The Kindness of Singaporeans

"Singaporeans have a soft core ... you just have to look harder." Duke

There has been a lot written lately about how ungracious, uncaring and selfish Singaporeans generally are and frankly, it is nothing new and I am well sick of it. It is so sad that we have such poor self-esteem as Singaporeans but what makes it worse is when foreigners join in and slam the country as well. To be brutally honest, feedback is great but if things are so bad, then please, please go back to where you came from.

It is vitally important that I make it clear at this point that I am NOT a narrow-minded xenophobe. A good number of my students are foreigners and I am thankful for them as they add colour and variety to lessons; some of the students I am closest to are foreigners; I play soccer every Tuesday with foreigners, many of whom I consider friends and vice versa; I am on a floorball team with a number of foreigners whom I also count as friends; some of my best friends in church are also from outside these shores. I am well aware that I also come from a line of immigrants. However, the fact remains - It is never polite to insult the host when you are a guest. If it is really so bad here, then no one is forcing you to stay.

I digress. Today, I experienced first-hand the soft core of Singaporeans on the street and have come to the conclusion that a lot of what has been written is grossly exaggerated.

Earlier this evening, I was on my way to pick up dinner and birthday cards for my students. Before I could do so, I had to withdraw some money from the ATM. There was a short queue of three others before me. As the first person went ahead to withdraw his cash, he dropped one of his two ATM cards on the floor. The moment we realised what was happening, the portly gentleman in front of me and I both spoke up to inform the owner that his card was on the ground. That reminded me of an incident a month ago when I dropped a letter on the floor at a neighbourhood food court and the cleaner immediately called for me to turn around, so I knew that the ATM incident was not a random occurance. So much for the uncaring, selfish Singaporean.

After completing my transaction at the ATM, I went to the bookshop a few blocks away to pick up the birthday cards. At that moment, I realised that I had left my watch and my handphone at home. As I wanted to rush home in time to catch Sports Centre on the tube, I stopped and asked two strangers on the road for the time. Both obliged, and with a polite nod or smile after I thanked them. So much for the rude, unresponsive Singaporean. For good measure, I stopped a third stranger on my way back just to confirm my findings (reliable test, Science people!) and received the same response.

Admittedly, there are a number of bad apples which have spoiled the basket, but are we simply too hard on ourselves? Are we simply blindly believing that the grass, somehow, is greener on the other side? Well, I have two really bad overseas experiences to recount and maybe, after that, you will see that a lack of graciousness and concern is not exclusively a Singaporean trait.

After completing our military exercises in Australia, ironically the retirement destination of choice for many Singaporeans because of its friendly climate and friendly people, a group of us were out on the town having fun. Without warning, a car sped by and a group of Australian adults (not youths) threw eggs at us while shouting, "Chinks!" They were obviously racist and obnoxious and apparently, according to my seniors, such people are not uncommon in that area. I daresay that no foreigner has experienced such blatant insult and abuse on these shores.

Next, on my trip to Zurich for the Floorball World Championships, I was again out on the town during out rest days with my team-mates and one of them was an Indian gentle giant. At one point, we were obviously and had to ask for directions. Strangely, whenever my Indian friend approached anyone, they would ignore him and walk away. I did not receive the same treatment. Later, I found out from a Swiss friend that the biased treatment was due to a recent influx of a large number of migrant workers from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh and they were looked down upon and distrusted. Thus, even in one of the most beautiful and modern countries in the world, a lack of common respect and decency is alive and well too.

It seems to me that Singaporeans are not devoid of care or concern; rather, they are more reserved and less open in showing it. We are still a conservative Asian society that remains reticent and less prone to showing feeling or affection openly. Nonetheless, I think what is most important is for us to move beyond whining and complaining about other Singaporeans and do something about it. No country in the world is immune to bad manners or shameful behaviour; the key is to make sure we are not part of those guilty of these actions. As we complain about Ugly Singaporeans, we should make sure that we are not Ugly Singaporeans too.

Now, I wonder how many of those people who have spent so much time complaining have spent time ensuring, as best they can, that others are not complaining about them too?

X-traordinary People

"There is no such thing as an ordinary person." Ozymandias (Watchmen)

I caught Wolverine over the long weekend and, well, I loved it. Loved it so much that I will probably catch it a second time.

Ok, admittedly, the film-makers did take certain liberties over some of the characters and how they were portrayed but I have never been a big fan of Deadpool anyway.

It was really fun seeing how the special effects people managed to bring to life some of the mutant abilities of the various characters and, for want of a better word, it was really cool. (I think I am still young enough to use that word.)

In terms of storyline and plot, it was nothing spectacular and there were plot-holes here and there, but why nit-pick? It was an enjoyable movie which was able to sustain interest because it had a good pace and never felt draggy. In fact, I felt that certain scenes could have been longer.

Since I could remember, I have always loved comic books and the superheroes and villains who inhabit the world of ink and bright colours on the printed page. I still have a huge box of comics from the good old days in my room. Occasionally, I still venture into that time-worn box and pick out a few classics and re-live the adventures and thrills of the heroes featured within.

What is the attraction of superheroes anyway? Well, I think we love these characters because of their special abilities. We think these abilities make them special and extraordinary. By extension, we also believe that we would also become special if we possess these abilities and gifts. We long to be as agile and quick as Spiderman, as strong and powerful as the Thing or as courageous and determined as Wolverine.

Yet the biggest lie that we have all bought into is that we are just mere human beings and totally ordinary because we lack these gifts and talents.

I have come to realise that all of us are special because there is only one of each of us. To put it more spectacularly, God broke the mould after He made each one of us. We are all different and totally unique, with different personalities, sets of abilities and talents and traits. If we look at it that way, then we are all, each and every one of us, extraordinary.

The problem is that we spend far too much time looking at what we do not have that others do (looks, musical talent, athletic gifts, intellectual prowess, etc) than appreciating what we have that others do not. That is why we spend so much time trying to be other people and someone else and too little time just being ourselves.

However, the biggest question is - If you spend so much time trying to be someone else, then who is going to be you?

Sure, it would really be cool to have some of the mutant abilities of the mutants in the Marvel Universe. Personally, I would love to have the ability to generate a forcefield around me at will, making me practically invulnerable.

But do we really need mutant abilities or superpowers to be extraordinary? I hope you see now, as I do, that the answer is really no.

The other thing we love about heroes like Wolverine and Gambit is what they choose to do with their powers. They do noble things like protecting the weak, standing up for what is right and staring evil in the face.

However, do we really need super powers to do all these things? Can we not do good with what we already have?

How about giving our time to help the needy? Helping struggling students/friends with their work? Reporting a crime/unlawful activity when we witness it? Going overseas to help build houses for the poor?

We have, built within us, the God-given and inspired capacity to do good and all we need are the opportunities and the desire and willingness to step out of the comfort zone. That is why I believe in the power, impact and meaning of involving my students in community outreach programmes or charitable causes. Once they see what they can do, they will want to do it again.

So, do we need to be super-powered beings to do good? Again, the answer is no and the truth lies with our correct and accurate perception of who we truly are and what we can truly accomplish.

As we grow older, we become more comfortable with who we are and what we have. That is when we find our place in God's scheme of things and grow to be who we should be. That is when we realise we are already extraordinary.

Having mutant abilities and super powers would merely be a bonus.

What will you defend?

"What you will defend, you will fight for, and what you will fight for, is what truly matters." Duke



Yesterday, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, while having floorball training, I was asked to go back to camp. Yes, recalled and activated.

Did I like it? Well, to be honest, not one bit. Would I have chosen to go back if I did not have to? Probably not. Did I enjoy the experience? Again, to be 100% truthful, no.

It was a very hot afternoon and having to walk long stretches under the sun with a full pack and another bag containing my other accessories was not my idea of an ideal Saturday afternoon relaxation activity. I was drenched in perspiration and the side of my dusty boot cut into my left ankle bone, leaving a bruise. As I said, not my idea of a fun Saturday afternoon.

However, as I thought about it on the long taxi ride back home, I realised and understood that, for all the inconvenience and discomfort, it all made perfect sense.

There is something about putting on the uniform and I felt it while getting ready to report back to camp. As I saw myself in the mirror in camouflage, I felt a flush of pride and a slow trickling down of comfort.

I saw in that image in the mirror what it means to be a citizen. I felt proud that I have been entrusted with the privilege of standing up for something, of being a member of a community that is my home, of being a child of the very land on which I have been born and brought up. I felt Singaporean.

What brought me comfort was the fact that there are many others doing the same thing I was doing at the moment, or had done, or would be doing. We had, for that moment in time, forgotten about our individual stories, our distinct destinies, our diverging lives and our uncommon realities. For that one moment, when we were in camouflage, we were all the same and all standing as one.

That's why I greeted each other person I saw making that long walk into camp with a respectful nod and a sweaty smile. I may not know him, but we knew we were brothers.

If and when the situation does call for it, the person I exchanged glances with for a few seconds might well be the person I go into battle with, the person I might share my last living moments with, the person I might have to entrust my life with. That is why I consider him my brother and vice versa.

As the taxi made its way back east through the ordered lanes on the expressway, I looked at all the faces in the cars passing by or that were passed by. I understood then that going back to camp was an inconvenience that should not only be endured, but celebrated.

It is a reminder that we are doing all we can to make sure that, when the moment calls for it, each face that I saw in those cars on the expressway will have a guardian standing between them and whatever adversary or enemy that might be facing us down.

We fight for what we are willing to defend and what we are willing defend is what truly matters to us. At that moment, I knew what I would fight for those faces in those cars.

Suddenly, all the inconvenience and hassle seemed worthwhile, after all.

Passion is not a crime

"Passion is braving 35 degree heat to do what you love." Duke

Yesterday, I had my second game with the Discovery team.

Lest you think that this posting is about soccer again, let me assure you that it is not, so stick around.

When the match kicked off at three plus yesterday, the thermometer in a friend's car read 35 degrees. It was hot, red hot, white hot, hot. It was so hot that you could see water evaporating, heat waves emanating from the ground, the exposed skin on your body drying up and the grass wilting. It was HOT. Halfway through the first half, my team (mostly made up of guys older than me) was walking around like zombies who had been rejected by the Zombie Association. They were on the pitch physically but they were reduced to walking pace or even stationary mode.

As a goalkeeper, you know it's going to be a bad day when your defenders can only look at you hopefully whenever the attackers charged towards the goal. Three-quarters through the match, I began hallucinating and I began pacing up and down, talking to myself to keep myself rooted in reality. It was HOT.

What's the point, you may ask?

Well, besides the fact that it was HOT, I want to highlight the one thing that kept 26 lobster-red, heavy-breathing, deep-panting men (we had rolling substitutions, which meant that someone would be substituted every five minutes) on the field on an unbearably hot day. That thing is passion.

All of us were passionate about the game and we surely showed it yesterday. That's the power of passion I guess - it is more than pain, difficulties, obstacles and hardships. It keeps one going despite the odds; against all odds, in fact. It's what kept Sir Edmund Hillary on Mount Everest when others gave up. It's what has pushed Paolo Maldini to stay on the field past his 39th birthday. It's what compelled twelve lowly men to stare persecution and death to pass on the Good News to the ends of the earth. The list goes on. It's what has propelled men across the ages to push past the boundaries of impossibility and march into the fields of reality.

That's the beauty of passion, I guess. It is the unshakeable belief that something is worth doing; the undying love for a pursuit or endeavour; the forerunner of the most satisfying enjoyment that is derived from doing what one loves to do.

Passion is not a crime, although I felt that it should be after the final whistle went during my match yesterday. As I lay slumped on the ground, my legs aching, my head throbbing, my body drying up, I really questioned my own sanity. Why in the world did I put myself through that?

And then, the answer came to me, clear as day - passion.

Come on, you Spurs!

"Double the fun, double the Hammers!" Duke

There's gotta be more to life

"Hell is waking up and dreading the day ahead." Duke

I've posted a random picture of my church youths, friends and I at a camp sometime back but the point was to emphasise the fact that life is full of colour, full of people, full of craziness and full of smiles.

Well, at least that's what it is to me.

However, there are many, many people out there who feel that life is dark, bleak, painful and overflowing with sadness. And that's hell.

Yesterday, after floorball training, I had the chance to catch up with one of my team-mates, a post-graduate student at NTU. He is Indonesian and he so happens to be at the EEE faculty that has been in the news lately so I asked him whether he knew that student who attacked his professor before killing himself a few months back.

Well, he did not but it really got me thinking about life and what it means to be alive.

I realised that there are people out here who wake up one morning and realise that their life has become meaningless and that they have reached the end of their tether, that they cannot bear or dare to live on. I guess that is why people start randomly killing others around them, in their schools and neighbourhoods, before killing themselves.

To me, the most troubling aspect of this recent spate of cases in the news is that all these killers have tended to be very young and seemingly with their whole lives ahead of them. It must have taken a really huge blow or a massive series of blows to have made these young men (many of whom are students of one kind or another) feel that they have nothing else to live for and they want to go out, literally, with a dreadful bang.

I understand that it is so much harder to be a student these days. All kinds of commitments, distractions and priorities cry out for their attention these days and the pressure that must build up as a result of constant emphasis on achievement must feel horrible. Thus, there is a need to see things from the right perspective.

Yes, there are so many more demands on students and young people these days, but with these demands, also come great opportunities. I feel no shame to admit that young people these days are so much more capable and intelligent these days than my generation was, but surely that is a result of greater exposure and higher expectations.

At the same time, life is more than just studies and school. This is merely a phase of one's life and, while almost everyone will look back with a smile in the future, young people just need to realise that they will live through this and move on to other things in their lives. The key is just to knuckle down, do their best and try their hardest. That is all that anyone and everyone can ask of them. The second key is to always look to their God-given abilities and believe that they can make something of themselves and make good in their lives, especially when things are not looking too good.

Hope enables you to go through the worst things while hopelessness pushes you to do those things. Life should be filled with hope for, as Nature shows us, even the worst of storms and earthquakes come to an end. We just need to make sure we are there to make a fresh start once the winds die down, the rain ceases, the ground stops trembling and the air is still again.

Life is full of colour, full of people, full of craziness and full of smiles. I would not have it any other way.

Two Four-letter Words that Mean the WORLD

What Good Friday means to me ...

LOVE

What Easter Sunday is to me ...

HOPE

Eyes wide open,

Heart flowing over,

Mouth filling with praise,

Life bubbling with purpose,

All because of what You've done.