Calling Home, Part 2: In Big Cities, People Live Alone Together

Calling Home is a series of articles dedicated to cherishing the memories made when away from home, and the people who make them. In Part 2/6, Terence Wang muses about the way we interact with strangers.

“In big cities, people live alone together. Do you agree with that statement?”

It would not be an exaggeration to say that I froze, if only for a short moment. In front on me, on the still-warm-from-the-printer sheet of English, Paper 1, that title stared back at me nonchalantly, as if subtly daring me to pick it. Come on, it teased. You know this is the title you would choose.

I didn’t pick it.

It wasn’t for the lack of trying, though. I scratched my head, withered my brow, and made all the usual little movements that a scared, confused student in an exam hall. But I was neither scared, nor confused. I was stumped. It wasn’t a familiar feeling; never once had there been an essay topic, any essay topic, that I couldn’t simply pick and immediately get to work; here, however, I was stuck. And so I moved on, and wrote a little idiosyncratic story about trains and memories. It would go on to earn a sufficiently high score and secure my grade, but I wasn’t satisfied. That little title would stick in my sea of thoughts, like a stubborn little rock clinging on to the seabed, for the some time to come.



Gently, yet firmly, she pushed my little stack of crumpled maths notes to the side of the table. “Nah, like that got more space to write, right?”

Startled, I looked up from my homework. It was a Saturday afternoon, with skies of a slightly darker hue of orange than usual, but nary a cool breeze, unfortunately. Every week, at this time, I would be trapped in a state of having absolutely nothing to do - my catechism class ended at five, giving me one full hour before mass. Problem was, as I was very much aware, I was utterly terrible at finding something to do. Today, though, it wasn’t so much out of choice rather than pure desperation that I decided to lug a portion of my studies out with me. Finals were like, what, a few weeks away? It was as such that I found myself slowly chugging away in an airy Toast Box outlet a street away from church, favourite black pen in hand and a plate with half-eaten French toast in front of me.

While it was relatively spacious, this particular Toast Box received a fair number of patrons, and so I was unsurprised when a woman, looking to be in her fifties, asked politely if she could have the seat opposite mine, to which I responded in the affirmative. She thanked me and sat down to with a cup of black coffee, occasionally glancing towards other, more chatter-filled tables. This went on for a few minutes, while I continued my scribbling.

Then she shifted my papers.

I could only give her a sheepish smile as a reply, slightly confused and at a total loss at what to say. I admit, not once have I had a total stranger coming up to me just to talk, let alone move my stuff around.

“Exams coming, is it?”

“Yeah. Need to prepare.”

One thing to be grateful for is that regardless how shocked I am, my voice never fails to recover. Helps a lot in covering my ass when it comes to situations like this.

“I see. You are...Sec 2, 3?”

“Three.”

“Ah. I see you youngsters these days, always so tense about studies. Good lah, but don’t go overboard.” She glanced away for a moment, and sliding her own now-empty cup aside, she excused herself. “Study hard ya. Good luck!”

I smiled slightly and replied with a thanks to this lady who was so willing to offer her well wishes to a guy she met barely ten minutes ago. It was kind of refreshing, really, to have someone just decide to have a friendly conversation with you.

A few more minutes went by. A woman of typical ‘mum age’ (that means late thirties to early forties, in case you didn’t know), and a girl who I presumed was her daughter, settled into the table attached to mine. I didn’t give them much thought initially, until I realised they were referencing me in their conversation. I continued to pretend not to notice, but now listened more intently, catching some words here and there: “去问他啦 (Go ask him)”, said the woman. They continued to deliberate for awhile, but I couldn’t catch what they said.

“Excuse me.”

I looked up, actually surprised. It’s happening again, I thought with wonder.

“...Yes?”

“Exams ar?”

Yup, it’s happening again.

And so it went on, with her asking me about my school’s aggregate score - once a Singaporean, always a Singaporean, eh? - and through that, learning that I was a Penangite as I had absolutely no idea about my school’s aggregate score, sorry aunty. And of course a conversation about Penang would follow, of course she’d been there before, and yes, of course the dominant topic was no other than food.

“You look very serious.”

Insert my awkward half-smile here. “Er...really?”

“Yes! Both of us...” at this she gestured to her daughter “...noticed you working so intensely there.”

My, you should see me when I’m frustrated. But she was probably right.

“No lah, mainly because of exams.”

“Do you come here every weekend and study?”

“Nah, I’m mainly rushing now. I have this one hour between class and church so I try to find stuff to do. Then maybe an outing with friends after that.”

“Ah, at least you know how to relax. Must not just keep on pushing yourself.”

Soon, it was her turn to leave too, and she was kind enough to slip in a “good luck!” before she strolled out. I wasn’t even creative enough to come up with a different response to the one that I had given to the other lady.

Some may not be able to understand why this experience struck me. Talking to strangers, what’s strange (pun intended) about that? And I agree, it isn’t, or at least it shouldn’t be. On the other hand, it was an epiphany on several levels.

Malaysia prides itself on having some of the warm, friendliest people in the world. But can it be possible for us to live up to that claim when we don’t even make a single effort to get to know the people around us? It’s the same thing everywhere; be it the elderly uncle waiting a few seats away for the same dentist, the Aussie sitting in the cramped plane seat next to you, or the female contestant sitting behind you also shuffling nervously before her turn, we simply do-NOT-open-our-mouths.

Yet, this little red dot across the border, this nation well-known for its alleged kiasu-ness (and even acknowledged among its citizens), that ‘won’ the top place for 'Least Emotional Country', managed to show us up by showering care and concern for a young stranger at a crowded Toast Box outlet.

Perhaps, then, in this suffocating society of more than five million people, the everyday routine of interacting with the people close to them has caught up to Singaporeans. Maybe, in a way, talking to strangers helps them forget the cramps of living in this ‘crowded crowd’, and create a virtual space of discovery that elevates them beyond their surroundings, and make the little red dot a bit bigger than it really is.

This would help make a little sense as to why we’re so cold to strangers. We have simply grown too lazy, too comfortable. In contrast to our neighbour, we are not crowded, nor are we suffocating, and that has made us complacent in wanting to crave for more emotionally and spiritually.

“In big cities, people live alone together. Do you agree with that statement?”

Words by Terence Wang
Picture by LH Isurgranddad