On my walk to the playground that my son loves to go to, we often have to make many stops. My son has to say hello to the many friends that he has made in the neighborhood. Hello, to the domestic helpers with the ah mas (grandmothers) in their care downstairs. Hello, to the group of active seniors hanging out and working the exercise machines in the corner. Further down, and we would hear my son's name being called. Hello! With a big smile to the friendly Bangladeshi neighborhood cleaner.
It amazes me, that the many different cleaners in our neighbourhood know our son on a first name basis. We often feel like we are in his entourage as he goes on his walk. They always have smiles for him, and play peekaboo by hiding behind the large rubbish containers they push around. My son has big smiles for them too.
We often hear the voice of one young girl or other saying hello as she goes by on her errands. She would be a domestic helper working in the area.
At the playground we often meet other parents and sometimes helpers. Often there will be smiles and an exchange of biodata in the format of " oh my daughter is 16months old, how old is your son." , or discussion in mandarin between parents or grandparents about whether my son is a girl because he has long hair. ( yes he has some lovely curls, but he is wearing blue shorts and looks like a body builder!)
But sadly, there are also times we meet local parents who refuse to smile, who shun my son's cute advances and offers of prized sticks or dried leaves. His little offers for friendship are sometimes ignored or outright rejected. I know, this is just being Singaporean sometimes.
A large part of the sense of community I feel are from the migrant workers who bother to know and smile at my son. I thank them for their genuine sincerity. They give me a feel of that long lost kampong spirit.
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