As an atheist fulfilling his National Service commitments in Singapore, I couldn’t help but develop some interesting insights into the minds of Singapore’s youth. You never know a man till you serve with him in the military, and unfortunately, I learnt that some men are better not knowing.
During my 2 months of basic military training (BMT), I came to the realization that many Generation-Y Singaporeans are still extremely superstitious. My unit had a recruit who bought a specially ‘blessed’ Buddhist charm when he enlisted.
What would you need that for? Perhaps the charm had certain bullet-defying properties I was not made aware about.
In Singapore, Pulau Tekong is the small island in which BMT is conducted. Secluded and rural, this former Malay village is a dense tropical jungle, specially designed for training Singaporean soldiers. Any remnants of its former Malay heritage have been wiped-clean, replaced with modern military buildings.
But a sizeable number of Singaporean men believe that the island is haunted.
When we made our first journey out-field to the jungle, many soldiers were fearful of what might happen. They did not fear the harsh living conditions, the insects or intense jungle training. Above all, they feared the supernatural.
With deadly seriousness, one of my platoon mates turned to me and said, “You better say “sorry” to the tree when you piss on it! Otherwise the ghost will come and haunt you!” I looked deeply into his eyes and found a mixture of fear and conviction.
To non-Singaporeans, I should mention that some Singaporeans believe that trees (in particular, banana trees) have ghosts tied to it and any desecration of said trees will invoke the spirit’s wraith.
Irritated with my comrade’s ill-founded superstitious nonsense, I retained as much urine as possible, and purposely took an extra long piss at the scariest looking tree I could find. Not only did I fail to apologise to the tree, but after doing my business I said, “Fuck you tree!”
I’m sure this is where tree-hugging hippies angrily write to me, denouncing my verbally abusive behavior.
Shrouded in the darkness of the jungle, I was more concerned with stepping in puddles of urine than I was of ghosts.
But there’s nothing wrong with superstition right? After all, as long as our men perform their duties, that’s all that matters.
The problem is that some Singaporeans are so superstitious that they will neglect their duties out of superstitious fear.
During BMT, I was one of the unfortunate few who had to do guard duty during the weekend. The area I was supposed to guard was nestled deep in the jungle, far away from the remainder of military civilization.
When night fell, the poorly lit area was difficult to patrol.
But it wasn’t the terrain that my patrol partner was afraid of. He was more fearful of the boogeymen hiding in the shadows.
“Let’s patrol over there” I’d say, pointing to a dark area, deep in the jungle, that was part of our patrol route.
“Har?! Sure or not?!” My partner replied. With nervous sweat on his forehead, he looked at me with startled eyes; almost as if I had suggested we battle a battalion of tanks single-handedly, Rambo style.
“Yeah, why not?” I shot back as I dragged him along our patrol route.
But perhaps the most absurd superstition I had to endure in BMT was the myth of the flying cabinet.
Among certain Singaporean men, there’s a widely held belief that you cannot bring pork into the former Muslim island of Pulau Tekong. Apparently, ghosts have nothing better to do than watch what you eat and lambaste you for your poor dietary habits.
Once, during downtime, my unit sat around a table, chewing the fat.
“Did you know you cannot bring pork into Tekong” one said.
“Why not?” I asked, foolishly expecting a logical answer.
“Because if you put pork in your locker, it will fly lor!” Another answered seriously, almost angry that I did not know.
“Are you serious?” I asked with a laugh, “Do you guys really believe that if you put pork in your locker it will fly?”
They did. As much as 1/5 of my unit believed this fairytale. The suggestion was so ludicrous I thought I was being ribbed, but these people honestly believed it.
Surely, such a tall claim required testing. The next time I booked out of camp, I went to a bah kwa stall . (Bah kwa is a Chinese delicacy. It is essentially made of a sweetened, barbecued pork slices). The next time I entered camp, I placed my pork slices in my locker and waited for the magic to happen.
Night came and I anxiously waited for my locker to fly. Nothing happened.
The next morning, I told an intelligent friend what I had done.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” He said with a wide smile and a laugh.
How are Singaporean men, who are supposed to be some of the most educated in the world, so incredibly superstitious? How can we trust the security of the nation to a bunch of idiots who are afraid of the dark, tress and ‘flying’ cabinets?
During this eye-opening sequence of events, something did scare me though – the knowledge that we place loaded rifles into the hands of such naifs.
