Storm surge

Monster howler Yolanda, according to reports, was 3.5 times more powerful than Hurricane Katrina, which devastated New Orleans.

The US city, whose levees were breached by the hurricane that struck on Aug. 29, 2005, is still in the process of rebuilding. The levees are regularly monitored and fortified. Unless a better flood control system is installed, however, New Orleans can still experience a repeat of Katrina’s horrific destruction.

We should study what they are doing because it looks like storm surges are also starting to hit the Philippines with increasing frequency. Yolanda reportedly spawned a storm surge with sea waves about five to six meters high, which slammed into Tacloban City.

Levees need constant fortification, and breaching is always a risk. In the Philippines particularly in Central Luzon, dikes built to keep out floods and lahar have been breached many times.

New Orleans is reportedly looking at the polder system employed by the Dutch. The elaborate system of embankments and water pumping has saved the Netherlands from becoming Waterworld. Its Schiphol International Airport, one of the world’s busiest, is built on a polder.

The polder system, which requires constant maintenance, obviously does not come cheap. We don’t have funds to pump water even out of Manila’s Lagusnilad underpass, or even for rebuilding communities devastated by recent typhoons, landslides, floods, earthquake and the siege of Zamboanga City.

To this list of calamities we must add storm surges.

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Most Pinoys first heard of a storm surge in September 2011, when waves up to 20 feet high from Manila Bay smashed into the reclaimed area and Roxas Boulevard. The flood-prone parts of the city of Manila such as España and C.M. Recto Avenue were flood-free; the surge reached only up to Taft Avenue and stopped near the Manila Hotel in Rizal Park.

Explaining the bizarre flooding, weather experts at the time said a storm surge was what caused cataclysmic damage to New Orleans at the height of Katrina.

The surge of seawater from Manila Bay destroyed Sofitel’s renowned Spiral restaurant and inundated the US embassy compound. Spiral has since reopened with an even more extensive buffet, and the hotel is being fortified against another onslaught of big waves.

From the information trickling out of Tacloban over the weekend, with communication still down and all modes of transportation grounded, it looks like the city was pounded by a storm surge of about the same height. But no one died in Manila’s storm surge. In Tacloban, where many seafront houses were made of flimsy materials and there were few high-rises like those in Manila to absorb the impact of giant sea waves, Yolanda exacted a grievous toll.

As of yesterday Leyte officials were saying the body count could reach as high as 10,000 in Tacloban alone.

Weather experts can now track the path and strength of typhoons with great accuracy. In the case of Yolanda or Haiyan, the Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA) issued sufficient warning that a monster typhoon was heading our way.

The warning prompted timely mass evacuation in Bicol and the earthquake-hit provinces of Bohol and Cebu.

Storm surges, however, are as unpredictable as earthquakes and sinkholes. So the giant waves caught the people of Tacloban by surprise.

TV footage showed floodwaters rampaging through the city, washing away cars and debris from ruined houses. The scene was like a milder version of the killer tsunami that rolled across northeastern Japan.

Perhaps because of climate change, we seem to be experiencing unusually heavy rainfall with increasing frequency. Floodwaters also seem to rise to destructive levels unusually quickly these days. The speed of the rise – as in the case of Typhoon Ondoy – often accounts for greater destruction as people are caught by surprise.

A storm surge is even worse, as powerful storms suddenly whip up giant waves that smash into land. Lives can be lost in a matter of minutes.

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Leyte is no stranger to sudden cataclysms. In February 2006, days of incessant heavy rain dislodged a massive chunk of mud from a cliff in Guinsaugon, Southern Leyte, burying over 1,100 people and nearly obliterating the village from the map.

In 1991 during storm Uring, I went to Leyte shortly after a flash flood from the denuded mountains inundated Ormoc City in the morning of Nov. 5. As in the cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan, whose residents never expected killer floods from the surrounding hills in December 2011, the people of Ormoc didn’t know what hit them.

Driving around Ormoc, I saw men shoveling lime over corpses, creating makeshift mass graves as the city ran out of coffins. The lime was not enough to mask the stench of decomposition. There was no escaping the stench of death; it clung to the hair, skin and clothes of the living, lingering in one’s memory even after several showers.

Local officials confirmed nearly 5,000 deaths, with 3,000 more missing and never accounted for. The conversion of forests into sugarcane plantations in Ormoc’s watersheds was blamed for the flash flood.

Reports at the time said the flood rose up to 10 feet within only about three hours. This was also reported at the height of Ondoy.

Can we ever be fully prepared for such catastrophes? Probably not. But humans have been battling nature’s fury for millennia. Sturdier shelters have been built for this. Buildings are now designed to “roll” with ground movements as part of safety measures against earthquakes. Levees and polders have been developed. Warning systems have been designed for all sorts of catastrophes, including cyclones, fires and tsunamis.

After the tragedy in Tacloban, we need to take a closer look at storm surges. If the reports are accurate, 10,000 is a grievous toll we can’t afford to keep repeating.