An encounter with foreign talents.

“How do you say ‘shut up’ in Mandarin?” he asks, eager to know. I wouldn’t tell him. “I know it’s ‘ba’ something….” I remained mum.

“Once I’ve learnt how to say ‘shut up’ in Mandarin, I’ll tell the Singaporeans to shut up and cross the road in anyway they want.**” This, over dried, red chilli frogs’ legs in claypot and rice.

**There’s another story linked to this.

He’s a newish “foreign talent” in Singapore so it’s right that he’s thirsting to know more about Singapore and Singaporeans in general.

Earlier in the day, we were heading out from his apartment. I pushed him aside as we walked, crossing across the entrance of his condominium, right onto the driveway. “Why did you push me?” I explained that it was the driveway and that cars are coming in. “Yes, but they should either slow down or give me space – they can’t knock me down. I’m a pedestrian.” I argued saying that sure, they can slow down but that’s a risk you are taking. He said that the pedestrian has a right of way as no drivers should knock a pedestrian down. It’s true what he said but I wouldn’t leave it to fate.

True enough, when we went back to take his Ezylink farecard (that he had forgotten), he had a close encounter. He crossed the driveway while 2 cars were turning in. One went very close to him, almost running into him. The driver turned in and got out of his car. He was German. He was very upset and accused my foreign talent of having hit the rooftop of his car. He further said that my foreign talent should not have crossed the driveway. “It’s for cars to turn in!”

“But you could have slowed down or given me some space. There was no need for you to come so close to me. There was plenty of space for your car to move.”

“It’s a driveway, cars turn in there. Driveways are for cars.”

“But there’s no other way to get out – except by crossing the driveway and cars should slow down.”

“Then you can go to the road and see if the cars slow down.”

“Ahh…but that’s the road and this is a driveway.”

Foreign talent argued and said that he hit the side of the car, not the rooftop.

As for me, I stood aside and watched the drama unfold. I couldn’t defend or take any sides as I didn’t see what really happened. All I knew was that my foreign talent did not hit the rooftop of the German guy. I would have seen it otherwise because he would have had to lift his hand above his shoulders to do that. They went back and forth.

I can’t even remember how it came about but this came out - “Where do you come from?” German said, Germany. My foreign talent then said that in Germany, he wouldn’t dare do such a thing because he would either have slowed down or given the pedestrian space to walk. German than asked “Where are you from?” “U.S.A” “No...cannot be. You are not from the U.S.”

So this is it. Does the U.S have different laws pertaining to the road? Is it alright to knock down a pedestrian in any country? Or is it because my friend didn’t sound American or is not the correct colour? Would it have been different if he looked or sounded American? From his reaction, one could tell that he had a preconceived idea of where my foreign talent came from. In his tone of disbelief, he's indirectly accusing of him of lying. As far as I could see – it was more than crossing the driveway. It didn’t have to be more but it came down to being a certain nationality and (the right) colour.

German was red in the face but backed down when he realised that foreign talent had a point. But he did say, “Next time, I will not give you a chance. I will hit you.”

Threatening someone in front of a witness…Ahhh…stupidity does transcend all nationalities, colours, etc etc.... In Mandarin, we call it “ben dan”. Kalau Bahasa Melayu, “bodoh” dan Bahasa Indonesia, “goblok”.

So, foreign talent – I do agree with you, up to a certain point. I will not bi zhui – I abhor being silent and staying oppressed. I have a voice but I choose my battles wisely. I will not cross the road willy-nilly, silly. I don’t want to leave it to fate. I have more to give than what I have given and I need to stay alive for this.

Hugs,
Petal P.Rose

"Stressed out people need luxuries!"

he proclaimed, at a corner of the Borders bookstore last night. He was chubby, with geeky glasses and dressed in a nondescript pair of bermudas and a polo t-shirt. I went past him and heard him. He was holding his handphone in hand and I thought he was on the phone though it wasn't put to his ear. Ah, you know how it is these days - bluetooth this and wired that and I didn't think too much about it - just that he was a bit loud. He repeated himself a couple more times and that was when I turned back and took a closer look.

He wasn't on the handphone. He was declaring it. He had alot of confused looks from the others who were walking past - I had to react. I went over to him, put 2 thumbs up and yelled back "I hear ya! Right on! I agree with ya!" Only then did I notice his bag. He was holding on to a "Dior" paperbag. I was tempted to carry on and ask "How about a spa package then? I'm stressed out. Or better yet - a whole 2 weeks, sequestered away in a nice villa in Thailand - without you.?"

I don't know if it was a social experiment he was doing or if he was part of a theatre group and he was researching a role - who knows? Or perhaps feeling guilty over his recent purchase, he was seeking redress and approval, but from the public? Hmm....He didn't even look like your typical loony. For one, he was Chinese, simply but well-dressed and well spoken. Some of you may say that now I am the one boxing someone in - but it's true. If you had seen him, you would think the same.

Or is it truly that with the level of stress he's burst the dam? How will he or people like him be dealt with? Will he be picked up and locked away somewhere - I mean, we don't want people like him to impede the progress of our gracious society, would we? Like the rest of Singapore, all is nice and green. People are smiley. Stepford Wives, Asian version 1.1...there was something pleasant about that place.....

Much love,

Petal P. Rose

The woman with the glass eye

She goes around with a magnifying glass
In hand she takes it
about her daily life
peering at documents over the counter
I wonder what she sees -
does it bring things closer,
more than she wants to see?
change it perversely to suit her dull heart?
or let it end
there, over the counter,
right where there is a full stop.

Petal P. Rose

Discoursed discord

I was reading an essay from Judith Ortiz Cofer, drawn from her collection, The Latin Deli” Prose and Poetry (1993). It is titled “The Myth of the Latin Woman”. This can be found in the third edition of “One World, Many Cultures”, a compilation of works by internationally recognised writers, exploring cultural difference and displacement in relation to race, class, gender, region and nation. This book, although first published in 1992, still is relevant and rings through to the present, unfortunately.

I picked on Ms Cofer’s essay in particular because I could identify with it. In her essay, she talked about how she’s stereotyped as the help because she is a Latina in America. She related how she inspired men to bend their wretched knees and burst into “Maria” from West Side story, “La Bamba” and “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”. Though I have not inspired men as such, I have had encounters similar to that – here, in Singapore. Not surprising to me as I view the people here as “technologically advanced, business savvy but culturally ignorant, not to mention tactless”.

I am brown-skinned. You can see that in my picture here. I have always attracted curious morons who do not think twice to ask the origins of my ethnicity – if I am asked, that is. But most often, it is assumed. This comes out in their body language and speech when they interact with me. Most assume that I am the help. I am divided on my reaction to this. I want to feel insulted – but there is nothing wrong with being “the help”. I mostly laugh it off but at the back of my mind, I am not happy with it yet I cannot go on a crusade and make it my battle to correct these idiots.

I had a western boyfriend. We, along with a friend of mine, who is of mixed parentage, went to Carrefour to get some groceries in preparation for a barbeque at his place later in the evening. As we stood at the checkout counter, waiting for the groceries to be tallied and totalled up, I instructed my boyfriend and my friend on how to pack the groceries and who should carry what. “Ding!” She, the checkout lady, rang up the total and I was taking out my purse to hand her the cash. “Tell sir, if he just add S$3 he can get 1 extra lucky draw coupon.” I was stunned. I asked her, “What do you mean?” and she repeated herself. I then put on my most Singlish accent and told her, “No need, we are not interested”. I thought that would put an end to it but noooooo…she insisted that I “ask sir if he wants to add S$3 – eh, why not, extra 1 coupon, extra 1 chance, you know.” Two of them were oblivious to this exchange as they were busy discussing the barbeque and packing the groceries. I practically shoved the cash into her hand, “No need, don’t want”. Never mind that I was instructing “sir” and “mam”. Never mind that I was dressed nicely.

Later in the evening, during the barbeque, I was also treated as “the help”. The crowd was a mix of locals and expats, but mostly expats. I had people talk down to me, ordering me about, thinking also that I was “the help”. I was treated like a bloody waitress, right there in my own home. Yes, I am the co-host and must be gracious, warm and all those things, I understand that. But there is a difference between asking and commanding. I have never been so out of place in my own home.

I was also at Daiso a couple of weeks back with the same friend of mixed parentage. It was our day off, so we dressed simply, t-shirt, shorts, flip flops. The same thing happened at the checkout counter (what is it with me and checkout ladies?!). “Ah, you can ask Mam to help you stick the sticker.” So aside from being “the help”, I am also stupid. Nice.

I am sick and tired of being stereotyped and honestly, also being asked “what are you?” I am human, just like you, with feelings. It does not matter where I come from. I have no problems, like I said, being asked about my ethnicity but a little tact would be nice.

The presumptuous attitude of Singaporeans at large is appalling. They consider themselves Lords and Kings because Singapore is very much advanced in many ways. It is a fact but we do not need to push the dirt into the faces of “the help”. “The help” who has helped and who are still helping, you to clean the house, bring up the children, build homes and offices. “The help” know that they are poor and their economic situation is not quite like Singapore – far from it. That is the reason why they are working here, neglecting their own families to care for yours. Ironic, isn’t it?

I sat in the back of the cab. He glanced in the rear view mirror. “Oh, from Indonesia. You just finish work is it? Wah...Orchard ah, this time….ya lah…nowadays must work very hard to get money.” He had picked me up from Orchard Hotel, near the infamous Orchard Towers. With that gleam in his eyes, I could see where this conversation was going – down south where I did not go. He continued as he carried me along the scared road towards home. I tuned out, gazing out of the window, hoping that he will just bloody shut up. He didn’t get the hint and continued on his monologue. As we neared my place, “Wahh…you in Singapore, so lucky. Live in a block. Indonesia all kampung kampung. Ah, S$23, miss. Good night, ah.” Need I say more?

So to end it (for now, at least) I am a second generation Indonesian, born and raised, here in Lion City. As I tick that box under “Race” in all my application forms, I nod in agreement of that coffin that is prepared for all inhabitants of this sunny island. I nod in agreement of the lid closing in and of the nails that are slowly knocked in, securing me, in my place, right here, sunny island, Lion City.

Petal P. Rose

Wooohoooo!!! Happy New Year!!!

There's about 30 minutes left to the first day of new year. Have you made a resolution? I am done with resolutions as well as masak-masak friends. I am deleting contact numbers and email addresses of these so-called friends. You can call it purging - they are shit anyway. :-)

It has always been the norm for me to send out a text message each Christmas and New Year to people on my phonebook list. This year I decided not to - and also not reply. The ones I didn't reply to, it means that I will call - in the next few days or I just can't be bothered to. Why wish someone Merry Christmas and a good year ahead when "you" are not there anyway? Are you there when I take a mis-step or worst, a fall? Are you there to laugh with me and share the pains I go through? NOPE. ABSENT.

The thing is, I'm not one to confront it and get all upset, etc. But I do have a problem when these "friends" get all huffy-puffy when I don't have their numbers stored in my phone because I lost my handphone. Whatever the fuck for? I mean, it's not like they call me. I try and keep up with them, on msn, I start the conversations, mostly. As a recent meet-up confirms my gut-feel, I am now freeing up space on my handphone for real friends - who matter to me and me to them. Why should I get myself into ridiculous yoga poses for these masak-masak ones?

So for the new year, I had my handphone off and was surrounded by people who DO matter. I had a call on the eve from a friend whom I know is a very busy person, another, all the way from Sweden and yet another from the group I worked with on a forum theatre piece. I appreciate it all. I never expected them to call but they did. Those who didn't call or wish, no worries - I know your worth to me and so should you.

So long fuckers, it's good that you can sleep at night.

Petal P. Rose