Change

Its been a while since the June Holidays ended, hasn't it? Time passes by so fast these days. Just two years ago, I was sitting through the agonizing PSLE period. Now, my little sister is the one taking the test. Singapore has gone through many developments over this past two years too. I notice the old Entertainment Centre located in the heart of the Jurong central torn down last year has been making quite a bit of progress since it began its operation works. I find bit a bit sad actually, to find that I no longer recognize some parts of Singapore that I spent in my early childhood. I recall this photo of my dad and I standing in front of a foodcourt that no longer exists. I was really fat then. "Everything decays over time" was a line said by an antagonist in a comic book I recently read. I am amused but somehow, I can't help but find myself agreeing with him.

In the June Holidays this year, my family and I had a long bus ride to Kuala Lampur to visit my dad who was posted there to work for his company. As I recall, that was my second trip to KL and I already prepared myself for a 5-hour bus ride on the understandably but extremely slow moving coach. I have to admit, my previous trip to KL wasn't especially pleasant, thanks to the unruly crowd on the subway which resulted in the discreet pickpocketing of my hand phone. Well, all of us make mistakes, right?

The bus trip was a long one. My mom sat a seat behind me, leaving me extremely vulnerable to her constant reiteration that I had to study Quadratic graphs during the trip. I listened, of course, but unknowingly, my mind was drawn away from the pile of papers on my lap, slowly falling on the scenery outside.

In my opinion, the view was simply breathtaking. A little coach, surrounded by miles and miles of greenery, virtually untouched by human hands. There were hardly any signs of a city around, creating an uniquely serene atmosphere in the region. Occasionally, I would catch glimpses of small towns down the highway we were travelling on, with tiny little figures moving around slowly. The houses looked ancient, like those you would see in those dramatic Chinese action films. My brother drew my attention to a cow he had spotted grazing on the hill. I was amazed. We certainly didn't see that often in Singapore. Roosters as well as dogs were common sights along the highway. Between you and me, I actually saw a tent erected near the border of a forested area and I still suspect that it was occupied by some illegal immigrant. Of course, my brother dismissed my claim, using his logic to determine that someone merely wanted to come out to camp for a night of two.

So unlike Singapore, I thought. In this region, time seemed to come to a standstill, leaving the natural beauties of gaia just as it was a long time ago. Singapore modernizes so fast. Forests are deforested to make way for industries. Old buildings are torn down to pave the way for newer commercial centres. Sometimes, I just feel that in Singapore, time passes too fast for us to readily appreciate what is already around us.

In a changing world, it is important for us to appreciate the beauty of the past. The past might be blissful, grievous or bloody, but as long as we take away something from our experiences, I guess we will be ready to greet change with open arms.

Harmony, overcoming even time

As Racial Harmony Day draws near, I thought it would be appropriate to recall a memorable experience of a particular incident on the bus in the June holidays. Honestly speaking, I would not have thought about posting this online(even though I was aware of it) if not for the fact that I was in charge of a Racial Harmony Day stall at school.

The weather was nice, not too hot but not too cold either. I was on bus 333, returning from the new tuition centre I had decided to try out in an attempt to improve my math results. Thinking about that crippling "C" still makes me wince. As I leaned on the window pane, staring at the clouds, I was rudely disturbed by the ear-piercing scream from the front of the bus. I reacted quickly to the abrupt sound, turning to with a raised eyebrow. A Chinese woman sat with her arms akimbo, her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare at a young, pale little boy who sat beside her. Her son? Most probably. In Mandarin, she blabbered away, scolding, "You shouldn't be reading on the bus! Close that comic book!" From afar, I could not really make out his facial expression but I could see that he obediently put away the book, without a word of dissent. Not long after, as we passed by the Jurong East Library bus stop, a family of three boarded the bus. They seemed to be Indian and consisted of a lady, her husband and their daughter, who coincidentally must have been about the same age as the young Chinese boy mentioned earlier. The family settled into the seats directly opposite the young boy and his mother. Whether it was a twist of fate or a chance encounter, I think no one would have expected the events that unfolded thereafter.

All of a sudden, the little Indian girl burst out in tears. Okay, maybe it was because I had dozed off and wasn't really aware of what was happening. The parents of the Indian girl tried to pacify their daughter, hugging her and muttering tiny words of comfort. She continued bawling. Frankly speaking, it was very, very annoying. Can't anyone have some rest on the bus? Just like in all action movies, there would be a righteous male hero who would save the damsel in distress. However, I did not ever think that this hero would turn out to be the Chinese boy. In an astonishing gesture of childlike innocence, he held out the comic book he was reading earlier on, as if offering it to her. She sniffed for quite some time before she took the book with her own little hands, flipping through the book with an awed expression on her face, still flushed from her crying before. As she composed herself slowly,the lady beside her quickly returned the book to the boy, a distinct smile on her face. Amazingly, this small act of kindness just helped solve an otherwise uncontrollable problem. Two children. Two races. One family.

It is very heartening yet mildly surprising to see that racial harmony still exists up till today. I mean, I never lived in the turbulent times when the PAP was first established but from all that I have read up on Singapore's History last year, I can gather that it was not so peaceful then as it is now. There were numerous racial riots erupting between the Malays, Eurasians as well as the Chinese. The lack of understanding between each race's customs and traditions as well as the manipulation of the media indirectly sparked riots such as the Maria Hertogh case, where the Malays and the Europeans fought over the custody of a Dutch girl raised in a Malay family. It is instances like this that truly test Singapore's claim as a multi-racial community where everyone is expected to abide to the principles of Equality. This principles have even been incorporated into our Singapore Pledge, thus holding us responsible for maintaining peace and harmony between the various races. I am sure that over the years, there must have been several instances whereby the different races inhabiting this island has clashed but over time, they have settled their differences. Singapore no longer experiences the traumatic times it used to go through everyday in the past but Singapore is still equally vulnerable to racial clashes. Hence, it is of substantial importance that we, the new generation sired to lead the next, learn to cooperate with one another, overcoming social and racial obstacles, and maintain the harmony that has been passed down from our forefathers.

We Slept With Our Boots On~ An Analysis

Point of View:

The poem is written in the POV of well...Steve Carlson, a soldier fighting in the Afghan war. We can identify elements of life as a soldier in the poem, including "30 seconds they yelled, Lock N Load and grab your shit" and "Get ready to go and make it quick". This creates the genuine feel of receiving orders through commanding officers in the platoon from the higher-ups, which increases his credibility. From his tone, we can assume that he is a veteran, who has gone through war and understands the rush of fear and perhaps the angst of soldiers when he stated that "Everyone loses their innocence when they carry guns' and "Brothers aren’t born they’re earned".

Situation and setting:

The poem is probably set in the Afghan war, due to the presence of the "Hindu Kush". The situation is fast moving at the start of the poem, with apt description of the heat of the battlefield and then slowly resides into that of tension where the persona reflects on everything he had been through and on how he had lived through another day of violence and bloodshed.

Language and Diction:

In my opinion, not many language devices are used. As for diction, the poet uses a lot of terms that I think is used in the army, such as "Paratrooper" instead of the conventional "soldiers", " pulling the trigger and reloading and pulling some more" instead of just "shooting" and "30 seconds they yelled, Lock N Load and grab your shit" which refer to the officers ordering his men to prepare for battle. This helps illustrate the real war time experience which is rushed, filled with anxiety and fast-paced.

Personal Response:

I think the poet is trying to pass on his experiences to the future generations. I do not really think his is taking a stand on whether war is good or evil but he is just trying to express the sentiments of a soldier when he is really in the war time situation. Due to this, I think readers will begin to feel that war is not as glorious the government makes it to be but actually a cold materialization of cruelty, bitterness and faith.

We Slept With Our Boots On

"We Slept With Our Boots On" is a piece of war poetry written by Steve Carlson in the 2003-2010 period, after he was discharged from the army. In his 3 years in the American Army, he had been deployed into Kosovo and Afghanistan as a paratrooper, otherwise known as an airborne soldier. Hence, it can be assumed that the poem is based on his experiences in either of the two countries, if not both. The poem demonstrates the toughness of war and the misery that war brings about.It also has a tie in to religon, shown subtly in the bottom end of the poem.

We Slept With Our Boots On

They unloaded the dead and maimed right before our eyes
They washed out the blood, we loaded our ruck’s and then took to the skies
Over the mountains, villages, and valleys we flew
Where we would land we had not a clue
Bullets are flying, the LZ is hot
We’re leaving this bird whether we like it or not
30 seconds they yelled, Lock N Load and grab your shit
Get ready to go and make it quick
My heart is pumping adrenalin through all of my veins
I run as fast as I can through the lead rain
The noise is tremendous, terror I can’t define
The only reason I survived that day was divine
I kept pulling the trigger and reloading and pulling some more
You do what you have to do, with that I will say no more
We fought from the valleys to the mountain peaks
From house to cave, to car to creek
Dirty and tired and hungry and scared
We slept with our boots on so we were always prepared
Those majestic mountains so steep, so high they kiss the skies
The Hindu Kush has changed so many lives
Up the mountains with heavy loads we trod
Who knew hell was so close to God
Beauty and terror are a strong mixed drink
So we drank it like drunkards and tried not to think
Good men and bad men, Mothers lost son’s
Everyone loses their innocence when they carry guns
Washed in the blood, and baptized by fire
I will never forget those who were called higher
They say blood is thicker than water, well lead is thicker than blood
Brothers aren’t born they’re earned. In the poppy fields, the tears, and the mud
And when I get to heaven to Saint Peter I will tell
Another Paratrooper reporting for duty sir, I spent my time in hell


Steve Carlsen

What makes us do what we do?

Me and my friend, Jinlin, almost meet daily on the same bus on our way to school every morning. The "52" bus service was always a crowded one, with middle-aged civil servants lining the walkway while the average secondary school student leaned drowsily against the slippery window pane or kept his nose deep inside a thick chemistry textbook. I always saw the same crowd of people whenever I took the bus. A fellow Secondary four senior whom I did not know by name but was all too familiar by face, a River-Valley High boy going to school along with his younger brother, my fellow Tae-Kwon-Do club practitioner who was one year my senior and of course, Jinlin. But there was always this old lady, frail yet always so serene, holding out a card with the figures "52", "154" and "151", holding a walking stick and traipsing blindly into an unaccommodating crowd.

Later, after conversing with Jinlin, who obviously knew what happened on the bus clearly than I did, I realized that she was blind. Partially or completely, I didn't know and I never would. Usually, she would stand at the front of the bus, presumably to ease herself when she needed to get off the bus. However, every now and then, she would want to sit down, and moved carefully towards the rear of the bus. It might have been public pressure that prompted all the young men I had seen so far to get off their seat hurriedly whenever she approached them. Whatever it is, she always got a seat.

I always wondered how the human psyche worked. When we see something that, by moral standards or personal dignity, had to be done, why is it that sometimes there's just that peculiar force that pulls us back. It is sort of like how a fly is attracted away from a tasty looking fruit towards a more vibrant and exotic pitcher plant. Somehow, I think lust for personal benefit and the sole interest in personal gain prompts us to do the "wrong" thing. However, in this case, what would have prompted these young men to do such a simple act of courtesy? Was it Pride? Was it Ego? I just could not understand.

Well, I could not understand until the day I gave up a seat myself.

I was on the bus service "52". My bag was heavy. The dead weight of the Toshiba Laptop and my uncomfortably soaked judogi nearly anchored me to the ground. It was one of the days I wished I brought enough money for a cab. I was resolved to take any opportunity I could get my hands on to obtain a seat and eventually, I got one...in the sitting area "reserved exclusively" for the elderly, handicapped and pregnant. I couldn't care less at the time.

Then, She boarded the bus. This time, I don't think she had much of a choice. The bus was even more packed than usual and she was prompted by the bus driver to move to the rear of the vehicle, where there were obviously no seats available. Apparently, the bus driver had assumed someone would give up their seat for her. She walked my way. I looked around and to my surprise, saw nonchalant, apathetic faces all around me. Where were the few young men who always offered their seats?

For the first time on the bus, I felt the gaze of the whole bus resting upon the group of four people sitting along the "reserved" seating area. It was as if they were forcing me to get up and give away my seat. I was indignant. If they were so high and mighty, why not they do it? I challenged them silently. However, another feeling burned steadily within me. It was fiery, but it was unlike anger, unlike envy, unlike anything I had felt before. Naturally, I stood up and walked off. As I passed, I saw something glitter behind those pair of dull, monotonous eyes and her warm smile made something within me flutter. I felt a ripple in the cool ocean of my heart. So that was what it felt like.

I think a good deed is not done out of ego or pride or shame. One cannot really say what truly prompted them to do what they did when they witnessed that moment of helplessness. But I guess, as some try to explain, we call it "doing it out of our heart".

Traversing Cyberspace with caution and respect

Bidding a quick farewell to my pals at the Clementi MRT station, I noticed a bus numbered "52", blurred through my stained spectacle lenses. Instinctively but recklessly, I sped towards the bus, knocking into several of my fellow Singaporean commuters, with my bag bobbing unnaturally behind me. I managed a few hurried apologies as I stepped into the bus just in the nick of time. Lucky me.

I found a row of empty seats at the back of the bus. I always assumed people did not sit at the back because it would be troublesome for them to alight especially when the bus was crowded. Or maybe, it was because people did not want to associate themselves with the youths sitting at the back. I have observed that during off-peak hours, the back few rows would be occupied by teens, dressed flamboyantly or dolled up excessively. Perhaps others perceive them to be punks or rebels based on their appearance and refuse to go close to them. I admit, I am also just one of the Singapore majority who felt this way, but under the circumstances(I was carrying my heavy judo gi), I did not really have much of a choice. I did not regret my decision.

There were two teens sitting next to me. Judging by their tanned and muscular figure, I presumed that they were perhaps new NS enlistees or at the very least, JC 2 graduates. Putting that aside, I fished for my Nintendo DS Lite and flicked on the switch. After another exhausting day in the dojo, I was intent on having a bit of fun before I reached home, where all my work were waiting for my return.

I was halfway through a challenging puzzle(I never finished it) when I heard one of the two teens utter "Facebook" and "kids shouldn't be allowed access to it". I was lucky to have resisted the impulse of looking at the pair. I calmed myself down and settled back down, this time listening attentively to catch the remaining of their conversation.

Here's what I heard(Not all of it is exact):

"... Facebook."

"Oh that, I think kids shouldn't be allowed access to it. They post things like 'stupid'and insult others. Childish."

"Yeah, but..."

"I mean, I was from ACS. I have a friend who is a trainee teacher at... I think it was Nanhua. She corresponds with some of her students through facebook, to hold discussions and stuff. I have seen the way her students reply to her, it was...okay, she is quite a shy person...but the way they replied to her were... their replies could be improved, like to show a little bit more respect."
"I think this is just..."

I wish I could have heard the remaining conversation between them but I had to alight. However, I think these two teens had expressed a million words with just this short exchange.

There have been a lot of talk over Facebook these days, especially with the recent sacking of a principal in the Europe due to one of her students flaming her on Facebook. Being a Facebook user myself, I cannot say that it is completely useless and harmful but I can say that it comes with its own set of rules and penalties, as with all other social networking sites. The development of Facebook helps encourage many positive aspects of social interaction with friends from all walks of life, relatives living abroad and even teachers working through the night to answer the numerous queries we all have. This was what Facebook was created for in the Facebook, right? However, everything has its limits and its disadvantages. For example, the ability to post any comment, make any remark or accept any friend request with the simple click of the mouse makes Facebook users prone to rash behaviour. Do we think, before we angrily post an enraged lament online? Do we think, before we comment stupidly on our friend's post? Do we think, who are we actually hooking up with? The disadvantage of Facebook is that it merely a platform of trust between users. No one really knows who is behind that familiar name or that believable profile picture. Going one step further, we are prone to expressing our thoughts and feelings without any hesitation or doubt because we think we are being surrounded by our friends. This may sound paranoid but, who are our REAL friends? Can we really trust those people whom we accept friend requests from?

I think it all boils down to respect and safety. Whatever we do, whatever we say, we must respect those who would see or hear about it. This way, we would not offend anyone mistakingly or send friend requests to people we do not know. We are one community. We should respect those around us and not pry into their life if they do not want us to or insult them. If there is a feud between us, we should settle it face to face, and not let our argument transverse into cyberspace. Also, we must be careful when treading though the vast oceans of the social network. Due to the internet's secretive nature, we never know who we really are conversing or hooking up with. Hence, it is important that we have a strong sense of cyber-awareness which encompasses taking care of our personal information. We must see through a disguised friend and we must not trust a cyber fiend.

A safe network...what a Utopian dream...

Cowardice Vs Indifference

I was looking through my LA paper just a few days ago, happy that for once I did well in a Literature test. I focused on Q2 of the paper, which asked about the forms of "courage" displayed in the Novel To Kill a Mockingbird. In a minute of mischief, I imagined myself as Atticus Finch and pondered over how I would explain what courage was to Scout Finch. I had always like to form personal philosophies in my head and echo them to my classmates. Meaningless words floated in the my head as I attempted to piece together a surprising complicated puzzle. Gosh, Philosophers do have it hard.

After a while, it finally clicked. The sentence reverberated in my head a few times before I finally whispered it out.

"False Courage is what compels you to do something when no one else would; True Courage is what compels you to do the right thing when no one else would."

I felt that it was a bit corny at first but then I thought of our society and well, it sort of made sense. Isn't our society made up of people who would willingly step forward for the benefit of the people and those who would not even move a muscle when they see someone in need?

I am not just talking about incidents out of the ordinary, like those people who watch wordlessly as a robber snatches a heavy purse away from a frail old lady or those who stand safely on shore as a young girl flails desperately in a murky canal. I am also referring to the common, everyday situation which everyday people like ourselves experience. Take our school life foe example. We have spent nearly our entire 13 years in this environment. Hence, it would be an obvious and blatant lie if any of us say that we have never seen a schoolmate struggling with his homework or a teacher appealing to the class to clear up the class. The next question is, have we ever failed to step up and offer a hand of assistance?

I can see two reasons for our lack of action. The first is cowardice. The second is indifference.

I define cowardice as the fear of doing what is right or what one believes in. I think a lot of us have a strong sense of what's right and what's wrong. However, when we witness injustice occurring, like when a classmate is being mocked at by your peers for something unjustifiable, we dare not step up because we are afraid that our actions are not justified, that others do not support us or simply because we are fearful of the shame of being mocked by our peers if we make a mistake. In my opinion, Cowardice is something we have to overcome ourselves. I think we must learn to trust our gut feeling and go through with what we think is right. I mean, stating all your thoughts in black and white and then being being laughed at is better than keeping all your frustration and indignation bottled up inside yourself, right? If you get laughed at but your intervention helps relieve someone's suffering, I think it is worth it.

On the other hand, I define indifference as the unwillingness to help or plainly ignoring someone in need. I think this is the evil in its most despicable form. How could someone just stand at a side and look on as someone suffers? I think the root cause for this is our upbringing in a calculative society. In Singapore, almost everything is subjected to a kind of grading system, be it a remark by someone of higher authority or a performance record. Everything, right down to what we say, is judged by people and put into numbers to so-called "reflect" our character. If we have a good grade or record, it means we are good, conscientious and the "model" for others to follow. If we get marked down with mediocre achievements, no one would spare an eye for us. Therefore, it our "jobs" as Singaporeans to excel in our own personal line of work and make sure that we ourselves do exceptionally well and stand out among the crowd. I think that this has lead us towards the direction of thinking that only the only people who matter in this society are ourselves and that everyone else is scum. Self-interest and materialistic gains triumph over a good heart and noble intentions in this society.

Unlike the problem of cowardice, the issue on indifference is not so easily fixed. Personally, I think this trend deteriorates following each generation. This inherent problem must be removed at the root, but right now, I think the roots are already too thick to be scraped.