The incessant downpour paralysed our tapping activities, causing great worry among my parents and their fellow tappers as the weather hindered their only source of income. Raincoats and umbrellas became a necessity for everyone.
Mr Rajan Pillay was kept busy with the increased number of flu and fever patients at the estate dispensary. Our walk to and from school was a challenge. Our uniforms were saved thanks to the raincoats.
However, we could not prevent our white canvas shoes from being stained with red laterite marks due to the muddy path to school.
Also, we had to avoid stepping in muddy puddles, and if a hurried motorcyclist passed by and went into a water puddle, we would be drenched before reaching our destination.
The continuous rain kept us all indoors. No football, no outdoor games.
Although it was fun staying indoors, we were constantly hungry. My mother and sisters were kept busy in the kitchen, working hard to meet with the increased demand of food.
BRIDGE NO MORE
Suddenly, one morning, my father informed us that the floods had washed away our estate bridge, the one built across Kuyoh River. The bridge had been built on timber, with the framework consisting of a deck, trusses and railings. The monsoon downpour had caused the weak stresses to give in to the titanic gushing water. The four trusses supporting the bridge were washed away.
To make matters worse, the swelled Klang, Batu and Gombak Rivers, respectively, had resulted in the ancillary rivers connecting with the three city rivers, causing a major flood.
The Kuyoh River, 1km away from our estate, was a small river that was usually impregnated during heavy rains, where the water would almost tip the deck, giving us the shudders to cross the bridge.
This time, the whole bridge had collapsed. The flood disconnected the estate from the nearest town, Batu 6½ in Puchong, and swept away houses alongside the riverbank.
The Kuyoh River tin mine was our estate's immediate neighbour. The entire mining area was filled with water running from the river forming a large pond measuring the size of five football fields.
This active tin mine was a safety net that prevented the flood from hitting Puchong. With the tin mine destroyed and the bridge washed away, we were cut off from the outside world.
The rain had ceased people's movements, and the flood further compounded the issue.
We were cut from civilisation. Schools were closed. None of us could go outside the estate.
'FREE-FOR-ALL' FOWLS
On the same day that our bridge had been washed away, the nearest chicken farm, housing more than 5,000 birds, was also badly hit by the flood.
Knowing the situation would only get worse, the farm owner allowed estate residents to catch the live fowls and take as many as they wanted before the farm was washed away.
My brother, Chandran, swung into action and brought back one gunny sack of chickens to our house. My sisters and I followed suit and came back with more chickens. Likewise. Our neighbours, too, brought as many "free-for-all" chickens home.
Neither the drizzle nor the rain stopped anyone from running to the chicken farm about 300m away. Everyone, young and old, was carrying the live fowls in bags or holding them between their legs.
Although we had a chicken coop with our own chickens, we did not want to mix the local birds with these docile egg-laying ones.
My mother and sisters cleared our kitchen and flooded it with live fowls. There were about 50 chickens squawking in our kitchen, thus the name "Kitchen Chickens".
The brown birds were startled at first by the change of environment and the new place they were to call home.
The bonus of having so many chickens was the gleeful surprise of having 30 freshly laid eggs on our kitchen floor in the morning.
With us being unable to buy groceries or leave the compound to go to the market, our meals for that week were alternated with chicken and egg dishes — chicken curry, chicken peratal, chicken sambal, fried chicken, alternated with egg curry, fried eggs, egg sambal, and the list goes on.
RETURN TO TAPPING LIFESTYLE
The rain subsided about a week later, and the estate workers resumed their tapping. The chickens were still in the kitchen, although the number had dwindled from 50 to 20 as many had landed in the cooking pots.
After a month or so, the birds were left outside. They struggled at first to walk as their unexercised legs were weak, but they managed, and got on well with the local birds.
The estate did manage to open a connecting road through the Kinrara estate.
Thus, the Kinrara and Bukit Jalil laterite road became a popular way for connectivity. A temporary bridge was built for cyclists and pedestrians, using steel ropes holding both sides, thus causing the bridge to sway when the wind blew fast or when too many of us were using the bridge.
The walk across this bridge was scary indeed as the roaring sounds of the gushing Kuyoh River beneath it looked ferocious in nature.
When the flood washed the bridge connecting the estate away, the community found itself isolated and cut off from the outside world. Transportation became a significant challenge.
Residents found it hard to access essential services, such as healthcare, education and employment opportunities. The delivery of goods and supplies, including food and medical necessities, was severely impacted, leading to shortages and increased prices.
Communication with neighbouring communities was hampered, making it harder to coordinate relief efforts and share critical information.
In essence, the loss of the bridge had a cascading effect on the logistics of the community, underscoring the importance of infrastructure resilience and disaster preparedness.
NEW BRIDGE, NEW PROBLEMS
Late February saw better weather and things began to get back to normal. The estate management took about six months to build a new bridge over the Kuyoh River.
The return of this bridge was great news for all of us, especially those as we were once more connected to school, the town, the hospital and the world outside the estate.
However, the awful floods did leave behind big scars. The residents of the nearby village and a large pig farm were badly affected.
Damaged houses were reconstructed, and the pig farms were also reinstated, but they were built closer to the road, thus causing odour pollution.
The pugnacious stench would sometimes make you choke. We would cover our noses when passing by. At times, we would hear the pigs squealing to be fed.
The flood changed the landscape of our estate entrance. The bridge was new, so we could ride our bicycles more confidently on the bridge.
The tin mine operator ceased his operations. However, this caused another problem as people started dumping their waste in the abandoned pond.
This pond and its surrounding area were also identified as the new location for the incinerator project after Broga's and Puchong's failed attempts.
The 1971 flood still lingers in my mind. A missing bridge, a totally disconnected estate, a 360-degree change in diet, an unexpectedly long break from school, several days of shutdown at home — these could only make floods a milestone in the lives of all in the estate and nearby communities affected by them.