by Bertha Henson
YOU have got to be a toad in a hole if you didn’t know it was National Day yesterday. The siren didn’t wake you up at 9am? You stayed home all day and didn’t see so many people in all manner of red dress? Your television was on the blink and your car radio was tuned to an Indonesian channel? You didn’t take a free bus ride anywhere? You only checked emails and never looked anywhere else online?
I wonder about those who left town to enjoy a four-day weekend abroad. That holiday can always be taken later; the 50th birthday of Singapore comes around only once.
It was not too long ago that Singapore came together to mourn the death of its first Prime Minister. Now we came together for a day of revelry and festivity. Never mind that you couldn’t get tickets to the National Day parade, the celebratory mood was everywhere, in the flags you see which are even on people’s faces and in the malls and the neighbourhood centres in the heartlands. You are forced, however unwillingly, to confront the idea of being a Singaporean. You hear the National anthem and automatically stand at attention. Suddenly, the recital of the National Pledge becomes more meaningful. You catch yourself humming the song “Home” under your breath.
You also think about how Mr Lee Kuan Yew is not around to witness the National Day parade. He might have thought we spent too much money putting on a lavish show although, as his daughter put it, he would consider it a “nice gesture”. Whether you liked or hated the man, the sight of an empty seat at the grandstand with a sprig of yellow orchid will give you pause.
I wasn’t at the National Day parade. I was at home typing on my computer with the television on at full blast. So I didn’t fully miss the screams, the spectacle, the fireworks and the drama in the sky. I think I had a better seat than those who crammed the Marina Bay area or booked a hotel room. But I think again that they made up for incomplete viewing by indulging in the atmosphere, which might have been better than Singapore winning the Malaysia Cup – again.
I remember two faces of Singapore – the solemn one which comes on with mentions of LKY especially when the video tribute was playing. You hear his voice proclaiming independence, recorded just three years ago, and can’t help but think about how much stronger and richer was his younger voice. The other face is the delighted one, mouth stretched from side to side as you catch every single moment which displayed the creativity and the awesomeness of the Singapore system which could organise such a momentous spectacle spread out all over the island. That same mouth from which came words sung out lustily, the usual Singaporean reserve set aside. After all, if everyone is doing the same, you can’t possibly stand out, can you?
And, guess what, it is still a PH today (!) and the talk would be about your fave NDP moment. Was it the fireworks? The Black Knights? The pioneers in their original uniforms? The display of military muscle? I don’t have one, probably because I was so distracted by keeping my brain focused on my keyboard. This morning, I went over the ST commemorative issue and looked at the photographs to see what I’ve missed. It wasn’t the well-choreographed displays on the field or in the sky that caught my eye, it was the faces of people in the crowd. The faces of my fellow citizens. I realise that the tribute is for them, for us, and the people who have passed on. People like my father, who would have willingly marched in the parade in the original policeman’s uniform if he was still alive. I think of older kin who have passed on, who didn’t leave a momentous footprint behind like LKY, but just little marks in the sand, following in the man’s footsteps even if they did so unwillingly.
I ask myself if we can leave all that fractiousness of the recent years behind, the bitching and the complaining. But how to? After SG50 is GE15 and we have to buckle down to the momentous task of picking leaders to take Singapore to SG100 and beyond. Delighted and solemn faces will give way to furrowed brows and scowls.
I look at the flag fluttering at my window. I have a view of a school, Housing Board flats, condominiums and private housing, including those in mid-construction. I can catch sight of the MRT train and the planes that take off and land at Changi Airport. If I look hard, I can see the ships at sea. I can hear the tooting of car horns, the rumble of the train and blast of ship horns. I can see ordinary folk making their way to school and work and back home everyday.
It is emptier today. Maybe everyone has decided to take it easy on this public holiday. Rest well everyone, we still have plenty more years to go.
Featured image by Bertha Henson
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