Praying, Pre-Departure

'Tis the season to be jaunting to Little India, to buy them buah keluak nuts.  But it was TJ in London, who alerted me.

I return to London tonight.  My heart is hopeful.  My heart is heavy.

Hopeful, because for once I don't have that debilitating sadness that comes with saying goodbye, goodbye to my husband.  I see him next Tuesday.  Hallelujah!  He will be with me through Christmas and the New Year.

Heavy, because I think of the children we all treasure, and wonder, what sort of future does a Singaporean child really have, here on this island?

photo credit- Simon Wong

My Mil posed that very same question once, 4X-years ago to my Fil, lying in bed, in their beautiful new Daman Sara Heights home.  I think their lives at that point, had finally settled into a cohesive rhythm.  A new baby was born, the elder son happy at school, both parents engaged in work they found meaningful and exciting.  There was also the physical house- perhaps the expression of their hopes for their young family, to delight in.

The baby was saved by his Malay nanny when the rioters finally arrived.  His nanny risked her own life, thinking and acting quickly.  My Mil then began the rapid escape back to Singapore with her two young sons.  She was stopped along the way.  What happened next made her so furious, she vowed to raise her sons, Singaporean, and never, ever, give up her citizenship.

At lunch, M asked me what is it about Singapore I struggle with.  Too many ethnic Chinese people, I said, even as I myself, am one.  The lack of change.  The city is just too small.  Omg, the weather- too hot.

Riots do that to you- create pause.

A fiery night sky in 1992, Los Angeles.  I looked out of my car and saw the city engulfed in flames, a conflagration.  When I got off the 405 and turned towards my street, I was forced to slow down as the roads were teeming with angry crowds shoving, shouting, throwing things.  In the morning, I stood in a snaking line, waiting to purchase tinned food, processed food.  Food that would allow me to stay hidden, for a while.

They called in the National Guards then.  On Sunday, they called the Police, the Special Operation Forces.  The latter reportedly behaved with such elegant restraint, that in the aftermath, I am still marveling at their choreography.

How long more are you going to do this, M asked.  What do you do every day, alone?

What will the children dream and long for?  Who will help soothe all that anger and is it ever possible to reverse the fortunes of the less lucky?

Is the Singapore way always up, up, up, and do we only rise by climbing and crushing those with so much less?

Riots do that- create pause.

All I want for Christmas is peace on earth, goodwill toward men.  Impossible, I know.  I'm getting on my plane.  I'm praying, Singapore- be safe, keep calm, attempt compassion, sensitive thought.