The Calm Before The Storm: A Call to Rebuild After Typhoon Tino

Calm always occurs before the storm. It is deceptive and cunning to the sensation of the survivors. It is beautiful, unworried, and silent, leading people to the conclusion that nothing will happen and could happen. For sure, you have read Hive bloggers here sharing their experiences of Typhoon Tino, which occurred a few days ago, causing a blackout and signal loss. For those who might have read it, they already know that many Cebuanos died and went missing, livelihoods were taken, and homes shattered into bits the flood could make. Before the storm, the day was calm and silent—almost still and normal. But what was thought to be silent would turn into a deadly phenomenon and forever haunt the families who were totally affected.

In the lens of a Cebuano living in the north, Typhoon Tino was once a beautiful sunset that occurred randomly on a calm afternoon of November 2, 2025. It was too beautiful not to witness and too magnificent not to be stunned. It was quite different from sunsets I have seen; it occurred out of nowhere without signals of light. It just lit up and turned the sky into colors of hope. Was it?

At 5:00 in the afternoon, I took Bruce, my beloved dog, for his daily walk, pee, and poop. This dog has been with me for three and a half years now, experienced what my family experienced, and heard what my family told. Actually, during the 6.9 earthquake, I thought this dog had died. My mother was able to grasp his leash as we ran outside, but it was only the leash we had with us when we reached outdoors. I was worried on the road and sad about his situation. I accepted that our dog had died so that I wouldn’t be hurt more. But he was alive, wagging his tail as we opened the door three hours later, waiting for us to get him. I was sorry I couldn’t get him earlier because of the aftershocks. That’s why after the quake, I did everything I could to make him happy and wag his tail in a safe situation.

I was too busy looking below, following Bruce’s walk and little steps, sniffing around the grasses to find the perfect spot to release his “friend.” When I got bored watching him, I raised my head like a worshipper and was shocked to realize a beautiful sunset had risen in the far distance. It was yellow and orange in color, almost pink so to speak, and almost mimicking the form of the sun. But it was not hot nor burning. It was calm, silent, and beautiful, as if nothing would occur the day after. It was not a horror feeling but a simple sunset watching, giving a sense of relief and peace. But the wind was not there—nothing made the grass dance and no howling was heard. I know this is not backed up by science, but in our culture, phenomena like this mean something is about to happen or that there is an upcoming “thing.”

And look, Bruce had already found his spot. I hope you are not disgusted by this photo—it is just nature doing its work. When Bruce was done, he wanted us to go home, pushing the leash while I took photos, which was odd because normally he wanted a long stroll. He is the boss, so I did get back home.

I was still amazed by the sunset that right after I put Bruce inside, I sat on the terrace to watch it change. And it did. It scattered like a disease and turned hollow like a subtle storm. It peeped in between our trees, telling me something, and making me feel nervous about what I had thought. Maybe the typhoon would be strong tomorrow. And indeed, it was. Not that intense in our town, but in southern Cebu. It was a clue and a sign of destruction but dressed as a beautiful occurrence—a message to interpret and a view to a warning.

_{I formally credit this photo to SunStar Cebu}
The day after, the clouds were no longer orange in color but rather dark, lurking around the town. Winds smashed roofs and heavy rain dropped screams in everyone’s houses. I already shared my experience of Typhoon Tino, and you can read it in one of my previous blogs.

_{I formally credit this photo to Tourism Secretary Christina Garcia Frasco}

_{I formally credit these photos to SunStar Cebu}

109 dead, 311 injured, and 66 missing—the rising DRRMO reports as of today. It was a calamity, and Cebuanos were prepared in the city for Typhoon Tino. But an unexpected occurrence happened—a flood, one that originated from rivers and dams left uncontrolled because of weak flood control and corrupted flood projects by the government. The calamity was natural, and Cebuanos were prepared. But the disaster, the flood, was not. Perhaps calamities reveal the dark secrets of our government in the Philippines and will continuously try to bring justice for those who are bereaved. I am also extending my condolences to those bereaved families and those who went missing.

My department in college is also running a fundraising campaign for the affected Cebuanos in the city. We accept clothes, pillows, blankets, monetary donations, and hygiene kits, and we would love to accept small acts of kindness from you if you are interested. Your donations will reach many people in need of essential things. The Cebuanos who are affected by the earthquake are also trying their best to help, but we are still in recovery. Your decision to help will make a meaningful difference and bring hope to those who have lost so much.

_{I formally credit this photo to Bends and Trends}