Taiwan: Reflections on Typhoon Morakot – ‘worst disaster ever’

I do not know if Typhoon Morakot that struck Taiwan this August is the worst disaster ever. That is what some reporters are calling it, but it seems that the 921 Earthquake that hit on September 21, 1999 was at least as bad. I remember 921, I was there and I will not forget it. I will always remember Morakot as well, because I was not there. I wish I was there, standing side by side with the survivors (supposing I had survived) during the anxious days of wind and rain, and during the long days afterwards, as people rebuild their lives.

Morakot is said to be the biggest typhoon in 50 years and this might be true. I remember the big one, Typhoon Haitang, that hit southern Taiwan in 2005. I was there for that one. We stayed in our homes on the mountain on Wutai, in Pingtung County. My wife is Rukai, and we have made our home there for almost 10 years. Let me share with you my memory of that typhoon, or my impressions of typhoons in general.

In a typhoon, the electricity goes first, then the water, and finally the roads. And these go very quickly. Then there is only rain and wind and darkness. A typhoon is terrible and exciting as the people of Taiwan know well. They are hit 3 or 4 times every year, mostly during the months of August and September. Living in the mountains, when a typhoon warning comes, one gets ready; food, water, candles, gas for the stove is on hand, bathtubs are filled with water. Anything that weighs less than a ton is tied down. The house is checked and checked again, windows taped or boarded up. And one stays home. Only an idiot goes out in that weather.

And when the storm hits, the senses are filled with the din of rain and wind. Excitement and fear contend for mastery and the first concerns are immediate. Will the roof be blown away? Will the windows break? Will we be flooded? Will there be a mudslide? These worries come first. But by the second day, thoughts turn to others, neighbors, and friends in other villages that are close to the river, or that are perched on precarious slopes. Are the roads out? Are the bridges holding? Is everyone okay?

In a typhoon the wind is very strong and causes damage, but it is the water that kills. It builds up, pooling together until the earth cannot hold the weight, and then everything – trees, homes, boulders and earth – crashes down, covering everything in its path. When the storm begins to die down, people emerge from their bunkers and hiding places like ghosts, and search parties set out to check on people. Another kind of fear sets in, not of danger to self but of horrible things that might have happened.

In Taiwan, when the grim news of deaths and damage is finally and irrevocably sets in people get together with an energy of determination, taking care of the immediate and planning for the long term work of rebuilding. In the indigenous communities of southern Taiwan where I have made a home, it always hits me after a typhoon – the solidarity, will and good humor of these people, a combination of self-reliance and community. In 2005 after Haitang, people came up to our house to check on us. And then seeing that all was well, set me to work with them, moving on to the next house, the next problem, the next thing to be set right. There is an honor in that work as people come together to break a path through to the next town, healing each other with the sweat of labor and sharing gentle humor that brings laughter in the face of pain, sorrow and loss. If you happen to be in Taiwan after a typhoon, just look for the people with smiles and somber eyes – they will be the ones who have lost the most.

This year when Morakot hit Taiwan, we were at our other home in Seoul, Korea. We were unlucky, because although we avoided the danger, we are left alone to mourn the losses. We know of the death, the damage and the injury but we are not there to dig and carry, to work shoulder to shoulder with the brothers and sisters of Taiwan. We will miss that work of consolation.

At the time of writing this, it seems that some 60 countries have contributed about $2 million U.S. dollars to help offset the estimated $3 billion U.S. dollars in damage. Korea has offered $120,000 in financial aid, just a bit more than Japan’s $100,000 but Jet Li, a Hong Kong based movie star, has already given $43,000 of his own money and is now in Taiwan, helping in the relief work. At least 124 people are reported dead, 56 are reported missing and 1300 are reported trapped after the typhoon. At least 7,000 people have lost their homes, and of 21,000 evacuees, 5,000 are living in temporary shelters or camps. In the wake of this terrible disaster is seems disappointing that Korea and Japan would do so little to help their neighbor and friend, Taiwan.