“We are all so tired. We miss our normal lives,” the young social worker from Zamboanga told me.

The siege on Zamboanga had just ended and after 20 days of fighting, came the rain — in a steady downpour for almost 5 days. Scant resources were stretched and raw emotions were strained.

“We were just getting used to no more bullets flying, no more houses burning. And then, the rain. Everyone is stressed, even us (aid workers) who are also displaced are finding it hard,” he confessed, slightly embarrassed to admit weariness and fatigue.

At the center of disasters, calamities, and emergencies are the first responders.

These are the members of the local government units or officers of local national agencies such as the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) or the local National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRMMC). (READ: After Haiyan: Crisis management and beyond)

The military, which can be immediately deployed, has the training and equipment for emergency response and evacuation. Other times, the first responders are community members themselves who volunteer or are chosen because of their familiarity with the locale and the local residents.

At the right place, right when it happens

Being an archipelago of more than 7,000 islands poses logistical constraints that are magnified during emergencies. For that reason, initiatives on disaster preparedness are calling for increased mobilization and involvement at the community level. 

The Philippine Red Cross, for instance, launched a nationwide community disaster preparedness effort to train 44 volunteers in each of our 42,000 barangays in disaster preparedness and response as well as first aid. 

First responders are driven by the instinct to help others.

In 2009, during Typhoon Ondoy, 18-year old construction worker Muelmar Magallanes tirelessly swam after people who being swept away by raging flood waters. A mother, who kept her baby afloat on a Styrofoam said Muelmar, “appeared from nowhere” and brought them to safety. They were the last to be saved by Muelmar; a concrete wall came crashing on Muelmar killing him instantly. He died saving the lives of 30 others, including his family.

Last year, when Typhoon Pablo struck, seven of the soldiers on the Charlie Company died evacuating residents of Barangay Andap, Compostela Valley. Four other members of Charlie Company were never found. (WATCH: The Heroes of Charlie Company)

Other times, first responders are driven by love and their need to protect their families. In the most recent typhoon to ravage our country, Yolanda left behind a village of widows. The men of Candahug village in Palo, Leyte secured their women and daughters on higher ground and stayed behind to watch over their homes. Many of the men perished or were no longer found.

Fear of being forgotten

A month after Typhoon Pablo, I called a school principal in Baganga, Davao Oriental to ask him how he and his students were. They were still cleaning up, he said, trying to put together school supplies for the children to motivate them to go back to school. As our conversation came to an end, he thanked me.

“Salamat po. Nakalipas na ang isang buwan, naalala nyo pa kaming mga tiga-Baganga (Thank you. Even after a month, you still remember us.),” he said. 

They would continue to put together their schools, their homes and their lives, but they would need assistance, he said. They were grateful for the reassurance that others had not forgotten; they needed to know that others still cared.

“Takot namin, makakaklimutan kami (We are afraid of being forgotten.),” he said.

For the survivors of each of these tragedies, devastation is compounded by feelings of isolation and the fear of being forgotten.

The last couple of months have been witness to calamities ranging from armed conflict to an earthquake and a typhoon touted as the strongest the world has ever seen. One after the other, a new emergency came—each one more pressing, more severe than the one before it.

The hope on which the immense task of rebuilding our homes and our lives – and just getting things back to normal as the social worker from Zamboanga longed for – rests on honoring the memory of the first responders who perished is honored and ensuring that those they left behind are not forgotten. – Rappler.com

Ana P. Santos is a regular contributor for Rappler aside from this Dash of SAS (Sex and Sensibilities) column. Follow her on Twitter at @iamAnaSantos.