Purgatory

"I was in hell. I had to be."

I never knew what summer meant in Australia. Usually I arrive in Melbourne in mid February when summer is nearly over.

It was an especially long flight for me. Being hypersensitive to airc0n and also being sick, I barely slept through the flight. My sneezing marathons kept me awake and forced me to run to the toilet several times to grab more tissue. Cursing inwardly at the lack of non-aircon seats in the plane, I huddled beneath my blanket from head to toe (I had to ask for another one, my neighbour stole mine when I wasn't looking), and tried desperately to sleep.

With only 2 hours of sleep, jetlagged and hungry, I scrounged the airport for food while waiting for my bus. There was no food that I could eat. Weak and hypoglycaemic, I surrendered to my sinful desire for coke.

It was f****** hot when I arrived at SEF. With Mel, we moved everything from the lower flat to the new flat that we will be living in. It was nearly 40 degrees, dry and paralysing.

The next day was even more merciless. A top of 43 degrees, our flat was a sauna. Yet we went grocery shopping. With a trolley heaped with groceries, it was a heroic feat for me to carry that shit up two flights of stairs to our flat. Braving the cruel heat, we went out again later to get my boxes from summer storage.

Let me first say that I don't own a fan. And my flat has minimal ventilation.

The worst heat wave in sixty years was due to come the next day. It proved to be the hottest day in my entire life.

I woke up in sweat. Showered, only to sweat again. Dressed in appropriate attire I started to unpack and sort out my junk. The heat stress hit me when I was folding my clothes. I felt my head sway and grow heavy. It was so hot I could barely move.

I had been drinking water the whole day and popping ice cream. And I haven't been to the toilet once. Ice was running out. Cold water dried up ages ago. I trudged slowly to the lounge area. Mel was flat on the sofa, her fan that was our only salvation, was blowing hot air. But it was ventilation all the same.

I collapsed next to her in exhaustion. I had barely done any work but I felt like I was dying. Mel took one look at me, got a towel and dumped some ice in it. Covering my head with it, I fell asleep sitting down on the sofa.

It was only 1.30pm. The peak was yet to come.

Crippled by lack of sleep, illness, the heat and a bleeding nose that felt it could crack anytime, I pushed myself to pray zohor. In the few minutes I was in the telekong, I was perspiring so bad I was practically bathing in it.

The temperature was rising to 43 degrees and our flat was purgatory. I was in hell. I had to be.

It was time for desperate measures. Filling a tub with ice water, I began the ritual of bathing my head in ice water and wiping my neck and arms as I lay exhausted on the floor. Within minutes of freshly broken ice, the ice had disappeared and we had to resort to half-made ice cubes.

This ritual went on for the next five hours.

God has mercy. Later in the evening, the storm came. Gushes of cold wind desperate to replace the hot empty air rattled our windows pushing their way into our flat.

It lasted for two hours. Before it became still again.

Another 40 degrees day this Thursday. I am getting prepared. Ice, coke, cordial, cold watermelons and appropriate attire.

And I thought Singapore was hot.