Meeting My MP About Coffee

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.