After years of relying on taxi transport, I have come to the conclusion that Singapore taximen are unique.
They are the repositories of political secrets, both the PAP government’s and the opposition’s, which they are eager to share with any passenger who is prepared to listen. They seem to know much more about what is going on in the inner sanctums of PAP power than even the mainstream media that have had a long working relationship with the government. They also seem to know much more about the secret goings-on in the various opposition parties. A scandal that has been hushed up? A scandal that is a-brewing? They can sniff it out.
Driving along with ease along congested roads and honking traffic, the loquacious taximan is ready to take his interested passenger along the pathways and byways, the twists and turns, the dark hiding places of Singapore’s political landscape, dipping into his vast store of knowledge, especially of tantalising conspiracy theories, accumulated through the twenty, thirty years of his occupation. Just a small reference to some past event, just a mild comment on some existing controversy from the passenger is enough to set off the loquacity.
So what actually happened to cause such a disastrous PAP performance in the 2011 General Election? Was the loss of the Aljunied constituency actually engineered by the government itself, a strategy to get rid of a minister who might be a serious rival to the Prime Minister? Is a third-generation Lee already being prepared for future premiership? Can the new Workers’ Party member who attracted so much attention by his high professional standing and charisma be a secret PAP agent whose work is to destroy the party from inside? Is there already a split within the PAP? Is Lee Kuan Yew, at age ninety and apparently retired from politics, still the power behind the throne, calling all the shots? Is Singapore already in secret preparations to rejoin Malaysia? Etc., etc., etc.
The all-knowing and freely-sharing Singapore taximan is the exact reverse of the Western hairdresser who is the one at the receiving end of the secret information, the putative Ultimate Confidante. As this privileged recipient of secrets shampoos, cuts, trims, curls and colours, he listens attentively and sympathetically to his client, usually from the glittering social set, pouring out the entire story of her life. (Is it true that Princess Diana’s hairdresser knew all about her husband’s shenanigans and her own in retaliation, even before these came spilling out in a book?)
The Singapore taximan’s sharing is at a much higher level, and of definite social significance, since it is about the entire society, not just himself. Couched in the Singlish that he uses spontaneously and freely, his political expositions sound so much more interesting. Whenever he says apologetically to me, ‘My English not so good, Ma’am. I Chinese-educated, and learn from talking to tourists,’ I am ready to abandon my good, colourless Standard English to join him in the sheer vibrancy of this localised version of one of the four official languages of multi-ethnic Singapore.
‘Ah, you don’t know, everyday got see helicopters flying over LKY’s residence. They ready to take him for special injections. Got experts from the US, UK, Switzerland. One injection enough to give him energy even if ill, so can attend parliament, meet Sultan of Brunei. That man’s mind still so sharp. But body need the injections.’
‘The Workers’ Party, the Singapore Democratic Party, the Singapore People’s Party. All the opposition party, they cannot agree, all don’t trust each other, cannot unite together in one collision party to defeat PAP. PAP want to see them fight, fight. Like that, how can win election? See the presidential election? PAP happy to allow opposition candidates, the more the better. Three opposition Tans, one PAP Tan, all fight to be president! PAP Tan he win by less than one per cent. Stupid opposition!’
‘The MH 370 disaster. Where got all that mystery? No mystery, I tell you! Singapore government know everything! Very advance, clever technology, best in world, can spy anything, even if high in the sky or deep in the sea. You think they don’t know what happen? But cannot tell truth. If tell, Malaysian government will build the islands all round Johor and choke off Singapore!’
I have noticed that those taximen who give the most animated explications of Singapore politics can be divided into two opposing groups, depending on whether they see themselves as successful in life, earning a decent living and providing well for their children, or whether they are resigned to being dismal failures, trapped in an unending cycle of hard work and little reward. In the case of the first, there is praise for PAP competence, and in the case of the second, outright excoriation of PAP arrogance and disregard of the common man’s needs.
In the course of a single week, I came across examples from both groups. The first was a taximan who said he was sixty-one years old, had been driving for nearly thirty years, and owned a four-room HDB flat that was now worth three times what he had paid for it. He had also saved enough to buy the flat adjoining it, so that his aged mother and spinster caregiver sister could live next door to him, his wife and their three grown-up children. I noticed a family photograph proudly taped in front of his driver’s seat.
He said with great self-pride, ‘All depends on you. If work hard, can succeed. In Singapore, always got work, if take trouble to find it. Where got this in India, Indonesia, Malaysia? If you are lazy and complain, complain all the time, if gamble, smoke, drink, go to casino, spend all the money, don’t blame Gahmen, blame yourself!’ He went on to say that the best proof of the soundness of government policies came from his foreign tourist passengers who were deeply impressed by what he told them. ‘I explain to them our CPF, our Medishield. They say to me their own Gahmen never think of such good policy for people. Only talk big, quarrel all the time, have bad policy, so more and more people homeless, more crime, more corruption. They say to me, ‘You give us your Gahmen, we give you ours!’ He laughed merrily.
The second taximan I met, probably in his fifties, and representing the unhappy, disgruntled group, began by describing to me, for a full ten minutes, how he had tried to get the help of his Member of Parliament about some problem he was having with the Ministry of Manpower, but without any success. ‘I wait and wait, MP don’t take action, always one excuse, another excuse, not sincere. So I give up. Where got all that time to wait? You know how much money I lose? So why vote for MP when he don’t care at all?’
He then went on to rant and rage against the PAP in general, occasionally using rude Hokkien expressions that I pretended not to hear. ‘They all money face only. Don’t care about the people. Tax here, tax there. You know how much they got from casino entrance money alone? Millions and millions everyday, I tell you! Give money to people with one hand, bonus this, top-up that, then take away with other hand! PAP means Pay And Pay. Also mean Pian Ah Peh!’ (This is roughly translated from Hokkien to mean ‘deceiving people, especially simple old folks’.) He ended his tirade with an imitation of a particularly vicious act of spitting.
When I asked the first contented taximan whether he would attend the 50th birthday National Day celebrations, he said enthusiastically, ‘Yes, yes, got tickets for myself and family. Every year watch parade. My grandson he like goodie bag. Also to paint Singapore flag on his face. I put up Singapore flag every year. I tell my wife put up properly, not like stupid neighbour, last time she hang flag upside down!’
I asked the second, unhappy taximan the same question: would he be attending the birthday celebrations? ‘Phui!’ He did the imaginary spitting again and said, ‘No way. What for? Cheer, cheer for what? People shouting, waving flags. After National Day, forget everything. Will complain again. I never put up flag. What for show support for PAP?’
I gently reminded him that the flag is a national and not a PAP symbol. On National Day, to show their love and loyalty to their nation, Singaporeans put up the red and white national flag, not the PAP lightning-strike logo. He said, shrugging his shoulders, ‘Aiyah, all same, same, lah! PAP Gahmen, they own Singapore, do what they like, so all same, same, I tell you!’