Recently, I was almost kicked out of Singapore within ten minutes of arriving.
It had been a long and continual sleep-interrupted journey—a sixteen-hour flight from Vancouver. Once again, I was woken up by the steward.
“We are landing in twenty minutes. Please complete this disembarkation card before we arrive.”
I scrounged my bag for a pen, only to find it had run out of ink. “Here Pops, use my spare one.” As our plane descended, I scrawled every answer I could.
The immigration officer peered down at my card then stared at me.
“Did I miss something?”
“We cannot allow you to enter our country. You have used green ink. Only black or blue is permissible.”
“Where does it say that?”
The officer pointed to a sentence among many printed in minuscule text on the back of the card.
It took an hour of pleading to allow me to join my family, after rewriting the whole of the questionnaire in blue ink.
I loved Singapore. It would be the perfect place for Laura and me to retire.
The streets were immaculately clean. We were an hour’s flight from the Philippines—Laura’s home—and be within hours of any major city in Asia. Transportation was the cleanest and safest in the world—and cheap. Hooray, we could dispense with our car. I loved books and studying. Singapore had the best university and colleges. The city sprouted bookstores.
As we walked in the evening, there were no mosquitos. I understood why, when a truck came trundling along spraying insecticide on the trees. Weather forecasts always confirmed heavy rains daily. Yes, it did rain but always for a couple of hours, then receded into sunshine for the rest of the day. The temperature remained at a balmy 28˚C all year, though a little humid.
Who would not want to emigrate here? Drug smugglers—put to death if found guilty; chewing gum lovers—a banned commodity; those who would criticize the government—imprisoned; gays and lesbians made permanently illegal? A government that imposes national service, keeps peace among 17 ethnic groups in very close quarters, that produces housing for all its people and has one of the highest educated and drug-free populations in the world—yet keeps a tight lock on news and all public communication.
Would peace, safety, health, job opportunity and shelter ever compensate for any freedom lost ? A benevolent government never stops at equilibrium. Like a pendulum, once in motion, it will inexorably continue until reaching the farthest point of swing before being forced back.
My musing turns to an immigration officer who could not stop until the right colour had been produced, no matter the consequence.
