A tragic incident unfolded in the heart of Bangkok when a powerful earthquake led to the collapse of the State Audit Office building on March 28. Among the survivors is 30-year-old Phiraphon Mowiang, an electrician from Khon Kaen, who narrowly escaped death.
“My supervisors are a kind-hearted married couple from my village,” he recounted. They had brought him to work in Bangkok, and he was part of a team of five.
“That afternoon, my employer asked me to fetch a water container from the ground floor and bring it up to the 27th floor where we were working,” he remembered.
It was a routine task during his workday. He went down with the supervisor’s daughter, Araya Kaenmuang, and just as they reached the ground floor, the earth shook violently.
“I heard a loud crack of concrete,” Mr. Phiraphon said, his voice still shaking from the memory.
“Before I could react, the entire building started shaking. The walls cracked, and the horrifying sounds of screams filled the air. It felt as if the world were collapsing around us.”
Amidst the swirling dust and debris, Mr. Phiraphon and Ms. Araya managed to escape. They ran toward a nearby fence to find safety, battling through the dense dust that made breathing difficult. Despite the chaos, Mr. Phiraphon emerged alive.
The building collapse tragically claimed the lives of 15 individuals, with dozens more still unaccounted for.
His supervisors, Damrong Phonglunhit and Ornuma Kaenmuang, were also affected. Ornuma’s body was recovered from the rubble on Tuesday and taken back to Chum Phae for a funeral on Friday. Damrong is still missing, along with their son-in-law, Jetsada “Fas” Sonchai, 21, who was also working on the 27th floor.
Back in Khon Kaen, Phiraphon’s parents anxiously awaited news of their son. His father, Mr. Seng, and mother, Ms. Phawana, who have only one child, were deeply worried about his safety. After hearing about the earthquake and the building’s collapse, they tried to contact Phiraphon, but for three agonizing days, there was no response.
Each night, Ms. Phawana prayed earnestly, vowing to the sacred spirits that if her son survived, she would have him ordained as a monk for seven days as an act of gratitude. “I prayed every night, my hands folded in hope,” she said. “Then, after three days, I received the call. My son was alive.”
When Phiraphon called home, his mother was flooded with relief, believing her prayers had been answered.
A somber mood filled the air at Pho That temple in Chum Phae district during Ornuma’s funeral on Friday. In a heartfelt tribute to her memory, Mr. Phiraphon decided to be ordained as a monk, dedicating his prayers for her soul as a fulfillment of his mother’s vow.
The other survivor, 22-year-old Araya Kaenmuang, who is Ornuma’s daughter, also recalled her experience. She worked alongside her parents managing the building’s electrical system on the 27th floor.
“My mother asked me to retrieve some equipment from the ground floor. Once I reached the ground, I felt the building sway. I initially thought it was a typical occurrence, but then I heard two loud cracks as the building trembled. I ran outside and tried to call my mom.”
Unfortunately, she was unable to reach her parents before the collapse. Despite the uncertainty, she holds on to hope, praying for the survival of her loved ones beneath the rubble.
The anguish of loss extends beyond Phiraphon and Araya’s families. Chai Laopeng, 70, from a nearby village, is desperately waiting for news of his son, Kwanchai, who was also working in the building during the disaster.
“My son is a hardworking man,” Mr. Chai said. “He’s the provider for our family, and I refuse to lose hope. If the gods will it, he will return to us.”
For all those affected, the emotional burden has been immense. Many had been looking forward to reunions, weddings, and family celebrations planned for the upcoming Songkran holiday, only to have their hopes shattered in an instant.
Yet, amid the devastation, there remains a shared belief in miracles—the hope that their loved ones might still be alive, trapped but not yet lost.
