Staff Blog | When Typhoon Tino Struck: A Reflection from Cebu

When Typhoon Tino struck, I was at home in Mandaue City, Cebu, with my family.

As the winds began to howl and the rain poured without ceasing, memories of Typhoon Odette came rushing back.

We knew we had to stay alert—so we didn’t sleep the entire night.

We had prepared: charging power banks, storing water, and keeping food within reach. But nothing could fully prepare us for the sound of the storm’s fury once it arrived.

The rain began around 10 p.m. on November 3 and continued until mid-afternoon the next day. My children were asleep at first, but they woke when the wind grew stronger—tree branches hit the windows, debris crashed against the roof, and the howling wind filled the air.

We huddled together on the ground floor, praying for God’s protection and for the storm to pass.

When the wind finally died down around 7 a.m., exhaustion took over and I was finally able to rest. But even after the calm returned, fear lingered. We had lost contact with some of our relatives in Camotes Island, northeast of Cebu. Until now, there is still no mobile signal there. We continue to hope and pray that they are safe.

As soon as I woke up, my phone was flooded with messages—pleas for help from friends, colleagues, and churchmates. Many were stranded on rooftops, others trapped in flooded homes, crying out for food and water.

The devastation was beyond words.

It was painful to see people you know and care about in desperate need, while you couldn’t reach them because the water was still too high.

It felt like a nightmare—a scene out of a movie—but this was real.

Driving to the office on the morning of November 5, I saw the heartbreaking aftermath. Entire barangays and sitios were washed away. Where homes and buildings once stood, only debris remained—mud, broken walls, twisted metal, and skeletal frames of structures that once held families and dreams.

I cried all the way to work. The scale of destruction was overwhelming. Even now, we still don’t have water and electricity.

But as a World Vision staff, my heart is stirred—not only by the pain I witnessed but also by the call to respond.

I am reminded of why we do what we do: to bring hope where it seems lost, to stand with the most vulnerable when life feels unbearable, and to remind every child and family that God has not forgotten them.

Typhoon Tino has left deep scars, but I believe that love, faith, and compassion will help us rebuild again—one home, one family, one community at a time.

About the Author

Lucille Latonio is a Donor Care Services Specialist based in Cebu and has been serving with World Vision Philippines for 15 years. Her deep faith and commitment to the ministry continue to inspire her work in nurturing meaningful connections between sponsors and children, reflecting God’s love in action.