The eyes have it: Emergency Trauma Treatment for Child Victims of Yolanda

The calm came first.  It made the warnings of a most terrible phenomenon seem like an alarmist’s tale.  By battening down their homes and securing their belongings, Visayans have managed to survive storm after storm to look forward to a new day.

Then the rain fell, soft and rhythmic at first, like a drummer trying to stir a crowd into anticipation.  Then the wind came, with a hint of malice, like a shark circling a drowning prey.  Then the wind became blasts of malevolent screams, bringing rain that traveled with such velocity that they pierced the skin like nails.  Then the sea rose, higher than any human structure in the area, higher than any tree.  It came with such ferocity and impunity that it took away everything in its path.  There was no time to react.  It was instant chaos; earth was inundated, whatever was left underneath was rendered useless, and whatever life that floated above was left defenseless – at the mercy of a force that recognized no status in society.  Everyone is losing everything.  And life -- the one thing hanging in the balance – was fast shriveling into mere flesh and bones, its spirit violently being swept away.

That’s what I imagined happened to many people as typhoon Yolanda ravaged Visayas.

As I look at the faces of a group of young children brought over to Ortigas from the tent city in Roxas Boulevard for post-trauma intervention, I saw confusion layering a canvas of fear, numbness and distress.  Some merely stared blankly, moving as they are told, often not before a slight nudge of encouragement; others were smiling, but happiness never reached their glam eyes.  They are still in shock and now they are in some strange place, with strange people looking over at them, smiling and nodding, which I suppose intensified their bewilderment even more.

Then volunteers, led by our mostly German trainors, began to grab one child by the hand, linking one volunteer to a child to form a circle of singing unit that gently pranced around the room.  We stopped and another trainor led a eurythmic activity which involved gestures of acknowledgment of one another’s presence, and of connection and warmth.  Most of the children quickly got into the motion and smiles visited some of the faces; they can sense that they were with people who care.  Soon, the group linked hands once more and the circle began to move, still singing, to an adjacent room where balls of clay awaited to be molded.

We ushered them to their seats, but as soon as they saw the clay not too far away, half of the kids instantaneously grabbed their share as if that was the most logical thing to do.  This is indicative of the situation that they have left in their ravaged place.

When order was restored, the kids were still listless.  Nina, our art therapy trainor began giving out the instruction for the child closest to the clay blocks to pick up one and pass it to the next person beside him, which then will pass it to the next, who will also do the same until everyone, including all the volunteers had a clay in their hands – all these while a song about good mornings and smiling and sharing was being sung. Not every kid got the idea at once, but when they realized that there would be enough for everyone, they stopped collecting clay and started passing them around.

However, when Nina said that everyone must cut in half the clay block, a lot of the kids hesitated.  Nina did not pause and simply continued as she began to tell a story about an egg, kneading the clay into an ovate as she narrates.  The clay changed shape as the story unfolded, from an egg to a chick, to a bird that wants to spread its wings and fly.  At this point, Nina took her clay bird and started a conga line of kids and birds, and adult volunteers and birds.  The room was full of chirping sound and song about malinis na batis and masayang kapaligiran as the birds exchanged kisses in mid-air.  For the first time, every child was smiling, and this time their eyes shared in the mirth.

Nina then asked the child to find an adult partner and so the bird story continued.  Because the bird had found a partner, they were now ready to start a family, and this required making a nest out of clay.  The kids, having experienced what total destruction meant, made sure the clay twigs they made wove into a sturdy abode; strong enough to accommodate the small eggs that materialized out of their busy small hands, for then the bird story became a family lore.

It is interesting how the children’s individual stories and aspirations reflected in the nests that they built.  One child made his bird’s wings spread out so wide so that it covers in security the entire nest and the eggs within.  I wonder if that’s what his parents did when Yolanda struck.  I wonder if the parents survived.

Another placed a worm into a parent bird’s beak and made it appear as if it is feeding the chicks inside the nest.  I wonder if she is depicting the sacrifices of her parents, or the aspiration that their parents, in their present situation, can still do the same.

Another was not content with having a bird, a nest and some eggs that he had to add a towering tree.  I wonder if a tree was instrumental in saving their lives.

When the story was over, each child was asked to point to his/her masterpiece, to the applause of those in the room.  There was a hint of accomplishment in their demeanor.  But the smiles were not fixed.  Like the tormented sea, it rose, fell and sometimes disappeared.  But there were instances when happiness reached their eyes.  And during these brief moments, they have cleared in their mind the devastation that they have gone through.  But they won’t forget.  Not ever.  But they can recover.  And they can’t do that on their own.

The task now is to help their young minds process what they went through and guide them to a life of structure and stability, which Yolanda totally wiped out of their psyche.  On its own, the art therapy is not going to do it for them but it deeply helps them to be in touch with the beauty, innocence and potential inherent in every child.  It allows them to release the trauma that may hinder their development.

If the eyes that have seen destruction that many of us will never see in our lifetimes can flash, however fleeting, a twinkle of happiness, then all is not lost.

The seminar “Stimulating Self-Healing from Trauma in Children and Youth” was conducted by The Freunde, a group of mostly German child trauma specialists who have, over the years, visited disaster areas (man-made and natural) all over the world.  It was attended by members of NGOs, and groups and individuals with ongoing or planned intervention programs in Yolanda affected areas.