The day Michael Fay saved me from jail

The Sunday Times Mar 22, 2009

Even in the US, some believe that giving up a bit of freedom can serve the greater good

By Lee Wei Ling

Someone e-mailed me an article from the San Francisco Chronicle titled 'Singapore blooms as lush as Eden itself'^*1, by Linda Watanabe McFerrin, about our city in a garden.

'Unfortunately, what most Westerners know about Singapore,' she notes, 'is limited to the restrictions imposed on its citizens by a repressive government that dictates the mix of races; regulates reproductive matters, public housing and other seemingly personal matters; bans chewing gum, canes kids and keeps a stranglehold on the media.'

I read the article with amusement and recalled the day Michael Fay saved me from being thrown into jail in New Hampshire. For those too young to remember Fay, let me relate his story.

In 1993, the then 18-year-old and his friends damaged 18 cars in a 10-day spree of vandalism and mischief. Stolen road signs and Singapore flags were also found in his home. Fay was caught, charged and pleaded guilty. The judge sentenced him to six strokes of the cane and four months in jail.

The American media went berserk; then US President Bill Clinton appealed to then President Ong Teng Cheong to pardon the teenager; the Singapore Government agreed to reduce the sentence to four strokes of the rotan; the US media was not satisfied.

At the time of his arrest in Singapore, Fay was living with his mother and stepfather. On his release from prison in June 1994, he returned to the US to live with his father.

A few months later, the US press reported that he had come home intoxicated late one night and had charged at his father. A month later, he was badly burnt sniffing butane when a friend struck a match.

He admitted that he had been a butane addict while in Singapore.

Fay was far from my mind when I spent three wonderful days hiking in the White Mountains of New Hampshire in October 1995.

It was fall and the mountains were covered with red, yellow, rust and gold foliage with tiny flecks of green - a work of art which no human painter can ever equal either in magnitude or splendour.

Just before heading back to Boston, I stopped at a tiny souvenir shop. I bought a sweatshirt with a moose printed on it for my mother.

I then saw a T-shirt with the New Hampshire state emblem, the head of an eagle, and the words 'Live Free or Die' printed around the emblem.

I have always avoided wearing anything which makes a statement. But I could not resist buying this T-shirt. Then I hit the highway again, heading for Boston.

The highways in America are wonderful. They are multiple-lane affairs, with a physical separation between the traffic going in opposite directions. This makes speeding on them safer than in Singapore.

Soon, I was cruising at 195kmh with Scottish music playing at full blast in the background.

Because of the loud music, it took me some time before I noticed a police siren and slowed down.

With its red, white and blue lights flashing, the police car overtook my vehicle and signalled for me to pull over. I did so and the police car stopped ahead of me.

The policeman walked over to my car, demanded to see my driving licence, then yanked me out, saying: 'I am bringing you to the police station to be locked up.'

I protested: 'I was only speeding. I will pay the fine and you should let me off.'

He shot back: 'You were not only speeding. You disobeyed the law by not stopping immediately when I flashed the light to signal you to stop.'

He shoved me into his car and drove off, leaving my rental car by the roadside with all my belongings, including my newly purchased T-shirts, in it and the car door still open.

He radioed back to the police station, saying he was bringing someone in to the lock-up.

'What do you work as?' he asked me.

I replied: 'I am a doctor.'

'I hope you are a better doctor than a driver. Are you on drugs?'

'No. Do I look as though I am on drugs?'

'No, you look as though you were concentrating on overtaking every car ahead of you.'

That was indeed what I was doing. How often in Singapore can one drive at 195kmh? But I chose not to voice that thought.

Suddenly he asked: 'What do Singaporeans think of Americans?'

I replied quite sincerely: 'We like Americans. Hewlett-Packard, IBM and other multinational companies create jobs for us. But you probably don't like Singaporeans because we caned Michael Fay.'

His whole demeanour changed when I mentioned Fay.

'Michael Fay deserved to be caned,' he said firmly. 'He has been causing trouble since he returned to the US.'

He told me how his best friend, also a policeman, had been shot point-blank and died that morning when he stopped a speeding car. That was why he was in such a foul mood.

From that point on, our conversation got friendlier. We talked about hiking in New Hampshire, how we drove on the left in Singapore and so on.

Without my realising it, he had turned around and had driven back to where my rental car was. A tow truck had just arrived, but my policeman shooed it away.

He walked me to my car, told me to 'drive safely' and walked off. He did not fine me, nor did he charge me for activating the tow truck.

I drove back to Boston hardly believing my good luck.

American journalists may flog Singapore because of its perceived limitations on personal freedom, but there are some Americans - even in 'Live Free or Die' New Hampshire - who feel that a compromise in personal freedom to prevent anti-social behaviour is necessary for the welfare of society.

Most Singaporeans and many Americans would agree with that sentiment.

Dr Lee is the director of the National Neuroscience Institute.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

^*1 Singapore blooms as lush as Eden itself

San Francisco Chronicle Mar 1, 2009

By Linda Watanabe McFerrin

"Ah, that fragrance is beautiful, like gardenia or tuberose."

I am standing in a perfectly groomed Eden, a few feet away from a tumbling waterfall, gazing into the dark eyes of a man who looks both ancient and young.

"It is a butterfly lily," he explains. The white blossom is perfectly reflected in the black eyes of Rahman Salleh, grounds manager and my guide through the gardens of Shangri-la.

No, not the legendary Himalayan lamasery and paradise celebrated in James Hilton's 1933 novel "Lost Horizon," but a hotel in Singapore, the first property in a luxury chain built on the principles of the lush utopian kingdom.

A breeze rustles the fronds of the fishtail palms, giving their long, Rasta-look seedpods a vigorous shake. We continue our walk through the oasis, past fan and hurricane palms, delicate gingers, past the waterfalls, koi ponds and pools where pleasantly braised and toasted guests loll. All have beatific smiles on their sun-dazed faces. So do I. I've come to Singapore, after an absence of many years, to rediscover paradise - the lush, leafy heart of a nation better known for its obsessions with commercial success. I think I've found it here. But this is not the only slice of heaven in this land of sunlight, flowers and friendly people.

Singapore is, in many ways, a little miracle. Young by any standards - the 273-square-mile island nation is only 43 years old - although it is a little over a quarter of the size of Rhode Island and is one of the most crowded countries in the world (around 16,000 residents per square mile), it is also one of the cleanest and most picturesque, and its gross domestic product ranks high. Its ethnically and religiously diverse people - mostly Chinese, Malay, Indian - are well-educated and live and work in apparent harmony. English is the universal language in Singapore, though Mandarin Chinese, Malay, Tamil and others deemed "mother tongues" are also taught and studied.

Unfortunately, what most Westerners know about Singapore is limited to the restrictions imposed on its citizens by a repressive government that dictates the mix of races; regulates reproductive matters, public housing and other seemingly personal matters; bans chewing gum, canes kids and keeps a stranglehold on the media. Westerners know that it's commercial, that its citizens are materialistic, and that the food and the shopping are great. I must admit, headquartered in the towering pagoda of the Singapore Marriott on Orchard Road, where the swell of humanity ebbs and flows above and below ground through high-rise department stores and high-end boutiques, this assumption seems accurate.

But beyond this, beyond the rules and the regulations and the obsession with making and spending money, is another Singapore, a Singapore as graceful and gracious as the mythical utopia that Hilton conjured for readers, a place that I, like Hilton's hero, Conway, never leave without a pang of longing.

Partly it's the people. The Singaporeans I have met are swift: quick in business, quick to learn new things and quick to welcome you. But another reason I love the place is the order and harmony that is one of the outcomes of the nation's strict governance. Even in the midst of massive urbanization and modernization, Singapore has managed to retain much of its tropical island ambience. Ten percent of the country's limited space is devoted to green zones: to parks and nature areas. And then, of course, there are the islands.

Singapore, itself an island separated from the Malaysian mainland by the Strait of Johor, is surrounded by 35 smaller islands. Boomerang-shaped Pulau Ubin, a mere 10 minutes away by bumboat, is a little less than 4 square miles of abandoned granite quarries, coconut and rubber plantations, mangrove and coastal forests, seagrass lagoons and rocky shore. It is home to some of Singapore's last traditional villages, or kampongs, and to the beautiful Chek Jawa Wetlands, where anemones, cowries, volutes, sea stars, sea horses and a myriad of other forms of rarely seen water and land life abound. You can rent a van to take you about the island, but the best way to see Pulau Ubin is to rent a bike when you arrive or set out on foot along one of the many trails that traverse it. Stop for a cold chrysanthemum tea along the way or join schoolchildren, families and others for a quick bite at one of the island's tiny trailside eateries.

It takes a little longer to get to Kusu Island. Access is by ferry, which sets out from the Marina South Pier and stops at sleepy St. John's Island. Once a quarantine facility for lepers, today St. John's draws visitors interested in family outings, a quiet shoreline stroll or an intimate seaside picnic. Kusu or Tortoise Island is a bit busier. Every year, at a certain point in the lunar calendar, nearly 90,000 Taoist devotees make the trip to Kusu to pay homage and pray for the five blessings: longevity, wealth, tranquility, health of body and peace of mind. The rest of the year it is peaceful, with little to distract from the stunning seascapes. Legend has it that a giant sea turtle turned itself into this island to save two shipwrecked sailors, one Chinese, the other Malay. Today its offspring are everywhere. On my recent visit, I threw a few wishful coins into the lotus in front of Tua Pekong Temple, climbed the 152 steps to Kramat Kusu, the Muslim shrine that sits at the high point of the island, and communed with the turtles. Their message was clear: Slow down.

Other islands around Singapore include Subar Laut (Big Sister Island) and Subar Darat (Little Sister Island), named for two beautiful sisters, Minah and Lina, who escaped kidnapping by jumping into the sea; Pulau Hantu, which is great for diving; and Pulau Satumu, another top diving location. It is surrounded by rich coral reefs, and the lighthouse on the island is more than a century old.

Perhaps the most popular, though, is Sentosa Island. If there is a fantasy island, I believe this is it.

You can take the expressway to get to Sentosa or you can swing into the scene on the aerial cable car, which will drop you off in Imbiah right next to the Butterfly Park and the Insect Kingdom. Rasa Sentosa, on Siloso Point on the western end of the island, is a beachfront property with a playful Disney-like atmosphere. With its long white beaches and round-the-clock activities, it's a favorite of Singaporean families and visitors who want to go from zero to a hundred and back again in a few short steps. If the Underwater World, Flying Trapeze, Luge and Skyride, Fish Reflexology spa (where the fish nibble dead skin off your feet) or friendly pythons don't grab you, try a little beach volleyball, a snooze on the sand or a cocktail at one of the numerous restaurants, lounges and seaside cafes. Peacocks and monkeys roam the grounds as do blissed-out children and adults.

Further inland, on the eastern side of the island, the Sentosa Resort & Spa, adjacent to Sentosa Golf Club, caters to a more serene crowd. The resort is home to Spa Botanica, one of the most luxurious in Asia, where clients are treated to a wide range of therapies, indoors and out. Massages, scrubs, baths, body wraps, manicures, pedicures, scalp treatments - every imaginable therapy is on the menu. The pampering takes place indoors (private rooms) or outdoors (exquisite personal pavilions). You can opt for hours of hands-on relaxation or you can spend the day at leisure, wandering amid the frangipani and ferns on the facility's tropically landscaped grounds, enjoying the tea house, swimming pools, cascading waterfalls, volcanic mud pool, meditation labyrinths, float pools, whirlpools and inviting umbrellas of shade.

Returning from Sentosa to Singapore Island does not mean you have to abandon the sense of island calm. It's always mere minutes away in a country and city where colorful districts like Chinatown and Little India are tucked in between great clouds of green. Chief among these and a must for anyone who wants to really feel the green pulse of this carefully landscaped city, is Singapore Botanic Gardens. Established in 1859, these gardens precisely illustrate the close connection between the world of nature and the well being of humanity and exemplify the balance that Singapore's leaders mean to preserve. This is, after all, where 'Hevea brasiliensis,' or Para rubber, was first grown and cultivated in Asia, introducing a crop that would transform the region's economy and usher in a new era of prosperity and modernization.

It is also home to major developments in orchid breeding and hybridization. The National Orchid Garden is a riot of vibrant color, sometimes laced with the faint smell of vanilla, which happens to be an orchid as well. Like the other gardens in the 155-plus-acre complex of lakes, meadows, kiosks, information centers and cafes, they are not simply eye candy; they instruct. The Botany Center located near Tanglin Gate at the park's entrance is an education center that houses important resources like the Singapore Herbarium, the Library of Botany and Horticulture and the Orchid Breeding and Micropropagation Laboratory.

For all their beauty, the Singapore Botanic Gardens are not about romantic notions of nature; they are about the inter-relationship of man and his environment, and in that sense, they are - like just about everything in Singapore - pragmatic. This is nature with a purpose, and that purpose, in some worldviews, is to serve man, just as man's purpose is to be an able and responsible steward of the natural world. This philosophy is explicit throughout the park: in gardens that highlight the commercial contributions of the vegetable kingdom, trace the evolution of plants or teach children to create and explore in a flowering world; in the careful integration of people-friendly structures and meticulously maintained landscapes and in the property's promotion as a popular attraction. Admission to just about everything is free. In the morning, the park is full of parents and children, dog walkers, joggers, cyclists, martial arts practitioners, friends, lovers and a few savvy tourists.

I could spend months in those gardens and possibly years becoming more familiar with Singapore's 300 large and small parks. But, as luck would have it, my trip led elsewhere.

My final day in Singapore was spent at HortPark, the gardening and lifestyle hub of the island country. In this 56-acre regional park full of greenhouses, flower marts, display plots, floral walks, galleries, activity centers and event lawns, the community coalesces around horticultural and landscaping issues, from preparing a new, young generation of gardeners, to greening the Singapore of the future. Some of my last heady moments on the island were spent in the midst of that vision as I sat listening to a short lecture on the National Parks Board's latest ecological adventure.

Their proposed Gardens by the Bay community will occupy around 250 acres of prime waterfront land designed to frame urban dwellers in a serene mantle of ecologically balanced, technologically supported and sustainable greenery.

Among the features under development are Cool Conservatories, massive multi-acre, all-weather glass structures that will showcase flora using sustainable energy technologies. In the Gardens at Marina South, SuperTrees - 98- to 180-foot structures each covered with a living "skin" of greenery - will function very much like natural trees, housing photovoltaic cells in their canopies and collecting the rainwater essential to the Cool Conservatories, even as they provide shade and visual beauty for the people who move beneath them.

The developments go on and on, all focused on marrying technology and nature for the betterment of man. Artificial or not, it's a wise direction in our use-it-or-lose-it day and age. Sitting there, amazed, it occurs to me that what they are doing here is re-engineering Paradise. In Singapore, they are not so much bemoaning a lost horizon as finding a new one.

Poet, travel writer and novelist Linda Watanabe McFerrin (www.lwmcferrin.com) writes frequently about the natural world.