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An Excerpt From My Journal: On about February 2, 2015.

An Excerpt From My Journal: On about February 2, 2015.
Imagine that your home and everything you have owned was destroyed in a natural disaster.

Your government forces you to move away from the coastline (aka the danger zone), towards the mainland where you would be put in temporary housing.

Your livelihood as a fisherman is gone because you no longer have a car, or a motorcycle, to travel to work. Right away, you need to make the choice to either move your family (and risk having no income) or stay behind, rebuild and pray you will be safe.

You decide to relocate your family. You are put up in “temporary” shelters that are about the size of the average Canadian/Australian teenager’s bedroom. This is meant to house your family of 3-7 people.

Your kitchen is a communal fire pit, and your bathroom are a row of communal outhouses.

Oh yeah, and you share that with maybe 2000+ people.

You sit around praying and waiting for the time you can go home to permanent housing. When will that be done? How will you work? What will you do until then? What is the future going to be for your children?

These uncertainties…you may never see on the faces of the Tacloban people. But they are there.


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