Flood panic in the air

Walling us in

One of the flood walls which the condo management has put up in front of the buildings in this complex. This is the wall in front of my building. Others have motley collections of sandbags which rise to about the same height.

Residents gather outside amid excited chatter. Where normally they gather just before sundown, now they are there most of the day – comparing sandbag sizes, and sharing stories they have heard about the relentless progress of flooding from the north which has hit the city’s outskirts at Don Muang, and is likely to spread further still in the coming week.

The prospect of flooding in our little corner of the inner city – a low-lying area which is susceptible to mid-thigh level flooding even in moderate rains - has drawn our little community closer together.

Well, that’s what I would say if I was a touchy-feely journalist of the modern persuasion, where everything is about community building, coordinating, and ‘hearting’ one another.

Actually, I suspect the chatterers are just gossiping. A flood is as good occasion as any for a chinwag. Nothing they say is likely to make any difference to whether we are doused or not, though residents have done their best to prepare.

Panicky shoppers have stripped convenience stores of most of their bakery and non-perishable edible products, including that old standby, Mama instant noodles. I wandered into a 7-11 store the other day and wondered why the shelves looked so bare.

In the carparking building of my condo, demand for spaces far outstrips supply. Normally, the seven-level building is half empty. In the past few days, owners and tenants have sought shelter for their vehicles so it is now full to brimming.

Some owners have even resorted to double-parking - trapping those vehicles behind - and leaving their cars on the ramps between each level.

The seventh floor, normally all but empty, appears to be the busiest. Were the vehicles merely forced to higher levels because carparks further down had run out, or do their owners actually believe the floodwaters will reach that high?

Maiyuu has refused to hoard food supplies, as he believes we are unlikely to suffer a prolonged or serious flood. In some low-lying parts of the city, such as the western suburbs, waters might rise to a 1 metre, or perhaps 1.5 metres, the media tells us.

The floods could last a month or six weeks overall before they finally drain away through the city's canals out to sea.

I am enjoying the coverage in the Thai language papers, which publish new maps of the city and surrounding provinces every day. I am getting to know the city well -  even some suburbs I barely knew existed before.
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Slum Ball is preparing to enter the army on Nov 1.

He reported to the draft office on Wednesday, where he was told he would serve out his two-year conscription duty in Bangkok.

‘I won’t have to help with the floods like regular soldiers. I’ll just be training,’ he said.

For the first three months, recruits are confined to barracks, though families can pay weekend visits.

Ball's family is prepared for the floods. Someone has erected flood walls, made of the same grey blocks which have sprung up in front of my condo, at both doorways to his two-storey wooden home.

Some of his slum neighbours, despairing of their chances of escaping floods in Bangkok, have fled.

My grilled chicken vendor, a hardy Esan woman with black teeth, has been gone for weeks.

A couple of families who live in an alleyway close to Ball’s place have pulled down the steel shutters in front of their homes. Like Ms Grilled Chicken, they have also cleared off for higher ground.

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‘Listen to the rain...here it comes again,’ sings Enya, as I write this piece.

A woman I know in Thon Buri has returned to her home province of Kalasin in the Northeast, to escape the city flood threat.

Like me, masseuse Muk has noticed a distinct cooling in the air, which suggests the rainy season is wrapping up, though it is leaving the threat of Bangkok floods in its wake.

She also reports much less rain than even a week ago, when three or four downpours a day were not uncommon. ‘The cool season is approaching,’ she says approvingly.

Muk, who cannot swim, has had three near-drowning experiences in her life. She left her home Thon Buri for higher ground in the provinces two weeks ago so she doesn’t have to deal with another one.

One newspaper report predicts 1-1.5m of rain in her Thon Buri suburb of Bang Khun Thian in the next five days. ‘I told the other massage women that Thon Buri would not escape, but no one has listened to me,’ she said.