Catanduanes observed its 75th founding anniversary last week of October, the first celebration in time of the pandemic.
On the first day of November, the island was hit by Supertyphoon Rolly which brought to mind the fury of Supertyphoon Yolanda in 2013.
(As I write this, the island is still recovering from Typhoons Quinta, Rolly and the rains of Tonyo and Siony. It is now in the eye of Typhoon Ulysses.)
For those not aware of it, the island has showbiz connections.
Actors Dindo Fernando, John Arcilla, Jun-Jun Quintana, former representative Gina Vera Perez de Venecia, movie producer Marichu Perez Maceda, kundiman queen Carmen Camacho, singer-songwriter Noel Cabangon, former Sen. Kit Tatad, evangelist Mike Velarde and this writer have roots in Catanduanes.
Urian Best Actor (Ikaw at ang Gabi) Dindo Fernando — Jose Tacorda Chua Surban in real life — whose birthday falls on Nov. 19 (1940) is from Salvacion, Virac, Catanduanes.
He is cousin of lawyer Rudegelio Tacorda, the defense lawyer of the Lino Brocka who was incarcerated in jail in the ‘80s along with Behn Cervantes and company for joining an anti-Marcos rally many years back. (Lawyer Tacorda was also my lawyer when I was sued for cyber libel by a musician from Talisay, Negros Occidental.)
Another Urian awardee for Best Supporting Actor Jun-Jun Quintana (A Philippine Story) said his father is from Panganiban, Catanduanes and his grandfather — Don Sebastian Quintana — was once a town executive in the island town. “We have relatives in Bagamanoc and Virac,” the actor pointed out. His real name is Amando Quintana Jr.
The father of singer-songwriter Noel Cabangon is also from Panganiban, Catanduanes.
Another actor with Catanduanes roots is John Arcilla whose father Dominador Arcilla was born in Virac, Catanduanes.
The late Cardinal Jose Sanchez is also from Pandan, Catanduanes.
Meanwhile, the fury of Typhoon Rolly is recalled by island doctor and music lover Alvin Ravalo who was awake at 2:30 a.m. on the day the supertyphoon struck.
It was the first time he had heard of Typhoon Signal No. 5 with the Weather Bureau predicting the typhoon could be packing winds at 280 or over 300 kilometer per hour. Suddenly images of past typhoons — Sisang, Reming, Loleng and Rosing — flashed in his mind.
Then at three in the morning, the wi-fi signal disappeared.
He recounted that early morning hours of Nov. 1 thus: “Suddenly, the dark seemed a lot darker and the winds a lot louder. At 5 a.m., the sounds were a cacophony of whooshing winds, whipping water, crashing metal, and — you won’t believe this — concrete smashing concrete. At 6 a.m., there was a 15-minute lull. Nobody got out of the house. The worst was yet to come.
“With winds coming in from the south, it was salt, sea and sheer terror. A flying object smashed into the screen door and it started to rain inside the living room with water flying from above the door and seeping under it. If we hadn’t installed a brace inside, the door might have flown into the living room too. It was vibrating like crazy. Water was coming in from all directions. And when you’re tired and sleepy, you tend to forget that you’re afraid. You’re no longer sure what you’re shivering from. It had become a matter of life and death.
“By 7 a.m., all I could see from the faint light on the window was white, like a fog on a concoction of caffeine and steroids. By 8 a.m., the winds started dying down, like a headless chicken obviously dying but still insisting on running. By 9 a.m., the white was gone and we could see the brown flowing river that used to be Rizal street in front of the house with floating sheets of metal, wood and branches, the bald swaying narra tree that we planted across the street inside the capitol compound five years ago, and the peeled roof of the RTC.”
The following day, the islanders woke up to a horrific landscape of flooded streets, roofless houses, electric posts lying on the ground and landslides cutting off towns and villages from the main roads.
As I write this, TV host Willie Revillame flew by helicopter to answer the call for help from people of Gigmoto town.
In its primeval time, the island was home to rare Philippine brown deers peeping into tents of the island’s first road builders.
Add to that the flying foxes, rare bat species, pythons and sailfin lizards, among others.
Rare bird species also abound such as the Philippine hornbill, rail parrot, pheasant, the oriole and kingfishers, to cite a few.
After the typhoon, we wonder if those rare species of pitcher plants and rafflesia will still be around.
The island coast is said to be the best marine refuge for flying fish that on its fullest size can weigh 300 grams.
Island old-timer and former Virac Vice Mayor Titong Sarmiento still remembers the idyllic Catanduanes of his youth thus: “The island was a virtual rainforest. During the island’s first road construction projects, I remember the nights when the Philippine brown deers would casually peep into our tents. There were no tricycles, just horses and carabao carts.”
(For those who want to help typhoon victims in the island, please call Nathalie Inna Popa of Tindog Catanduanes Movement at 0977-415 5144 or KC de la Pena at 0995-7661742.)