Where are we Going?

I’m Singaporean. Yes a true blue Singaporean. I was born and bred here. I’ve stood in school assemblies and sung the National Anthem and recited the Pledge with pride. I’ve been a part of and supported many National Campaigns – anti litter, Courtesy, etc – to create a socially conscious Singapore. I gave 2 ½ years of my life to National Service and then another 6 as a regular in the Air Force. I shed tears of pride at National Days and even took part in 3 during my teenage years. I love my char kway teow, tahu goreng and my thosai. I speak Singlish, English, Malay, Tamil and I can understand some Hokkien, Mandarin and Teochew. And there are many others like me.

Over the years we’ve become well know for our cleanliness, orderliness, personal safety, our nationalistic fervour, our food, and even Singlish. And it’s sad because I’m beginning to see all of these things that I identify with, begin to disappear with the influx of ‘New Singaporeans’.

I used to be able to go to any Chinese food stall and by using English, Malay or the miniscule Teochew, that I can utter, order my food and get what I ordered. I left as a happy customer.

Recently though, it’s become very frustrating. The person taking my order does not speak English, Malay or even the dialect that I’ve always been using. This has happened even at drink stalls. And you know what, more and more I’m beginning to feel alienated in my own country.

More and more I have to dodge phlegm on the sidewalks. I’ve seen milk cartons, cans and Styrofoam containers being thrown indiscriminately onto the sidewalks; lightning conductors are being stolen, there are some streets here that I dare not wander into at night in anymore; our homes have become expensive again, and when I travel own Geylang at any time of the day, I wonder about the genre of people who are actually being allowed here – what’s happening to us?

I was in the train the Aljunied Station other day when a Chinese woman wearing high heels and short skirt boarded the same train. Two guys commented in Malay; this is what they said, “ Agak mereka salah baca la. Dia letak ‘Pelachur’ dalam pasport, tapi immegresen baca, ‘Pelanchong’. Translated it means, “I guess they misread. She must have stated her occupation as ‘Prostitute’, the Immigration read it as Tourist. In Malay it sounds very funny really. The truth is not.

We seem so eager to boost our population and workforce, that we’re ignoring the things that have kept us being Singaporeans. Worse, I’m beginning to feel that Singaporeans are being ignored.

The recent fiasco with the imported sportsmen and women should be used as a case study. Is this the general mindset of all the naturalised foreigners living here? When push comes to shove, who’ll really stand by this country? The ones who’ve been given subsidies, incentives and privileges, to come live here, to make up the numbers; who I feel is here for only a short time using my country as a launching pad to some greener pastures; or the ones who’ve only known one country, who love it and is able, with integrity and pride, call this My Country, My City, My Home?

And lately I beginning to feel more at home in KL than here, at least I can order my duck rice from a loud Cantonese aunty, in Malay, and get what I ordered for and feel happy again.

Friends

I met up with Tim and his girlfriend, June this evening. It was suppose to have been to confirm an insurance policy I’m working out for June. Yeah we did cover the plan (with very ‘broad strokes’) as we downed a couple of beers. And as the evening went on, Tim began recounting the time he and I trekked the Annapurnas, and we began telling stories of our experiences there.

In the midst of it I realised how lucky I’ve been and am – to have friends. Maybe it’s age or maturity or maybe there comes a time in life when we begin to realise what the really important things are.

I’ve some very dear friends all of whom have taught me valuable lessons. I’ve learnt about compassion, responsibility, love, sadness, class, style, humility, doggedness, letting go, truthfulness, forgiveness, peace…every one of life’s lessons. It’s very beautiful, our friendship. You see we don’t ‘hang out’; neither do we do the buddy thing often.

Instead we weave in and out of each others lives; it almost like we were travelling on different roads that once ever so often would begin to run parallel and merge for a while; and then veer off in different directions, only to meet again in time. And when we meet, it’s as if we’ve never parted in the first place.

A few weeks ago, I met up with my cousin Anand, his brother-in-law, Rag, and another friend, Kumar; the sharing that went on in that one session brought me so much joy, and healing. The experiences each of us had been trough, the though times and good times, the issues we’ve had with our parents and siblings, the experiences with the women in our lives (oh I mentioned the though times, already?) – I felt so alive and so grateful to be alive.

I’m so happy to be me and so grateful to have these people in my life. It’s a beautiful Universe; I’ve got beautiful friends.