Jazmin Bonifacio’s cup toppled, spilling coffee on the counter. She thought she’d knocked it over with her hand without noticing; it was past midnight and she’d had very little sleep. Nobody among the DYXV Magik FM Tacloban staff seemed to mind the mess. The news team was too occupied with reports of an oncoming supertyphoon. They didn’t know how much alarm to convey in their broadcasts. What to make of this new category of calamity? How much more “super” could typhoons get? On that day, 7 November 2013, they had no idea what lay ahead. But they would soon find out and never be able to forget—even if some valuable lessons still haven’t been learned a decade later.

The weather reports had warned of heavy storms the next morning. But the sky had been clear, with very few clouds, when Jazmin began her shift earlier in the day. Maybe the meteorologists had got it wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It was midnight when the rain started to smother the station and the wind picked up. Suddenly, the glass in the radio booth cracked. A sharp fracture sprang from the bottom corner to the top of the other side. The next thing Jazmin knew, most of the crew were evacuating, scrambling home to reach their families. She stayed behind with twelve others, braving the gathering storm and their simmering dread.

• Tags: Issue 35, Michael Beltran, Philippines