Just a few weeks ago, the sun was our relentless companion. The heat scorched the ground and tempers alike. Schools were suspending classes due to dangerous temperatures. Electric fans spun like jet turbines in every Kapampangan home, while Meralco bills climbed to dizzying heights. Stepping outside felt like opening the oven door.
But now that June is here, the skies wear a different face. Thunder rolls across the horizon. The air cools. The scent of wet earth returns. Rain clouds gather like a drama about to unfold.
The rainy season has come. In Pampanga—and across the country—this isn’t exactly a surprise. It happens every year, as predictably as fiesta season. And yet, every single year, we seem caught off guard.
City streets become rivers. Traffic snarls up like clockwork. Water-borne illnesses like leptospirosis and dengue begin their annual surge. Barangays scramble for rescue boats, and every flood feels like a breaking news event.
It’s like watching a rerun of a disaster documentary and somehow forgetting how it ends.
Sunshine to Storm in a Snap Just last week, I was in Clark for my usual afternoon tennis session. The sun was beaming—perfect tennis weather, we’d say. The clay court was dry and springy underfoot, the kind of morning that made you believe summer would never end.
But right in the middle of an exciting rally, dark clouds rolled in without warning. The breeze picked up. In a matter of minutes, a heavy downpour drowned the match—and the court.
Game over.
That’s how quickly the shift from hot to wet happens here. One moment you’re sweating under a punishing sun, the next you’re ankle-deep in water. It’s almost poetic—almost—if only it weren’t so predictably messy.
Rain Isn’t the Problem. During another rainy morning on my commute to Clark, I spotted a young boy playing barefoot in a puddle along the roadside in Dau. He laughed, he splashed, carefree and joyful. A snapshot of childhood innocence, yes—but also a warning. That water likely carried more than rain.
And that’s when it struck me:
Rain isn’t the problem. Our response—or lack of it—is.
We know June marks the start of the wet season. PAGASA tells us. Social media tells us. But somehow, our collective preparedness is always one storm behind.
We’ve made peace with being reactive. But is that the kind of peace we should settle for?
What We Can (and Must) Do
If you’re a homeowner: Check your roof, your gutters, your drainage. Clear leaves and debris. Stock up on flashlights, batteries, medicine, and potable water. Rainy season is no time for surprises.
If you’re a motorist: Slow down. Stay alert. The roads are slick, visibility is low, and no appointment is worth a roadside accident.
If you’re in government: Get ahead of the floods. Clean up drainage systems before they clog. Set up early warning systems. Equip barangays—not just when the water rises, but long before.
If you’re a teacher or parent: Teach kids about water safety. That floodwater isn’t a playground—it’s a health hazard.
And for the rest of us: Don’t litter. Every plastic wrapper thrown in a creek is a future flood waiting to happen.
Learning from Nature. June also marks Independence Day. It’s worth asking: What kind of freedom do we celebrate, if we remain chained to the same avoidable calamities every year? True freedom is not just about sovereignty. It’s about freeing ourselves from habits that hold us back—from unpreparedness, neglect, and the resignation that “ganito na talaga tuwing tag-ulan.”
My Eureka Moment this month?
Nature isn’t fickle—we are. Until we learn to prepare, not just endure, the rainy season, we’ll remain stuck in a loop of wet feet, lost hours, and preventable pain.
So yes, welcome the rain. Celebrate the relief it brings after months of heat.
But let’s not forget the simple truth: The weather changes. So should we.