Are we too privileged to be kind?

Taking public transport has become something I now approach with a level of apprehension and uncertainty. I never know whether I might spend the entire journey standing, or whether I might meet with kindness from a stranger. I'm now big enough not to be mistaken for a skinny lady who's had a heavy lunch, but I have had enough experiences standing in front of rows of people pretending to be asleep or engrossed in their newspaper/PSP/mobile phone. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see through them - the sleeping people occasionally peek out but quickly shut their eyes when they see me still standing in front of them. Quite often, they wake up after I leave or after someone else gives me a seat! That's one of the reasons why I want a car!

I have encountered a number of kind people who have offered me their seat. Each time it happens, I thank them and thank God for them, and say a little prayer that they too may experience the same kindness that they have shown. What is most interesting is that the ones who give up seats aren't often the young, able-bodied and privileged majority. More often than not, they are the minorities, the Indians, Filipinos, middle-aged men, and most surprisingly, older Chinese aunties who could be in their 50s or even 60s. It's the young, Chinese men and women in their 20s and 30s who seem to be the most oblivious. But having said that, there was a sweet-faced Chinese lady who let me have her seat on a crowded bus, and after I got off, my mum and I both waved a thank-you-good-bye at her from the bus stop, and she look quite shy!

My highly un-detailed and academically un-rigorous research on the demographic of seat-giving-up people has led me to conclude that empathy and kindness are inextricably linked. Older aunties and married men who might have an inkling of the pregnancy experience are most likely to empathise. Perhaps minorities and foreigners who know what it's like to be in a difficult situation are more likely to look out for people who might need help. Anne-Marie noticed the same thing in London - that it was usually the Asians, Chinese and foreigners who would offer her seats on the train. The phenomenon is old news - it was observed 2000 years ago:

25 And now a lawyer stood up and, to test him, asked, 'Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?' 26 He said to him, 'What is written in the Law? What is your reading of it?' 27 He replied, 'You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbour as yourself.' 28 Jesus said to him, 'You have answered right, do this and life is yours.' 29 But the man was anxious to justify himself and said to Jesus, 'And who is my neighbour?'

30 In answer Jesus said, 'A man was once on his way down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of bandits; they stripped him, beat him and then made off, leaving him half dead. 31 Now a priest happened to be travelling down the same road, but when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 In the same way a Levite who came to the place saw him, and passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan traveller who came on him was moved with compassion when he saw him. 34 He went up to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them. He then lifted him onto his own mount and took him to an inn and looked after him. 35 Next day, he took out two denarii and handed them to the innkeeper and said, "Look after him, and on my way back I will make good any extra expense you have." 36 Which of these three, do you think, proved himself a neighbour to the man who fell into the bandits' hands?' 37 He replied, 'The one who showed pity towards him.' Jesus said to him, 'Go, and do the same yourself.'

Gospel of Luke 10:25–37

The privileged looked on, but it took a man from Samaria, a race despised by the Jews, to go out of his way to help the wounded man. It is counter intuitive that the privileged, who have more resources to spare, would be less willing to help another.

Sometimes, when I am standing up in front of a whole row of seated young women who are sleeping/reading/chatting and generally avoiding eye contact with me, I tell myself that they might be facing some unknown and unseen difficulty. Perhaps one has terrible period cramps, another might be having the flu, another might have sprained her ankle, and another might be exhausted from a difficult day, and perhaps I might be the most strong and able-bodied of the lot!

It helps me put things into perspective and feel less cynical about human nature, but deep down inside I do feel a bit sad about this. I don't want Baby to grow up in such an environment and with such a worldview. I want to be able to teach her empathy and kindness and awareness. But before I can do that, I must first become a better person. Nothing prepares you for parenthood - there are no courses, curriculum, or tuition classes. Most people just learn on the job. My prayer is that God will guide Panliang and I to be loving, humble and nurturing parents. Perhaps this awareness is the first step.

We tried it the other day. I must confess that I am among those who do not usually clear food bowls and trays after a meal at food courts or hawker centres, especially if there are cleaners in sight. Two days ago, Panliang and I decided to carry our used tray to the cleaning station, and the look of surprise, gladness and gratitude on the cleaners' faces struck me. They were not young, probably not earning a lot, possibly holding two jobs to support their families, facing callous customers who do not thank them for cleaning the tables, probably tired, and one would not describe them as brimming with life, hope or optimism. I realised that if a tiny, meaningless and effortless gesture could bring just a bit of joy and renewed faith in kindness in the world, it was worth it.

Another gripe I have is when a bus driver waits patiently for someone who is running for the bus, and when the person finally boards the bus, she heaves a sigh of relief and triumphantly takes a seat, with no sign of acknowledgement or gratitude to the bus driver. The mindset is "I caught the bus!", as if the bus was a machine-operated entity, and not "The bus driver waited patiently for me, even though I was 400m away!" I think bus drivers are often unseen, unappreciated and ignored, and I try to make it a point to smile or greet them when I board. It might be the first smile they've seen all day.

I wonder if it's a Singaporean thing. Non-Singaporeans in general seem to be more civil and (much as this word is overused in government campaigns) gracious than Singaporeans. A few years ago, I was in London and taking a bus by myself to Heathrow airport. I had a medium-sized luggage but I was confident I could handle it alone. When I boarded the bus and hoisted my luggage up the steps, it felt surprisingly light, and I turned around to find that an elderly black gentleman had, unasked, hoisted the luggage up the steps for me. Pleasantly surprised, I thanked him and proceeded up the bus, heading towards the empty seats at the back. There were men on both sides of the aisle, sitting on the outer seats with their legs wide open (why do men always sit like that?!) and their long legs blocking the aisle. As soon as they saw me coming with my luggage, they all sat properly and pulled in their legs in unison, clearing the pathway. I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea. It was quite a funny sight but I was impressed by their awareness and initiative. I imagine that if it was in Singapore, there would have to be a lot of shuffling and "Excuse me! Sorry! Excuse me! Excuse me please!" before one could get up a bus!

Ministor Mentor Lee Kuan Yew believes a gracious Singapore will not happen in his lifetime: "I will not see it, maybe you will live long enough to see it; I wish you well."

That probably sums up what we all believe, but if we don't like the thought of this, we can just try harder. After all, if a tiny gesture can put a smile on someone's face, then, why not?