Putting out fires with nappies

Prices are souring, and concern is all linked to water. Without
electricity water cannot be pumped into the tanks and taps that supply
water to the city. People are taking buckets to the local lakes to
empty them.

We are lucky to be able to use buckets to access a small water tank
beside our house. We estimate we can last for another two days –
before we run out. We lower plastic buckets down into the tank to
heave out our rations. When basic services end you are reminded
exactly where and how things really function. With no toilets our
garden has become a resource for all our bodily needs; it is not
pretty.

Every morning I take a bottle of our precious water out into the
backyard with me to attempt some form of shower. Yesterday my
housemates and I spent a good few hours attempting to burn our rubbish
in the midst of what was once a reasnobly manicured lawn. Our main
form of rubbish was the nappies of the two year old child we have
staying. As it turns out wet nappies are probably the ultimate
inflammable item. If you ever come across a burning building I would
thoroughly recommend heaping tons of soiled nappies on it to douse the
flames. So now a not so neat pile of nappies swelter in the heat of a
Yangon summer in the middle of our front lawn. We are in the poshest
part of Yangon and yet in amongst the recent destruction they are
hardly noticed. People have other things to worry about.

The two-year old child and her mother for example. They are our extra
house guests - here for a week long visit from Cambodia. The mother
had a flight booked to leave the day after the cyclone. But since
there are no flights she is caught here – already we are beginning to
mutter about how much water babies use. Of course telephoning the
child's father in Cambodia to let him know they are safe is out of the
question at present – there are no phone lines. We do not know how
long it will be before she can leave – and meanwhile, we are also all
running out of cash.

In the back of my mind I always imagined that it was at times like
these that Embassies came into their own – that is until I paid a
visit to the British one this afternoon. They were closed. Day four
after the worst natural disaster to hit the country in living memory –
and there's no one to re-assure or explain anything. Apparently there
is no operating phone line here or in the American Embassy. Apparently
the staff are like everyone in Yangon, concerned with fixing their own
homes first. I left a note on the door with my parents phone number
and email – it felt like the kind of thing one should do. Somewhere in
the back of our mind I wonder about families. What are they hearing
our there? Are they concerned? And there is a strange relief in
knowing that there is nothing very much that we can do right now.

Here everything is infused with rumour – it races round and spreads
and grows in colour and depth. Today people have been convinced that
another cyclone is coming. The cell phone networks have been sending
text messages today telling everyone to prepare.