I’ve been working as a photographer for the Associated Press bureau in Metro Manila for nearly 30 years, and in that time floods in the Philippines have become increasingly common. One day last July, I returned to the office after a morning spent in my waders, photographing the after-effects of a monsoon that had flooded much of Manila and the surrounding areas.
While I was having lunch and drying out, I got a message from a photographer friend on assignment in Bulacan, the next province. She’d been shooting at Barásoain Church, a historic building that was flooded, and as she’d made to leave, someone had said: “Don’t you want to wait for the wedding?” It was hard to believe people were getting married in those conditions, but she told me the ceremony was due to start at three, which gave me an hour to get there. Even in ideal conditions it would have taken at least 40 minutes, but I jumped in a car with the AP driver and we made it to within a kilometre or two of the church, by which point the water was too deep to continue.
Luckily I was able to flag down a rescue truck that was heading in the right direction. I was thinking: “A lot of guests will probably be late, they’ll never start at three. I’m bound to at least catch some of the wedding.” But the truck kept stopping to ask people if they wanted a ride. I was helping the rescuers pull people on board, but secretly thinking: “Please go faster!” My forehead was starting to sweat.
There’s a big parking lot in front of the church, so when the truck stopped, I was still about 100 metres away from its front doors. I could see a white figure in front of them. I said: “Damn! That’s the bride about to go in!” and went splashing through the water like a hippopotamus, reaching her moments before the doors opened. The people in the church were about to see the bride in her dress for the first time – I just had time to take a few pictures while still catching my breath and pretending not to be in a panic. It was the perfect time to arrive, actually.
I later learned the bride and groom, Jamaica and Jade, had done a site visit the day before and been briefed that the church was almost certainly going to flood. Both came from areas prone to flooding, so it was a situation they were used to. They’d been a couple for many years already and just wanted to stick to the plan.
I’ve photographed weddings of friends and I’ve photographed floods for work, but never the two subjects together. If you’re shooting for a publication, you usually wait for the peak moment, so in that instance I’d have left as soon as the newlyweds kissed – that would have been the picture. But I stayed for the whole ceremony and worked like a wedding photographer, being careful not to get in the way of the photographer they’d booked.
I wanted to get details like the shoes lined up on a pew to keep them dry, and the groomsmen standing knee-deep in water in their formal barong tagalog shirts. But this image of the bride alone outside the church is my favourite. I love the carvings on the door, the sense of religion and history, and that even though the train of her dress is literally floating, it still looks carefully arranged. All that lace was never meant to be in water.
This was the first time pictures of mine have gone viral. Previously I’d post on Instagram and half the likes would be from my relatives, but the wedding in the flood really seemed to catch people’s imagination. It’s crucial we don’t turn a blind eye to war and devastation, but perhaps these images resonated because they show love and resilience in the face of disaster. During the entire ceremony, I didn’t see a single person who appeared to be sad because of the circumstances. The photographs are filled with joy.
• Aaron Favila is a 2026 World Press Photo award winner
Aaron Favila’s CV
Born: 1974, Manila
High Point: Winning the World Press Photo 2026, Asia-Pacific and Oceania, Stories.
Top tip: Be excited, be patient, know your light, do the grind, search for the different, and enjoy!
