Down but not out

I have been one of the lucky ones. Living in inner Bangkok, the flood has left me unaffected. My boots are still in their plastic bag, my PVC waders are being used by my son as sweatpants when he does his weightlifting at home, and my unused sandbags make good scratching posts for my cats and serve in lieu of a fire hydrant for my poodle.

My unused printer was moved from the floor to the top of the cupboard, and that's the extent of my flood prevention measures. 

Even my car was returned to normal transport duties three days into the panic. I drank my stock of drinking water a long time ago, but I still have several tins of "panic" sardines, though I don't eat sardines, and probably never will.

I decided it was high time I went out to see for myself the crisis that so many others are having to put up with, and I in my cocooned air-conditioned office will never see except in TV footage on the office flat screen.

So one sunny morning I headed towards Charan Sanitwong Road on a Royal Thai Army GMC with a group jointly initiated by Rapeepan "Khun Reed" Luangaramrut, TV Channel 3 and the BMA. 

That day, they were already into their "recovery" mode, aiming to treat stagnant water that still remained in the subsois.

The lower part of Charan Sanitwong was like a deserted town, with people having evacuated from their shophouses. Brown marks showed how high the water had been... well above waist level.

As we entered Sirindhorn Soi 7, we saw people in identical boots and gloves, all with the same weary look on their faces, wondering where to start the clean-up process. 

Looking into their homes from our high vantage point, we could see lopsided shelves, muddy floors, mouldy mattresses and rotting sofas, many of which had already been dumped outside the front door. 

Wherever it was dry, these piles of damaged furniture and other junk were already piling up into mountains, that even motorcycles had to swerve and cars could just squeeze through.

Many cul-de-sacs were still under calf-deep stagnant water. Sandbags that lined the front gates seemed to have had little effect in blocking out the water, and most gardens were still knee-deep in reeking murky pools that went nowhere.

Our BMA water trucks pumped water from the drains or just off the road, and our team added the Super Safe Effective Microorganism powder. 

The water would supposedly revive the hungry little freeze-dried microorganisms and they would instantly multiply, ready to gobble up the decomposing organic matter that causes the reeking smell in stagnant water,

and helping the precipitation process. So at least, even if the area was still inundated, it wouldn't be so unpleasant and unhygienic.

The powder was also handed out to members of the soi community to use in the clean-up process. As we made our way through the soi, the curious residents gradually came out, happy to get their hands on anything that would help make their lives easier and better.

The drier areas weren't any better off yet; they were now living with piles of rubbish on their doorstep. An old lady walked past one of these piles, an inhalant in one nostril and a finger in the other. I don't know how she breathed.

But the interesting thing is, despite their plight, their weeks _ or even months _ of living with water waist high in their homes, they all had a smile to share, a tale to tell. They were resigned, yet positive, down but not out.

"Don't move your sandbags yet," we warned them, "there might be another round of flooding when they remove the Big Bags."

"Oh no! Not more!" they grumbled, but then adding with a laugh, "Well, we've put up with it for a month; what's another week?"

Our next stop was Don Muang, which was a recce for the next recovery trip. Kasetsart and beyond were still under water, though roofs of abandoned cars were gradually appearing from the receding floodwater. 

Here, boats had become a way of life, with all sorts of inventive ideas coming into play. There were longtail boats, paddle boats, laundry basins, rubber dinghies, bath tubs fitted with PVC tubes or empty water containers. 

People waved at each other, and there was a distinct sense of camaraderie. Big trucks slowed to a standstill when a boat passed, so as not to send out ripples _ no, waves _ that could easily capsize them.

I admit you do hear horror stories of how some people are taking advantage of the situation to rip others off, yet what I saw that day was the real Thai spirit of "sabai sabai", the real Thai smile... still intact.