'Singapore' literally means 'Lion City'. I've often wondered why it was called that and imagined the conversation between its founding Sultan and his Admiral as they surveyed the island from sea:
--"I say! Admiral! I saw a lion on that island!"
--"Don't be silly. There are no lions in South-East Asia."
-(Menacingly)-"Ahem. I said: I saw a LI-ON on that island."
-(Nervously)-". Oh, LION, did you say? Ya, tuan. Got plenty lion there, hor.
They, uh, sleep there."
To most people I speak with, Singapore is the two-day transit lounge of cleanliness: "So clean!" "So tidy!" "No chewing gum!" But to me it means thin facades of green, feebly veiling what is in reality a dense concrete jungle made up of HDB blocks, with bold signs proudly proclaiming upgraded flats. But at least there's some greenery.
--"It's all landscaped." Observed Teng, my University friend who, in spite of what I did to his toilet in North Adelaide, let me stay at his house in Kuala Lumpur ("KL"). It's true. Construction in Singapore is voraciously devouring space, but at least it's well planned and well tended.
In contrast, KL is a mess, with blotches of untouched jungle surrounding housing estates and gargantuan shopping malls. Teng took me on a food extravaganza which meant huge portions of curry, exotic Chinese food, durian products, and pizza. Chicken Tikka mixed with San Francisco Coffee and German beer as we watched Arsenal trounce Tottenham on Astro Cable TV. I guess KL has joined Singapore in the ranks of fully-globalised metropolises.
Apart from the cities, I noticed two other big differences between Singapore and Malaysia:
Firstly, everything in Malaysia is cheaper than in Singapore. Food, transport, and clothes can all be bought for ridiculously low prices when converted into the Singaporean or Australian dollar. Pirated DVDs sell at Sungei Wang Centre in KL for RM$10 (AUD$5), but I'm glad I didn't have any on me when Singapore Customs gave me a good working over at the Tuas causeway. It seems the Singapore government knows about the cheap prices in Malaysia too.
Secondly, the ethnic makeup of Singapore is nearly 90% Chinese, compared to Malaysia where the Chinese form a dwindling 20% minority.
It's not surprising, then, that the Malaysian Chinese appear paranoid about a government that actively discriminates in favour of 'Bumiputra' Islamic Malays. They derive mirth from swapping conspiracy theories about the openly racist government policies, especially ones that backfire.
--"Malacca rebuilding laws take land away from the Chinese because the
Malays cannot afford seafront properties."
--"The Government allows Bumiputra interest free loans when buying shares,
which only makes them lazy when it comes to assessing risks."
--"The Government are importing Indonesians to try and boost the Malay
population. But the Indonesians that come in are Sunni [extremist] Muslims,
and turn out to be agitators."
--"They made Bahasa Malay compulsory in schools, and for a few years the
Chinese students suffered. But now the Chinese are scoring better than the
Malays in their own language."
Singaporeans, on the other hand, are more trusting of their government. They believe in the government like an eight year old believes in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus: no matter the discomfort of losing a piece of you, at least you'll get money. If you're especially good (remember: Santa sees everything) he'll take care of you with a hefty annual bonus. Heaven help you if you get a lump of coal in your stocking, your hands are stained forever. It doesn't matter that Santa invades your life. The sins of a big brother can be forgiven as long as he appears to put food on the table.
--"Is Singapore still in recession?" I asked an acquaintance.
--"The Senior Minister officially said we were in recession last year."
--"Before that?"
--"Things have been quite bad for some time, hor."
--"Ever since the [1997] currency crisis?"
--"Yah lah, but our dollar is strong. And the Gahmen says that's good,
what."
--"If there's a recession, shouldn't the government let the dollar weaken to
encourage investment?"
--"Aiyah. Don't know, lah. Why you so cheem, ah you?" And that was the end
of the conversation. To be called 'cheem', or 'deep', carries the same slur,
without the menace, as being called an 'intellectual' in Pol Pot's Cambodia.
Those who think too much are apparently not working hard enough.
Malaysians are especially suspicious of the Singapore Government. Lee Kuan Yew's impressive string of achievements turning Singapore from a backwater trading port to a regional power has cultivated the belief that the Singapore Government is capable of anything. Some bizarre urban legends about Singapore's ruling Sultans are doing the rounds in Malaysia:
--"The Singapore government is perfecting a way of taking water from
humidity. Water out of air!"
--"The Singapore government has bought a huge piece of land in Queensland,
Australia, where they can relocate the entire population of Singapore in an
emergency!"
They forget that the Singapore Government is made up of the same people who attempted to breed a nation of superbrains by forming a government body (the 'SDU - Social Development Unit, or 'Single-Desperate-Ugly') to matchmake [often dysfunctional] university graduates. This is the same government that causes local TV shows to be pulled because the language in them is too 'local'. The government is also responsible for the utterly confusing public bus system: a morass of numbers and destinations, for which no maps seem to be available. (You certainly won't find them in the Transit Guide book.)
Taxis are cheap in Singapore and rip-offs uncommon, but public transport is the most cost effective means of transport in Singapore. No place is far away from a bus stop or MRT station, and buses and trains come frequently. Their convenience is offset only by the complicated bus routes and unfathomable fare pricing.
Having said that, Singapore has the best public transport system in a region where cities tend to have none at all. A good bet is to buy an 'ezi-link' card and a bus guide, as the tourist tickets aren't worth it. If there is no direct bus route from your stop to your destination, structure your transfers thus: Bus - MRT Station - MRT Station - Bus. There probably is a method that only requires one Bus - Bus transfer, but you won't have time to learn what it is. The bus system was designed for citizens who are likely to travel frequently to fixed destinations, rather than tourists who will probably never make the same trip twice.
I took the Bus and MRT everywhere. At one end of the island I visited the Changi POW Memorial, and the most moving chapel I'd seen in my journey. The neighbouring museum chronicled the Japanese Occupation and there, among solemn recollections of hardship, I was sickened to find some exhibits twisted into propaganda. In the heart of suburbia, I gorged myself at the hawker centres that bustle alongside MRT stations like Bedok and Eunos.
All that Kueh Tiao (noodles) and Chendol (dessert) meant that I had to take long walks in between stuffing my face. Walking in Singapore is best done at night, when it's still humid but not as hot. I walked alone one night to my family's old estate in Highland Road. It was reputed to be haunted, with my father and aunty adamant that they'd seen the ghost. The half-completed shell of an apartment block stagnated on the property. Rumour has it that even though exorcists were called in, bad luck kept befalling the construction companies, who eventually went bankrupt. Tall palm trees blocked the streetlights, and the dogs on the other side of the road stopped barking after I stepped to the fence. It was as if I'd vanished from the world. My new-age attempts to 'send out love' were met with the sound of a bell ringing barely two feet away from my right ear. I ran back to my place in Serangoon Gardens, proving not only that light-speed is attainable, but that it can also be reached on foot.
The nearest bus terminal to Serangoon Gardens was Serangoon Central, and that's where I found out that the public transport system was switching to a new, higher-tech system. People were lining up at bus terminals all over the country to get their ezi-link cards, even though full cutover was still months away, to take advantage of a $3 discount in the card deposit.
Life in Singapore is all about the discounts and bonuses. Ten cents here, forty cents there, spend more to save. Give 5% more get 10% extra, it all adds up. Singaporeans are described as 'Kia-Su' [Hokkien: Fear of losing], but I believe it goes deeper than that. Singaporeans see a universal balance and order in the universe, all tied together by the Singapore dollar. A cent astray either side in any transaction and the delicate harmony is disturbed.
Such is their faith in the dollar that Singaporeans believe your entire worth can be measured in currency. Being far too polite to ask right away for your bank statement or last year's tax return, they ask questions that seem like small talk, immediately cross referencing your responses with their huge mental database of rates and prices until they have a rough dollar-figure.
--"Do you come to Singapore often?"
--"About twice every three years. Last time for my cousin's wedding." [2 x
Return airfare = $1700]
--"How many guests were there at your cousin's wedding?"
--"Dunno. Maybe 100 tables. [100 tables x 10 people x $100 Ang Pow money =
$100000]
--"Where was it held?"
--"Ritz-Carlton." [(10 dishes x 1000 people) + Hotel hire .]
These mini-examinations are used to 'stream' you in the same way that children are segregated in primary school. A few simple questions allow you to be efficiently classed. Rich kid, Poor kid, Smart kid, Dumb kid. Old money, New money, No money.
Unsurprisingly, many children turn out ultra-competitive and obsessed with class distinction, to the exclusion of everything else. The school system does nothing to iron out the personality flaws that accompany this rapid sorting.
Alas, I am living proof of this. My own flaws were revisited when I found my old nursemaid, Ah Nui Cheah. Yes, we finally tracked her down to a little flat in Bukit Merah View. It had been twenty years, but we still recognised each other. I handed over the cash, now neatly separated into fat red packets, and she gave a few red packets of her own, according to custom. We sat down to chat, with my cousin who translated between Chinese and English.
It wasn't long into the conversation that I hit the first of many shocks.
--"Ngo Mah Giu Lei Da Ngo?!" I said incredulously. I thought I'd heard Ah Nui Cheah say that Mum ordered her to beat me when I was younger. In seeking confirmation, I exhausted my feeble capacity for Cantonese. Ah Nui Cheah nodded, then explained further.
Her whimsical tales of my exploits as a toddler painted a tender picture of a child who I can only describe as the devil incarnate. I would lie, cheat, threaten, and steal in order to get my way. I treated people and their possessions with utter contempt. (I was especially nasty to our small company of three domestic helpers.) Yet Ah Nui Cheah and other family members lovingly maintained that I was good and clever, and could never bring themselves to scold me. I would not have believed her had her words not jogged faint memories of me being rewarded with mild words and hugs after trying to lure my baby brother down the stairs.
Things could have turned out so differently had I stayed in Singapore to be raised like a 'Xiao Huang Di' [little emperor], instead of migrating to a life of relative toil in Australia. I could have been one of those little fat kids, shadowed everywhere by umbrella-wielding maids. I could have been one of those teens I snigger at, who throw fits if served anything but 'Sunshine' bread with 'Pink Dolphin' mineral water; who don't know how to make instant coffee.
In recent times I'd come to believe that we are born pure, consciously choosing what we know to be good over evil. That afternoon with Ah Nui Cheah blew that belief to bits. What made it worse was that it was my hand on the detonator switch. In a way, I had an awakening. A slight change of attitude.
Slight changes of attitude are happening in Singapore. Even that Singaporean icon, the government-run CPF compulsory retirement fund is attracting critique that would have been unthinkable ten years ago. Some Singaporeans are dissatisfied with the performance of the CPF compared with funds in other countries. Some critics have even raised the possibility of mismanagement. Of course, my friends only spoke of this while walking out of earshot through the Sungei Buloh wetlands.
Sungei Buloh represents a change of attitude for the Singapore government. Originally destined to become HDB flats, enough citizens rallied to turn it into a wetlands conservation park. Sungei Buloh is a mangrove wonderland full of plants, birds, and insects. The trails, lookouts, and boardwalks were a joy to stroll down.
This isn't the first time the government has taken a green stance. The island of Pulau Ubin also came off the development list after public outcry. Instead, the government will let it die a slow death before building all over it. The short boat ride over there with my cousin and her family revealed a picture of the Straits as it used to be. In between the wild jungle of Malaysia and the plastic-perfect landscaping of Singapore was a genteel compromise: palm trees, plots, and pokot [shrubs] mixed it with kampung dwellings and native jungle. The tree-shade and sea-wind cancelled the need for air-con. Everything about Pulau Ubin was what I'd been secretly looking for in the region, and two days before departure, I'd finally found it.
A nihilistic streak also compelled me to secretly look for signs of doubt and questioning in Singaporeans. No mean feat, as their minds are known to be as 'clean' as their streets. But one night I found myself sitting in a driveway with three locals who entertained dangerous, counter-revolutionary ideas like:
--"The NTUC [Trade Unions] and Government should help the jobless."
--"Singapore is an artificial nation."
--"September the 11th represents an end to the era of human rights."
We drifted giddily above the common subconscious kiasu, fuelled by Anchor Beer, French wine, and 'Thumbs Up' brand peanuts. It wasn't so much the piss or humidity making me warm, but hope.
In a world where Singapore is rapidly being replaced as a centre for cheap, obedient labour, I saw there was a chance. Not of recession or recovery, but renaissance. If Singapore became as great a place to live as it is to work, the 'intellectuals' - those 'cheem-ologists' - would stay to enrich the country. As it is, these so-called 'traitors' seem to stream overseas to more bountiful climes. (Despite the roasting they regularly get from the Straits Times.)
Singapore could become a Florence under the Medicis, instead of a Peking under Mao. Science and progress could be regarded equal to art and reflection once again - the first time in Australasia for centuries.
The lion ain't dead, just sleeping.
I hope the founding Sultans agree.
