by Sue Bautista
August 2. Like many August 2 in past years, August 2 in 1968 was significant
for our family. For those of us who remember this date and year, life literally changed
overnight.
At around the 0400 hour, an earthquake measuring over 7.0 in the Rossi-
Forel Intensity Scale rocked the town of Casiguran, Aurora[1], while most people were
at home deep in their slumber. The effect of this quake was seismic,and while many
buildings were severely damaged, of note was the collapse of the six story Ruby Tower
commercial and residential building in the greater Manila area. And the toll on human
lives was unimaginable.
According to news reports, the building collapsed in a pancake fashion burying
over 500 people. Many people (260+) perished – men, women and children who but a
day before were breathing, eating, and leading normal lives.
Over 200 people were injured, and some who later died from their injuries.
But thanks to the thousands of volunteers who helped at the time, around 268 people
were rescued alive.
Of the people who survived, two girls Susie Wong Chan (aged 9) and Stella
[not her real name] (aged 11) were the last survivors after 125 hours (5.2 days). At
the time, anyone surviving without water and food for 5 days was almost unheard of.
Since then, there have been numerous reports of earthquake survivors after a week or
more. A testament to humans’ ability to adapt for life preservation.
August 2 in 2023 marks the 55th anniversary of the Ruby Tower tragedy. While
this seems such a long time ago and life has moved on, for those who were greatly im-
pacted by this tragedy, the pain and suffering of the survivors and the guilt that comes
along with having survived, are still strongly felt and nonetheless real.
The Collapse
While buildings such as the Philippine Bar Association, Aloha Theatre, Diamond
Tower, Liwayway hotel, Araneta and Tuason, etc. also suffered partial collapse and/or
severe damage, only the Ruby Tower building resulted in significant human loss and
injuries.
From the investigation, it was shown that the collapse was due to a design flaw,
poor workmanship, under-reinforcements of columns, joints not following specifica-
tions, and substandard concrete quality. A civil suit ensued and the case was brought
to the Supreme Court of the Philippines, and the construction company was held liable
for the collapse.
While property loss and damages were approximately 8 million dollars, the cost
to human lives was immeasurable. Over the years, the financial compensation given to
survivors on the loss of their loved ones ranged between $4000 and $5000 US per life
lost – what an insult to human life. I remember an uncle said, “this is all life is worth to
those who were responsible for their deaths. They have blood on their hands”.
The silver lining from this tragedy was that since then, the Philippine govern-
ment created a National Committee on Disaster Operation (NCDO), which is now known
as the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC).
This council is responsible for ensuring the protection and welfare of the people
during disasters or emergencies
In addition, a National Building Code of the Philippines was established five
years later by then President Ferdinand Marcos (deceased), father of the current presi-
dent Ferdinand (Bong) Marcos, Jr.
This law provides the framework for policies, plans, standards and guidelines
on building design, construction, use, occupancy and maintenance[6]; and to safeguard
life, property and public welfare.
The Two Girls
(From the perspective of Susie Wong Chan now Sue Bautista])
Some people ask, “Where are the two girls now?”
Well, I say not very far. I am one of the two girls who survived that fateful day,
and I now live in Toronto, Canada. Married and better known as Sue Bautista, I am
entering my senior years. People say the two girls are the lucky ones, and perhaps we
are. I don’t know why I survived while others perished. You hear it all the time, “It is
what it is”, “It’s not your time”, or “It is written”.
And yet, how did I survive?
On the day of the earthquake, my older brother Ralph (aged 12) and four cousins
(age ranges between 2 and 11) were in my grandparents’ apartment having a sleepover
in the den after a day of fun and play.
When the quake triggered at 4:19 am, I was dozy with sleep but could feel the
building rocking to and fro like you were in a boat during a storm. Then window panes
start shattering, walls caving and floors falling.
By the time the dust settled, I ended up in a fetal position buried under small
rocks and debris all over my head. Amazingly, the rest of my body was free. But I could
not move so I stayed still, I could at least breathe; and that’s when I heard a baby cry-
ing…
A few minutes later, I felt the rocks and debris become loose and after repeat-
edly shaking my head, I was freed. The first thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. I
could hear my cousin Stella [not her real name] and her sister Elizabeth and we started
talking. But I could not see them. I breathed a sigh of relief because at least, I could sit
up but not stand up. While I could not see, I could feel that it was like a small tunnel
and there were papers on the floor everywhere; it was my grandfather’s den after all.
And so it started, my cousins and I kept calling and yelling for help – names
of our grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, whoever can hear us. No help came. Only
silence.
Eventually, I got tired of yelling for help and kept calm. When I am hungry I
sleep it off. When I wake, I would pee, poop, pray and yell for help all over again. After
a while, there was no more pee or poo as my stomach was empty. The air was stale and
it was getting hot, so I removed my pajamas. There was nothing I could do but wait.
And the cycle began. I sleep, I wake, I pray and yell for help. I hear endless
jackhammering. At 9 years old, my imagination goes wild thinking they are automatic
weapons and the third world war has begun.
The only difference in the cycle was everytime I woke up, my hands would feel
that the “ceiling” seemed to have lowered yet again. I could no longer sit up, only lay on
my back. And the space around me seemed smaller. It is literally like being in a coffin.
Time went on and the jackhammering continued. I tolerated the noise by
imagining what the first thing I would do when I got out…I would eat fried chicken at
the Aristocrats, and have plenty of ice cream and cakes. So hungry. Contrary to what
some people say, I did not eat my pajamas nor drank my pee.
At some point when I woke up, I could hear my cousin Elizabeth crying and she
said something had fallen on her head. She was obviously in pain but we were helpless.
We cried until there were no more tears, and we slept from exhaustion. When I woke
again, I could no longer hear Elizabeth. She was only 8 years old.
It seemed like a lifetime but eventually help did come (after 5.2 days), I was
woken up by a beam of light around my foot area. Being in pitch darkness for several
days, it took awhile for my eyes to adjust to the light. I saw a small hole and a man peeked
through, he must have seen my eyes wide open, for he started yelling to the others that
I was alive.
I could hear a lot of commotion and when I was brought out, I spoke and told them
that my cousin Stella [not her real name] is still there somewhere…
The next thing I know I was in a stretcher surrounded by reporters as they heard
me talk. They asked for my name and I remember thinking that I did not like my name
“Susie”, so I said my name is “Nancy”.
At the time I didn’t know they were reporters and was clueless as to what was
happening. However, I distinctly remember how sweet water tasted when the paramedics
dubbed water on my parched lips. It may have been sugar water for all I know but it was
life-giving water.
My recovery took around one month at the Chinese General Hospital. While in the
hospital, I had a visitor from a boy whom I knew was a neighbor’s son, and he used to play
with my older brother. He was in a wheelchair and had a cast on one of his legs. Thinking
back, it is a blessing that I did not suffer any broken or lost limbs while buried under the
rubble.
As I grew stronger, my two younger sisters Barbara and Jackie (who also survived
after three days under the rubble and have their own personal survival experience), visited
me at the hospital.
To clarify how I ended up in my grandparents’ den that night, my family actually
lived in the same building but we were on the third floor while my grandparent’s apartment
was on the first floor.
That day, only my brother and I were given permission to have the sleepover and
thus, my two sisters slept in our own apartment on the third floor with our parents.
They survived because they both slept on the lower bunk bed and the metal frame
protected them.
Once I was deemed ready for discharge from the hospital, my aunt Francisca told
me that my parents and brother Ralph had died in the quake.
I couldn’t understand what she said at the time. You don’t really know what death
means, and how it will impact your life when you are 9 years old.
There was no funeral for my parents and brother as their bodies were never found.
My parents were only in their 30’s at the time. It is senseless as one day they are with you
and the next they’re not.
For the deceased, a memorial with names and photos, including those whose
bodies were not found, was erected in the Manila Chinese cemetery. No matter. They will
always reside in our hearts.
For years, I could never tell this tale without breaking into tears. Even as I write
this, my eyes start swelling, but now I can hold back my tears.
Reflecting back, I know that hope, faith and resilience have helped me through this
ordeal. And throughout my adult life, I always see a glass half full rather than half empty.
When faced with adversity, I say to myself, “this too shall pass”.
After being orphaned in 1968, my sisters Barbara (aged 8) and Jackie (aged 6) and
I were adopted by my uncle and maternal aunt. A blended family, it was difficult to move
on those early years after such a tragedy but we did the best we could.
And in 1975, with the help of an uncle’s brother, we emigrated to Toronto, Ontario.
Life has started to be normal for us as we enter our teen years and adult life.
We have come to love Canada and it has been good to me and my family. I could
never ask for a better country to live in. It will always be home.
Acknowledgment
I thank the heroes who were instrumental in our rescue and recovery. To
the over 3000 volunteers (local civilians, the Philippine army, the Philippine Boy
Scouts, U.S. military personnel [navy, army, marine corps], etc.) who toiled endlessly
and tirelessly day after day to find not only the survivors, but the injured and the
deceased – I thank them for not giving up on the victims.
To the paramedics and the hospital team (physician, nurses and health care
workers) at the Chinese General Hospital – I thank them for the wonderful care that
I received during my recovery period in August 1968.
And last but not least, my uncle Lazaro and aunt Helen for adopting and
raising my sisters and I as their own. They opened their hearts and home to us even
when they suffered tremendous loss. They made us who we are today.
Dedication
This article is dedicated to the loved ones we lost in the Ruby Tower tragedy.
My parents Leon and Rosa Chan, my brother Ralph; grandparents Wong Luy and Yee
Shi; uncle Harry; aunts Rosie, Lennie, and Lourdes; and cousins George, Elizabeth
and Grace.****
About the Author
Sue Bautista has lived in Canada for 48 years and is married to Philip
Bautista. Together, they are blessed with two sons Christian and Gabriel,
daughter in law Angelica (Christian) and two grandchildren Emma and Cole
(Christian and Angelica). Retired, her work career spans over 40 years in the hospital industry.
