I've survived calamities in the Philippines and the Jasper wildfire. Here's what I've learned
In Tagalog, Bayanihan means overcoming hardships together
This First Person column is written by Clara Adriano, who lives in Jasper, Alta., with her family and is president of the Jasper Filipino-Canadian Society. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
I was standing outside our home in Jasper watching my neighbours pack their things into their car on July 22. This was before the evacuation order was announced when suddenly I saw ashes falling from the sky — like snow in the middle of summer. While frantically calling my husband to fill up the car so we could leave, I remembered how I had seen this before when I was just a child.
I was nine when Mt. Pinatubo erupted in 1991. My family and I lived in Pampanga, the neighbouring province in the Philippines.
When we stepped out of our house that morning, it looked like we had a snowstorm overnight — except everything was grey. The roofs, streets and sidewalks were all covered with ash and sand from the volcano.
It was scary and confusing but also amazing.
Some grains of sand appeared to glimmer and our elders distracted us by pretending the sparkling ones were diamonds and we could sell them. My brothers and I immediately took out sieves to separate out the "diamonds" in the sand.
We relied on each other to get through the next few years.
The lahar, sand and ashes clogged rivers and the sewers in our hometown. In the years following the eruption, this polluted water had nowhere to go during typhoon season.
The first year, I remember it was up to our ankles. One of the worst years, I was in university and it was chest-deep.
People used tubes from old car tires as flotation devices to transport children between church, school and home. Adults paddled in bancas (long kayak-like boats) to get around.
We had no electricity after the eruption and the years that followed during typhoon season so my brothers, cousins and I melted candles and made balls of wax. Our toilets were clogged, so we had to improvise with old newspapers and plastic bags.
My relatives would gather at our grandma's house because it was at a higher elevation than the rest of our homes. To pass the time, we would play card games or catch small fish in the flood water.
Looking back at my childhood, I realized that's how I cultivated resilience — not alone, but by leaning on my family and friends to get through this nightmare.
Eventually, our whole house was rebuilt to flood-proof it. The base of the new house stood at the height of what was once the old house's roofline.
Growing up, year after year, we got up and we rebuilt what was lost. We adapted to overcome whatever life threw at us — earthquakes, more flooding, the death of my brother, my father's business going bankrupt.
Disaster strikes again
I left the Philippines to find better paying work and worked as a flight attendant in the Middle East for a few years before immigrating to Canada. In 2008, I met my husband in Jasper while we both worked there in hospitality. Two years after my son was born, we decided to launch our own laundry business in 2017. Our business flourished and we settled into a happy rhythm of life in Alberta.
Then, another calamity struck in February 2024. A load of clean rags inside a laundry bin had a chemical reaction and self-combusted. It caused a fire that incinerated our laundry business.
My husband and I opened a new temporary location for our business in June.
The next month, in July, Jasper was evacuated because of the wildfire.
We were still dealing with settling the insurance from the fire at our business when we saw on the TV news a report about the devastation in town and realized our second location had also completely burned down in the wildfire.
To say we were devastated is an understatement. I couldn't believe we had to go through that same loss all over again.
And yet, despite our loss, I knew people who had even less. Our house was still standing, but approximately 35 families and 19 individuals from the Filipino community in Jasper lost their homes. Half of them didn't have tenant insurance.
Many of them are families with small children and most have called Jasper home for decades.
The majority, including me, arrived as temporary foreign workers to Canada to seek better opportunities. Now people's homes and belongings have turned into ash and a pile of debris. They lost more than just their homes, they lost a part of their lives.
Rather than dwelling on my own losses, I chose to turn my grief into a way to help others who are in even more desperate situations.
When we were evacuated to Calgary, I worked with several community groups — to set up a donation centre for 10 days in one of the banquet rooms of the hotel where we stayed.
Through some funding from United Way, the generosity of the Sandman hotel management, an organization called Filipinos Rising, and many more Filipino organizations and businesses, we were able to provide our fellow evacuees with some basic necessities while they were away from home.
Becoming heroes together
Bayanihan is a word that many Filipinos are familiar with. Bayan means town or land in Tagalog and bayani means hero of our land. Hence, the term bayanihan was formed when a group of heroes come together to help our fellow people in need, whether it is within a small village or a larger community.
The spirit of bayanihan among the Filipinos shone brightly in the aftermath of the wildfire. Community leaders, organizations and Filipino businesses across Alberta reached out to ask, "How can we help?"
We received many donations and in Calgary alone, we gave out approximately 100 rice cookers and 150 sacks of rice for people to make home-cooked meals.
Our fellow Filipinos hosted more major donation drives in Alberta communities such as Edmonton, Hinton and Grande Prairie where others had been evacuated.
But even with continued support from governments and charitable institutions, as the months went by, many Jasperites including Filipinos still don't have work or a stable place to live. Some have neither.
Many people have not been able to return to Jasper and more still needs to be done. Winter is the slowest season in Jasper; In the past years, many Jasperites would save up during the summer working multiple jobs to survive in the winter, but that didn't happen this year because of the fire.
After the wildfire in Jasper, I hope and pray that we continue to work together as we adapt to the many challenges ahead.
Some are in harder situations than others. Many may feel survivor's guilt for having homes or jobs when their neighbours have lost everything. I know I do: we lost our business a second time but at least we have a home to return to.
But I hope that no matter what our loss looks like, we learn to be kind to one another. I hope we learn to work together and lend a hand to those who need it the most.
There are times that it can be difficult to stay positive but I have a family and community to care for. Everything I've experienced growing up has prepared me for this moment. Resilience can be learned. And in the spirit of bayanihan, I hope we can all help each other to move forward to recovery.
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