The first sound I heard was loud, like a dam breaking in a distance then sounds of screams followed.
It had been raining for one week straight. And we didn't pay much attention to it. Rather we made jokes about it. My Dad joked about building an ark. Comments like “it was the end of the world were thrown around online on social media platforms. My little sister pretended to start preparing her toy animals, male and female, into the ark. At first it was hilarious. We had a good laugh over it. But on the seventh day. It still rained and deep inside me, something felt off. The sky never cleared. The waters never dried, and the river kept on rising.
By the eighth day, the waters had started creeping into the streets. The gutters were completely filled with water and even overflowing. The drainages were filling up. I heard my Mother's sharp voice from the living room
“Get up quickly, pack something small we may need to leave as soon as possible” she said with urgency.
What! Does it mean that we were about to face a flood? I thought. Our neighborhood had never been flooded before. I didn't even know how to swim. The thought of a flood terrified me so much. But based on the news, we were likely to experience a flood anytime soon.
By evening we were set to leave. Just as we were about packing our things into the back of the car. A loud sound erupted up north. A dam cracked. I looked through the window, a fast moving current filled the street, swallowing up anything that was in its path. Cars were afloat in the water, some headlights blinking slowly.
“Get your sister” my Mum shouted, quickly grabbing some cash and medicines in the drawer
I ran upstairs, pushing the door wide open with so much force that startled Abbey, my little sister.
“We have to go now” I said out of breath
“The water?” She asked jumping out of the bed
“Yes, it's here” I answered, grabbing her hands and leading her out.
Downstairs, the water had already made its way in, the floor was ankle deep in water. Furniture began floating up, bumping into walls even. My heart drummed heavily beneath my chest. We were stuck in the stair case, there was no way out. The water was rising at a steady pace.
“The attic!” my dad shouted.
Quickly, we all rushed to the attic, the highest place we could get to. I pushed down on the cord, to open the hatch. And we quickly got in. Abbey climbed in first, followed by me, then mum before Dad.
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We were all breathing heavily. But it was far from over. From the vents in the attic, we could see houses being swallowed up by the water. People tried escaping through the windows. Dogs barked from balconies. The potent smell of sewages, gasoline and fear filled the air. It was a disaster.
The water didn't stop, it kept on creeping up. Rising and rising like it was on a personal mission to erase humanity from the earth. I closed my eyes, not able to watch, as people were being swallowed up by the flood.
I didn't know how long we stayed in the attic, but it felt like forever. Night came quickly, we lit a small candle. But the wind outside seemed to have other plans. My mum held my little sister tightly, embracing her so she would stop crying while silently muttering some prayers to the heavens. I sat down on the floor, close to the vents, waiting, listening and watching. Hours passed by slowly. At some point I dozed off.
I woke up later on, to the sound of a man's voice, and a flashlight being pointed on our roof.
“Is anyone here?” he shouted.
“If you can hear me, call out” he said again.
Immediately we began screaming on top of our voice, waving our hands and hitting the attic vents in hope that they would see us.
Then the boat turned in our direction, a group of individuals in orange vest, probably a rescue team was headed our way. Relief washed over me.
“Finally” was all I could muster.
They pulled us out, one by one, gentle but steady. Abbey clung to my arm as we sat in the boat. The water beneath us was dark, and full of junks; floating doors, a tricycle, a mattress and so many more. We passed by homes that once stood proudly, now barely visible. We came across other people that had survived, standing on rooftops and waving their hands desperately, for help. The rescue teams signalled them, promising they would return to get them.
As the boat passed by a corner, I turned back to look at our house. Only the roof top was slightly above water. The flood had swallowed everything. I felt a pang in my chest, the memories, the laughter and unforgettable birthday nights, all gone like that.
I looked on ahead, the sun was beginning to rise, a new dawn and somehow it gave me hope. The flood might have taken everything, but not our will. At least I still had my family with me, and that was enough. We could rebuild and start over. The real miracle was surviving
