Thought Catalog: A Year After the Magnitude 6.9 Bogo Earthquake

The Bogo earthquake on September 30, 2025, reminded us not only of the immense power of Mother Nature, but also of the true spirit of Cebuano resilience and unity.

It was a day that many of us will never forget.

For some, it was the terrifying sound of walls cracking, things falling, and the ground moving beneath our feet. For others, it was the frantic search for loved ones, the sleepless nights that followed, and the uncertainty of what the next day would bring.

The magnitude 6.9 earthquake claimed lives, damaged homes and infrastructure, disrupted livelihoods, and caused billions of pesos worth of economic losses. And even a year later, the memory of that day remains fresh. The Bogo Fault and its surrounding areas continue to remind us that the ground beneath us is never completely still, with occasional tremors serving as a reminder of what happened that September afternoon. And just today, another one though barely felt struck. 

But a year later, perhaps what deserves to be remembered just as much as the earthquake itself is what happened after it.

Because disasters have a way of revealing something about us.

They show us how fragile the things we take for granted really are. A house that took years to build can be damaged in seconds. Roads can become impassable. Businesses can suddenly close. A normal afternoon can turn into a night of fear and uncertainty.

But disasters also reveal the other side of humanity.

They show us the people who run toward those who need help.

They show us neighbors checking on neighbors. Strangers sharing food and water. Volunteers traveling long distances just to bring supplies. People opening their homes to those who had nowhere else to go. Drivers, rescuers, medical workers, government employees, private organizations, churches, community groups, and ordinary citizens all finding ways to contribute.

This is something I have always admired about Cebu.

We may have our differences. We may argue about politics, complain about traffic, joke about each other, and sometimes have that very Cebuano way of saying, “bahalag magka bilat bilat” as if we can handle everything ourselves.

But when a real crisis comes, we know how to come together.

We help.

We give what we can.

Sometimes it is money. Sometimes it is food. Sometimes it is transportation. Sometimes it is simply showing up.

And sometimes, the most important thing we can give is our time.

A year later, rebuilding is not simply about reconstructing buildings.

It is about rebuilding lives.

It is about the families who had to start over. The business owners who had to recover their livelihood. The children who had their sense of security shaken. The communities that continue to live with the memory of that day.

And perhaps this is where resilience should be understood differently.

Resilience does not mean that we were never afraid.

It does not mean that we simply forget what happened and move on.

Resilience means that despite the fear, we continue.

We rebuild.

We learn.

We prepare.

And we help each other stand again.

The earthquake also reminded us of something that we often forget when life becomes comfortable: preparedness is not paranoia.

Knowing what to do during an earthquake, having an emergency kit, knowing where the exits are, keeping important documents secure, having a family communication plan, and learning basic first aid may seem unnecessary when everything is normal.

Until the ground moves.

Then suddenly, those little things matter.

One year later, the scars may no longer be as visible as they were during those first few weeks. Some buildings have been repaired. Roads have been restored. Businesses have reopened. Families have slowly returned to their routines.

But we should never allow recovery to become forgetfulness.

Let this anniversary be more than a remembrance of the destruction.

Let it also be a reminder to prepare.

A reminder to check on our families.

A reminder to look after our communities.

A reminder that help does not always have to come from someone else.

And most importantly, a reminder that when disaster strikes, we are not alone.

The earth may shake beneath our feet, but there is something equally powerful that rises afterward: people helping people.

One year after the Bogo earthquake, we remember those we lost, those who were affected, those who responded, and those who continue to rebuild.

We remember the fear.

But we also remember the courage.

We remember the destruction.

But we also remember the generosity.

And we remember that when Cebu was shaken, Cebuanos stood together.

A year later, we are still here.

Still rebuilding.

Still moving forward.

Still Cebuano.

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Though Catalog: Another Gun Violence

In a world where ideological ideas, whether good or bad, are increasingly accessible, we must, as adults, step in and teach the younger generation to be more discerning. Gun violence among young people is becoming an increasingly alarming reality across Southeast Asia. We have witnessed how awful, traumatic, and egregious these incidents can be.

We have to admit it and face the reality: gun violence is here. School shootings are here.

Our focus should not be on pointing fingers or finding someone to blame. Now, more than ever, our focus should be on rebuilding the foundation of values and discipline that defines the very fabric of our society, because what we are witnessing now is the rot that has slowly crept into our world. 

This is not just about kids being easily influenced. This is not just about bullying. This is not just about online games. This is the unbecoming of a society. And if all of us continue pointing fingers at one another, we'll just run out of time before everything falls into chaos. 

Let us call on our policymakers to do their work and make sensible, practical, and responsive laws. Let us call on our communities to restore the values that once defined us. And let us begin in our own homes, teaching our young people that violence is never the answer, that we are here to listen, and that one mistake can never justify another.

Because if we are to fight injustice, we must be careful not to become the very injustice we oppose.

Sadly, in a society marred by generations of abuse, inequality, and social division, the hope of finding balance and harmony can sometimes feel as dim as the fading light of a distant nebula.

But perhaps that is precisely why we cannot give up.

Because when the world becomes darker, our responsibility is not to add to the darkness. It is to become the light that keeps the next generation from losing its way.

xxx

Please talk to the young people around you. Check on them. Ask them how they are doing, and more importantly, listen.

And if you ever find yourself in need of a listening ear, know that I am always willing to be that ear. 

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Thought Catalog: Upat ka Kilo nga Bugas

I don’t really hire guides when hiking because I always plot my routes before venturing onto the trail, and I feel nga mas immersive ang akong hike if I am doing it without one. Labaw pa nga di ko ganahan ug “guides” who are minors nga puwede pa nimo mahimo nga kargo if naay mahitabo sa trail. Pero this time, something in me whispered, “sige, pa-guide nila.”

As we traversed the trail and talked about their lives diri sa bukid, I realized nga somehow, we were sent there at the right time and at the right moment, perhaps by divine intervention. So here is the story...

Imagine spending an entire school day on an empty stomach, only to walk roughly 5 kilometers from school back home. This was their reality when we met them along the river trail. As we continued our traverse, they shared snippets of their lives and how they have been exposed to the harsh realities of poverty.

They come from a family of mangulingay, and if you know how little these people earn, you would feel sorry for them. I will not share everything that we talked about, but suffice it to say nga makaingon ko unfair ang kinabuhi ngadto kanila. And I hope and pray that they will succeed in life.

Nahuman ang trail. The Himbabawod Falls was majestic. The traverse towards Mananga’s headwater was never short of adventure and challenges. It was a fantastic trail nga murag gi layat-layat ra nila ang mga boulders while wearing flipflops nya kami tawn kupot diri, kupot didto. Feel nako kay na deplete gyud akong reserves sa ligtas points. Thankfully, the hike ended with all of us safe and sound.

Giubanan mi nila sa sakayanan ug motor since I decided to cut the hike at 21 km kay late na. I invited them to have some refreshments, which they gladly accepted. Makaingon ko nga gutom gyud kaayo to sila. I handed them the compensation we had agreed upon, and on top of that, gitagaan nako sila ug upat ka kilo nga bugas.

And then the most genuine thing happened.

Mas nagpasalamat sila, dili sa kwarta, dili sa snacks, kundi sa bugas.

At that moment, I saw beyond the young boys they were. I saw responsible individuals with young but remarkably mature minds. In their eyes, those four kilos of rice were not simply food. They were meals for their family. They were something tangible they could bring home. Something that mattered.

Sometimes, we go into the mountains looking for waterfalls, breathtaking views, and unforgettable adventures. But every once in a while, the mountain gives us something far more valuable: a reminder of how fortunate we are, and a chance to make someone else’s burden a little lighter.

That day, I thought I was simply giving them four kilos of rice.

But perhaps, in a way, they gave me something worth far more.

They reminded me that kindness does not have to be grand to be meaningful. Sometimes, it is just four kilos of rice, given at the right place, at the right time, to the right people.

And maybe that was the real reason we met on that trail. 

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