Some years ago, when I moved into my flat in Sengkang, I discovered that there
was no coffeeshop in the neighbourhood. In fact it was one of the
contractors working on my home renovation who asked me where he could
buy food for his men. When the realisation that my Saturday morning
teh-si and kaya toast and Sunday morning pratas were gonna be a thing of
the gastronomic past, I was a little dumbfounded.
I then wrote
to the Straits Times forum page and was published under the headline
"Where is my coffeeshop?". I also 'threatened' to move out in 5 years
back to Hougang if the status quo remained.
A couple of years
ago, I went to the Meet-The-People Session (MPS) in my neighbourhood to
tell my MP about this issue of mine. He wasn't in. He had to go to
another nearby ward to cover Michael Palmer who had resigned amid
naughty circumstances. So they RC minions told me to write my grievances
down on a proper sheet of paper for submission to Mr Teo. I did that
and never heard a word back.
It's past 5 years now. Nothing's changed. And I am starving.
On
Monday night last week, I went to the MPS once more. I was given a number to
wait to see Mr Teo. I saw wandering about the inside room of a PAP
kindergarten used for this official purpose once a month. It was abuzz
of activity in there - more people in white polo tees sitting with
problem-ridden Singaporeans having conversations, taking notes and
typing into laptops. It was quieter in the outer room, everyone with
laminated numbers keeping to themselves, and the RC members chatting by
the entrance. We had water, 3-in-1 coffee mixes, Khong Guan biscuits and
something dessert-ish bubbling in a rice cooker, green bean soup
perhaps. It was a scene from an army camp minus the green and guns. I
sat next to the coloured pencils and crayon stash and played with my
phone. There was no paper for I would have channelled my inner Monet.
When
21 flashed in red, it was my turn to enter to the room of busy bees. I
sat down a young man who seemed weirdly nervous. He was of course in a
polo tee and proceeded to confirm who I was and ended by asking "So you
want to see the MP?" I replied "Well I don't need to see him. I just
have a suggestion." He seemed oddly relieved at this point. "This
neighbourhood needs a coffeeshop." "Oh ok" and started to type something
into his computer.
Coincidentally at this point, my MP and
another man in white long sleeves happened to be passing by and heard
the point of my visit. The man in white long sleeves was hovering where I
was and quite suddenly interjected without introducing himself. His not
so exact words were "We've discussed this coffeeshop issue before and
raised it up. For many years now. It's not new. We'll make a note of
it." This man seemed to be of quite some stature within this group. He
had what you call gravitas. My boy in the polo tee resumed his anxiety.
The man looked late 40-early 50 ish, full head of hair, and a plain,
tan, slightly puffy face. His eyes were dark, slightly red and he looked
tired, like he was running on adrenaline or drugs. His fringe and his
downward standing stance made him look even more sinister.
"When
was this discussed?" I asked and he replied "There was a town hall
about 5 years ago which you probably didn't attend." Wow nice jab. "5
years? A town hall should happen every 6 months!" I replied
incredulously.
He went on to explain that residents in my hood
did want a coffeeshop, just not under their apartment block. Too noisy,
too messy. So apparently the issues been dingdonging for years now. And
the estate's 20 years old. It's a legacy problem.
As this man
went on some sort of uppity been there, done that sort of tirade, I
could tell he was tired. Tired of complainers who did little to remedy
their own predicaments. I think the age on his face belied the actual
experience he has endured with residents, legalese, social norms and
politics. In the middle of his defense I realised I was getting pissed
off too with all this rhetoric being thrown in opposition of my opinion.
That wasn't good for anyone, so I consciously told myself to listen and
keep calm. As a wise friend said once "the first person to get angry is
the loser".
When a pause came in, I told Mr White Shirt, he
hadn't introduced himself. I shot out my right hand and said "I'm
Gurmit" "Steven Lam" he replied. He talked about how residents weren't
as forgiving with government decisions and were voicing grievances that
didn't help move the wheels along. Steven added that the coffeeshop at
Block 206 kept changing hands every 3 years because whoever was running
it couldn't keep up with the escalating rents. The rent issue also
plighted the Sengkang Square Kopitiam where the MP had to ask the owners
to keep rents for some stalls low so that residents could buy food at
under $3. "Not good food but still food", he lamented.
Steven
laughingly said he also wanted a coffeeshop in this neighbourhood so
that he could get a beer. I bet he does after meeting me.
Steven
expounded on what he does for a bit. He's ex-Police, well-decorated and
now volunteers with RCs all over the place. Ah, now I understood why it
seems he's dealt with all manner of riff-raff, at both ends of the
affluent scale. He doesn't live in Sengkang but helps out here with my
MP. Nice guy I guess once he cools off. But still I had an agenda to get
chicken rice in my hood.
After his stories, I told that this
lack of this aforementioned amenity was a planning mistake. There were
more coffeeshops in the nearby newer part of the my housing estate and
these were built in from the start. Not a potential afterthought like I
was hoping to append under a block. I told him I surveyed the car parks
and that no one really parked on the 3rd or top floors and those could
be potential locations. He replied the residents' committees he tried
organising activities there before but the noise complaints came in fast
and furious. I then pointed out a patch of green state land behind
primary school that was more than ample. "It's 50 by 50 meters. The new
part of Buangkok with the new FairPrice, a coffeeshop, and a few shops
was built on a 40 by 40 meter piece of land."
Steven said he
loved residents like me. Loved. Because I was proactive about concerns
affecting others. He asked me to join the RC. I gagged a little and then
responded "But this is political." "No, it isn't." "Yes, it is," I
replied pointing back to where the MP had disappeared behind me to. "Ok,
yes that is political. But we welcome everyone to serve the residents.
Even WP members." Hmm. I left it at that, though service to others isn't
beneath me. But not this way perhaps.
I think at this time he
knew I had done my homework. He told the kid in the white polo who had
mysterious managed to not utter a single word since Steven appeared to
raise the matter to the residents' committee chairman in my group of
blocks, and to emphasise that the issue needed escalation from the
grassroots, again. Apparently it hadn't been important for a while. Cast
aside while I moved in and became perpetually hungry. The end, till my
stomach led me to this meet-the-MP venue.
I shook Steven's hand
again when I left. I didn't see my MP Teo Ser Luck but it was an
enlightening visit nonetheless. I learned that there is still a good
deal of hierarchy, process and assumption on the part of my government
officials. And they don't often expect an educated oddball to come in to
dig up old issues and need them to blow the dust off some closed,
forgotten chapters. Still I think most of the people running these
sessions do it with good intentions, and in all earnestness, they want
to help their fellow Singaporeans.
Let's wait and see what happens next - on the coffeeshop and moving out of Sengkang fronts.
