{"id":68684,"date":"2025-11-08T09:49:21","date_gmt":"2025-11-08T01:49:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.greenpeace.org\/philippines\/?p=68684"},"modified":"2025-11-08T11:56:26","modified_gmt":"2025-11-08T03:56:26","slug":"twelve-years-after-yolanda-the-typhoon-that-never-left","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.greenpeace.org\/philippines\/story\/68684\/twelve-years-after-yolanda-the-typhoon-that-never-left\/","title":{"rendered":"Twelve Years After Yolanda: The Typhoon That Never Left"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Twelve years since Super Typhoon Yolanda struck, the typhoon still hasn\u2019t left us. It lingers in our fears, in our memories, and in the way we brace for every new gust of wind.<\/p>\n\n

And as we mark yet another year, the world prepares for COP30. But for those of us who have lived the cost of the climate crisis, the conversation feels achingly familiar.<\/p>\n\n

\"Aftermath
A man sits on a jeepney that has been converted into a temporary shelter after Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) hit hit the Philippines on November 8, 2013, devastating Samar, Eastern Samar, and Tacloban City.
\u00a9 Matimtiman \/ Greenpeace<\/div><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

The Question That Lingers<\/h2>\n\n

In one of my talks last October, someone asked me a question that stopped me cold: \u201cThe campaign against the climate crisis has been going on for years now \u2014 why do we keep turning back to zero every time?\u201d<\/strong>

I remember taking a deep breath \u2014 not because I didn\u2019t know what to say, but because my body already knew the answer. That sigh carried exhaustion, grief, and frustration. It\u2019s the same feeling that lives in many of us who have spent years trying to make sense of what \u201crecovery\u201d really means after disasters like Super Typhoon Yolanda.

Because even though the fight against climate change has never stopped, it still feels like we\u2019re always starting over. Every new typhoon reminds us how fragile everything still is. Each time the wind howls or the power cuts out, I find myself asking: Does what we do still matter? Are we really moving forward? Or are we just surviving the same story again and again, carrying traumas that never had the chance to heal?<\/p>\n\n

\"\"
Our house that was damaged by Super Typhoon Yolanda<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

The Typhoon That I Remember<\/h2>\n\n

Five days before the twelfth anniversary of Super Typhoon Yolanda, Typhoon Tino swept through the Visayas and Mindanao.<\/a>

It wasn\u2019t as strong as Yolanda \u2014 but it didn\u2019t have to be. The sound of the wind and rain was enough to make our bodies remember. It felt crushing, as if the same fear had come back to visit, right when we thought we\u2019d finally learned to breathe again.

Even if our community was spared from massive destruction, the anxiety never left. We spent hours enduring the forceful winds, sitting in the dark with nothing but the sound of the piercing rain, guarding our roofs, and checking on loved ones to make sure they were safe. In other areas, people weren\u2019t as fortunate \u2014 homes were swallowed by mud, children clung to each other through rising floodwaters, families searched desperately for food and clean water, and lives were once again claimed by the typhoon.

Watching it unfold felt painfully familiar. It was as if Yolanda never really left us. It just keeps returning under new names \u2014 stronger, stranger, harder to predict.<\/p>\n\n

\"\"
Our makeshift home where two families tried to squeeze in \u2014 ours and my aunt\u2019s, with our 3-month-old baby sister at the time. I\u2019m the one wearing a blue shirt, while my brother is on top of the small kubo trying to fix the roof so rainwater wouldn\u2019t come in.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

Twelve years ago, Yolanda forced the world to see climate change not as an abstract concept but as a lived reality. Today, the typhoons are fiercer, our people poorer, and the inequality between those who cause the problem and those who suffer from it has only deepened.<\/p>\n\n

Beyond the Narrative of Loss<\/h2>\n\n

For years, we\u2019ve heard people say that our stories humanize the climate science. That our experiences breathe life into the data and numbers that scientists present and leaders debate. And yes, that\u2019s true.

We have told our stories everywhere \u2014 at the UN, at climate conferences, in classrooms and community halls \u2014 hoping our lived realities would stir something in those with the power to change the system.

And in some ways, it worked. Our experiences after Yolanda helped shape how the world now talks about resilience, disaster recovery, and loss and damage, etc.

But after twelve years, fatigue sets in. It\u2019s exhausting to keep proving our pain just to make others care \u2014 to turn our grief into evidence for a truth that should already be undeniable. We have grown tired of using our suffering as proof of a scientific fact that should never have required lives lost to be believed. Tired of making our own struggles the story just so others will finally listen to what science has long been saying.<\/p>\n\n

How many more deaths and drowned homes must it take before the richest 0.1% of the world accept that their inaction kills?<\/h4>\n\n

Our trauma should never be reduced to a case study or a talking point. It should be a wake-up call \u2014 a reason to act. We don\u2019t need another super typhoon to awaken and shake people into caring.<\/p>\n\n

The Global Stage and the Typhoon<\/h2>\n\n

As I write this, communities in the Visayas are still clearing mud and debris after
Typhoon Tino. And while this is happening, world leaders are preparing to meet in Brazil for COP30. At the same time, another potential super typhoon, Uwan, is looming and may hit the north of the Philippines.<\/p>\n\n

That\u2019s the cruel rhythm of our reality: while the world debates, we rebuild. While
negotiations happen in air-conditioned halls, we hammer nails into roofs, wrap our belongings, save our pets, and pray the next typhoon spares us.<\/p>\n\n

This constant cycle of bracing, surviving, and rebuilding isn\u2019t resilience \u2014 it
exhaustion.<\/p>\n\n

And even as we\u2019re forced to stay strong, the injustice deepens. The same industries and systems that created this crisis still thrive. The same structures that failed us twelve years ago remain unchanged.<\/p>\n\n

From where we stand, waist-deep in floodwater, the global climate talks often feel distant. Leaders spend weeks defining terms \u2014 justice, adaptation, loss and damage, etc. \u2014 while communities like ours are trying to survive another disaster worsen by the climate crisis.<\/p>\n\n

For those of us on the frontlines, climate justice is not charity \u2014 it\u2019s accountability. We need real commitments, transparent climate finance, and safeguards to ensure that funds reach the people who need them \u2014 not the pockets of the powerful. At COP30, the conversations can\u2019t just be about targets and pledges. They must also be about responsibility \u2014 about those who profit from pollution finally paying for the damage they caused.<\/p>\n\n

Oxfam\u2019s recent report, Climate Plunder: How a powerful few are locking the world into disaster<\/a>, reveals that if everyone lived like the richest 0.1%, the planet\u2019s entire carbon budget would be depleted in less than three weeks. Think about that \u2014 three weeks.<\/p>\n\n

That\u2019s how quickly inequality can destroy the planet.<\/p>\n\n

The Corruption That Drowns Us<\/h2>\n\n

Here in the Philippines, the story feels even heavier. The corruption of our own leaders drowns us just as the floods do. The very funds meant to protect us like the climate adaptation projects, the flood control systems are pocketed by the same people who claim to serve us.<\/p>\n\n

They turn every disaster into a business opportunity, every tragedy into a contract to be won. They hide behind legalities and glossy plans, but we see what it really is \u2014 disaster capitalism, at the expense of our safety and our lives.<\/p>\n\n

\"People\u2019s
Our participation during the “Baha sa Luneta” protest against corruption last September 21, 2025.
\u00a9 Leo Sabangan \/ Greenpeace<\/div><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

It hurts deeply to watch this unfold. To know that while we are hammering nails into our roofs, others are counting the money meant to keep us dry. The same greed that drives the world\u2019s richest 0.1% to destroy the planet is alive here, too \u2014 in our towns, in our politics, in the hands of those who should have protected us.<\/p>\n\n

How could they live so comfortably, feasting on the very money that drowns and kills us? How could they sleep soundly while our people wade through murky waters, clutching children, saving pets, praying the rain would finally stop?<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s not just the typhoons that break us \u2014 it\u2019s the betrayal that never ends.<\/strong> And
this betrayal is not isolated; it\u2019s part of a much bigger system \u2014 one that rewards greed, normalizes inequality, and silences the vulnerable. This deep-rooted and historical inequality continues to bury communities like ours in a trap we can\u2019t escape simply by being \u201cresilient.\u201d<\/p>\n\n

We cannot keep celebrating their profits from the very inequality that sustains our suffering.<\/p>\n\n

No Choice but to Keep Fighting<\/h2>\n\n

Beneath all the reports, summits, and negotiations, there are still human stories like ours.<\/p>\n\n

We fight not only because we are fearless, but also because we have no choice. We fight with tired hearts and anxious minds, finding strength in one another \u2014 in shared grief, in shared hope.<\/p>\n\n

Every new typhoon reopens the wounds of the last. We hammer nails into our roofs while shaking in fear, pack our bags while holding back tears, and cling to our neighbors as we pray the floodwaters don\u2019t rise again.<\/p>\n\n

People call that resilience. But to us, it\u2019s survival \u2014 and survival shouldn\u2019t have to be this hard.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

I have always admired how strong our people are, but I also know it\u2019s deeply unfair that strength has become our way of life.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Still, we keep going. Because no one else can tell our story but us. As Typhoon Tino fades and another typhoon looms, I think of the lives lost to Yolanda, the families displaced today, and the generations whose futures depend on what happens next.<\/p>\n\n

Twelve years later, we are still here \u2014 bruised, battered, but unbowed. We endure not because we want to, but because we must.<\/p>\n\n

\"\"
Our first group photo with my aunt, cousins, baby sister, and siblings inside the small makeshift kubo. This was taken when my cousin came home to visit and brought chocolates to lift our spirits.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

May our voices reach Bel\u00e9m.
May our grief be heard not as pity, but as a demand for justice.
And may this year mark not another cycle \u2014 but the breaking of one.
May the lives lost twelve years ago not be left in vain.
May we find continued strength from each other to keep this fight going.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n

\n\n

Ronan Renz Napoto is a climate advocate from Eastern Samar, Philippines. A survivor of Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan), he turned his experience into a lifelong commitment to climate justice, disaster resilience, and inclusive development. With a background in industrial engineering and further studies in Development Sociology, he works with Oxfam Pilipinas as a Climate Justice Portfolio Officer and volunteers with Greenpeace Philippines. His advocacy centers on advancing climate justice by promoting equitable access to renewable energy, empowering vulnerable communities, and addressing the systemic inequalities that deepen the impacts of the climate crisis.<\/em><\/p>\n\n

You might want to check out Greenpeace Philippines\u2019 petition called Courage for Climate, a drive in support of real policy and legal solutions in the pursuit of climate justice.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n \t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\tCourage for Climate\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

The climate crisis may seem hopeless, but now is the time for courage, not despair. Join Filipino communities taking bold action for our planet.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t \n Make an Act of Courage Today!\n <\/a>\n \t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/section>\n\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Twelve years since Super Typhoon Yolanda struck, the typhoon still hasn\u2019t left us. It
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