The Straits Times Blogs - Goh Yi Han

Real issues matter; big or small

2009-07-17T09:07:00Z

Goh Yi Han decides that all news, no matter how mundane, is worth reporting.

I REMEMBER the incredulous looks my friends gave me about three months into my internship when I told them I was working on a story about bags being stolen at sports stadiums.

"That's so mundane; nobody will care about things like this," one of them said. "Why don't you work on bigger, more interesting stories?"

I can understand why they thought that — I felt that way too when I first started at The Straits Times newsdesk five months ago.

Not that I didn't have fun, or learn a lot — it was definitely exciting, and challenging, to cover big events like the opening of a new MRT line, or piece together the story behind a grisly murder.

But then there are days when you write about snatch thefts, or small charities, and can't help but wonder, "How consequential is all this stuff, really?"

But then I'm reminded by what a colleague once mentioned: "No story is completely useless — as long as it impacts some people it's good enough."

And I'd like to believe that's true. Take the bag story for instance — as long as people read our story, and wise up with their valuables, I think we can be proud of our work.

Sure, local "heartland"-ish news might not be as "glamorous" or typically as headline-grabbing as business-related or foreign stories.

But covering these issues has taught me an invaluable lesson: that the man in the street and the very real issues he confronts every day, big or small, matter and are of real consequence.

If anything were to draw me back to the newsroom after I graduate from university, it would be this — not any kind of promise of a high-flying job with lots of meet-and-greets with corporate types.

After all, where else would you get the fun of attending a government press conference and hunting in the woods for durian thieves in the same day?

This is Goh Yi Han's last blog as an intern at The Straits Times.

A lighter side to crime?

2009-07-13T07:20:00Z

Goh Yi Han says carelessness leads to petty crimes with a humourous twist.

HAVING been attached to the crime reporting team for the past three weeks, I have a confession to make.

At the risk of sounding a little mean: Sometimes my colleagues and I find the cases we hear about at daily Crime Conferences with the police, well, rather funny.

I mean, you get all kinds of bizarre incidents, like explosions at soya bean milk stalls, or thieves stealing more than 400 bottles of soft drinks from a Sentosa drink kiosk (I know, right — who would be so hard up for Coca-Cola and green tea?) — sometimes it's hard not to see the lighter side.

Even simple theft cases can have strange twists to them. My personal "favourite"? One that involved a housewife who lost $600 in cash and valuables after leaving her bag on the shoe rack outside her flat for six whole hours after she got home from shopping.

As another colleague put it, with a wry smile: "These are not crimes — just stupidity."

Take the recent cases of supermarket theft as another example — all involved people who had left their things unwatched in their trolleys, or with only their children to "stand guard".

One person walked away to another part of the supermarket to get something, and returned to find her wallet missing. Her young daughter only able to tell her that she saw a "man's hand" (yes, you got that right) reach into the trolley.

Sure, it's a lot less funny when you're the victim. But then again, one could hardly expect a different outcome given how careless that shopper had been.

What could best be said, I suppose, is this: If you don't want to become the subject of the next bizarro-casefile, keep closer watch over your valuables.

It's one less thing for reporters to titter about and one less crime that need not have happened — and that makes all the difference.

Read Goh Yi Han's story about thefts in Singapore supermarkets.

Quintessentially Singaporean

2009-06-08T10:28:00Z

Goh Yi Han thinks pasar malams could be good for new businesses.

WHEN pasar malam operators first told me that they'd started bringing in the big boys like Popular and John Little to help boost customer traffic, my first thought was, "The smaller stalls are in trouble now."

I felt that with their brand names, larger variety of quality goods and much stronger financial positions, the larger retailers would surely lure business away from the mom-and-pop setups which usually sell more frivolous wares like cheap toys and imitation watches.

Even food stalls at night markets have become something of a franchise, with stallholders paying licensing fees to sell certain brands like Ramly Burgers or Taiwan sausages.

How on earth could your average family selling homemade goreng pisang and samosas continue to survive, especially in these lean times?

Thankfully, the bosses were quick to assure me otherwise.

"We want to encourage people to set up businesses, even in hard times," said Ivan Ho, one such operator.

His company is willing to make concessions for people with less capital, he told me — waiving rent and helping them sell goods for a commission is one such option.

Recession or no, Mr Ho said, business wouldn't be too much of a problem as long as tenant mix was properly controlled.

"Obviously we can't have five or six stalls selling fried chicken at the same pasar malam now - but two stalls would get along just fine," he added.

You might think it overly optimistic, but to me this news couldn't be better for some aspiring entrepreneurs out there seeking to make their fortunes, or find new work during the downturn.

Startup costs could be very low, depending how helpful your landlord is, and the business model is small-scale and easy to manage, for those just starting out. Sure it's hard work, but it could become a decent living, nonetheless.

Pasar malams are also a far more organic and natural way of growing micro-business entrepreneurs than any kind of IE or SPRING-led initiative to help SMEs could ever be.

It's so quintessentially Singaporean, too, with the cries of "Lelong!", gaudy antique auctions and cheap Malaysian groceries on offer. What's not to like, really?

So the next time you visit a night market, don't be so quick to call the stuff boring or kitsch. By buying a little something, you could well be doing your part for local culture and enterprise.

Read more: Big retailers in night markets.

All about pleasing the fans

2009-05-25T22:15:00Z

Goh Yi Han waxes lyrical about the Distant Worlds concert.

ANYONE at the Esplanade last Saturday evening would know a different sort of concert was lined up for the night by looking at the crowd attending it.

The place was filled with teenagers and young adults, mostly male, with a few less appropriately dressed in shorts and sandals, and many looking as if it was their first time in the building.

Like my fellow fanboys and geeks, I was there to see Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy, a celebration of music composed by Nobuo Uematsu for what is now the fifth best-selling video game franchise in commercial history.

The Singapore leg of the series, its Asian premiere, saw an overwhelming response with tickets sold out within days, prompting organisers to arrange for an additional performance on top of the two originally planned. It was also one of just five Arts Festival events to sell out before the festival opened on May 15.

The evening's programme was performed by the Singapore Festival Orchestra and conducted by Arnie Roth, with a chorus and guest vocalists, and featured vocal and instrumental compositions from all 12 instalments of the game.

A video screen was also added so that images and clips from the relevant games could be seen during each item.

Things got off to a rousing start with the anthemic Liberi Fatali from Final Fantasy VIII, complete with backing vocals and haunting images onscreen.

This was followed by quieter, more understated pieces like fan favourite To Zanarkand (Final Fantasy X) and Aerith's Theme (VII), and of course Final Fantasy staples like the Main Theme and Swing de Chocobo.

Musically, I thought the orchestra was fine, and played competently. Final Fantasy music is rare among video game themes in that it lends itself well to an orchestra.

Many of the pieces, having been freed of the constraints of tinny MIDI sequences, sounded lovely; a testament to Uematsu's talent for melodically strong and moving compositions.

This, coupled with the mini-movies onscreen allowed one to see how far the series has come from its early days on Nintendo-sprite, and brought back many wonderful memories.

I felt it was also a nice touch to have Roth as the evening's emcee. It gave the event a more informal feel and made fans more comfortable about being in a space usually reserved for performances their parents enjoy.

There were some problems that bear mentioning: the vocals were sometimes drowned out, the guitar solo lost its pulse at points, and the brass section was sometimes a little out of tune.

I also found myself paying rather too much attention to the screen images instead of the music. (Why did they have to sanitise the show by censoring Aeris' death scene? I thought you couldn't use that spell so early in the game!?)

But really, these things didn't really matter because the night was all about pleasing the fans, who lapped up every minute of the proceedings. Witness the screams and cheers when Nobu-san (Uematsu) himself appeared on stage to sing in the encore.

I guess what Arnie Roth said at the post-concert dialogue session really sums it up best: "When we first wanted to start this series nobody thought video game music would make a good concert — but we know better, don't we?"

Well, sir, if by "we" you mean us fans, then yes, I can say you're absolutely right.

Another chance to be a doctor

2009-05-21T22:28:00Z

Goh Yi Han is excited about plans for a third medical school.

THE ANNOUNCEMENT that a third medical school would be started at NTU came as welcome news to me.

It's not because I'm an aspiring doctor, but rather because seeing the experiences of many of my peers has caused me to feel personally about the issue of gaining entry to medical school.

A lot of focus so far has been given to the need to train more doctors over the next few years - and rightly so, given the importance of ensuring Singapore's future healthcare needs are met.

Aside from all this talk about demand and supply, however, the opening of another route to pursuing a degree in medicine will have a great impact on the higher education plans of many bright students and applicants too.

Back when I was in junior college, at least half the people in my class, where everyone did science A-level subjects, wanted to do medicine in university.

Most of them showed real passion, often volunteering at hospitals and doing holiday internships to get a better feel of what the profession entailed - and also to bulk up their CV for when application season came round.

Unfortunately, competition for entry to the Yong Loo Lin School of Medicine at the National University of Singapore (NUS), currently the only undergraduate medical school in Singapore, has always been extremely keen because of limited spaces and resources.

In 2007, for instance, only 250 applicants out of 1,950 hopefuls, almost all of whom would be very capable and have achieved straight As in their examinations, managed to get in.

Among the unsuccessful were some of my friends and classmates, who were understandably disappointed.

Indeed, many others students like them go through the same experience each year, with worried parents often writing in to the Forum pages to express their concern over their children's university admissions.

It doesn't help, either, that school fees for overseas medical courses are often prohibitively expensive even if one qualifies.

There are, of course, scholarships available from agencies such as the Public Service Commission or A*STAR but these are really few and far between.

Many people I know had to give up their dreams of saving lives, treating patients, or even developing that elusive cure for cancer, because they simply couldn't afford it.

Instead, they chose to study other disciplines like law, accountancy and engineering.

The reality is that there are so many more applicants than places for medicine that they knew a Plan B was necessary, even if it wasn't exactly what they'd hoped for.

With the new NTU school comes an additional 100 to 150 places every year.

Hopefully there'll now be less angst about medicine applications among both parents and students, and more people getting the chance to become the doctors they've always wanted to be.

Sounds of solid gold

2009-04-22T02:30:00Z

Goh Yi Han sits through some great, and not so great, performances.

IT'S THAT time of year again - the 2009 Singapore Youth Festival is in full swing, with the majority of inter-school arts competitions to take place over the next few months.

The secondary school and junior college choral competition segment, held every two years in April and May, is perhaps one of the few opportunities you will get to see the following:

1) All manner of weird and wonderful costumes worn on teenage bodies and arranged in neat rows on stage. These included some rather curious and inadvertently humorous choices such as bright fuschia sashes (on the girls) and Chinese restaurant waiter suits (on the boys);

2) More than 120 schools singing the same compulsory song over and over, complete with kitsch lyrics and cheesy piano accompaniment (this year's title? White Horses) until you can barely take any more. One wonders how on earth the judges can sit through eight whole days of this;

3) 14 and 15-year-old pubescent boy sopranos in all-male choirs shrieking high Fs and Gs at the top of their (cracking) voices. Sometimes funny - but mostly painful.

Not that there aren't good things to be said. Some school choirs are of a very high standard - many have won numerous awards at international competitions, and it shows.

It's also refreshing to see youth being truly passionate about Japanese folk music and avant-garde choral compositions for once, instead of the usual Coldplay, Jason Mraz and Wonder Girls.

Certainly, that passion students have for performing becomes all too obvious when it's time to announce the results. The screaming that reverberated around the Victoria Concert Hall with each gold or silver award read out was simply unbelievable.

Naturally, the management was scandalised - but all in the name of good, healthy competition, I suppose.

And speaking of performance onstage, I think it has to be quite an experience to conduct a musical group in front of hundreds of people - especially when your ensemble, well, sucks.

I mean, it can't be easy. One has to be as professional as possible - bowing to the audience before and after your items, leading your charges in the performance without any indication to them that they're bad (while putting your audience through a rather painful experience, I might add) and then smiling to all the world as if nothing were the matter.

All while you're burning up with embarrassment inside, whilst at the same time trying to give some indication to the audience to say, "Yes, I know we suck; I'm so sorry for this!" - like a non-verbal "sic" so they know you're not totally oblivious.

Last Thursday, I had the privilege of sitting through one such "exemplary display" by the conductor of a certain secondary school choir which shall remain unnamed - suffice to say that they were not very good.

And what a performance - he was totally business-like on stage, but managed to show the slightest hint of a sheepish smile as he bowed and walked off of it.

That choir might have gotten only a certificate of participation, but their conductor? Without a doubt, a solid gold.

You can catch the SYF 2009 Central Judging of Secondary Choirs from April 22 until April 24 for secondary schools and on May 5, for junior colleges, at the Victoria Concert Hall. Limited free tickets will be available at the door every day.

What's so good about 21 anyway?

2009-03-25T10:32:00Z

Goh Yi Han ponders the importance of modern 21st birthday celebrations.

ABOUT a month ago, I celebrated my 21st birthday with all the usual traditions, parties and congratulations. All the fuss and trouble led me to wonder why, exactly, turning 21 is such a big deal?

I mean, it's just another birthday isn't it? It's not the big 3-0 or the big 5-0 or even the big 1-0, when you finally reach double numbers. It seems such an arbitrary number to celebrate.

And, what's with the tradition of key-shaped cards and cakes? The keys to what?

According to Western tradition it's to do with taking on adult responsibility - gaining a set of keys to the family home or business. But for the 'latch key' kids of today, those who've been letting themselves in from the ages of 10 or sometimes even younger, having a set of house keys is no big deal.

If you're American or living in the US, the age of 21 means you're finally able to legally get plastered - but if you live in the rest of the world you've been doing this for a couple of years already as the most popular legal drinking age is 18.

Places like Germany and Denmark actually allow kids of 16 to drink non-distilled alcoholic beverages (beer) from the age of 16. Sixteen is also the age of sexual consent in most countries including Singapore.

Turning 21 is also linked to gaining legal rights and responsibilities like voting in Singapore - although it's generally the age of 18 in many other countries.

But how many young Singaporeans really care about being able to vote? A straw poll among friends found that many didn't really care that much at all.

The age of 21 as a milestone becomes even more redundant in Singapore when most young men have already completed their National Service - an experience much more likely to instill maturity and adulthood than a simple birthday.

It seems that the choice of 21 as the age of responsibility and as a universal milestone is completely arbitrary and not relevant in this day and age, particularly here in Singpore.

So why waste money celebrating just another birthday? Coleen Rooney, Manchester United footballer Wayne Rooney's wife, reportedly spent 500,000 pounds to celebrate her 21st birthday two years ago and I have friends who are spending, not as lavishly, but still substantially large amounts on their 21st birthday parties.

During this current financial crisis wouldn't that money be better spent elsewhere?

Do you think 21st birthdays are still important for young Singaporeans to celebrate? Leave your comments below.

Service with a smile?

2009-03-10T22:15:00Z

Goh Yi Han wonders how Changi staff would cope with a screaming woman.

BY now most of you would probably have seen the infamous video clip making its rounds online of a Chinese woman going berserk in the Hong Kong International Airport after missing her flight to San Francisco.

I recently joined the ranks of the 5 million-or-so viewers who have sat through her wailing antics on YouTube over the last three weeks. It was rather entertaining - if somewhat disturbing - to watch a middle-aged woman behave like a 4-year-old who'd lost her Barbie doll.

Two things about this incident and its aftermath struck me the most.

Firstly: What on earth was she thinking? Granted, the woman could have had a wedding to attend, or some other very good reason for needing to get on board, but such behaviour is truly unwarranted.

Getting frustrated? That's fine, or at least arguably so. Collapsing onto the floor and screaming "The plane hasn't left yet!" 16 times, however, is completely uncalled for given the circumstances. You were late, madam - and besides, there's always the next flight!

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly: What would have happened if this scene had played out in Changi Airport instead? In my opinion, the Cathay Pacific airline staff were truly saints to have reacted the way they did, calmly reassuring Mrs. Tantrum that she and her family could always get on the next flight out. They also had to apologise to and compensate her for the embarrassment caused by the employee who filmed the entire scene, but that's another story.

On the other hand, online forums and video comments I saw offered plenty of other suggestions as to what another airport in the United States, for instance, would have done, many featuring the phrases "call security", "chokehold" and "straitjacket".

"The woman's a nut! If it weren't for Hong Kong Airport and the service it's renowned for I really wonder what would have happened to her," remarked one of my colleagues when I showed her the clip.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting for a moment that this kind of behaviour be condoned, but I do feel, however, that how service providers react in such situations says a lot about their professionalism and the standards they uphold.

There are probably many out there who think that airport staff at Changi would have done much the same as their Hong Kong counterparts. My friend certainly isn't one of them, though - not after his most recent post-holiday experience last May.

He had just gotten off his flight back to Singapore from Tokyo after a week-long vacation and what he described as "exemplary customer service". It was while he was clearing immigration at the arrival hall that he was welcomed back for the first time by a fellow countryman.

The "greeting" he received from the immigrations officer was a curt "Insert your passport fully."

He put it to me thus: "I well and truly felt then that I was back in Singapore."

Maybe my friend was just unlucky to have met the wrong person, or maybe the immigrations officer was having a bad day. We all have our reasons.

It seems to me, though, that we've been focusing too much on amusing ourselves over one woman's inappropriate display of emotion, when in fact the behaviour of other people in the video clip is perhaps what deserves more attention.