I walked through a couple of meters of knee-high floodwaters the other day. Fortunately, I was wearing flip-flops (thick ones, thank goodness) and a short dress. I was scared for a while, but only because I was alone, it was way past midnight, and I remembered I'd scratched a scab somewhere on my right thigh and a word I hadn't thought of since college came to mind: leptospirosis. I waited for a group of people to wade ahead of me, comforting myself with the thought that if I fell into an open drain, they'd notice and get help. But they walked too fast, and when a couple of cars passed through the flood, causing some waves to come crashing at my legs, I panicked and stopped on higher ground, hoping another group would come for me to follow. I waited for a while, but nobody else came. When I checked the time, it was already close to 2 am. Some men pushing a stalled car called out to me and told me to walk right on ahead, the waters weren't deep. But they were too far