The Straits Times Blogs - Derrick Ho

My American mum

2009-03-27T08:41:00Z

Derrick Ho was grateful for his 'American mum' when he was an exchange student.

I HAVE an American "mum" too.

So when I read of Mr Richard Seow's story in the Straits Times on Thursday, I couldn't help but think of her – Valerie.

I met Valerie Goodin and her husband Richard on a cold wintry February evening in some three years, back when I was an exchange student at the University of Missouri in the US.

SOURCE: DERRICK HO

A friend of mine - whom Valerie calls her "Singaporean daughter" - had brought me to the Goodin’s home to "experience real American culture".

It did feel somewhat strange at first, but all it took was a hearty meal and several hilarious rounds of Apples to Apples (it's a board game) to break the ice. That evening, I was pretty sure I left with more than a cultural experience.

Every month, together Valerie's "Singaporean daughter", we'd drop by their place to catch up and share life experiences.

Val and Rich – as we'd affectionately call them – were foodies too and we'd cook for each other. I remember whipping chicken rice for them; they in turn did up a fish steak with mango chutney. Another time, homemade satay and BBQ ribs were the order of the day.

SOURCE: DERRICK HO

I later found out that Val and Rich, who are in their 60s, had more "children" from various countries including Russia, Brazil and Thailand, some of whom actually lived in their house while pursuing their degrees. Val and Rich would often stand in as "proud parents" during graduation ceremonies when the real parents could not make the trip.

It did initially seem that Val was doing this as part of her job. After all, she was deputy director at the university's alumni and part of her job was to connect its alumni from across the world. But their sincerity allayed any doubts.

In their home, I felt I belonged and that I was safe. There was nothing pretentious and there were no strings attached. Food flowed freely and so did their wisdom.

Like Mr Seow, I've been blessed to have had people whom I could not only look forward to visiting during festive periods, but who was also genuinely concerned about my well-being.

The truth is being a foreign student can be very trying. Even after getting over the culture shock, there's this feeling that somehow you're not quite "one of them", especially among the student population.

So to have a native who was willing to embrace me, and my culture meant a lot.

This was no formal set up - though the international centre at the university had a programme that would tie up US families with foreign students. The relationship I have with Val and Rich was one that was based on trust and love.

The welfare of foreign students here in Singapore has been a talking point since the death of Indonesian student David Widjaja.

While universities here can and should consider starting up formal programmes that help foreign students assimilate better into the Singaporean way of life by tying up with local families, perhaps some of us can too play our part.

Perhaps we can consider being "mums" and "dads" to these students in our own unique ways. A hearty Singaporean meal is a good start.

Do you know of any "mums" and "dads" in Singapore who have hosted foreign students? Or have you benefitted from an overseas "parents"? Share your experiences with us by leaving a comment below.

Read Richard Seow's story; Singaporean honours US couple who 'adopted' him.

Speakers' Corner = Eater's Corner?

2008-09-01T09:26:00Z

Derrick Ho looks at how one cafe is banking on more buzz at Hong Lim Park.

WHEN it comes to demonstrations in Hong Lim Park, Mr Lau Su How has the best seats in the house.

Tucked at the corner of Hong Lim Green Community Club, those at his waffles cafe, Sweet Stone Express, get a full view of the park's greenery and any activity taking place on the fields.

But as of noon today, there was only greenery to be seen.

"It's been quite lao jiat today," Mr Lau said referring to the buzz in the cafe where a crowd of reporters had gathered.

As for protestors, there were none around.

Hong Lim park was empty at noon today
except for a motley crew of reporters.
ST PHOTOS: Samuel He

But just as I was getting myself seated to have a chat with Mr Lau, a small crowd suddenly appeared near the "Speaker's Corner" signboard. Reporters around me shuffled up from their seats only to realise they were park officials changing the "Terms and Conditions" signage. Disappointed, the buzz quickly died.

Today marks the first day of a freer Speakers' Corner, two weeks after Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong announced the change in regulations during the National Day Rally. As of 6pm yesterday, however, only one person had registered with the NParks to speak. He is scheduled to give his speech at 7pm today on a non-political topic.

"Give it some time," said Mr Lau, 29, who set up shop in July before the freeing up of regulations.

How brisk sales of his Belgian waffles will be over the next few months might give an indication of how well the park will fare as a designated demonstration area.

He's hoping that the change of rules for staging protests at the park will draw in the crowds for his waffles, or drinks at least. He is already planning to create special waffle sets for protestors who want a quick snack.

When Hong Lim Park was first designated as a Speaker's Corner exactly eight years ago, about 25 speakers gathered, attracting a crowd of several hundred. But the fervour and excitement fizzled out after three weeks later.

Asked if he was worried that history might repeat itself again, Mr Lau said even if it did he had nothing to lose.

"We started from the bottom. We were here when the crowd was pretty much zero, and we are building on it," the 29-year-old said. "If there is any increase, I'll credit it to the park's activity."

Most of cafe's business - the place was just set up in July this year - comes from deliveries and regulars of the park. Any activity, protests or not, will help lift the cafe's business.

He said he had just lost the mid-autumn festival crowd when organisers of a massive lantern carnival that was to be held this week at the park shifted the event's venue across the road to Central Mall. The organisers feared that protesters would "burn their lanterns down", Mr Lau said he was told.

Sweet Stone Express' Lau Su How (foreground)
is optimistic that protesters will boost his business.
PHOTO: Derrick Ho

But Mr Lau is filled with heady optimism. He has heard that a couple of demonstrations have been unofficially lined up - animal rights groups hoping to raise awareness.

He said: "Even if there are protests - and I hope there will be protests - it will liven the place."

And if they get violent?

"I think Singaporeans are calm people and mature enough to have a proper protest," he said calmly.

For now, he can only hope that the park will see soon political sparks fly, and enough to ignite his business on a hot day as well. For now, he'll just have to be satisfied with thirsty journalists.

4 hours for an iPhone

2008-08-22T04:12:00Z

Derrick Ho joins in the queue for a slice of the Apple action at the iPhone launch.

LET me first declare: I finally have my own iPhone!

But not before having to queue for more than four hours.

I rushed down after work to arrive at SingTel's Comcentre at about 10.56pm. In just over an hour, SingTel was to launch Apple's iPhone 3G, making its official debut appearance here. There were already "hundreds" in the queue, which started to build at about 10pm, a SingTel spokeswoman told me.

Many in line were in bermudas and t-shirts, with a sporadic few still in office wear.

As I took my place in the queue - which began opposite the row of Kiliney shops - staff checked if I have the requisite documents - a notification and a registration slip. They also handed me a bottle of water and a fan - two greatly appreciated accessories on the warm and humid night.

Just as I settled down, 61-year-old Mdm Kaur, together with her daughter and son, and son's girlfriend, joined the line behind me.

I look around and decided that she had to be the oldest in the queue.

I turned and asked politely if she was just accompanying her children to get the iPhone.

"I'm getting one too," the bespectacled lady said and smiled as she watched for my reaction. The reason: The buttons on her current Sony Ericsson phone are too small and she was hoping the iPhone's touch-screen buttons would be much larger.

Having never held an iPhone before, it's something of a leap of faith for Madam Kaur. The queuing time proved a further test of patience as she is still recovering from cancer and tires easily.

Eight minutes prior to launch and staff reappear to hand out cans of coffee and snacks. Someone in the crowd joked that food is being dished to "keep us from rioting". Madam Kaur's son remarked that crowd is remarkably civil - a far cry from 2000's ugly Hello Kitty queues.

Taxis by the roadside also make a beeline.

The civility ensues even as the timer starts to countdown. 10, 9, 8.... I turned around only to observe an oddly muted crowd with their eyes fixed on the screen broadcasting pyrotechnics bursting from the main stage area. Nothing happened as the timer hit zero; no one leapt into the air; no one even made any exclamations.

The crowd watched as the first man in line, Joel Pan, emerged beaming and carrying two paper bags with an iPhone in each.

Just one-and-a-half hours later, I made it into the first queue "segment" - which held about 50 people. Inside the SingTel glass cube, which mimics Apple's 5th Avenue store in New York, 50 registration counters were busy processing and cashing in on the purchases.

Cash registers go "ka-ching" inside the two-storey glass cube as people fork out up to $800 for an iPhone 3G.
Photos: Derrick Ho

It's another 45 minutes - 2.23am - when I am finally ushered into the hallowed glass structure. I choose the 16GB black model and go for the iFlexi Value plan. 20 minutes of paper work later, the customer service officer hands the coveted property over. Like everybody else, I just smile quietly.

On the way out, I caught Madam Kaur sitting outside the glass cube. Her children were inside paying for the phones. Smiling weakly, she said: "My legs just can't take it anymore."

Still, she'd persevered to the last and, iPhone in hand, I saluted her.