The road to the hospital was on higher grounds, wet but far from flooded.
As it sloped downward, the water rose again to my ankles.
I peered in the darkness and saw the staff in their home clothes rushing to and fro.
With many torches shining about, I found F standing outside the pharmacy.

Popping our head into the window through which we usually counsel our patients at, we flashed a light in and saw something bobbing up and down.
"It's the drug fridge!" F exclaimed.
Everything was in a mess, chairs were floating about. The medical records and letters strewn across the dark water surface...we didn't know what to do we just smiled at the desparation of the situation.

In time admist the chaos, F would have explained, that she had came in time to move some medicines in the bottom shelf upwards. But the water is only rising quicker than expected.
Without wanting to open the door and risk more things floating out into the open, we climbed through the small window onto the tables of the pharmacy and jumped in to the flood.

The small room laid lower than other parts of the hospital and the water was deeper inside.
As we waded in the dim light we hit unseen chairs and baskets under the surface. Hurriedly we scrambled to move the drugs higher up another shelf.
Through the course of the night, we would have repeated this regime thrice.
Until there was absolutely no more space further we could stack things up.
We unplugged the fridge and carried it to higher grounds.

When all could be done was done, we went around looking at other rooms, figuring out if we could help.
And when we couldn't, some went home to get the cameras and we clicked away.
As we struggled to get the best lighting in the worst flood the hospital has seen in the last 30 years, X-ray films and medical records, brown envelops and river fish floated by our naked thighs.

Dinner was packed phad thai, squatting on a bench outside the emergency room.
The water rose steadily then halted its virtical advance for the night. The bench rose just above the water surface.
As we gave thanks for the dinner, a 16 year-old tribal girl screams while giving birth to her first child on the other side of the wall behind us.

It was the 28th of July and I was sitting in my room rather disappointed at the weather.
The rain hadn't stopped for 4 days - since the moment I arrived at Sangkhlaburi. I was so near, yet so far, from the Three Pagodas Pass, the border customs from Thailand to Burma. It wasn't always opened, but these few years saw less tensions between the local Mon tribes and the authorities of Thailand and Burma.

The tribe traditionally saw the Tenasserim Mountains as their homelands, and rightly so, for they have lived here for decades. They declare no citizenship no loyalty to either side of the border. So when fights become violent, tourists are denied entry into the Burmese village. Only in this one Burmese village are we allowed to travel without a visa. But we have to returnt to Thailand before the sun sets and the border closes, or be stuck in Burma for the night.

But it was raining angrily, the splatter of the rain drowned the music from my netbook.
I plugged in the earphones and served aimlessly on the virtual world.

5.30pm.
I was disturbed by weird bubbling sounds in the bathroom. I walked in and saw the toilet bowl bubbling! Eew. Luckily no human excretion has made its reverse way back, should be fine.

I was expecting somebody to pick me up to have dinner with some missionaries.


5.45pm
She said she may even need to be there early. Perhaps she's held up, I'd just wait. Since my Thai SIM card doesn't even work in this part of Thailand where I am.

5.48pm
Facebooking... My neighbour upstairs posted a picture with Thai captions.
I read laboriously 'Not even 30 minutes later' it read. And the view was of that from upstairs down, outside my room. I'm staying on level one.
"LOL, that's a lot of rain" I thought.

5.50pm
I opened the room door. My neighbour on the right is frantically keeping her stuff.
"Naam Tuam Leew!" which is translated "O, the water is flooding!"
I smiled and nodded.

What do Singaporeans do? iPhone, instagram, video. LOL.

3 seconds later.
The water was in the room.
The person I was waiting for showed up, but instead of telling me of the dinner plans...
"Pack all your things!"
Huh? All? or just some?
"ALL AND HURRY!!"
Oh Oh. Okay.

Still not realising the full gravity of the matter, I half hurried to my bed room, and carried my haversack up onto the chair to pack.
Within the period of that conversation, the water had already seeped into the bedroom and soaked my haversack.
ZOMG. OK, I really have to pack Everything. Which is like Everywhere!

6.15pm. I carried all my barang-barang.
I had packed my slippers and shoes into some random compartment of my bag too.
There is no point wearing footwear when the water is halfway up your shin. Everything is save. I think.
I should've packed everything. All that I can remember at least.

"The hospital is flooded, water is in the pharmacy too!
I'd set up the rice cooker first to cook rice before the power gets cut off too. Then we have nothing to eat for dinner! Come when you're ready and wear the boots!"

So I searched everywhere, but in my flustered state I had no idea where everything was.
I gave up finding the torch and hoped somebody would be providing light.
I slipped into the boots and down the stairs, wading across the waist deep waters across the room I was listening to David Choi just 30 minutes ago.