On the Road

It was only when the motorcycle was halfway downhill that I realized we were on free fall. The engine was shut and the only sound I could hear was the rush of wind on our faces and the surrounding trees. We plunged on as my companions shrieked in mingled delight and fear. It should have been liberating, but I stayed silent and gripped the metal bars underneath the motorcycle seat until I could feel my fingernails digging into my skin.

Even before the ride I already had an idea of what I signed up for. As scientists we went from area to area to validate the hazard maps we simulated in the lab. Two years ago heavy rains brought by a typhoon triggered a rampaging torrent of boulders to the communities downstream. The village directly at the base of the mountains where the stream network opens up was obliterated. More than a hundred people were buried to their deaths.

This was what lay beyond us as the engine now roared to life. What once must have been a thriving community was now an expanse of overturned roads and boulders as huge as sedans. The absence of paved roads led us to rent the motorcycle and led my other hand to cling onto the edge of the thin wooden plank I was sitting on.

It was impossible to sit upright in a lotus position without inching to the edge of the plank. The motorcycle turned and swerved to avoid the cobbles that had been strewn ahead on the dirt road. In front of me, I could see Jasmine trying to move her outstretched legs a little, but she was not allowed to move any further. Nobody was allowed to undo the sitting positions they had decided on at the beginning of the ride lest it unbalanced the motorcycle in which a plank was attached on each side.

On the last stretch we crossed a stream by going over a wooden bridge as wide as the planks we were seating on. We held our breaths and watched the current right below until the motorcycle was able to inch its way across. Everything became a blur afterwards as I concentrated on the road ahead. We went past more boulders until we could already see the highway where the main road had been cut off.

I loosened my grip on the metal bars and let go of the wooden plank. There were things to be done and courage to be built, in the face of the people who perished on that tragic December morning. Ahead of us stood the memorial for the community.

Aboard the habal-habal we moved forth and I embraced the road that lay ahead.