STAR BLOGGERS

I’ve written on my blog before about what Chinese New Year means to me. With the birth of our new baby boy in Singapore in late September, 2010, we have decided to once again brave the cold in Shanghai to visit the family and extended family this festive period.

However, posts on Lunar New Year celebrations in China aside, I’ve not before shared my perspectives on this wonderful cultural experience back home in Singapore. Although the background is relatively the same, just as we have experienced with other Chinese festivities, many of the events and traditions are much different. So for all my non-Singaporean friends and new residents of Singapore, let me share some of my observations.

Let’s look for example, at the very uniquely Singaporean tradition of ‘tossing’ what many Westerners might call a ‘hotchpotch’ of ingredients into the air while yelling out well wishes for the New Year… my first exposure to this activity back in 2006 took me completely by surprise, to say the least! Nobody warned me what was to follow – but being one to always partake in any local festivities to their fullest, I jumped up and joined in the tossing while yelling ‘Lo Hei’ (only later did my colleagues brief me on the tradition and explain that we were basically wishing for longevity and prosperity).

I will not even try to explain the full reason for each of the ingredients or their meanings (for fear of looking even more stupid than I did that very first day), so let me suggest a brief reading on the topic here… if you want to do even more research, just Google the Chinese – 发财鱼生 (or Chinese pinyin fā​cái yú shēng) – and you will find thousands of articles… I will reinforce however, that from what I know of Chinese culture, this is probably something that is very specific to Singapore – even my wife had never heard of or seen this behavior in northern or central mainland China.

Another very interesting observation, is what many could call an ‘obsession’ with a particular seafood not commonly consumed in many other parts of the world – not even in Australia, which is apparently one of the largest producers and exporters of this relatively expensive commodity. I am, of course, referring to ‘Abalone’.

Now I am still not a big consumer of Abalone (unless it happens to be included in one of the festive dishes during Chinese New Year) – just like durian… it’s definitely an acquired taste, and not something that I would go out of my way to purchase – but I’m led to believe that the cost of high quality Abalone is very steep indeed, and many people save their hard-earned money just to enjoy this ‘sea snail’ which is considered somewhat of a delicacy at this time of year. I do know, that a 425gram can of Abalone from New Zealand retails for around S$42.

Finally, although I am very accustomed to the tradition of sharing of ‘hong bao’ (in Singapore, it’s often known as ‘ang bao’ or ‘angpow’), or the ‘red packet’, it is definitely at a different scale to mainland China. The company I work for gives each of their employees a red packet with a nominal amount of money – from my observation, it’s more the gesture that counts in Singapore, rather than the actual monetary value.

What I’m not used to however, is the sharing and receiving of mandarins. I have no idea what this one is about, but I fully intend to find out! I have heard that it is not good form to give just one mandarin – it must be a gift in at least pairs… go figure!

In summary, for any foreigners, new expats or residents or those just thinking of spending their vacation in Singapore this Lunar New Year, I strongly encourage you to get out there and experience the festivities for all they are worth… and I don’t just mean hitting up a restaurant on Orchard Road or in your hotel!! Now that I am actively involved in the Grassroots organization in my local community, I have become very aware of how much effort goes into the local heartland events, and I strongly recommend that if you want to experience the culture and diversity associated with such an important time in our calendar, that you take the trek outside of the tourist areas and mix it with the locals – I will guarantee that you will be made feel welcome and that you will experience a Chinese New Year that is uniquely Singaporean and cannot be found anywhere else in Asia!

Peter Breitkreutz (aka Aussie Pete) is a PR who has been living and working in Singapore for more than 5 years. VP of a global bank by day, Peter lives with his wife and two young boys (both born in Singapore), is author of award winning blog, www.aussiepete.com and star blogger at OMY (http://blog.omy.sg/aussiepete) and MICA (http://www.blogfriends.sg/Blogs/aussiepete.aspx).

Before I first came to Singapore, it was nothing more than a 90 seconds item in the TV news, yearly repeated with the imprecise regularity of the monsoon season.  I’d frown my eye brows again, without giving it more thought than just realising that in other parts of the world, people would have their second new year’s party of the year. At least, the Chinese New Year was a cheerful flake of news in the daily avalanche of dark gloomy messages, albeit pressed like a cheap gossip magazine between two heavy book holders, swept away by the devastating passage of a North American hurricane in the news item before, and immediately convicted to oblivion by the more shocking news of yet another tax increase in my own country after. They would typically broadcast a predictable video clip that contained the stereotype images of fireworks lighting some random Asian skyline, a colourful dragon head and moving legs, and some street shots of pedestrians crossing the road in a sub-urban Chinatown, not even bothering to dig their archives in a quest to find images of a true Asian city.  It was an all too easy bet: the last shot would unavoidably be one of a bunch of animals, cosily cuddling and flocking together, and – oh what a coincidence – they happened to be the live version of the zodiac sign of the new lunar year, filmed a few hours earlier at a nearby Belgian farm or zoo.  You can imagine the challenge for the TV station in the years of the dragon; the news item then simply became 15 seconds shorter even.

No wonder that the real Chinese New Year experience turned out to be totally different than my own pre-conceived expectations; looking at a person’s silhouette always reveals so much more than watching his shadow  Once more the TV news had proven to be merely a black-and-white comic book that shamelessly summarizes a more colourful novel.

By now, I have smelled the sweat of the young lion dancers performing a few metres away from me. I have heard the ruffling of their drums, their chitchatting as they climb into the pickup truck that will bring them to yet another place.   I have learnt about fire crackers and what they mean apart from the mere noise they produce. I got skilful at tossing food at round tables.  I have pushed my trolley in the supermarket, while hearing long forgotten Chinese tunes that are beautiful in their ugliness; and I know that unlike any other week, the usual Chinese cashier won’t be smiling from behind the counter on Chinese New Year’s day.  I filled red packets, but only after asking around, in all discretion, which colour of Singapore dollar notes you are supposed to put in.  And I found out about so much more, learning that you can’t make someone else’s traditions your own, but they can make them yours. You should not adopt them, but adapt to them.

Our conversations had been limited to wordless greetings and smiles when we saw each other in the street, until my neighbour rung the doorbell. She stood in the gate opening with a broad smile and gave me a box of oranges.  I couldn’t come up with anything more creative to murmur but a simple “thank you” when she wished me “Gong Xi Fa Cai”. She disappeared, just as unnoticeably and mysteriously as she had shown up, only to re-appear again the following year for our annual one-minute date.  Gong Xi Fa Cai… I didn’t even know what it meant, back then. But I read those same words on a lonely signboard that hung over the deserted expressway the morning after the reunion dinners.  Only because those dinners are so incredibly sumptuous, abundant and take days to digest, can it be reasonably explained that even food courts in food-loving Singapore are equally empty on those days…

 A Belgian expat in Singapore, expressing his love for words, travel and yoga into his posts, each carrying a music song name as title. The blog contains columns, philosophic considerations, poetry, and many travel pictures. He blogs at http://chasing-thoth.blogspot.com.

The Wall Street Journal excerpts do not do justice to the book. Readers who have never read the book may not understand this post.

I am a Chinese Mother who does not have constant face offs with my kids. I’ve never pushed them too far… partly because I am probably neither as stubborn nor as intelligent as Amy Chua. It takes too much strength to push someone. I would much rather they pushed themselves and early on, I realized that for my kids to push themselves, they had to want to… and to want to, they had to choose to.

I gave them choices, and I respected those choices.

However, I did everything I could to ensure that they chose to excel in the areas that mattered to me. I’m a psychologist researching into Human Motivation. So perhaps I had some unfair advantage when it came to influencing them towards the right choices gently but determinedly). My approach was different (less frontal assault, less violent, more respectful) but I was no less determined, and I was motivated by the very same reasons that Amy Chua was. And I gave up a lot of me to get them there. I was a woman on a mission to get my kids right.

The Chinese culture is collectivistic. Whom you are belongs to others and whom others are belong to you. We own each other as it were. A Chinese Mother will invest and intrude into her child’s life because her child is her and she is her child. Where does one life begin and the other end? The question of whether one does it for self, or does it for the child isn’t even relevant because one does it for both self and child. The 2 are same.

This notion is completely alien to the Western culture.

Think of it this way. Would any human being so selflessly dedicate hours of heart-wrenching effort and brave universal opprobrium if she did not feel at one with the person she is striving for? It is this hive mentality that propels bees to sacrifice all for the nest, and the same hive mentality that propels a Chinese mother to sacrifice all for her Chinese Children. Simply, we don’t see ourselves as individuals apart from our child. We are one and the same.

Similarly, a Chinese Mother speaks the honest truth in the baldest terms to her child because we owe to ourselves not to lie to ourselves. The Chinese almost never speak forthrightly to those who are not family for fear of breaking tenuous ties of friendship, and when friends become enemies, the world becomes a dangerous place. Diplomatic lies are pretty and gives you friends, but truth hurts (and is a privilege granted to those you most love). Shakespeare (not Chinese I don’t think) said it best with “cruel to be kind”. For a Chinese Mother to tell diplomatic lies so that her child will think kindly of her is to be the ultimate “mère indigne” (mother of shame). The Chinese Mother will meet your eyes and say “Hate me. But I love you so much that I will do my best for you even if I lose your love and all else that goes with it. And I will love you even if you don’t love me back.”

The Chinese Mother dares to say this because it would never really occur to a true Chinese Mother that a child can become an enemy. The Chinese Mother cannot easily envisage that the child would hate her for what she has done or said. It’s like hating yourself. Not really possible if you are one and the same person.

And if you are an individual used to pushing yourself to excel, then you will naturally roll up your sleeves and get into the trenches to push your child. It’s like you pushing you. The 2 are same. Fortunately, I am not the sort to push myself as hard as Amy pushed herself… and so, I pushed my kids less.

We live in Singapore, a country where East meets West. Something in the air ensured that I hung on to my own individuality enough that I encouraged The Daughter’s development as an individual. She had choices. I just guided them where I thought was wise. In that way, I was intrusive, so I was not entirely respectful of her individuality as maybe a Western parent would have been.

If I thought I knew better, it was then my duty to ensure she made the right choices. Not for me, a Chinese Mother, to say “It’s your life. Live with the consequences of what you choose.” Not for me, a Chinese Mother to stand by and watch her choose a thing that would bring her sadness, and us shame, in time to come. You see, the entire social context frowns upon Chinese Parents when adult children go astray. No Chinese Parent can say “It’s not my fault. That child made his own choices.” The society would not allow that. It is expected that parents guide children’s choices and if they choose wrongly, parents share in part, the shame.

One day, The Daughter challenged my guidance. It was a short terse remark to tell me I had contradicted myself in my guidance of her, and of a sudden, I felt that an entire lifetime of effort had slipped into the deep nothingness of the bathroom floortrap to be greedily set upon by cockroaches in the dark. “Did I give up so much of me for this?” I asked myself. It would be better to not have kids and amass more money in the bank. Money provides security but children bring heartache. I recoiled in shock and in pain, even though our little tiff was nowhere close to what Amy and her kids went through.

I was devastated. I spent a day crying into my pillow only to have The Husband say “Don’t blame yourself for how she turns out. She needs to be responsible for her own life. If she fails, she fails. Whatever happens, you and I have each other.”

I decided to pull back and stop offering guidance. For a Chinese Mother that is an act tantamount to child abandonment. But part of me is also Western, and I hung onto the Western idea that she was her own woman, and I was mine… and that what she did was not my business. But when push came to shove, I could not do it. When she next got into trouble, I had to help somehow. Her business was mine and I expect that in the future, my business will be hers.

That is the bond that links Chinese Mother and Child.

In that same moment, we both realized that the same bond that chafes both her and I, is the same bond that brings comfort, solace and help to her and to me. Amy cannot help herself. The bond is too strong. Daughter and Mother will feel both pain and joy through it, and to severe it means that a part of each person will die.

I could even relate to Amy Chua’s fear of family decline – the famous 3-generation curse. The Husband and I started with nothing. It took years of saving to be financially comfortable and we have some way to go before we are financially secure. My kids did not have branded goods because I don’t have any. We wanted our kids to learn a formidable work ethic, and material self-restraint.

Again the collectivism kicks in, you see. We are A Family. As The Husband and I age and pass into weakness, we want the next generation to be strong and wise. To them we can pass all we have that is most precious – our bloodline, our name, whatever wealth we have. We count on them to build on what we have built… further grow what we have cultivated so that future generations will prosper. In that way, The Family will prosper. In a collectivistic culture, one looks past The Individual’s likes or dislikes to ensure the survival of The Collective. Such a culture can have scant respect for the individual. For the good of The Family, I cannot be soft with my kids.

I understand why Amy did what she did, and I understand her pain. It’s a different underlying philosophy that drives behavior… and it is easy to judge the behavior negatively when one does not grasp the philosophy behind.

It mayn’t be entirely fair to judge a culture’s philosophy. Much of it is programmed into our subconscious. You grew up that way just as your ancestors did. Somewhere in the long time ago, it started with perhaps a confluence of geographical events, that lead to a lifestyle, that lead then to a system of shared beliefs… that is now deeply ingrained in the cultural psyche.

Is it right or wrong? Who knows? The individual… or the collective… which is more important? For me, it’s just the way things are. The sky is blue. Is that good or bad? How does one judge the sky for being blue?

Petunia Lee is Singaporean blogger who believes that she could be more relaxed with her daughter’s teaching but chose to stick to the “intrusive” style of parenting. She blogs at http://petunialee.blogspot.com

If I were a child in the 21st century, this post wouldn’t have existed, since I’ll be too busy with my school work along with other commitments to be writing a blog in the first place. Or at least the post wouldn’t have got as long as it did.

Thinking about life as a child in the 21st century partly involves looking at the changes and the continuities between now, and the century before. As someone who has bridged the two centuries with my childhood, I can say that there is probably as much continuity as there are differences.

For a start, I’ll still be a legacy of the “Stop at Two” policy, with not more than two siblings, if I have siblings at all. But there’s nothing strange about it actually, at least for me, since my parents will probably have no memory or experience of being members of a large extended family, they too being the products or the same policy, though for their time it was considered a success rather than a problem.

Of course, if I don’t have siblings, I don’t have to share anything, and I wouldn’t have learnt how to share things in the first place. But I wonder what kind of society this individualism would create.

And it certainly doesn’t help to have no siblings when your parents will not be around half the time. Busy at work, busy to make ends meet. A child of the 21st century desires as much of the same love and attention as a child at any other time, though it’s sad that in the 21st century, love and attention seems to be substituted by money, or whatever money can acquire: extra pocket money, a big present for Christmas, and a maid to play with, and make sure I do my homework. Having no siblings to fight over the attention of parents is one thing, but the issue becomes meaningless when that attention is not existent to begin with.

But on the bright side, at least I don’t have to put up, unlike children in earlier times, with demands such as learning some musical instrument, invariably the piano or the violin. Or at least my parents let me choose. Going, if not gone, I hope, were the days parents wrote the fiction of their children’s childhood, and the days children lived the “childhoods” of their parents rather than their own.

Wee Keat is currently a student at the National University of Singapore, and spends much of his time thinking about his childhood, or rather his lack of one.

Imagine you are walking down a street in Singapore with lighted street lamps. You hear the average cyclist ringing his bell from behind for you to make way. Sounds like a pretty normal walk home doesn’t it? Well, the only difference is, the man on the bicycle, is not wearing a single piece of clothing. And so is everyone else around. All is exposed and for you to see. Ah, the life of a person in a nudist colony.

Unorthodox indeed and definitely not an idea any average Singaporean would come up with. However, the recent cases of public nudity being on the rise… Why not? One could argue the oh-so cliche “freedom of expression” argument. Or, it could be just be a congregation of a group of people who share the same interests and hobby – that is to run errands in their birthday suits.

Considering the little privacy that I have living in a normal HDB apartment… It’s seems like a nudist colony to me. One look outside my window and I can see what TV show the uncle in the other block is watching(CSI on Channel 5, to be exact) and the books on his son’s bookshelf. I kid.

Yet, we – or rather I should remind myself that not everyone is as liberal and open-minded as me. The more traditional and conservative ones may find baring too much skin offensive and crude. Ergo the problem of where we should allocate this thing called the “Nudist Colony”. The sight of a naked man shopping for an Hermes bag at Marina Bay Sands would be a major turn off to the big-spending tourists. Thus, Orchard road or any tourist related areas would be out of the question. Which leaves us with our homely neighbourhoods! Hougang, Choa Chu Kang, Bukit Panjang… You get the picture. The lists goes on which can be quite a conundrum. Choosing perhaps the most secluded area would be what everyone would agree to. On the other hand, putting the colony in such a secluded and outcasted place would only prove that society is unable to accept such an outrageous and unorthodox lifestyle.

As much as I think a Nudist Colony in Singapore would give our country something to talk about and a quirk, I doubt my mother nor my grandmother would be comfortable with it being in our neighbourhood.

Firqin Sumartono is a strong advocate of freedom of expression and has a long-standing affair with the environment, economics and Harry Potter.

I am your typical Singaporean – practical. So when someone comes up to me and says, ‘let’s make this better’, I am all for it.

I welcome the move for the Lions to start anew. I believe that the new slate of players brought in will ensure that we get (not only) the talented but also the hungriest players on the pitch. For me, playing with a big heart is just as important as talent, if not more so.

Perhaps, that’s what’s missing from our ‘pitch’ these days – playing with all our hearts.

And the boys are not the only ones guilty.

Where we were – the Singaporeans – when the boys needed their twelfth man? We were busy writing them off and/or were indulging in finger-pointing or fault finding. Everything but standing behind them when they needed us.

I can foresee people rolling their eyes and accusing me of finger-pointing and fault finding myself.

Hear me out first, please.

I believe we are being too harsh if the revamp is seen as a sign of failure solely on the part of the players.

Football is not only a physical game – it is a mental game too.

Take the Miracle of Istanbul for example.

In the 2005 Champions League final in Istanbul, Liverpool made a stunning come-back by scoring three goals in six minutes – buoyed by the persistent cheering by the Liverpool fans – to draw level with Milan at fulltime, eventually winning on penalties.

Remember how our National Stadium was a 55,000-strong sea of red during the 2004 Tiger Cup (as it was then known) final? Remember how this little red dot island was on a euphoric high for months after?

My point is: what has happened to our national pride?

This brings me to my next point: Foreign Talent.

Foreign talent and sports are two words that often appear together in one sentence here in Singapore.

Everyone has something to say on this issue.

Here’s my two cents worth: we should keep our minds open to foreign talent without compromising on our own born-and-bred in Singapore brood.

In Singapore, the paper chase is the norm. Most parents do not hesitate to send their children to tuition centres and enrichment courses but think long and hard when their children express their wish to pursue sporting excellence, especially in football. As such, how do we then groom our ‘made in Singapores’?

An efficient way to address this issue is to bring foreign talent in. However, we should have the strictest criteria of what foreign talent is and also have a cap on the number of foreign talent on our team.

The last two questions are then: where do we go from here? How do we get there?

We have nowhere to go but up. We need to invest in our young ones and place our faith in them. Our Youth Olympic team shows much promise. We, as Singaporeans, need to show them that we believe in them, that we will be there for them, come rain or shine, come the wins and the loss.

As always, Majulah Singapura!

The writer is in her mid-twenties and is currently in the legal industry.

Isn’t it always a pain to be told that you have done well but there is always room for improvement? I don’t want to be a pain but honestly, wouldn’t it be nice just to be told once. Just once. “Well done, you have excelled. Go on and prosper. ”

I kid. I have to say though that the sky has no limits and we will never learn everything there is in the world to learn (I am a firm believer of this! This makes life more exciting innit?) That being said, let’s inappropriately move on to another topic. Are we learning the right things?

The long tussle between creativity and academics mean that we are forced to use both our left and right brain equally hard at the same time. This may have resulted in very highly gifted people with no time in life to enjoy the little things because if they are not busy studying, they will be busy creating. Exactly what they are creating I am not too sure.  Or there are some cases whereby one may be forced to choose to give up either one. You give up creativity; you’ll be a droid but a smart one, destined to climb up the ladder of academic ranks. You give up academics, guess what? You’ll be a failure. Period.

I sound like I don’t appreciate our education system, trust me I do. An overseas exchange showed me why quickly. For starters, Asians seem to have razor –sharp analytic skill. Either that or the class was too boring and nobody else was paying attention. Except the overzealous Asians.

I know I’m infringing terribly on the oft-cast stereotype but I can’t help it when my brain generalizes it that way. In other words, it’s true to me.  Education is important. How we deal with education should be important too. What types of education are we looking at?

I don’t care about the rankings; I don’t really care about what job my education can bring me. I just like learning, be it the hard stuff or the life stuff. When people see it as that, maybe things can change and we can stop using education to compete, to emerge the winner.

Ginger Chia is a student of the world, drunk on life, not to be taken too seriously. Skim for the valid points.