Stranded in a Flood
He Wei

Early this month, my old house was twice flooded within three days. Situated in a low-lying part of the busy downtown area, it has for years been subject to floods. But the worst flood occurred this year, especially after the second rain, without kitchen, sitting room and even bedrooms all covered with water.

On the morning of that day, I went to the hospital on the other side of the street at about 10 o’clock to see an eye-doctor. Soon a fierce thunderstorm broke out and I saw a vast expanse of foamy floodwater outside the window. It was an exceptionally serious rainstorm, dashing down like a cataract or mountain torrents. What a scary scene!

The patients were stranded by the sudden downpour. All we could do was sit in the big hospital waiting room after having the prescriptions filled. Sitting by my side was a patient in his seventies. He kept sighing over the nasty weather. Learning that I had been a dweller of Fuzhou many years ago, he brightened up at once and began to speak the Fuzhou dialect loudly. He turned out to be a native of Fuzhou. We began to chat with relish about the typical local delicacies of Fuzhou like we were enumerating our family treasures. Then, during a break in the conversation, we found the streets submerged by water, so we had to sit down and resume chatting about Fuzhou so as to while away the time.

The violent storm did not last long at all. But it seemed interminable due to my impatience. At last, as I saw someone venture into the wet street under an umbrella, I just followed suit.

It’s only a stone’s throw from the hospital to my home, which is situated at the entrance of a lane across the street. The section of the street here has undergone repair I don’t know how many times in recent years, yet it still bloods whenever there is a rain. Now, on that day, it was flooded knee-deep because of an especially heavy rain. All I could do was stagger along cautiously in the deep water in my leather shoes.

It happened that the street was under repair with only half of it for free passage, but full of bumps and hollows. One had to make a detour at a T-juncture. There were few pedestrians. As I tottered through the water, I suddenly thought of my age. When I was a kid, I used to think that age had nothing to do with me and associated it instead only with my elders in their seventies or eighties. When I was ten, my grandpa, at sixty, looked quite old for his age because of the beard he was wearing. Now, as an octogenarian, I was like a solitary small boat drifting at the mercy of a large flow of muddy water. I barely managed to cross the street, taking care to dodge the muddy water splashed over by cars. At last I entered the lane and, pushing open the door of my house, I found the kitchen, the passageway and even the place behind the drawing room all flooded. All furniture, except the fridge that had been previously moved elsewhere, was soaking wet. I felt simply helpless.

Altogether, it took me less than three hours to see the doctor, but a greater part of the time was spent in wading through the floodwater on my way home. People advanced in age are liable to various kinds of senile disease. That’s why they spend a lot of time in going to hospital. Two months ago, I had one of my legs in plaster after injuring it through carelessness. Now, with the plaster cast removed, I was harassed by a flood. I t seemed a bit of an act of bravery for me, an 80-year-old man with impaired eyesight, to totter through the floodwater without a helping hand or a walking stick. Yet, it’s something of stirring tragedy too.

Many who have been forced into the ageing society by inexorable time are now living the life of common people. They need more self-encouragement and more awareness of self-protection, and should live on with a strong will. What else can they do?