Sharing love in flood areas
On November 19, I still remember clearly after a night of almost staying up all night because of the flood, while I was sitting and recording the data on the rain damage, I suddenly received a call for help. The man 's voice on the other end seemed choked: "Sister! Are you the rescue team? I live in the old Nhon Binh area , my wife is in labor and the road to my house is flooded, my house is also flooded, I ca n't take my wife to the hospital, please save my wife and children . "
The call was like a drum beating loudly in my chest. I comforted him to stay calm and that I would immediately contact the local authorities and rescue forces .
Immediately after that, I called to report the situation of the pregnant woman to Mr. Tran Viet Quang, Chairman of Quy Nhon Dong Ward People's Committee , who was at that time commanding all forces of the ward government to participate in rescuing people in the area .
Mr. Quang said he would deploy forces immediately after the call, but the water is deep and flowing fast, and the soldiers have not been able to approach, so I continue to wait for news.
In the afternoon of the same day, the same phone number called me and luckily I was able to contact the rescue team of divers near that area to bring the pregnant woman to the hospital safely.
A story that seems very small but it is a typical example of the many difficult situations of Gia Lai people during storms and floods.
After just one night, the vast area had become a mirror reflecting the sky, a vast sea of water, heavy rain, howling winds, the roads to the villages were submerged in several meters of water. People were running back and forth, holding their children, carrying their mothers, herding cows, pulling carts… the sounds were chaotic, urgent, and full of anxiety.
Power outage, phone signal unstable, many families called the rescue team's number, some voices choked: “Hey, the water is in the house, can someone help me?” "I have an old mother who cannot walk!"
I pictured the panicked eyes, the bewildered faces, I no longer felt like a journalist, my instincts urged me to do something immediately.
Struggling in a jumble of thoughts, looking around where I was, seeing only water and water, a bold idea suddenly flashed through my mind: “must cook, must rush into the flooded area”. Immediately after that, I mobilized everyone, rolled up my sleeves and used all the available ingredients to cook a meal for my isolated “compatriots”.
Lunch boxes are cooked with available ingredients. When there are no vegetables in the rain, they may be as dry as bricks, but at this time, it is the most practical thing. The best thing to do is, out there, people need a hot lunch box and a warm bottle of water to get through the flood.
After finishing work, we continued to load things onto the truck and drove straight to the flooded area...
It was still raining, the wind was still blowing cold gusts, my colleague Nhat Tri and I were still running around, buying water and food for the people . The hand that used to hold a pen and type on the keyboard now switches to preparing fish, meat, stirring large pots of rice, and packing lunch boxes. Never in journalism have I felt so close to the people.
The rumbling sound of the rice cooker becomes the warmest sound in the rain and wind. Every time the pot lid is opened, the heat radiates, making numb hands feel revived. The white, sticky, hot rice - something that everyone is familiar with - becomes a real source of life in the floodwater.
I still remember, when the first hot lunch boxes were handed to the people who were standing huddled on the attic, many people burst into tears . An old lady over 70 years old hugged the lunch box to her chest like she was holding a treasure: “From morning until now, my whole family has not eaten a single grain of rice… Thank you very much…” At that time, everyone shouted out in happiness: “As long as we have strength, we can still help the people, uncle.”
Hearing those words , I was so choked up that I didn't realize I was shaking.
Three days in the flood zone - people's lives were in chaos, during the three days when the floodwaters were at their highest, I witnessed rescuers eating and sleeping right there, some on boats, some lying in the back of trucks, taking a nap wherever they could , their clothes soaked.
At mealtimes, there were only a few packs of noodles, sometimes leftover cold rice, but no one complained, because looking out at the vast water were roofs with only the tops visible, and flashlights flashing SOS from afar . During that time, they took turns on duty. Sometimes, after midnight, there was a distress call and the brothers would get up and rush off . That rescue team included soldiers, police, militia, and press brothers like Mr. Dung Nhan of the old Binh Dinh Radio Station, Mr. Manh Hieu of VTCNews, and many businesses and people in the province.
At that moment , I understood more about community power and "journalism with the people".
Carrying hope to return to the flooded area when the water recedes
On the fourth day, the sky cleared, the grey clouds gradually dispersed, weak rays of sunlight began to penetrate the mud-covered roofs, however the water had not yet receded, many areas could still only be reached by boat.
Receiving instructions from the editorial office, we immediately organized the second round of support . The car that day, instead of carrying rice and water, now carries rice, instant noodles, and new clothes collected from many places . Collect all assets from newly bought clothes that have not been worn yet ; from cash to money in personal account Even the gold rings I had saved for so long, without thinking much, I brought them all to provide emergency support to each especially disadvantaged household in areas heavily damaged by storms and floods.
We contacted the leaders of each locality, asking them to support the list of damaged households to hand out to the people, I carefully packed each piece of clothes, noodles and rice in original boxes and bags, cash in envelopes and handed them to the people. I still remember the trip with Ms. Hoang Ngoc To Nuong, Vice Chairman of Tuy Phuoc Tay Commune People's Committee, the road to the village was still muddy, there was a section where my car tilted to one side as if it was about to flip over.
The image that I remember most is a boy in grade 4, going to receive gifts on behalf of his parents in Canh Vinh commune . When he received the gift , he stood trembling in his thin body, his mouth mumbled : "Thank you teacher" . Holding him with a tight heart, I could only encourage him: “Try your best , don't drop out of school .” He just bowed his head and remained silent, the heartbreaking silence of a child who was still young but already had many worries.
Sharing with us, an 81-year-old mother living with her son who is disabled in both legs said : Although the house collapsed, thanks to the attention and support of local authorities, the mother and child are gradually stabilizing their lives.
Once again the moment he hugged me and thanked me profusely, the eyes and smiles after the storm and flood were so precious, I could only try to keep smiling, so as not to make the people more emotional.
No one can forget the hours of fighting against the floodwaters that threatened to flood the door, and even more so the feeling of emptiness when opening the door to look back at what was left after the storm. However, the timely presence of groups and individuals like us, whether material or spiritual, brought a warm support, helping people to firmly overcome the difficult period after the storm.
Through this storm and flood, I appreciate life even more, appreciate even more the journalism profession where I can write to help people and write with my heart, not just with a pen .
The past time of working was different from any trip I have ever experienced, it was not just recording data, interviewing witnesses or analyzing damage, it was sleepless nights, the sound of children crying in the rain, a pot of hot rice in the cold wind, a hand holding a hand in the rushing water, the sharing, empathy, and responsibility of a journalist to the community, and most of all, it left me with a great lesson: Journalism is not just about reporting news, but about being present where people need it most .
Sometimes , a hot meal delivered to your door is more important than a front-page article . And then when I left, I understood that: In the midst of the vast flood waters, what saved people was not only relief packages…but also the warmth of human love – from the pots of rice that we were happy to contribute a small part of.
Source: https://baophapluat.vn/viet-bang-trai-tim-giua-nhung-ngay-lu-du-gia-lai.html
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