A year on from the devastating typhoon Haiyan......
It has taken Lorna Magab a year to find the strength to make the 45-minute journey from her home.
She knew it would be the most painful, gut-wrenching journey of her life. One that would tear her apart.
She is on her way to visit the grave of five young children, swept from her clutches by a massive wave caused by the strongest typhoon ever to hit the Philippines.
Her five little ones – aged between two and 12 – were torn from her in an instant. Her desperate attempts to cling on to them were futile in the storm of unimaginable force which hit on November 8 last year.
Angel, Rodel, Rommel, Erica and Lina were found dead by their father Bonifacio. Their bodies taken away by recovery teams .overwhelmed by the scale of the disaster.
They were unceremoniously dumped in a mass grave outside the city of Tacloban and it is towards that burial ground that we now drive nearly 12 months after that fateful day.
“I had to come here,” Lorna, 36, tells me. “If I don’t come to mark the anniversary of their deaths then I will never come. But it is so hard, so hard.”
Once there, she and her husband walk slowly towards the large patch of land at the back of the more formal memorial garden. It is unkempt, unremarkable and unmarked.
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Mark Austin with Lorna dishing out charity-funded food to local kids
The bereaved couple kneel to light candles. Five of them, the flames battling to survive in the strong breeze and gentle rain. They say prayers with tears in their eyes and hurt in their heart. And they leave, holding hands all the way home.
I first met mum-of-eight Lorna three days after the typhoon. We found her in the partially destroyed hospital in Tacloban, in the third-floor chapel that had become a makeshift maternity unit.
She had a black eye, bruising and cuts to her face and she was clutching a baby she had given birth 24 hours after the storm that devastated her life and her city.
A year on I have returned to see how Lorna and the thousands of other people brought to their knees by Typhoon Haiyan are coping. And the answer, by and large, is not well.
I found her in the same fishing village the hurricane force winds blew away that day. Like others, she has rebuilt her shack with driftwood, old sheets of corrugated iron and aid agency tarpaulin.
But it leaks, there is no electricity, no .sanitation, no running water and no hope. She cries as she tells me they were promised compensation and new homes away from the exposed shoreline but have received nothing from the government. The village is now more of a shanty town.
All they have had is rice and vegetables from local charities. Lorna was poor before the typhoon. Now it is much, much worse.
Lorna and her husband lighting candles at the graveside of their 5 children
Bonifacio, 45, lost his three-wheel pedal taxi in the storm and has had no job since. Lorna cries as I ask her what the future holds for her other children – Rafael, 18, Abigail, 14, and one-year-old Ronnel. “Not good,” she says. “Not good.”
Lorna is not alone in her suffering. In fishing villages throughout the San Jose area they are trying to recover from wrecked homes and destroyed livelihoods.
Many of the fishermen are back to work in new boats provided by charities and private donors. But others are not so .fortunate – they lost the animals or vehicles on which their survival depended. They feel neglected and abandoned.
City Mayor Alfred Romualdez says he feels their pain but blames central government in Manila for the failure to provide promised funds. Mr Romualdez says he is angry and frustrated that politics is putting people’s lives at risk. He is the nephew of Imelda Marcos, one of the most colourful and .controversial figures in Philippine politics.
The government is run by a member of the rival power family here, the Aquinos. It is a murky world in which the truth is hard to fathom, though the President denies any bias in the way aid money is dispensed.
But all is not lost. There is another, much more optimistic, picture emerging. Tens of thousands of people are being helped back to their feet by the enormous efforts of the international aid agencies.
The British public alone gave a record £95million to the Disasters Emergency Committee which then distributed the cash to the big aid organisations.
I saw that money being put to great use in rural villages which lay in the path of Haiyan.
Efren Mariano is a Filipino construction expert, working for CARE International, who is transforming the way villagers rebuild their homes. I watched as he supervised locals building new houses with new strengthening techniques and metal bracing.
“They will be more resistant to storms
and give greater protection,” he says. “The British public can be very proud of
what they are helping achieve here.” It is a success story reinforced by Rachid Boumnijel, who also works for CARE.
As we travelled from village to village where new homes are under construction he told me that thousands of families who had lost everything in the storm were getting proper help to rebuild homes and livelihoods.
Rachid says: “And all this is a direct result of the money given to the DEC by British donors. It would not be possible without this money and it is making a real difference. There really is a positive story to tell here.”
And he is right. We met many families who, through international help and their own resilience and resourcefulness, are getting their lives back on track.
But it is impossible to ignore the continued suffering of families like Lorna’s.
I go back to visit the Catholic priest in San Jose, Father Hector Hamil. Just after the storm we spoke in front of his wrecked church. He told me then that the community would endure great suffering and psychological trauma. He was not sure they would recover.
Well, a year on, the Sunday morning mass is being held in a church with new pews, a new roof and new optimism.
Destroyed houses pictured in Tacloban, Philippines after Typhoon Haiyan
“With the help of God and the international agencies we are pulling through,” Father Hector tells me. “It is taking time but we are slowly emerging from this ordeal.”
Given the hardship of those still living in tents and ramshackle temporary homes all around his church it is surprisingly optimistic.
A year ago Tacloban was a broken city. It was a place of death and disease and despair. It was a desperate place to be.
Coming back I have been surprised at the renewal. The streets are packed with the bustle of life, traffic and noise. Markets are teeming with fresh fish, fruit and vegetables. There is a stunning renewal under way.
But before we leave I return to see Lorna. With her sister, she is cooking a huge pot of pork and vegetable stew. Within minutes dozens of hungry small children are standing in line with bowls in hand waiting for their one good meal of the week.
It is Lorna’s turn to help provide the lunch paid for every Sunday by a local charity. She dishes up the food with a smile.
But for Lorna and so many other families here the grief at the loss they suffered this time last year is just beneath the surface.
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