My mother always got on my nerves when winter came around.
Every year she would say the same thing: “We must be flood-ready.”
As a teenager, I never understood why she took it so seriously. I thought she worried too much. I did not understand the fear behind her voice or the memories she carried every winter.
Then came the 2023 flood – one of the worst floods in Kramat’s history.
It was traumatic for so many families, but at that stage of my life, I still did not fully understand the emotional damage it caused. I saw flooded roads and damaged homes, but I did not yet understand trauma. Three years later, life changed me.
Through my own mental-health journey, I became more aware of people’s emotions – their fear, their anxiety and the silent battles they carry.
And when the 2026 floods arrived once again at Kramat’s doorstep on Monday 11 May, I saw everything differently.
This time, I did not only see water rising. I saw people breaking. My heart broke for every family affected.
At the house that always floods first, I saw a father completely defeated. Once again, he could do nothing to fully protect his children from the water entering their home. The helplessness in his eyes said more than words ever could.
Next door lived newlyweds. For the wife, this was her first flood experience. I could only imagine the fear and uncertainty she felt watching the place that was supposed to be her safe space slowly being threatened by water.
Then there was the older couple who had to leave their home behind. The husband stayed behind alone, sleeping in the kitchen to keep watch over what remained of their home and memories. That image stayed with me.
Then I came to another home carrying its own heartbreak. The father was in hospital while the flood stood at their door. Inside were his elderly mother, his wife and the children – all trying to stay strong while carrying double the trauma. Worrying about a loved one in hospital while fearing the flood around them.
That night changed me.
For the first time, I understood what my mother meant all those winters ago.
Floods are not only about water damage. They are about fear, trauma, helplessness and survival. The rain no longer sounds like just rain to the people of Kramat.
For many, it sounds like memories returning.
But in the middle of all the fear, I also saw something powerful: neighbours helping neighbours, people checking on one another through the night and a community refusing to let each other suffer alone.
Kramat is more than a place affected by floods. It is a community carrying pain, strength and resilience together.
Zuleigha Pretorius,
