Crising, Dante and Emong: typhoons in the tropics and flooding
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The heavens wept. Dark clouds gathered above the scattered realms and the rains fell in ceaseless torrents — driven by twin tempests: enters typhoon Crising or Wipha in distant tongues, and the ancient monsoon power of Habagat, posing risks and vulnerabilities to the populace.
The rivers swelled with wrath, and the winds did howl in majors areas of the archipelago. From the northmost moves to the far southern provinces, floodwaters rose, claiming the streets, the fields, and even the hearths of the humble and great alike.
Read updated situational report of the NDRRMC on July 23, 2025, here
In that hours, seven regions and twenty-seven provinces were declared under the state of calamity. The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council, or NDRRMC — bore grim tidings: that over 1.9 million souls, had been affected by severe flooding.
Elsewhere, in Katipunan, great poles of iron and billboards tall as towers fell as though smitten by unseen giants. In Cotabato, two little ones — siblings not yet past the age of early learning — were taken by the river Kabacan, their laughter stilled beneath the flood. Five lives were initially counted among the dead, and still more were missing. Some perished beneath trees uprooted by the fury of the wind; others, perhaps, carried beyond reach by the currents of rising flood water. In the lands of Surigao del Norte and Camiguin, they mourned a fallen victim. But in truth, the full number of the missing persons remains shrouded by the murk of storm and silence.
Manila — jewel of the delta, eldest among the cities of the isles — placed under state of calamity for the works of aid and protection begun. A summons was sent, and the Council made ready for their emergency moot, to proclaim the decree in full and bind it to law.
Shelter was sought by many: over 77,000 fled to halls of refuge, while nearly as many more found haven among kin or kind strangers. Yet for every spared soul, many more sat in darkness, waiting for the rains to cease.
The La Mesa — a mighty dam upon the highlands of Quezon — could hold no more, and spilled forth, its waters coursing into the lowlands. And in Metro Manila, the heart of the isles, the flood crept through the avenues and alleyways, sparing no district, yet leaving the roads still passable, for now.
The skies gave no rest, for the PAGASA — that ancient order of sky-watchers — foretold that the rains would continue, fierce and heavy, until the end of the week.
So it was that the isles were tested, and the people endured once more, as in the trials of old. Yet even amid the waters of despair, the light of resilience shone faintly — a hope that the storm would pass, and that verdant and flourishing metropolis would return to the flooded lands, roads and villages.
Far to the west, where the sea breathes heavily against the coast of Zamboanga, there, as the storm had made its mark, struck the shore. 1,315 souls from 360 houses were caught in the tempest’s grasp. Three halls of refuge were kindled, and in them 539 persons — young and old — made their temporal safe, evacuation haven. Five great ships were torn from their moorings and cast upon the very beaches of the city. One, named Ganes Haner, bore the livery of Sing Shipping Lines and now lies like a stranded beast upon the sand.
The call for a more profound wisdom about mitigation and resilience, rooted in the people, grows louder by the tide.
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| Windy's visualization of Tropical Depression Emong and Tropical Storm Dante. |
Yet it's far from over.
A day typhoon Crising moved out to the next continent, the sea remained unquiet, two storm-lords now loom: Dante and Emong. Tropical depression Dante travels the upper reaches of the Sea of Eastern Storms, his eye set upon the northern edge of the isles, beheld at 845 leagues east-northeast of the land’s end in Northern Luzon, at the mark of 22.1°N, 129.9°E.
Its breath is strong — winds of 65 leagues per hour swirl about his heart, and gusts up to 80 lash the sea and sky. It moved north-northwest, at a swift pace of 25 leagues in an hour, tailed with a long Habagat wind cuddling heavy rains, thunder, and wind.
Yet not alone does Dante wander. Emong, a lesser fury, stirs the waters to the west. He was seen this day a mere 130 leagues west of Laoag, in Ilocos Norte, bearing the same mantle of strength — 65 in wind, 80 in wrath. It journeys now southwestward, at 20 leagues in an hour, moving down the coast as a shadow on the tide. Though smaller in might, Emong’s path lies closer to the realms of men, and his wake has stirred the hearts of those in Ilocos and beyond.
And beneath these storm-lords rides the ancient monsoon — the Southwest Wind, called Habagat, a power that can make rivers swell, the skies darken, pour waters to cause landslides, and hurry up folks of field and forest to seek shelters. She does not roar, but whispers long, and her weeping may endure even after the storm has passed.
The sky remains restless, and the heaven stills wept, erstwhile understood and spelled by ecologists as climate change.
At least 25 provinces in Luzon and party in Visayas had its local government already announced the suspension of classes and works in the government on July 24, 2025, to mitigate the disastrous impact of continued torrential rain.
