Swimming with dolphins

Some people migrate for a fresh start. Others migrate and carry along their baggage.

It’s like that one toxic relative who loudly announces to the whole clan that they have “cut ties” with your family - complete with the dramatic move to the opposite end of the island just to prove the point. Then they post a photo swimming with dolphins to display emancipation.

But come Hari Raya, they still quietly ask around about your family, then twist whatever updates they hear to fit their own narrative, just so they can justify why they’ve been avoiding you all these years. The more your family progresses, the more they try to dig up dirt… except they only have outdated secondhand info from aeons ago.

After a while, everything they say just sounds like a broken record.

Suddenly they reinvent themselves as the “truth-teller” about a clan they have not lived with in ages. They act like physical distance gives them moral distance.

If cutting ties was supposed to set you free, why are you still doom-scrolling Singapore news like it's your part time job? The dolphins find you repulsive now? Maybe use that energy to actually build your life. Age with some dignity. Be a useful citizen in your new community. 🙃

Or you can visit the Uluru, I heard the rock can be meditative. Or go meet Pauline Hanson in your new haven. 

Unless you choose to stay bitter and vindictive into retirement. That is your business. You are, after all, a grown adult. But honestly, looking at how some rage-bait narratives on Singapore from up North still cling to old grudges, it’s clear that some people carry their baggage everywhere they go.

It’s not about Malays backing Malays blindly. It’s about Singapore Malays calling out ex-Singaporeans who are potentially messing with the rice bowls of Singaporeans back home.

Read articles here (CNA) and here (Berita Harian)

Primary School Leaving Examination

Congratulations to all students on their Primary School Leaving Examination results. And to the parents: every kid blooms at their own pace. Some early, some later. What matters is that you’re there, present, walking with them.

Just thought I’d share my PSLE journey. 

For my blue-collar parents in Taman Jurong, PSLE was their kids’ first big chance to level up the family. My older siblings did well and made it to good national schools. I could sense my dad wanting his youngest son to go even further.

When my results came in, it felt like his hope was finally within reach. My grades could get me into any “premiere” school in town. I suspect a small part of him wondered about the cost. Could he cope if I went to one of those atas schools? In the end it was a toss-up between Anglo-Chinese School, Raffles Institution and St Joseph Institution (The Chinese High School was somehow not in the equation). I can’t remember how ACS happened but knowing how forms used to work, maybe alphabetical order decided my fate.

So ACS it was.

My dad was a soft-spoken, unassuming man, didn’t talk much because too tired after a long day at work. He’d just watch us when all the siblings studied at the dining table. But once in a while there’d be that sudden burst of ambition - a calculated, gung-ho “just go for it.” That fire was what pulled all of us out of the blue-collar cycle many pioneer-generation Baweans were stuck in. It was very “get your foot in the door first… worry later.”

I still remember he took 5 days of half-day leave just to send me on that 1-plus hour bus ride from Taman Jurong to Barker Road at Bukit swanky Timah. (There was only one ACS then.) And the weekend before school started, he was studying the school badge like it was a precious artifact. Holding it to the common corridor during daylight, then the fluorescent lamp, then the morning sun. He realised the blue ink had a turquoise shade because the grooves were filled with colour, not just printed.

That image stays with me. A father quietly marvelling at a school badge, maybe trying to imagine a future bigger than the one he grew up in.

I think he shared the same anxiety many parents feel now. He was relieved I cleared that milestone. Maybe he also knew PSLE is a heavy load for a 12-year-old. Maybe he wished kids could just play more. But he also understood that if he ignored the PSLE system entirely, he’d be closing the door that could pull his kids out of the harsher blue-collar cycle, Taman Jurong.

Every generation tries to build one step higher. That was his way.