Living Life at 70

There is a tub of honey sittting on my kitchen table. It comes from China - the first time I was buying Chinese honey as all  other brands of honey had gone up in price.

But after the Chinese milk scandal I am not sure what to do with that tub of honey. Maybe after some weeks of staring at the tub on my kitchen table I would be able to get over the guilt of throwing it out and waisting, a quite possibly harmless, tub of honey .

I can’t help thinking the risks that parents are forced to take when buying products that have been ‘enriched’ chemically.

Which reminds me of the good old days….I know, I know all the arguements in favour of modern tecnology and how it has enabled the world to feed millions more people or saved millions more from starvation and from ill health. Do we keep count of the millions who suffer ill health and pain because  this  technology is used knowingly as bad for health, as the the manufacturers of Sanlu Milk had done to their own people in China , because of greed, individual or corporate?

This is not the first instance either of babies put at risk.

Remember the 1970s scandal, also centered around infant milk formula? Apparantly a munfacturer’s recommendations to  nursing mothers to switch to its infant formula milk products, led to the alleged deaths of about 1.5 million babies each year as a result of  the formula being mixed with contaminated water.

Perhaps mothers will revert to the good old fashioned way of feeding infants- and go back to breast milk.

Anyway to go back to the good old days. I was five when I and my four siblings ( you can guess the ages of the four) went to visit our grandparents in India. Upon our arrival my grandfather bought a cow to provide us with fresh milk every day and we ate fresh eggs from chickens who had the run of the place. These days when I look at the eggs in the supermarket shelves it is hard to come by eggs which have not been enriched one way or another!

Let me tell you a story, no two stories. Recently we had an upgrading exercise in my block of flat. Residents were required to vote to put in a lift on every floor but the block lost out because one person forgot to cast her vote. Just one more vote and we would have lift on every floor. Life would have been made easier for the young disabled man who has to go for dialysis every day. Another resident has a mother in a wheelchair which has to be carried down one floor every time she has to see a doctor. Most days she is trapped in her home like many other old folks who live in the block. One more vote would have made a difference to the lives of many people in the block.

Recently I attended the Rolex Award for enterprise which Rolex created for outstanding human achievements. Five individuals, one each from India, Thailand, Siberia, Britain and Australia amazed and inspired me by their achievement. For example, Chanda Shroff of India set up a non-profit organization to teach women the dying art of traditional embroidery in the region of Kutch in Gujerat. Under her guidance women are gathering together to create exquisite handiwork despite difference in religion and status and to building an economic base for their communities. Chanda Shroff has inspired more than 22,000 women in 120 villages to value their talents and recognize their potential. She empowered them and enabled them to earn an income and support their families.

Let me interest you to two books that explore the current preoccupation with questions of identity and culture.

The first one Pico Ayer’s “The Global Soul: Jet-lag, shopping malls and the search for home”. Pico Ayer uses his own background of multicultural upbringing (Indian, American, and British) to reflect on who you are, where you are or what you are. The Observer reviewer claims that Ayer “ helps us understand the disoriented, directionless, contemporary condition”.

The second book is David Pollock’s and Ruth Van Reken’s book “Third Culture Kids”. It speaks to the challenges and rewards of a multicultural childhood – the joy of discovery, the meaning of personal identity, and the complexities of transition.

Both books are interesting reading for those who want to understand our modern cultural condition.

The other day there was a letter from a reader, Wee Hung Lih ( see Today 9th Nov. 2006) who confidently stated that , and I quote, “I can see myself only as a Singaporean, born and bred in a multi-ethnic environement” . I completely agree with him. He is my kind of person , a rare person, who had the courage to stand up for his own convictions. He was responding to a letter in the same newspaper from Wong Hoong Hooi, who argued that all Singapore Chinese should speak Mandarin and not pretend they are ‘ang moh’.

I know that there are many people, Chinese, Malay or Indian who think like that and for whom their language is important for their sense of identity. But not everybody, including yours truly, feels the way Mr. Wong does.

This reminds me of a language detail I see on a movie trailer on TV which said that the Cantonese movie would be subtitled in English and Chinese!
Is Cantonese not Chinese?!

One of the joys of being old and retired is that there no need to rush – for instance, rush to get out of bed in the morning. I love lingering in the morning. I make my first cup of coffee, collect the newspapers, and go back to bed to read it. It is, for me the most delightful time of the day.

Another joy is not having to colour my hair. I have to stop pretending that I am young. There are advantages to this. Taxi drivers are more respectful and tell me to take my time. I can announce without embarrassment that I am 70 years old. It is all very liberating?