Read At Your Own Risk

This is a piece I submitted for a non- fiction narrative for my creative writing class. I have edited it and made a few minor changes, but I will still need to edit it again to improve it. I think it’s fitting that I post this now!  

“Mummy, it’s flooding!” I shouted excitedly as I watched the water lapping just inches from the front door.  “The porch is flooded!”

“Don’t bluff,” Mother answered.  She was washing the dinner dishes.

“Really!” I called back.  “Faster, come.”  Mother quickly came over.

“Oh dear!” Mother exclaimed, seeing the flood water.  “Is it rising?”

“Looks like.” I replied.  Under the lit porch, leaves, plastic bags, tin cans and other debris floated inwards; the brown flood water was definitely rising. Across the dark street, our neighbours were bailing water out of their single story terraces. We had just visited them in the afternoon and their houses, so clean and festive that afternoon, were now flooded with smelly brown water.

 “Oh no! The chickens!” Mother suddenly said.  “Quick, go and check on them.”

Not wanting to get wet and dirty, I groaned in reluctance.  However, since we were alone at home, I agreed.  I suddenly felt panic as there were so many things to do and so little time.

It was the second night of Chinese New Year and my elder brother was away from Kuching, waitering at a politician’s house in Sibu.  Usually, I would try to push all the heavy and dirty jobs to him.  In return, he would call me ‘useless’.  Tonight, I did not have that luxury.

In spite of the king tide and the heavy rain, we never expected that our house would flood. In all my twenty years, I had never experienced a flood so dire. The large roadside drain occasionally overflowed over the years, but as our house was on a slope, the worst floods had only reach the driveway.   

 I stepped into the cold, knee-deep water and waded my way to the backyard.  I found the cage door already under water but to my surprise, the two chickens were perched calmly on a beam, above the water.  I grabbed both sides of the cage and lifted.  I squeezed past the old Mazda-808 parked in the driveway, trying not to scratch it with the cumbersome wire-mesh cage.  Halfway back to the front porch, one of the chickens suddenly slipped off the beam and fell into the water.  It squawked loudly and trashed about sending droplets of dirty water all over me.  I heaved the whole cage out of the water.  Then with one hand, I scooped the chicken and put it securely on top of the cage.  It shook itself dry, and then sat calmly once again as I delivered the chickens to safety.

The rain did not cease and the water continued to rise.  Soon water started gushing in through the gap between the front door and the floor.  I had tried to block the gap with newspapers, rags and plastic bags, but water still gushed in.  More seeped in through gaps between the floor tiles.  Soon, the kitchen was flooded.  By then, it was too late so save the basement and in no time, it became a swimming pool.

While transferring things, Mother and I heard shouts coming from the house gate.  Unable to identify the caller, Mother sent me to check.  My heart was pumping furiously as I trudged through the cold waist-deep water to the gate.  Mother waited anxiously at the porch, about sixty feet from the gate.  When I reached the gate, my fears were relieved.  It was only Mr. and Mrs. Chiang, and their two teenage children.  I quickly unlocked the gate and welcomed them in.  They started ferrying valuables from their flooded single story terrace, across the street to our living room.  Soon, the Choo’s and the Chiong’s, from the opposite terrace houses came over for shelter as well.  To top it off, the Chow’s came over, carrying three ill-tempered dogs.

The living room became a shelter.  Three steps higher than the kitchen, it was not flooded.  The restless dogs, barking and howling, were tied to the left of the patio outside the living room.  The chicken cage was at the right, where I had placed it earlier. The two chickens were calm, asleep amidst the chaos.  Our neighbours were busy, moving around like ants.  Their TV’s, PC’s, books and other valuables were stacked all over the place.  

Some time later, Mother passed around trays of New Year biscuits and drinks and we all took a short break.

 “It’s that damn barrage-lah!” Mr. Chow said.

“Yes,” Mother agreed.  “Chinese New Year.  All the workers on holiday.  Nobody controlling the barrage.  Sure flood-lah!  Why not?”

“Idiotic.” Mr. Chow said.  “What kind of system is that?  Now who’s going to pay for all the damage?”

“Aiyo, no compensation-lah,” Mr. Choo said.  “Eh, I heard they close the barrage to keep the New Year good luck in.  Elections coming, need good luck.”

“Just wait-lah,” Mr. Chow said.  “See what will happen! Good luck- my foot!”

The conversation was political.  The flood had caused us neighbours to come together once again and now we chattered as we did earlier that afternoon when we visited each other.  The situation made us laugh, relieving some of the tension.  After the break, the neighbours then helped us move more of our things to the upper levels, as their own houses, beyond help, drowned.

By eleven, the rain had stopped and the high tide was over.  The water however, did not recede.  Mother and I prepared mattresses and blankets for the neighbours to spend the night.  Some slept in the guestroom upstairs and some rested in the living room, guarding their houses across the street.  I washed up and changed.  There was still clean water, but not wanting to contribute to the flood, I used the water sparingly.  I slept and awoke early the next morning, ready for another wet day.