Jasmin Tse
As I get older, I realize that it’s often the little things which I remember the most.
I recall how my friend Miriam would faithfully collect my homework and notes everyday for the two weeks I was off of school with chickenpox. She would pop by my house every day on the way home to pass them to me and to see how I was getting along, assuring me that she had immunity from chickenpox. I looked forward to the couple of minutes of connection each day, reminding me that I was loved and not forgotten. At thirteen years old, being able to go to school and see your friends was your whole world. You were part of a larger group. You found your identity in friendships and that helped you through your adolescence.
The lock down which we faced and for some, in other countries are still going through, gave many a sense of anxiety and to some degree, loneliness. We were isolated from our various interactions with friends, colleagues, and even the uncle from the poultry stall in the wet market – the one who would pull out the extra kampong chicken hiding in the back of his fridge when he had supposedly run out. Some of us may have even felt a sense of relief for the break of having an active social life of coffee breaks and after work drinks in this beautiful and busy little red dot. At some point though, most of us would also feel a sense of loss from the perceived isolation. How could we try tackle these moments of darkness?
As I travelled out for my essential shopping, from time to time I would see the garbage truck along the road. Faithfully they would come round every week to ensure that our rubbish was cleared and not let to fester and attract vermin. Faithfully at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic these men, who mostly go unnoticed due to the unglamorous nature of their work, would jump off these trucks, masked up in the sweltering heat just to collect our trash. Did they feel anxiety about contracting the virus? Perhaps they were worried for their friends who may have been quarantined. Along with the many doctors and nurses who risked their lives taking care of patients, they were also the unsung heroes cleaning our streets and estates. Their little jobs collectively ensured that we did not need to worry about another extra inconvenience to our lives.
The world had seemingly come to a semi-standstill. These little behind the scene jobs became more noticeable. As the grass grew, so did the many flourishing colours. Driving along the ECP, colours would burst out along the divider. Hedges began to resemble a plain of flowery stars. Many a time I would marvel at the pockets of wild untamed flowers and weeds, reminding me at times of the English countryside. Even my dogs couldn’t resist the curiosity of diving into the tall grass with its new hidden buds.
Out of our need to connect with others, we soon sought out ways to communicate. Care packs were sent to friends, “We may not be able to have coffee together in person but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have coffee together via Zoom.” Little packages to support local businesses were sent out to remind each other that we cared and had not forgotten the depth of our friendships.
Others sought to connect further with the wider community.Some volunteered to reach out to the less fortunate; a group already struggling and feeling isolated during normal times but more so now. A couple of ladies in my estate who are handy with their sewing machines decided to make masks of for adults and children, distributing them to the neighbours.They did not ask for payment, only that their kindness be paid forward.Another lady took it upon herself to clear the pavement around her street of weeds.She told me that people would stare at her curiously but she told her husband that this was her community work which benefited everyone, “Clear the overgrown plants and there’s less places for mosquitoes to breed.” He soon joined her in mowing their elderly neighbours lawn and a few other patches of grass further along the street. Yet another lady decided to hold free zoom fitness classes connecting not only those in Singapore but further afield in Hong Kong and New York, just to inspire them stay fit and healthy and to connect with one another during the lock down.
“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”
- George Eliot, English novelist and author of Middlemarch.
This pandemic may appear to be a more drawn out than we wish it to be but the acts of kindness and gratefulness continually show that we can come out stronger and more united in our humanity and compassion for one another. These are just some of the series of small things which I witnessed within my community - each person trying to contribute to a greater and brighter day with their gifts.
What small acts did you witness during your time of lock down which brightened your days? Hopefully once this pandemic finally comes to an end, we will still continue with our small acts of gratitude and kindness. It could begin with a simple act of offering a cold drink to the cleaner in your estate or the pump attendant at the petrol station. However you choose to bring a smile to others, I hope that you continue to find joy in the little things.
A thank you poster dedicated to all the health care and essential workers displayed on a neighbour's balcony