Mother and Child
My heart was thumping hard when I heard the roaring of plane engines. We had been at the airbase for only a few hours, waiting for our turn to bring home some evacuees. Suddenly, everyone who had been glued to the TV earlier watching Pacquiao win was on his feet going to his assigned post. Servicemen, marshalls, social workers, nuns, medics, and volunteers walked past me. It was as if a bell had been rung and they'd been recharged for their afternoon to graveyard shift. The energy was simply contagious. Back in our tent, a lady started calling off from lists handed over to her. "Four adults, with 6 bags. Navohtass! I can see 34, 34, 34... anything lower? 28...17... I see 12! Going, going, you are the winnerrr!" she barked. A man stood proud and handed over his number as he was escorted by a volunteer marshall to meet his passengers. This went on for hours as we waited happily, clapping for those who "won". We had 97 scribbled on our little piece of paper
