KUALA KRAI, Jan 5 — The RM17 million new bridge connecting Kg Manek Urai Baru and Kg Manek Urai Lama was clogged with cars over the weekend, causing many to just abandon their vehicles and walk the the whole 200 metres across.

The actual line of cars, however, was stretched much longer — close to 4 km —  starting from Kg Manek Urai Baru and snaking through the narrow lanes of Kg Manek Urai Lama.

Villagers resorted to erecting makeshift roadblocks to facilitate one-way routes.

Most of the vehicles comprised bulky four-wheel drives or pickup trucks. Every few metres, hands holding smartphones would shoot out of the windows, followed by sounds of of clicking.

The visitors would say they were flood relief volunteers. But the villagers had another less-charitable name for them: “tourists.”

“This has been going on for three days,” sighed a pensioner who wanted to be known only as Abang Man, who was clad in baju Melayu, sarong, and a white kopiah on his head.

On the afternoon when we visited, the 55-year-old pensioner was playing volunteer traffic co-ordinator to ensure a smooth two-way traffic flow across the bridge.

“There are really that many of them. There are hundreds of them. You can just take a look on every street, they would be around,” Abang Man told Malay Mail Online, referring to the “tourists”.

A scene of devastation surrounds Manek Urai in Kelantan, January 4, 2015 after the recent floods. — Pix by Yusof Mat Isa

It was easy to see why many had flocked to the two villages. Separated by the Lebir River, they were among the worst hit areas in Kuala Krai when the floods hit recently, with Kg Manek Urai Lama in ruins.

Walking through Kg Manek Urai Lama was like traversing a warzone. Every other wooden house with zinc roof was flattened, their debris now stoking huge woodfires in the middle of the dirt lanes.

The whole landscape was brown: either from thick mud with a foul stench of the river, or from the dust that seemed to have blanketed everything, causing experienced flood relief workers to don face masks.

With nowhere to stay, most locals took shelter under liveable ruins. As relief trucks distributing aid made their stops, some rushed over choosing what they needed, and swapping what they did not with other victims.

Every few hundred metres along the dirt lanes, soiled belongings were discarded in heaps — here a school uniform with name tag already sewed on, there a dirty teddy bear —  mixed with the rotten stink of animal carcasses.

A signpost points the direction to Manek Urai.

Around 15 minutes walk from the bridge is the Manek Urai train stop, a popular spot for the “tourists.” With all intercity and express trains between Pahang and Tumpat, Kelantan halted, some of the locals also spent their time taking evening strolls along the railway tracks.

Another popular photography spot was in front of of the white concrete sign that marks the stop — with black “Manek Urai” letterings —  where a zinc roof had crashed on top. More intrepid “tourists” would head to the rail bridge over the Lebir River some 500 metres away, where debris and tree trunks were stuck in the middle.

“All this traffic jam was actually caused by people coming in here to take photos. Pity, they are obstructing those who are trying to clean this place up,” said a local called Kamal, 39, who had lived in Kg Manek Urai Baru all his life.

“Yes, some of them might be from NGOs, but most of them are only here to distribute supplies. As for helping with the cleaning? Too few to mention,” he added.

Still, you could see volunteers such as the 44-strong team from Klang-based property developer MSN Development Sdn Bhd hard at work.

Cleaning up after the floods.

Arriving after a long drive from Kuala Lumpur just that morning, the team made up of staff members, its consultants and subcontractors had already established a RM11,000 operation —  funded by donations —  to clean up Kg Manek Urai Lama’s mosque.

Its volunteers, all wearing fluorescent green vests and rubber boots, were systemically scooping thick mud off the mosque’s floor, loading it up in wheelbarrows, before dumping it outside.

A few metres up the road, five others in similar garb were trying to start up a gasoline generator to pump water from a water reservoir left from the floods, towards the mosque to help ease the cleaning.

“We got information from one of the locals here before arriving, so we were prepared for our operations,” said firm manager Masnawi Ariffin, who at first had been reluctant to be interviewed, claiming he did not wish to have any publicity.

“We haven’t even planned where to sleep tonight… All we had planned was to get this mosque clean enough for people to pray in,” the 44-year-old added, grinning.