The next day, I went to the Commercial Bank of Somalia to meet with the chairman for a discussion. As was the norm in Somalia, the Chairman was late. I had to wait in his office for about three hours. When he finally came, he was apologetic and said he had to rush off again. Feeling anxious as I felt I was being kept in the dark by everyone, I said, “You’d better tell me what is happening. Please answer my questions before you rush off. I am to meet with the President in the afternoon.” He looked a bit worried, sat down and tried his best to answer the confidential questions that I asked. I felt a lot more assured of my safety then. Soon after, I was taken to the Palace to meet with Siad Barre, the then President of Somalia, but because of some urgent matter, he could not be at the Palace. I had to leave and return the next day to meet with him. By then, I was quite used to the way the system worked.
I met with the President the next day and he spent about an hour with me, asking for my opinion on the case. I advised him and he said, “Well, do you know what we can do to him if we find out who is creating the problems?” I just kept silent. He authorised me to collect the necessary documents for the Queen’s Counsel in London to vet, in order to obtain the QC’s advice as to what can be recovered from the situation.
I then went back to the Commerical Bank of Somalia but had to go back again the next day as the Chairman of the Bank was not there. I asked him for certain documents and for an authorisation letter so that I could see the QC and have discussions with him on behalf of the Bank. “Unless I have an authority letter, the QC may not want to talk with me.” He agreed and I dictated the letter to his secretary. She started typing but she was such a bad typist and kept erasing the mistakes that there was a hole in the letter. I told her, “Can you just put the paper in for me and I will type it myself?” I used two fingers and typed faster than her with more accuracy and gave it to the Chairman for his signature. I looked at the secretary again. She was a very young and attractive woman and it was obvious that she was not employed for her secretarial skills but for other purposes. After getting the letter signed, I went back to the State Guest House. It was already late in the afternoon. I told Haji, “Please get me on the first plane to London as soon as possible. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.” He replied, “You can’t leave tonight as you have to attend a dinner. You will leave tomorrow.”
Resigned to my situation, I thought, “Well, I have already wasted so many days here in this God damned country, I might as well spend one more night.” Haji and I hung out at the State Guest House with the Chairman of the Bank and a few others — all seven of us — until it was time for dinner. I noticed a few people carrying a roasted camel. They placed it in the centre where we sat. I looked at it, shocked, and exclaimed, “What is this? Camel?” Haji demonstrated to me how to eat it, “Don’t try to use fork and spoon to eat this. You have to put your arm right in and pull out everything that you can get with your hand. There is a goat inside the camel and inside the goat are chickens with eggs, potatoes, and rice.” I did as he instructed and there in my hand were pieces of camel, goat, chicken, potato and rice. It was a very interesting experience. The spices made it a very sumptuous meal. It tasted wonderful especially the roasted skin of the camel. We ate and although Somalia was a Muslim country, everybody drank whiskey. Eating and drinking merrily was the order of the night. After we had finished, we left the living room for the next group of people to eat. The feasting lasted until all the meat was completely gone. I thought, “This was worth waiting for. It’s an experience I will never get anymore.”
The next day, before I boarded the flight to Rome, I was handed a briefcase of cash to be delivered to the Bank’s London representative for legal expenses. Mogudishu was very warm but when I reached Rome, the weather was very cold, -1 degree Celsius. I was totally unprepared for the change of weather but got used to it after a while.
On arrival in London, I was questioned by the immigration officer about the purpose of my visit. I produced the letter of authority from the Bank and identified myself as their Counsel. He wanted to know if I had sufficient funds to stay in London for a week. I produced my credit cards which he was not satisfied with. So I opened the briefcase that was to be handed to the Bank’s London representative. In it was £50,000. He said to me immediately, “Please shut the case. With this kind of money, you can stay in Buckingham Palace.”
TWENTY-NINE
A SON’S PROMISE
In my first book I mentioned the promises that people made and the promises I kept. This reminds me of a situation between my father and me.
My father suffered a heart condition and he was on a strict diet of food and drinks. But as with most old Indian men, he loved his whiskey once in a while and we all knew that. One day, a client of mine gave me a special whiskey — old vintage — which I brought home for him. At that time he had just recovered from an angina attack. When I gave it to him, his eyes lit up. I said to him, “Acha, this is really good whiskey. You must have a peg of it.” With total glee and delight, he replied, “Of course, I must.”
This was some time in 1984 and at that time, Chechy, being a medical doctor, commented, “Stop it! You are not giving him anything like that to drink.” I replied, “Why not? He’s getting old and being in his twilight years, why can’t you allow him to enjoy a shot or two of this good whiskey?” She was adamant and firm in her belief and said, “No, he might not just die but suffer a stroke that could cause him to be bedridden in a vegetative state for a long time. If that happened, are you going to be responsible for his suffering?”
My father and I looked at each other and I saw the disappointment on his face. With much bravado, I assured him, “Have a drink. If anything happens to you, I will make sure that you do not suffer. You know what I mean?” Looking at my facial expression, he said, “Oh, if you promise me that, then I will have a drink.” He called his neighbour and they both sat and enjoyed a peg or two. He was so elated taking a sip and exclaimed, “I have never tasted any whiskey as smooth as this!” Everyone at home laughed except Chechy. She didn’t think it was funny.
Two or three weeks later, my father had another heart attack and this time it was quite serious. He went into a coma. He was first taken to the old Toa Payoh Hospital at Toa Payoh Rise and later transferred to Tan Tock Seng Hospital. He was not conscious and a ventilator was keeping him alive. We did not know for how long more he was to lie in that state. I knew what was running through Chechy’s mind and that of the other members of my family but Chechy, being the great sister she is, put her arm round my shoulder and said, “You are not to be blamed for this. You know that this has had to happen sooner or later whether he drank the whiskey or not.”
I felt consoled and I went to see him every day wondering what I should do for him. Do I keep the promise I had made earlier to him? Sometimes when the machines supporting him beeped because his heart had stopped, they would inject medication right into his heart that would get his heart pumping again. I watched this and thought to myself, “Why are they doing this? This man is in a coma. Why do you want to keep him alive?” Nobody seemed to know why it had to be done. I supposed at that time, the law was such that there were no living wills or directives.
Day by day I watched my father lying there in the hospital bed, motionless, being supported by machines that were pumping and beeping all day long. I was drowning in mixed emotions and in a dilemma. Obviously, I could not discuss this moment with him and it was a decision I had to make — a promise I had made to my father. It was hard watching him lie there waiting for his time to go.
I asked the doctors if there was any improvement and if there was any hope of improvement. They were helpless and explained that he was in a very deep coma. I asked, “Why are they keeping him alive then?” Nobody could give me an answer to that. I asked Chechy and she said that he was in a coma and had a slim chance of recovery. I wondered why they were making all the effort to keep his heart beating and keep him alive. She said that it was their
duty to keep him alive. They had to provide him with all the opportunities to recover. I could not understand it as this would only mean that he would be lying there motionless for an indefinite time.
It had already been seven or eight days since he lapsed into a coma. I called my friends and asked that a few of them accompany me to the hospital the following night because I wanted them to keep watch while I switched off the ventilator and other equipment. I wanted to ensure that he passed on peacefully.
They looked at me in disbelief and asked, “Do you really want to do that? Will you be able to live with it? You will get into trouble.” Feeling very sad and troubled at my father’s situation, I said, “I can live with it. I just don’t want to see him linger on like this indefinitely. I made a promise to him to do what is necessary so that he doesn’t have to lie in this state and I have to ensure that I keep that promise regardless of the consequences.” My friends were apprehensive but they understood how I felt and said they were there for me. I assured them, “If I get caught, I will not involve any of you. I just need some moral support from you guys to be there for me.” They said that they knew that and were not afraid. They were prepared to go with me to the hospital.
We planned to go the following night at around 10 pm. I went to sleep that night with mixed feelings. Next morning, Chechy rang and said, “Subhas, father is gone. I have arranged for the casket company to take him for embalming and you do whatever is necessary at home to make sure that when he comes back, everything is in order.” I assured her that it would be done and asked Choon Kee, the tentage supplier of most of Sembawang then, to pitch up a tent in our compound. We informed all close friends and family.
While waiting for his coffin to be brought home, I sat down on the sofa and thought, “Acha, even in your time of death, you were thinking of me and saving me from an irreversible situation with consequences that could have changed my life. You made sure that you spared me the agony of the promise I made to you.”
When the coffin arrived, I looked at the old man and thought, “How much I have owed you and could not pay you back because you have just died on me. From now on, I will not make irrational promises.”
We cremated him in the evening the same day. I was proud to see that despite the short notice of his death, through word of mouth, there were hundreds of people present to mourn his loss. I had to conduct the last rites as the eldest son together with my two younger brothers. It was heart-wrenching to complete the ritual and walk on without turning back for a last look at him. I walked straight to my car, sat down and started crying. I sobbed continuously. I did not know whether it was tears of sadness or tears of relief or tears of joy because my father was not suffering anymore but I was overcome with emotion and lots of tears. It had finally sunk into me that I had just sent off a great man.
From top left: Subhas with his father, 1956; with parents, 1977, and with his mother at their home in Kampong Wak Hassan, 1982.
THIRTY
MY BELOVED MOTHER
Ten years after my father’s death, my mother was admitted to Alexandra Hospital where Chechy was working. She didn’t want to be admitted into the ‘A’ Class Ward, where she would get a single-bedded room, because she had always wanted someone beside her. She insisted on a ‘B’ Class Ward or the General Ward.
I said to her, “Ma, people will think that your children are stingy and they don’t care about you.” Her reply was, “Son, whatever they may think is not important. Isn’t your mother’s comfort more important?” Of course, I agreed and we admitted her to the General Ward as she didn’t want the airconditioning as well.
She was diagnosed with advanced stage cancer. She also suffered a heart attack. She stopped talking for some reason and would just smile in response to whatever we told her. We knew that she was suffering a lot of pain. Chechy and her colleagues made sure she had sufficient morphine to ease her pain but it was not enough. I knew she was in agony under her comforting smiles. She knew how upset and anxious we were and she tried very hard to shield us from her suffering. It was painful to watch her in agony. I felt that I couldn’t let her go as I still had so much to repay her for her unconditional love and affection.
I recalled the days when she would sit up reading a book just to keep me company while I studied through the nights. She used to pray for me constantly especially when I was remanded in prison. I was told that she practically lived in our prayer room. Even when she was confined to a wheelchair in her later years, she would visit me in the hospital when I was ill. I looked at this woman and prayed, “God, why do you make this woman suffer? She is such a loving and giving person, generous to a fault. She prays to you everyday. She has done no evil and I still see her maintain her devotion to You.”
Late one night, I had this urge to go to the hospital to see her. I drove to the hospital just in time to see her lying awake in bed, perspiring profusely for some reason and I could see that she was in tremendous agony. I felt helpless and asked her, “Ma, are you alright?” She smiled at me without saying a word. I held her hand and asked her, “Do you need anything?” Once again, she just smiled. I was getting anxious and said to her, “Look, Ma, your children are in a position to give you anything you need. We can afford things that we could not afford earlier. Is there anything that you want?” Again, she just smiled at me with peace in her eyes.
Suddenly, she motioned me to bend towards her and she then hugged me tightly. I cannot remember her ever hugging me at all. Although it was comforting when she hugged me, I thought, “Why is she hugging me now?” I felt maybe she was saying goodbye and before I could break into tears, I held her hands and said to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ma.”
As I walked away, something told me that I would not see her alive the next day. I got into the car and as I was heading for home, I broke down and cried because I felt that that was the end. I felt happy, too, that I had had this sudden urge to visit her and got a hug from her. I prayed to God for his compassion: “Dear God, please let her go peacefully. Don’t let her suffer anymore.” Only then did I realise that I was ready to let her go. When I reached home, I shared with Vimi the warm and touching moment I experienced with my mother. She nodded her head and comforted me.
The next morning, I went to the office as usual. An hour later, I received a call from Vimi telling me that the family was rushing to Alexandra Hospital and that we should be there too for we may be losing our mother. When we got there, she was already unconscious and her heart rate was dropping. We took turns to hold her hand and said our goodbyes. We stood there watching as her heart rate dropped and with her last breath, her heart finally stopped. It was a moment of reality that was hard to bear but I was relieved that she was no longer in pain.
Chechy arranged for the casket company. She is emotionally the strongest amongst us, very stoic and composed in times of crises. I rang up my friends to inform them of her death and to make arrangements for tentage for the wake because we were told that we would not be able to obtain a slot on the same day for her cremation. When I reached home, I saw that the tentage, chairs and tables were already there.
After what seemed like a lifetime, although it was a few hours, my mother’s coffin arrived eventually. We placed the casket in the living room and I was surprised at the number of people who came to pay their last respects to her. I saw friends and relatives whom I had not seen for years. They came because this woman was special to all of them. The next day when she was taken for cremation, and I, as the eldest son, had to again conduct the last rites with my two younger brothers. After that I walked to my car but this time I did not cry. I think all the tears had been shed earlier, when I was praying and hoping desperately for her recovery. In reality, I was glad that her suffering was over. I thought of all the good memories I shared with her and took comfort in them.
THIRTY-ONE
SLIPPER MAN’S CHINA BRIDE
I am approaching the end of my book. I have one or two more cases to share. One is the case of
a Chinese bride, Wu Yun Yun, who was forced by her parents to marry Tan Lead Shake, a politician from an opposition party.
Wu came, reluctantly, to Singapore in 2001 when she was 19 years old as her parents had already collected a dowry from Lead Shake’s father. She had to live with an extended family which included her husband’s parents, an unmarried older brother-in-law and another brother-in-law, Tan Lead Sane, who was also married to a Chinese, Huang Mei Zhe. This couple was in a very loving relationship whereas Wu and her husband were not. Wu claimed that he was cold towards her. It was also obvious to her that her mother-in-law, Madam Ng Bee Hion, was fond of Huang and always treated her better. This began from the very moment she moved into the house after marriage and over a period of time, it grated on her emotionally and she festered resentment for the both of them. She was filled with jealousy and resentment, and started harbouring ill thoughts including thoughts of killing them.
Wu would take breaks, with or without her husband, and return to her hometown in China with her two children to be with her family. Her father was not happy when she stayed long and she felt very isolated as quite often he would insist that she return home to her husband immediately. This absence of love and understanding from her loved ones sent her spiraling down into deep depression triggered by the lack of love and sense of belonging as she felt mentally alone in both homes.
Finally, one day in June 2008, she got so riled up that it unleashed a violent irrational person in her. She bought a knife and stabbed her sister-in-law, Huang, in her neck while she was asleep with her own husband, Lead Sane. Huang yelled and woke up her husband. When he sat up, Wu lunged the knife twice into his chest and once into his abdomen. Sadly, Lead Sane died in hospital. In a state of panic, Wu ran downstairs, collected some belongings and ran towards the main gate of the house to escape. She failed to open the gate as she had forgotten the passcode then. Her mother-in-law Madam Ng tried to stop her and was injured by her as well. Wu ran to the back of the house, climbed over the back gate and ran away. Her husband, Lead Shake, was totally helpless and did not know how to reach her. When she contacted him and said that she wanted to see him, he arranged a meeting and called the police. Wu was arrested and charged with murder and attempted murder. However, due to her deep depression and diagnosis of major depressive disorder, her charges were reduced to culpable homicide and she was sentenced to jail.
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