The death of our founding Prime Minister rallied our nation as I have never seen before in Singapore. We witnessed the outpouring of grief at Mr Lee Kuan Yew’s lying in state and at the island-wide memorial sites.
I visited two sites and, on Saturday evening, went to Parliament House. Knowing that many others did not make it to the queue, I felt a sense of honour.
I joined thousands of others and prepared for a long wait.
The atmosphere was sombre but generally positive.
Parents with children sat and bonded quietly, couples chatted and others photographed the Old Parliament House and the Supreme Court.
I kept gazing at our flag flown half-mast over the Old Parliament House.
My mind was cast to a different world and era: It is a beautiful flag, full of symbolism and history. All of us, in our own ways, took in the historic moment.
Volunteers and army personnel distributed drinks and snacks.
A senior officer updated us periodically on the waiting time.
The crowd was appreciative; after all, we were not there to picnic but to show that, like our pioneers, we could endure.
It all changed when the queue moved.
Volunteers and uniformed officers started to offer drinks, bread and biscuits.
To be fair, the organisers wanted to encourage the crowd, as it would be a while before we could get into Parliament House.
And they did. The Padang was transformed into a circus.
Children played catch around the tents. There was hilarity among some people in the crowd.
But what were we supposed to be celebrating?
I thought back to the moment all of us entered the queue earlier, quietly reflective and stoic in our determination to withstand the wait.
And then a collective amnesia.
I wondered if our memory of Mr Lee’s self-discipline and our resolve to emulate his selfless values would similarly be short-lived.
I know that I am simplifying the experience.
Still, with our current creature comforts, Singaporeans can be forgetful of an earlier, harder era.
Times may have changed, but the values of gratitude, hard work and thrift are ageless.
I visited two sites and, on Saturday evening, went to Parliament House. Knowing that many others did not make it to the queue, I felt a sense of honour.
I joined thousands of others and prepared for a long wait.
The atmosphere was sombre but generally positive.
Parents with children sat and bonded quietly, couples chatted and others photographed the Old Parliament House and the Supreme Court.
I kept gazing at our flag flown half-mast over the Old Parliament House.
My mind was cast to a different world and era: It is a beautiful flag, full of symbolism and history. All of us, in our own ways, took in the historic moment.
Volunteers and army personnel distributed drinks and snacks.
A senior officer updated us periodically on the waiting time.
The crowd was appreciative; after all, we were not there to picnic but to show that, like our pioneers, we could endure.
It all changed when the queue moved.
Volunteers and uniformed officers started to offer drinks, bread and biscuits.
To be fair, the organisers wanted to encourage the crowd, as it would be a while before we could get into Parliament House.
And they did. The Padang was transformed into a circus.
Children played catch around the tents. There was hilarity among some people in the crowd.
But what were we supposed to be celebrating?
I thought back to the moment all of us entered the queue earlier, quietly reflective and stoic in our determination to withstand the wait.
And then a collective amnesia.
I wondered if our memory of Mr Lee’s self-discipline and our resolve to emulate his selfless values would similarly be short-lived.
I know that I am simplifying the experience.
Still, with our current creature comforts, Singaporeans can be forgetful of an earlier, harder era.
Times may have changed, but the values of gratitude, hard work and thrift are ageless.
