A Singaporean In Australia

When you are at the wrong side of 30, you don't look forward to birthdays anymore. Well you see, in our first 20 years, each birthday feels like getting both a hardware and software upgrade. During our 20 to 30 stage, we still get software upgrades but there are no more hardware upgrades. Even our 30s, our hardware get choked with dust, rapidly outdated and software upgrades gradually turns infinitesimal, insignificant.

Despite being a year older today, I have still a few years to go before the big 4, to become truly a stale old fart that society don't know what to do with. You know, like the older hens too young to kill but too old to produce nice fresh eggs in the same frequency as before. At this age, I don't make new year resolutions anymore, since I don't seem to be able to remember it within a couple of weeks. Old hardware, you see. What I do these days is to reflect on my birthday whether I meant anything to the world at all.

In fact, I am lucky to be alive. I am not referring to surviving a cancer fight for 1.5 years. Just recently my mother reminded me yet again about my birth story, this time with even more juicy details. Mum even told me which clinic she went to see the doctor for a referral letter to abort me. Yes, mum did not want me because our family could not afford me due to both financial and time constraints. There were a few considerations. Firstly, my parents already had two girls and probably wouldn't appreciate the risk of having another. Though it wasn't ancient times back then, there was still a slight preference for at least a boy. My parents were not sexist really. It was their version of a change of environment back in those days. As of today, it also feel a bit stale having 2, 3, 4 kids of the same gender one after another. Besides, our family income wasn't enough to sustain us comfortably. Back then, many mothers were homekeepers. Yet my mum had to work to help out, resulting in an incommodious situation of juggling among work, 2 young girls (no money for child care) and a big mummy's boy (dad).

The catalyst for her decision to abort me was probably disincentives of the "Two is enough" campaign ran vigorously by the Singapore government back then. Not only my mother would be fined if she chose to give birth to me, she would also have a harder (and more expensive) time sending me to school later on etc. Thus, all thanks to ex-PM Lee Kuan Yew, you almost need not to read this blog today. The doctor persuaded my mum to keep me. He told my mum that she was close to the end of the optimal age to deliver a healthy baby and if she plan to have another kid much later, it could turn out "stupid." I think the doctor could do a little better there. Mum did not change her mind and left the his with a referral letter with an appointment for my abortion. 

With a twist of fate, my existence was due to the interference of my grandmother. Grandma is a staunch Christian but seemed to have conveniently use Catholic beliefs to impose on my mother that abortion is a sin. That's why we love our grandmas. She also offered her hand to "take care of me" if my mother decided to keep me. I was told Grandma did fulfill her promise in my first two years and notoriously left me home alone after she made me sleep, something that sends shivers down our spine by only imagining ourselves doing to our kids these days. It was a thug life back then. Perhaps it was how I learnt to return home myself after school when I was in Primary 4 and took care of myself, at home or on the streets, until my parents came back. By Primary 5, we shifted to Choa Chu Kang but for some unknown reasons, I wasn't transferred to a school in the vicinity. I had to travel from Choa Chu Kang to Queenstown in a 1.5 hours bus ride on snake Bus 185. I gave it that name because of the detours it took for otherwise a 45 minutes journey. 

Somehow, I grew up.

Burdened with family responsibilities today, a man like me constantly think about how to make himself useful to his loved ones, alive or dead. We buy enough insurance so that our properties get paid off if we die, knowing the spouses we leave before would have it a little easier financially. That is only the foundation and it isn't adequate. I am not sure about other men but I have to keep working on leaving trails of income to help Jen out should my death be premature. Unlike esteemed men who work to leave behind legacies, ordinary peasants like me can only focus on making sure my family is well taken care of in our demises. I am also considering participating in time banking.

That is enough for now. There are much more to do.