Author: Haoyan Jiang
On a wintry day in November of 2018, I boarded a flight from Beijing International Airport. I can only recall the bitterly cold waiting area where I, along with my companions of the same age, strangely sensed anxiety yet mixed with ecstasy and anticipation. In my imagination, that was a foggy morning. Just minutes ago, we waved goodbye to our parents, nearly all of whom shed tears, in stark contrast to our smiley faces turning back to them.
That year, I was 15. Not that the young age of 15 held such significance to me that I remember it by heart. Nay, I got the number by doing some simple math on the phone calendar when I am writing this prose. But at least the number reminds me that most of my adolescent years have so far been spent in a foreign country nearly-five-hour-flight far from my family.
I dislike the semantic field of words entailing ‘sensitive’ and ‘rebellious’ and ‘vulnerable’ which people often use to characterize teenagers. And I try to stay away from these words (even though sarcastically this became a somewhat self-fulfilling prophecy—in a reversed manner). Looking back, those tears of sorrow and joy have seemingly been washed off by monsoon rains of this tropical island called Singapore. Confronted with the question ‘whatcha doin there?’ from my family on Wechat, I would simply say: have been busy living here joyfully.
Clean streets literally without a speck of dust, shopping malls with air-cons-temperature-like-no-tomorrow, mandarin spoken by ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’ (in Singapore, older men or women are often referred to as uncle and aunties by young people as a sign of respect despite not being related) at hawker centers… an over-simplistic, though not stereotypical, portrayal of this city-state perceived by the tourists and conjured by travel guides cannot explain why I call it my second home after 4 years.
I have an attachment to this nation partly thanks to its vibe. A downpour is always unexpected during the monsoon season; people risk being chased to a nearby shelter by the rain. The gray sky is tinged with sadness and loneliness, especially when you are stuck in a bus stop crammed with passengers and poor passers-by. But I am more than happy to be among them. The rhythm of the rain is intermingled with the crowd’s noise. A sense of isolation and absurdism sweeps over me while I shut myself from the world leaning against the rail and tasting the fresh air bestowed on me by the wind.
Despite being a part-time loner, I can also find myself fit into a community where my identity can be respected, and all cultures are celebrated. Unlike some of my friends studying in the US or Europe or Middle East, I did not experience any serious culture shock in Singapore, which is probably a culture shock by itself. One possible explanation I guess is that fengshui in Singapore is just perfect for me.
I do need to elaborate on my theory of feng shui. My opinion, all the good ‘feng shui’ that shape people are in the meantime shaped by the people. While Singapore is applauded for its racial harmony and cultural diversity, I do not usually see identity, tradition and culture from a grand perspective.
I see people living around me. I see friends, teachers, roommates, Grab (a company in Southeast providing services like delivery and transportation) drivers, kopi (a traditional coffee beverage found in Southeast Asia) shop aunties, NTUC (a grocery retailer in Singapore) assistants… Some of them I meet every day. Some of them I meet every night (my roommates prefer staying up in the study room sometimes). Some of them I meet only once or twice. Yes, they are from different ethnicities: different mother tongues, different eating habits, different religions… Yet, these differences never stop us from living harmoniously under the same roof and sky.
To me, the atoms making up a unique multicultural society like Singapore are not unique cultures undergoing assimilation and forging common grounds. But millions of individuals who interact with each other in their daily life. We are the bridge between cultures and traditions we embody. If asked whether there is a so-called common ground, I do believe the answer lies in our relationship with each other. We not only respect others’ culture and identity, no matter how different, but also respect each other simply as one unique individual.
We all know that from all corners of the world a great number of people experience pains and sufferings inflicted upon them by others because of their identity, tradition and culture. Even in Singapore, there is no guarantee that xenophobia and racism and other sins would not happen. In fact, I was once verbally insulted by a student making jokes about my identity and nationality. Yet, I am always optimistic that people all over the world can learn something from this little red dot they may overlook on the map. That is, instead of loving abstract people with their abstract values, reach out to the real, touchable and perceivable people around you. Buy them a coffee, and strike up a conversation. That’s the start of our mutual understanding’s each other’s culture.