Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Daughter
I am the daughter that you all hoped was a son but it didn’t matter anyway and I was still greatly loved.
I am the little girl you were so proud of because I would entertain all our relatives with solo songs and dances. I am the daughter who did so well in Kindergarten and came in first in class for both years.
I am the child whom you taught how to save money when you made the three of us put fifty-cent coins into our own piggy bank every night.
I am the daughter who sulked and sat on the sofa in the living room by herself when she did not get her share of the durian. Later on, you managed to make her smile and take her back to the kitchen to join in the fun.
I am the daughter who begged you to give her piano lessons and you finally agreed after a long time.
I am the daughter who would never ask for anything from you, who always felt bad having to request for special things like a new pencil case or school bag.
I am the daughter you carried on your shoulders to see the physician when she was too sick to move. I am the daughter who was with you when you slipped fell at the market while taking me home from school one rainy day. You kept me from falling and you fell instead. You had to lie down on the bed that night because your back was giving you so much problem.
I am the daughter who was almost going to be made a prefect but you decided I should not be one as I scored 36 out of 50 marks for a Maths test. I did not dare to tell you about the test and I hid the test paper in my schoolbag. When you found out, you caned me quite badly and wrote that letter to my form teacher immediately to stop her from appointing me as a prefect in class.
I am the daughter who said she was going to be a teacher from as early as Primary 2.
I am the daughter who rushed out of the toilet halfway while showering because I tried to put a stop to your fight. I am the one who cannot stop shivering when such things happen.
I am the daughter who learnt one of life’s greatest lesson from you when you told my sister to apologise to our father for hitting him, even when he hurt you, because children must never hit their parents.
I am the daughter who witnessed your love for him when you took care of him tirelessly without complains despite your own physical exhaustion.
I am the daughter who hugged you when you sat and cried your fears out. You said you were worried that we were too young for you to leave us, should your illness take over.
I am the daughter whom you comforted over the phone when I called from a Plaza Singapura payphone to announce my O level results in tears. I am the one whom you trusted so much and whom you gave so much space during her A levels. I am the daughter who cautioned you that she may not make it to NUS the first time round but assured you that she would make it if she had to try a second time.
I am the daughter whom you were so proud of because I was going to study at NUS.
I am the daughter who felt that my convocation was meaningless because you could not attend it. You had to stay home and we rushed home after the convocation just in case you needed anything.
I am the daughter whom you were proud of because I was going to NIE to become a teacher.
I am the daughter who made your blood boil so many times because of her boyfriend at that time.
I am the daughter who told you lies just to get a chance to spend the night out.
I am the daughter whose heart wrenched when she saw you desperately trying every possible suggested remedy to find a cure for your illness. You even pounded and drank the leaves of the weeds that grew at the roadside. I felt so helpless and now that I am wiser, I know that your sense of helplessness must have been a hundred times greater.
I am the daughter whom you allowed to look after you when you were at the hospice.
I am the daughter who did not know what being warded in the hospice meant and did not cherish those last moments with you well enough. I am the daughter who should not have left the ward in the middle of the night just to go for Roti Prata at Thomson with her boyfriend while you were fast asleep. I am the daughter who regrets to this day the fact that I was not more understanding of your condition, who wishes that there was more time we could have spent together, who still dreams of you whenever I miss you.
I am the daughter who sat next to you that night at the void deck while the rest of the funeral arrangements were being made and your casket was on its way, wondering what her life would be like without you in it. I am the daughter who slept next to you while you were resting in the casket, whose heart broke when she saw them pushing your casket into the furnace.
I am the daughter who slept in the living room with you the first night after the funeral because we both could not get used to the emptiness of the house and the hollow he left behind in our hearts.
I am the daughter who tells herself ever so frequently now to cherish you for everything, to never take anything for granted. Not even you.
I am your daughter.
I am the little girl you were so proud of because I would entertain all our relatives with solo songs and dances. I am the daughter who did so well in Kindergarten and came in first in class for both years.
I am the child whom you taught how to save money when you made the three of us put fifty-cent coins into our own piggy bank every night.
I am the daughter who sulked and sat on the sofa in the living room by herself when she did not get her share of the durian. Later on, you managed to make her smile and take her back to the kitchen to join in the fun.
I am the daughter who begged you to give her piano lessons and you finally agreed after a long time.
I am the daughter who would never ask for anything from you, who always felt bad having to request for special things like a new pencil case or school bag.
I am the daughter you carried on your shoulders to see the physician when she was too sick to move. I am the daughter who was with you when you slipped fell at the market while taking me home from school one rainy day. You kept me from falling and you fell instead. You had to lie down on the bed that night because your back was giving you so much problem.
I am the daughter who was almost going to be made a prefect but you decided I should not be one as I scored 36 out of 50 marks for a Maths test. I did not dare to tell you about the test and I hid the test paper in my schoolbag. When you found out, you caned me quite badly and wrote that letter to my form teacher immediately to stop her from appointing me as a prefect in class.
I am the daughter who said she was going to be a teacher from as early as Primary 2.
I am the daughter who rushed out of the toilet halfway while showering because I tried to put a stop to your fight. I am the one who cannot stop shivering when such things happen.
I am the daughter who learnt one of life’s greatest lesson from you when you told my sister to apologise to our father for hitting him, even when he hurt you, because children must never hit their parents.
I am the daughter who witnessed your love for him when you took care of him tirelessly without complains despite your own physical exhaustion.
I am the daughter who hugged you when you sat and cried your fears out. You said you were worried that we were too young for you to leave us, should your illness take over.
I am the daughter whom you comforted over the phone when I called from a Plaza Singapura payphone to announce my O level results in tears. I am the one whom you trusted so much and whom you gave so much space during her A levels. I am the daughter who cautioned you that she may not make it to NUS the first time round but assured you that she would make it if she had to try a second time.
I am the daughter whom you were so proud of because I was going to study at NUS.
I am the daughter who felt that my convocation was meaningless because you could not attend it. You had to stay home and we rushed home after the convocation just in case you needed anything.
I am the daughter whom you were proud of because I was going to NIE to become a teacher.
I am the daughter who made your blood boil so many times because of her boyfriend at that time.
I am the daughter who told you lies just to get a chance to spend the night out.
I am the daughter whose heart wrenched when she saw you desperately trying every possible suggested remedy to find a cure for your illness. You even pounded and drank the leaves of the weeds that grew at the roadside. I felt so helpless and now that I am wiser, I know that your sense of helplessness must have been a hundred times greater.
I am the daughter whom you allowed to look after you when you were at the hospice.
I am the daughter who did not know what being warded in the hospice meant and did not cherish those last moments with you well enough. I am the daughter who should not have left the ward in the middle of the night just to go for Roti Prata at Thomson with her boyfriend while you were fast asleep. I am the daughter who regrets to this day the fact that I was not more understanding of your condition, who wishes that there was more time we could have spent together, who still dreams of you whenever I miss you.
I am the daughter who sat next to you that night at the void deck while the rest of the funeral arrangements were being made and your casket was on its way, wondering what her life would be like without you in it. I am the daughter who slept next to you while you were resting in the casket, whose heart broke when she saw them pushing your casket into the furnace.
I am the daughter who slept in the living room with you the first night after the funeral because we both could not get used to the emptiness of the house and the hollow he left behind in our hearts.
I am the daughter who tells herself ever so frequently now to cherish you for everything, to never take anything for granted. Not even you.
I am your daughter.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Handicap-friendly? Not!
M, MJ, TC and I went to do our recce today for the coming HFC Camp in December. We decided to name it "The North-East Challenge by TM and HFC" and we went up and down the NE line today. Learnt a few interesting things about each unique MRT station and took some pictures as well.
H : How many stops till we get off next?
MJ : One....
All (moaning & groaning): wah lau....
Verdict : Age is catching up on us!! We were so tired after all the walking around.
OK I'll cut the chase and get straight to the most important thing I want to blog about for today. I want to comment on the disable-friendly facilities provided in this country. Despite all the effort made by SMRT to provide lifts, ramps and handicap-friendly toilets, the provision of such facilities are still far from friendly. True, handicap or elderly Singaporeans can now take the MRT to any part of Singapore that they want, but take a REAL walk through these MRT stations using the paths for this minority group and you will realise that they aren't all that friendly. I'm speaking mainly for those who require wheelchairs for mobility.
(I strongly feel that handicap-friendly facilities must address the needs of the wheelchair-users, or we might as well not provide anything as all other forms of handicap are mobile, right?)
Take for example, there was a notice at the lift at Chinatown station. (This is the lift that serves the MRT B1, street level L1 and garden bridge level L2.) The notice said that the lift is only operational between 3pm and 11pm everyday. Should anyone need to use the lift, they can approach the station control master for assistance.
So WTF....where is this station control master? Underground of course! So if you were a wheelchair user on L1 or L2, you would have to get a cab home. If you had just taken the train and wanted to exit at Chinatown, you would have wheeled yourself a real long way only to realise that there was no way you could get out of the station and you would have to back track all the way down to speak to the station control master so that he could activate the lift for you. What a waste of time. Wheelchair users already spend more time travelling. Such inconveniences that are conveniently overlooked will just delay them even more. Doesn't make sense does it? I cannot fathom any possible reason for the strange operating hours of the lift, except to think that it's a cost-saving or labour-saving move.
A wheelchair user could take the MRT to any station in Singapore now. But that's about it. The areas surrounding the MRT stations are still by and large extremely handicap unfriendly. the general population is by and large extremely handicap unfriendly too. We belong to such a fast-paced society that people would be irritated if they were delayed by a slower handicap commuter.
Oh take another example. We walked all the way from Chinatown MRT station towards the direction of Clarke Quay station. We were interested to focus on the Speakers Corner as one of the areas that the campers could visit. The Thong Chai Medical institution was also an excellent spot as it is a national monument and there is so much to learn as the kids go along this stretch. So we happily planned our questions, tasks and instructions based on these 2 locations. Then we crossed the road and went into Clarke Quay station. Our job was not done yet. We had to look for the lifts in the station so that we could get an idea of how much walking time we need to give the kids and which station exit did the lift serve (YES, the lifts only serve one of the many possible station exits). So we took the lift up and walked out of the station. We found ourselves far from Speaker's Corner and the medical institution. We were basically at a station exit that was in the middle of almost nowhere. We had to craft a new set of tasks and questions based on "almost nowhere" and had to settle for a less educational and historical visit at this MRT station. Darn. I can understand why lifts are not provided at every single exit for the MRT station, but I cannot understand why the lifts serve the oddest exits of all. The quietest and less-crowded exits, I presume.
I rest my case.
At some stations, the distance between the exit points and the lifts is SO FAR that it's almost like a torture to ask the kids and volunteers to go on this journey. I mean, even WE were tired of walking!
H : eh like that how? Kids like Mubarak would be able to walk this far, but I think anyone with more severe handicap from Nizam or Gopinath onwards would be in trouble.
MJ : Yeah I agree.
M : The volunteers pushing those on ordinary wheelchairs will also die man.
All : yah...
MJ : We need to give them breaks!
H : yeah...we must have some way to insist that they take a break to eat and etc.
Nevertheless, we feel accomplished today. We managed to finish going through what we wanted to do and we are going to meet up again next Sat or Sun to run through the preparations. Phew!
PS : Pampered myself with a pedicure after the recce just now. I enjoy doing girly stuffs.
H : How many stops till we get off next?
MJ : One....
All (moaning & groaning): wah lau....
Verdict : Age is catching up on us!! We were so tired after all the walking around.
OK I'll cut the chase and get straight to the most important thing I want to blog about for today. I want to comment on the disable-friendly facilities provided in this country. Despite all the effort made by SMRT to provide lifts, ramps and handicap-friendly toilets, the provision of such facilities are still far from friendly. True, handicap or elderly Singaporeans can now take the MRT to any part of Singapore that they want, but take a REAL walk through these MRT stations using the paths for this minority group and you will realise that they aren't all that friendly. I'm speaking mainly for those who require wheelchairs for mobility.
(I strongly feel that handicap-friendly facilities must address the needs of the wheelchair-users, or we might as well not provide anything as all other forms of handicap are mobile, right?)
Take for example, there was a notice at the lift at Chinatown station. (This is the lift that serves the MRT B1, street level L1 and garden bridge level L2.) The notice said that the lift is only operational between 3pm and 11pm everyday. Should anyone need to use the lift, they can approach the station control master for assistance.
So WTF....where is this station control master? Underground of course! So if you were a wheelchair user on L1 or L2, you would have to get a cab home. If you had just taken the train and wanted to exit at Chinatown, you would have wheeled yourself a real long way only to realise that there was no way you could get out of the station and you would have to back track all the way down to speak to the station control master so that he could activate the lift for you. What a waste of time. Wheelchair users already spend more time travelling. Such inconveniences that are conveniently overlooked will just delay them even more. Doesn't make sense does it? I cannot fathom any possible reason for the strange operating hours of the lift, except to think that it's a cost-saving or labour-saving move.
A wheelchair user could take the MRT to any station in Singapore now. But that's about it. The areas surrounding the MRT stations are still by and large extremely handicap unfriendly. the general population is by and large extremely handicap unfriendly too. We belong to such a fast-paced society that people would be irritated if they were delayed by a slower handicap commuter.
Oh take another example. We walked all the way from Chinatown MRT station towards the direction of Clarke Quay station. We were interested to focus on the Speakers Corner as one of the areas that the campers could visit. The Thong Chai Medical institution was also an excellent spot as it is a national monument and there is so much to learn as the kids go along this stretch. So we happily planned our questions, tasks and instructions based on these 2 locations. Then we crossed the road and went into Clarke Quay station. Our job was not done yet. We had to look for the lifts in the station so that we could get an idea of how much walking time we need to give the kids and which station exit did the lift serve (YES, the lifts only serve one of the many possible station exits). So we took the lift up and walked out of the station. We found ourselves far from Speaker's Corner and the medical institution. We were basically at a station exit that was in the middle of almost nowhere. We had to craft a new set of tasks and questions based on "almost nowhere" and had to settle for a less educational and historical visit at this MRT station. Darn. I can understand why lifts are not provided at every single exit for the MRT station, but I cannot understand why the lifts serve the oddest exits of all. The quietest and less-crowded exits, I presume.
I rest my case.
At some stations, the distance between the exit points and the lifts is SO FAR that it's almost like a torture to ask the kids and volunteers to go on this journey. I mean, even WE were tired of walking!
H : eh like that how? Kids like Mubarak would be able to walk this far, but I think anyone with more severe handicap from Nizam or Gopinath onwards would be in trouble.
MJ : Yeah I agree.
M : The volunteers pushing those on ordinary wheelchairs will also die man.
All : yah...
MJ : We need to give them breaks!
H : yeah...we must have some way to insist that they take a break to eat and etc.
Nevertheless, we feel accomplished today. We managed to finish going through what we wanted to do and we are going to meet up again next Sat or Sun to run through the preparations. Phew!
PS : Pampered myself with a pedicure after the recce just now. I enjoy doing girly stuffs.
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