A Singaporean In Australia

More often than not, I find myself dumbfound when I am asked to tell someone more about myself. Be it during a job interview, an school orientation, a camp or just a casual chat with stranger, it happens.

This sort of thing shouldn't happen to anyone, including myself of course. After all, no one in this world knows me better than myself and if there is anyone who can describe me accurately that shall be yours truly. Yet as decades drift pass, the conundrum remains.

I am equally stuck whenever I am prompted to reveal what food I love, what fruit I enjoy most, what kind of movies do I watch, what music do I listen to and other trivialities. Have I became so deranged that I do not know who I am anymore? Or have I allowed my life to be so platitudinous that I could not differentiate myself from other cogs of the machine?

Born and bred in Singapore, educated and developed and then served the nation for like any Singaporean son, my life had been structured and sheltered like the vast underclass majority of my generation.

However unlike the others, I was the product that failed the quality control during manufacturing - I questioned the system. Despite that, like a caged sheep, I had absolutely no knowledge nor the means to break free from the system. Neither do I know what I wanted in life but...I knew what I didn't.

Back in the mind, I knew that one day I would have a chance to explore the space outside my little sphere though I could never imagine in which form would it come. I have always been aware of my earning capabilities (or rather in-capabilities) so I have been living a minimalist lifestyle to prepare for whatever coming my way. I learnt basic cooking from a young age in which I suspect it was more of a survival instinct than a passion. Regrettably, though I have enough knowledge and abilities to survive in a new environment, I lost my ability to hunt. Or should I say I wasn't meant to develop the skill? Or maybe I am competent but lack the necessary courage?

I feel like a caged bird with my flight feathers clipped, unknowing what to do with the door ajar.

Migration is no big deal. To date, Singapore has at least 2.5 million of non-natives working and living in the country. Anyone, it seems, could leave their home and resettle somewhere else. That's globalisation. When I was contemplating migration, it was a big deal. Too big for me to handle perhaps, even when I already gotten my feet on Australian soil. My family, relatives, friends and future neighbours at Punggol were not supportive of the idea. The problem is I love them all and I care enough to be genuinely affected.

"When you become a parent, your perspectives and priorities will change," many wise people once told me.

I can vouch for the validity of the statement. I have lived my time and now it is time to build the next generation. Just as my parents did, they gave up their interests and priorities selflessly so that we could become who we are today because they did not want us to go through what they had.

"..because they did not want us to go through what they had," this mantra has seen our ancestors migrate, take on unpopular jobs and take risks, not for their dreams or to satisfy an inflated ego but to give their family and future generation a better life.

Perhaps discovering who I am has lost its importance.

Have you ever stared into space for a good 30 seconds and your mind was blank throughout? I remembered asking second sister what it was supposed to be when I was a young boy. She told me it was a day dream. I wasn't really convinced because dreams are like, you know, a short video clip. This instead, was simply a blank nothingness in the mind. If you know what is the term for this, tell me.

I experienced another one of these last evening at Paul's place.

So who is Paul? Paul is Uncle Lai's friend who is an American semi-retiree who lives in Perth and organises gatherings occasionally.

So who is Uncle Lai? Uncle Lai is Penny's uncle who is a Malaysian semi-retiree with a beautiful Iranian wife who is near retirement age but looks in her 30s. They have 3 daughters, all with Miss Universe kind of looks and they live in Perth.

So who is Penny? Penny is our Malaysian friend who urged us to come to Perth but ended up reluctant herself. We are still waiting for her here.

Long story short, Penny introduced Uncle Lai to give us some assistance or advice about settling down and Uncle Lai invited us to the gathering which Paul invited him to. When we were arrived, Jenny quipped, "This is your first Barbie."

I raised my eyebrows shifted uncomfortably. We had not met a single person here, including Uncle Lai. It was a multi-cultural gathering. There were 4 PRCs, a few Malaysians, a group of Iranians, a group of Aboriginals, a few British, an American host with his son and of course several Australian. I was the only one from Singapore.

Everyone was friendly and people came around to have a chat. Most of them were positive we could find a job soon and we would be alright. The spread of food was fantastic. There was Persian Rice and Basmati Rice, all flavoured. There was Char Bee Hoon, I helped myself to plenty of it. Later I found that it was contributed by Kelvin's wife. Most of the food were home-made, including thick juicy beef patties and then there were intricate cakes meant for the children.

I got my blank mind experience when the children started to play. I didn't know what went through my mind.

Later, we had a chat with the beautiful wife of Uncle Lai, Mehnoosh. She shared with us stories of their early settling days. It took them 2 years to feel really settled. I couldn't forget something she said. She told me in their earlier days, she could not feel a sense of belonging in Perth despite the serenity and the beauty of the place. But after subsequent years where the whole family revisited places, the past memories of previous visits gradually gave them a strong sense of belonging and eventually they accepted the place as their home.

I knew all along that Home is where the Heart is so Mehnoosh's words left me pondering. She was right. My mind went back to Hollage Village, the place where I grew up. The place burnt profound memories permanently in my mind. I had revisit Hollage Village on my own several times over the years. I took a walk up the silent hill (perhaps I should call it a knoll instead) at Block 12, where I used to live. I did a few dangerous walks at the edge of the hill, the shortcut we used to take to the swimming pool when we were kids. The fall from that edge would had got any one of us killed if we fell from it but we never did, day or night. Alas, over the years, they changed Holland Village beyond recognition, taking my fond memories with it.

To change is difficult. Not to change is fatal. - William Pollard

So says the government. Change is progress, they say.

Arguably.

If change is progress, why do Singaporeans form long queues at food stalls which still cook their food with the tradition methods?

If change is progress, why are historic buildings popular?

If change is progress, what do we make of the aged phrase, 'The good old days'?

If change is progress, why is the PAP so adamant to keep their position as the governing party where it is so obvious to the insiders as well as the bystanders that they have regressed, deteriorated beyond acceptance?

My good Punggol neighbour Aku Tan once said to me

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

I did neither.

Children playing

Multi-cultural gathering

BBQ in process

A scrumptious spread

Another pit where the sausages were left to ccok

These were unsalted, yet very very good

The tree swing

Delighted children doing what they should be doing

The children sang us a song

Every 8 October is a special day. It is the birthday of my second elder sister, Angela. What makes the day more special is that my good buddy Vincent and Josephine are getting married today.

Their marriage to me, is like a fairytale romance movie. I watched it right from the start where 2 people were heading nowhere in their love life, almost self-defined to be single all their lives and most unlikely to end up hitched to each other.

I listened with interest when Vincent met Josephine through a colleague and how he courageously got himself a first date. I was there all the time to understand and gave the best advice I could to disentangle the complexity of the courtship. I saw the despair and desperation of Vincent when he thought he was on the brim of failing. I remembered I was left speechless and couldn't find anymore encouraging words or practical advice to share.

Then the breakthrough. Somehow, by a stroke of luck or pure determination, Jo was moved and decided to give it a go. The relationship started. Like the way the courtship began, the relationship had their hiccups. Some big ones along the way. I found my job and Vincent shifted home and we met much less often so the updates dwindled. But I knew their relationship was on a bull run, amidst the little corrections along the way.

Both of them must had forgotten how convoluted the beginning of their relationship that they took each other for granted, probably part of the life cycle of any relationships. They survived and they are walking down the isle today with the blessing of everyone including one who will miss the ending of an incredible movie.

The next chapter starts at the end of the day. Buddy, put on your seat belts. You are going on an adventure.

******

This must be the first time I have written something about my sister. In fact, I could not remember writing about any family member of mine in my entire life. Not in schools - I wrote fantasy compositions in school and avoid all factual and argumentative topics. It was not because I had flair in writing. I was just hiding my worst areas.

Angela is a well given name. There were probably cheesy suitors who called her 'Angel" but they probably weren't far off. Angela is an angel of some sorts.

She was my mentor and protector during my childhood. Protecting me from harm, stood out for me even when she was in fear herself, taking care of me when I was sick, applied painful solutions on my ringworm (it was eczema, I found out later), operated on the huge blister the size of almost half the bottom of my right foot. I would have taken pages to list them if not for the bad sectors in my brain.

She was the inspiration who influenced and shaped my character in many ways.

Without her,

I wouldn't have perfect table manners.

I wouldn't have picked up the guitar and appreciate music.

I wouldn't be curious enough to learn cooking.

I wouldn't be a genuine dog lover.

I have always been a pessimistic, sullen and brooding person. She made me a better person in spite of.

I am not the only person who is positively influenced by her. She has been brilliant in any roles she takes on. A filial daughter, a loving mother and wife, an amazing sister, a responsible employee, a fantastic friend, a great colleague. I'm proud to have her as my sister and hope my daughter grows up to be someone like her.

Our home was a better place before she got married and moved out but I'm happy she is bringing happiness to her own family the way she always do, everywhere she goes. She is great to be around with, always calm and collected, always humorous. The only good thing I gained in her absence was independence. It started late, but at least it happened, inch by inch.

Thank you for retaking care of the parents while I'm away sis. It's only temporary. I'll try to settle down as fast as I could and make arrangements for the family. Meanwhile:

Happy Birthday Sis.

You deserve happiness, for giving so much away.

We were out of house by 0915 hrs with breakfast taken. Grace, who was on her off-day, was here to the rescue with her car. With her assistance, we could expect to be in Maddington by 1000 hrs to perform our final checks of the vehicles we shortlisted and then make the choice.

Astonishingly, my hunch was right. On the way out, Joanna sent an email to Jen and got us to check it via text. The email filled us with Joanna's friend's (supposedly a car whiz) opinion about our shortlists. Not surprisingly, he said they were no good. I snorted. I knew well enough what I was getting with my AUD$3,000. You couldn't expect reliability, fuel efficiency, comfort and longevity with that budget. I was looking for the best value for the money that was all.

In my mind, I challenged him to offer a solution, not a theory. With more money, I too, knew how to get a good car. So would anybody else.

Then something did happened at 0945hrs. We received another email from Joanna. Her friend recommended 2 options he found. Newly posted in Gumtree.com.au. We wouldn't have been able to see that in time as we were already out of house by then. So this was a stroke of luck.

The first option was a disappointing one. I was surprise he even suggested. No air conditioner. I didn't even bother to know which model. Anyway the price wasn't competitive. In short it was absolute rubbish. "Is that what you have got, Mr Car Expert?" I began to get frustrated because I just wanted to get to Maddington and get everything done and over with. Before this week of intensive hunting, I was already searching and understanding the car market here. It had been wearying doing these without a closure.

I was still keen on the Daihatsu Cuore. I had done my research and was confident I could get a very good resale price should I need to sell it in future. The condition was brilliant as well and the car was only 9 year old, compared to the 15 year olds Toyotas available for 1k more.

The second option was a much decent one. I wouldn't say it was better than the Corolla which was offer to me in Maddington. It was just a truce, to me.

Maddington dealer: Toyota Corolla Seca, Mileage 213k, Cost $3650, Automatic
Unknown private seller: Toyota Corolla Seca, Mileage 150k, Cost $3200, Manual

Normally, a manual car would cost less than an automatic one with all things square. So to me, it wasn't much of a bargain anyway.

The thing about buying from private seller was that we could get really badly maintained ones in spite of how well the car may look exteriorly. Dealers on the other hand, tend to take in the better vehicles, do a little bit of cleaning and small repairs so buyers could generally expect a decent quality in the cars. Well, almost. We did see some thrash offered by dealers as well so that swayed me a little to give the private seller a look.

It was a hailstorm victim. The body was damaged by hail something back although the damage wasn't obvious. "That will hurt the resale value," I thought. The owner was an Irish. Jen and I had some difficulties understanding his accent though I caught on after a while. He encouraged us to do a test drive and we did.

For a 15 year old car, I must say I was pretty impressed with the condition of the car. The first thing I focussed on was the clutch and gear shifts. It passed with flying colours. The brakes were fine and so was the engine. The air conditioning was decent too. The interior looked well kept which I expected it to, since it was supposedly 'lower mileaged'. I was pleased with the smell of the vehicle. Not musky, not smoky and no fishy smell. (We experienced all kinds!)

After the drive, I was still skeptical about this car being the better choice. Like I said earlier, a manual car MUST be cheaper than the automatic one in the first place. I needed some incentive to feel better should I buy this.

We had some small talk with Irish guy, (I can't recall his name now). Casually talked about the maintenance of the car. He told me he did it himself. Hmm. I got interested and urged him to show me the access to the oil filter, air filter and fuel filter - the main components in a normal servicing session. He was enthusiastic and showed me everything. When he came to the draining of engine oil, he actually got down to the ground and under the car (all while the car was parked at the side of a busy road) and gave me the instructions.

I was impressed by his unique salesmanship and decided to buy the car. I will be collecting it in an hour's time. The price agreed is : AUD$3050.

Pleased.

We visited Grace's house a few years back when I came to Perth on tour. She lived with her grandaunt in a cosy cottage in West Leederville. The land that surrounded the house was well used. It still is. There were herbs, fruit trees, vegetables and spices growing in the garden. I figured other than meat, this household could never need to buy any vegetables from external sources.

Consider this: They have onions, various type of green vegetables, tomatoes, bananas, papayas, pandan, garlic, rosemary, mint, aloe vera, marjoram, oregano and even a raspberry tree among other multiple plants I could not identify.

I'll tell you a secret I told nobody: This is a secret dream of mine, to be as self sufficient as I could one day. Now you know.

Time to wake up.

Across the road just a few house away, Grace's uncle owned another plot of land but did not build a house on it for some reasons. She brought us there and I saw, for the first time in my life, an orange tree right in front of me - with fruits. Needless to say, I took one orange when Grace was not looking, peeled it, claimed it dropped from the tree and we shared it.

It was juicy and tasted especially sweet by the Singapore Rule : because it's free.

Just 10 steps away from the orange tree was a bee keep, using simple styrofoam boxes. I took a few gazes and went within 2 arm length to the man-made hives. Bees were buzzing all around me but too busy to be bothered with me. I considered a while and decided I would not have free honey that day.

Lake Monger was just a visible 200 metres away. We didn't meet any goose that day. I remembered one of them took a peck at Jen when she posed for pictures with them few years back. It was funny.

Lake Monger

Weird... chicken? What the heck is that

The crows are huge here. Easily double the size of what we see at home

Duck again

Duck interested in sharing Grace's bacon n cheese sandwich

The raspberry tree outside Grace's house

Alas, no one is interested in harvesting it (I really wanted to)

Past Rants