When Super Typhoon Uwan (Fung-wong) hit Luzon in early November 2025, it brought one of the strongest winds recorded this year, leaving widespread power outages across Northern and Central Luzon. In the heart of Nueva Ecija, amid broken power lines and flooded roads, one small solar system became a beacon of hope, lighting up not just a home, but an entire community. Super Typhoon Uwan left a trail of devastation: uprooted trees, flooded towns, and massive power outages that plunged thousands of communities into darkness.
The Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical and Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA) raised Tropical Cyclone Wind Signal No. 5 over the northeastern portion of Nueva Ecija, as the typhoon brought torrential rains and destructive winds. Power grids across the province were placed under serious alert, with widespread outages affecting homes, schools, and public facilities.
But amid the darkness, one small light shone in the quiet town of Rizal, Nueva Ecija.
When Typhoon Uwan struck, it felt as though the world had stopped breathing. The rain poured endlessly, the wind howled through the rice fields, and by nightfall, everything was swallowed by darkness. Power lines snapped like twigs. Roads turned into rivers. The storm showed no mercy.
That night, I stood by the window of my home, watching the floodwaters creep closer. My 6-kilowatt solar power system, installed months earlier as part of my renewable energy advocacy, was my only source of electricity. I didn’t know then how much it would mean not just for me, but for my entire community.
When the storm finally passed, Rizal was silent. No power. No signal. People couldn’t contact their loved ones. I saw neighbors sitting by the roadside, holding dead phones, faces filled with worry. Mothers wanted to call their children in Manila, and families needed to reach relatives abroad. But there was nothing just the heavy quiet after disaster.
Then I remembered my solar panels. Despite the storm, they had survived. As the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, I reconnected the inverter and batteries and light filled my home.
Word spread quickly. One by one, neighbors came bringing their phones and small devices. My front yard turned into a small charging station. We lined up power cords and shared extension wires. People were finally able to call their families to say, “We’re safe. Don’t worry.”
Some even cried as they heard their loved ones’ voices again. It was a simple thing: just power but in that moment, it felt like hope itself. That day, everyone in Rizal saw what solar energy could do. It wasn’t just technology anymore it was resilience. It was connection. It was life.
After Uwan, many of my neighbors began asking how to set up their own solar systems. Now, I am more inspired than ever to lead small solar projects for homes and schools. The barangay halls will soon have solar panels too, so that no typhoon can ever completely shut us off again.
Typhoon Uwan tested our strength, but it also opened our eyes. I realized that the light from my solar panels wasn’t just for my home. It was for my people. And every evening now, when I see those solar lights glowing softly across our town, I remember those dark days and the power we found together.
Because after Uwan, we didn’t just find light. We found our way forward.
About the Author
Prof. Oscar S. Gabriel Jr. is the Organizational Development Director of People of Asia for Climate Solutions (PACS) and a renewable energy advocate based in Rizal, Nueva Ecija. A multi-awarded educator and community leader, he champions grassroots solar energy solutions and youth empowerment for climate resilience.