calling the roll; and each of us would answer back when our respective names were called.
Then we reached the highway which was quite elevated and already flooded with people. My mother called the roll once again; and thank God, each of us was safe. My parents tried to talk with other people to find out what was really happening, and they were told about the rising of the sea which all sounded nonsense to my young mind. I was thinking of high tide and it was no big deal to me, as we often experience it at school. Even my parents couldn’t really understand as well, and I was still unsure why we left the house so frantically.
hi melody,
i’m from a television station in manila. i was wondering where you live right now? i hope you can email me back at josephthaddeus@gmail.com 
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