Rather appropriately for the Year of the Rooster, Mr Tan Peng Ann has hatched a project for poor Cambodians to scratch out a living and feather their nests.

A chicken breeding programme called One Rooster Seven Hens, it took months of research and trials.

The one-seven combination, says the retired colonel turned social entrepreneur and charity worker, can give a villager between 80 and 90 eggs a month.

“And that, in turn, can result in 40 or 50 hatched chickens which, when sold, can bring in between US$150 (S$212) and US$200 a month,” says the 68-year-old, adding that the start-up capital is about US$300.

Mr Tan, who has been helping poor communities in Cambodia for over 10 years, hopes to roll out the project by the middle of this year.

It is not the only enterprise he has up his sleeves. Mr Tan has spent the last three years refining a self-sustaining “Learning Capacity Development Programme”, one which involves breeding pigs and chickens to finance, build and support learning centres and village schools in poor communities. The initiatives are undertaken by Sangkhoem Khmer (Cambodia Hope), a non-governmental organisation he started in 2014 to undertake charity projects which are “secular, sustainable, scalable and replicable”.

Born a few years after World War II, Mr Tan is the third of four children of a trader and a housewife. He grew up in the colourful Tiong Bahru area, although his protective mother saw to it that he did not get involved with the neighbourhood’s less savoury elements.

After completing his primary education at Tiong Bahru and Tanglin Primary, he earned himself a spot at Raffles Institution.

At 18, his father died.

“My mother insisted that I go to work. I was disappointed because I wanted to go to university and be an engineer,” says Mr Tan who enrolled in the former Teachers’ Training College, now the National Institute of Education, in 1967.

He cut his teeth teaching science at Whitley Secondary but his life took an unexpected detour when he was called up for national service three months later.

“I was born in 1948 and didn’t belong to the group (those born between Jan 1 and June 30, 1949) who were in the first batch to be called up for NS. But a lot of people didn’t know there was also a batch of those born earlier – those who were in the civil service or who had higher education – who were also called up,” he says.

Not only was his teacher training disrupted, his life also changed because national service led him to sign up for a military career which spanned more than 30 years.

The rigours of army training appealed because it was, he says, different from his sheltered and conservative upbringing.

He acquitted himself well and after basic military training, was picked to attend Officer Cadet School where he was trained as a logistics officer and later deployed to the Ministry of Defence (Mindef) as a service officer.

For five years, he served under an Israeli officer who taught him the finer skills of strategic military manpower planning. It was a formative period, one which he says toughened him up and made him mature.

Mindef, at that time, came under the purview of the late Dr Goh Keng Swee, whom he describes as a forward-thinking and decisive leader.

He remembers one morning when he was asked to see the former deputy prime minister and finance minister: “He gave me a project and I started to take notes. He then looked at me and said, ‘Listen, don’t write. Listen to me’.”

Since then, “the art of listening, of paying attention” has never left him. Then a fledgling, Mindef in those days, he says, was a heady place to work in. “We were given opportunities to do things we thought were appropriate. There was not much hierarchy and bureaucracy. Things needed to be done and we did them.”

Mr Tan, who was then already a major in his mid-20s, adds: “I got promoted very fast. At just 25, I was responsible for the movements of people in the SAF.

“My key areas were macro manpower planning, deciding how many to train as what, where and how.”

In 1972, he underwent training to convert from a service to infantry officer. More than a decade later, he went on to study political science and history at the National University of Singapore on an army study award. He also has a Master of Science in Training from the University of Leicester.

Altogether, Mr Tan – who married a former Mindef clerk when he was 28 – spent three decades in various positions in the army, including as commander of the Central Manpower Base. When he left in 1997, he was already a colonel.

He could have retired from the military and lived on a comfortable pension but was seized by the compulsion to take on challenges in a different environment.

“In the army, when I pressed the button, everyone ran. But I knew that when I left, I would be the one running if the button is pressed,” he quips.

Having conducted leadership and management courses in the military, he became an associate trainer at the Civil Service College for a couple of years.

Life took another turn when a friend asked him to conduct a leadership training course for professionals in Cambodia in 2004. During the course, a participant, Mr Sil Sineng – a Cambodian refugee who worked for World Vision – approached him. “I was talking about vision and he came up to me and said: ‘I have a vision to help the people in my former village. Would you help me?’ “

After visiting Tramkul Village, located in one of Cambodia’s poorest regions 50km south of Phnom Penh, Mr Tan agreed. Then the president of the Lion’s Club in Singapore, he raised funds to start a village school which offered English lessons to the village kids.

Mr Sineng managed the project while Mr Tan financed it with contributions from friends and relatives in Singapore.

Not long after, another friend asked him to help out in the slum district in Wat Than. Together with ACE, an NGO, he started a programme called Porridge for Hope, and also a learning centre offering English lessons to get children off the streets.

In 2009, Mr Sineng died suddenly. With his death, the Tramkul project became poorly managed. The one at Wat Than was dogged by management issues which, Mr Tan noticed, affected initiatives by many NGOs too.

“I saw a lot of foreigners going in to do things, but they would pull out after a year or two. There was no continuity; poverty continued to be there. Even my own efforts were not sustainable; I still needed donations from people.”

The state of affairs made him uncomfortable.

“I was not focused. I also found out that at the end of the day, the people we were trying to help did not have the right mindset; they expected to receive, but not to give. I felt this was untenable,” he says, adding that he withdrew support for both projects in 2012.

To be effective, Mr Tan decided he needed to take control. Marshalling all his planning and organisational skills, he decided to launch Sangkhoem Khmer, an NGO registered with the Ministry of the Interior in Cambodia.

There is a clear management structure, with teams in both Singapore and Cambodia. The emphasis, he says, is “less of giving, more of encouragement to do self-help”, with stakeholders being not just himself but also the management team, donors, staff and community.

Sangkhoem Khmer’s first project is in Angkunh Village, in the Khvao Commune which has 18 villages. Mr Tan shelled out US$6,000 for a 1,800 sq m piece of land, enough not just to build a learning centre but also to engage in husbandry to fund and support it. To help him run the project, he hired Mr Mien Heng, 30, who had worked with him in Wat Than.

Through research, Mr Tan believes that breeding pigs and chickens is the quickest way to generate an income. Together with Mr Heng, he spent more than two years and $30,000 honing his pig and chicken breeding skills.

“The first year was bad, a complete learning experience.”

But Mr Tan, who read extensively on the subject, reckons he now has more than a good handle on rearing and breeding techniques. In fact, he has come up with his own feeding mix for his pigs, one which is cheaper than commercial mixes but boasts more vitamins and minerals.

“I have 15 sows now; they can give me 150 piglets every six months. One year, I can get 300 pigs, with each one fetching between US$65 and US$130,” says Mr Tan, who also produces between 150 and 200 chickens for sale each month.

The money goes towards funding the learning centre where about 100 students pay 1,000 Cambodian riels (35 Singapore cents) every month, to go through a structured English programme. Besides language lessons, the students also learn concepts like respect, cleanliness and discipline.

Looking chuffed, Mr Tan says the Angkunh project is starting to reap returns.

“By the middle of this year, we should generate enough income to pay staff salaries and run the school,” he says, adding that he has four people on his payroll.

It helps, he says, to have Mr Heng who is vet, project manager and personal assistant all rolled into one.

“When he first came to me, he didn’t even know how to write a cheque. Today, he delivers the pigs, feeds the chickens and reports to me every night,” he says.

The duo are now documenting the programme, which Mr Tan hopes to take to other villages and provinces via other NGOs.

“Any organisation just needs to have an outlay of US$60,000 to have a self-contained project like this running in six months. It can be replicated anywhere,” says Mr Tan, who hopes to share his vision and methods at a seminar for universities and NGOs in Phnom Penh in a couple of months.

Sprightly and alert, Mr Tan – whose son, 40, is a doctor and daughter, 38, a psychologist – laughs when asked why he is working so hard at his age.

Sitting idle is not his idea of retirement, he says.

A health scare in 2012, when he was hospitalised for internal bleeding, prompted him not to put off doing what he finds fulfilling.

He wrote and published a photo-filled coffee-table book, Story Of My Life, for his loved ones. Now working on a book on how to retire gracefully, he is also penning a volume of short stories about his life and experiences for his seven grandchildren, aged between three months and 10 years.

In the general election two years ago, the former People’s Action Party grassroots leader at Fengshan contested as a member of the SingFirst opposition party in Jurong GRC.

He had strong feelings on certain government policies, such as the over-emphasis on economic growth and success.

SingFirst got only 20.71 per cent of the votes against the PAP team led by Deputy Prime Minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam.

Mr Tan says he did not contest to win but to make sure that a dissenting voice could be heard.

“My involvement in the opposition wasn’t necessarily positive but I wanted to raise the point that people must do something if they feel something is not right. You must dirty your hands and put your money where your mouth is.”

Asked if he is done with politics, he grins and says: “I’m not so sure. I’ll decide as I go along.”

Meanwhile, he is beavering away to make sure his programme can help as many poor communities as possible.

He says: “My feeling is many people need help. In the last few years of my life, I must do something. It’s not right if I don’t do anything.”

kimhoh@sph.com.sg

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Helping the children of Cambodia

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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It used to be that vagrants would remain, unseen and unheard, at the margins of society. They bedded down in tents on the beach or slept on cardboard in the dark corners of staircase landings and void decks.

But a growing number is moving, literally from the dark to brightly lit and safer urban areas, say charity or volunteer groups that reach out to those who sleep outdoors, as more built-up spaces emerge and businesses operate round the clock.

Many are drawn, for instance, to eateries and supermarkets that are open 24/7, spending days and nights in the vicinity of the air-conditioned respite they offer.

Read also: Some are sticking with solitary spots at stairways, riverside

The cavernous multi-purpose halls in Housing Board estates have also become a place to sleep without being disturbed.

Mr Iwan, 69, who declined to give his full name, spends his nights at such a location in Toa Payoh, lying down on a row of chairs borrowed from a nearby coffee shop.

He moved there after five years of sleeping in void decks in Ang Mo Kio, and two years in a tent in Changi before that, he said.

“It’s cleaner here. The coffee shop uncle nearby is nice and doesn’t complain about us,” he said.

The term “homeless” generally refers to those who do not have permanent accommodation or are unable to use their registered address for various reasons.

Though their number has not gone up in Singapore, it has not receded either. From 2005 to 2015, the Ministry of Social and Family Development (MSF) gave support and shelter to an average of 300 individuals or families each year, similar to between 2013 and 2016, when 719 individuals and 467 families were given help.

Read also: Where the displaced seek refuge

It seems that the displaced will always form a part of society, and it is not hard to see why they gravitate towards places where there are more people.

Ms Fion Phua, whose group, Keeping Hope Alive, works with the elderly and homeless, said: “Some of them stay near brightly lit places to guard against theft or where there are toilets they can use.

“Those with illnesses may want to be around people so if anything happens, they are not alone.”

Mr Abraham Yeo, of volunteer group Homeless Hearts of Singapore, said some may also wish to mask their homeless state.

“We are seeing more younger people, those in their 50s instead of their 60s and 70s, camping at Starbucks, McDonald’s, Internet and gaming cafes, libraries and other urban spaces, as these are places where people hang out and it is not immediately obvious that they are homeless,” he added.

Other reasons could be to evade the authorities, who look for them in the usual places to assess their situation.

Dr Neo Yu Wei, research fellow at the National University of Singapore’s (NUS) Social Service Research Centre, said: “This will drive the homeless to seek other new places.”

Most who become displaced are poor and have weak social support. Three out of four were flat owners who sold their homes for reasons such as to settle debts, or after a divorce, and later could not afford to buy or rent another flat, said MSF.

Read also: No bed to lay his head, for 17 years

The remaining quarter have fallen out with those they lived with for various reasons.

While businesses may look askance at having vagrants hanging about, some are also kind.

Mr Lance Ambrosio, who works at Bakery and Bar St Marc at Parkland Green in East Coast Park, said: “Sometimes, we give them leftover bread.” There used to be more than 10 people who would sleep near the restaurant at night, but the number has dwindled to two or three, possibly because the authorities have been patrolling the area, he noted.

Mr Derrick Wong of the Longer Table Initiative, which distributes meals to the elderly in Chinatown, including those who sleep on the streets, believes the homeless should be engaged and not just ignored. Over the past few years, he has hired 12 to work at a cafe.

“Work therapy gets them out of their comfort zones and breaks the cycle of poverty,” said Mr Wong.

“A lot of them want to earn a living and not go to a social service office to ask for cheques.”

However, the idea of homeless people being in proximity with residents does not sit well with everyone. Madam Jesilyn Yeo, 53, a housewife who lives in Toa Payoh, said: “Some of them sleep and drink at the benches near our letterboxes. I smell the stench of urine when I collect my mail sometimes.”

She said she reported them to the police and town council a few years ago but they keep coming back, so she now leaves them alone if they do not make much noise.

While it is hard to predict how Singaporeans would react to seeing more homeless people in their midst, it is a social trend that continues to evolve.

Associate Professor Irene Ng from NUS’ Department of Social Work said: “There could be friction, but there could also be more public sympathy as homelessness becomes more evident .”

With social issues becoming more complex, flat sizes smaller and urban density rising, there may be more individuals choosing to leave their family homes, she said.

It is not illegal to sleep on the streets in Singapore. There are no specific laws governing the homeless here, though there are penalties for begging on the streets or being a public nuisance.

The homeless see “home” as more than just a roof over their heads, said Dr Neo. “It is about safety, stability and, most importantly, relationships with family or co-tenants. It is also about having a sense of control over your own life. Homeless people are not different from us. ”

jantai@sph.com.sg

byseow@sph.com.sg

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For 17 years, Mr David Ridsdale slept sitting up, in the same chair, at the same table outside a restaurant in China Square Central. Slumped over the table, a numbness would sometimes set in.

One strap of his backpack would be looped over his thigh to deter thieves, even though it held only a change of clothes, some soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush and towel.

But with age catching up, Mr Ridsdale, 69, moved into the St Vincent Home for poor senior citizens, in Waterloo Street, last August.

The former lorry attendant and factory worker recalled the first night he had a bed after years of sleeping in a chair.

“It felt funny and I kept tossing and turning till 3am. I had back pain and the bed felt hard,” he said.

Mr Ridsdale has since adjusted so well that he has put on weight and his old trousers no longer fit.

The bachelor and only child said he found himself without a roof over his head after he sold his three-room HDB flat in Bukit Batok in 1989. His aunt told him she could care for his mother but there was no space for him.

His mother died in 2008 and he has never known his father.

He used the proceeds from his flat to stay in budget hotels for five years. When it became too expensive, he started renting an HDB room but decided to live as an itinerant after problems with landlords.

Mr Ridsdale’s first “home” was a Starbucks cafe, before he settled on therestaurant.Every morning, he woke and left by 5.30am, as the first shift of restaurant workers arrived.

He would use a public toilet to freshen up before making his way to the Singapore Buddhist Lodge for a free vegetarian breakfast. He also had lunch and dinner there.

He spent his days at Fort Canning Park or the library at the Esplanade. A fellow vagrant showed him how to pick up money, mobile phones and ez-link cards left behind by revellers at Boat Quay or Clarke Quay.

Mr Ridsdale now gets about $750 a month in government aid. At St Vincent, he can go out any time, as long as he returns by 10pm.

The film buff likes to watch movies at the Cathay cinema. He also exercises, plays bingo and tries to get along with other elderly residents.

“I am happy that I have a home. I am a bachelor and I don’t care so much,” he said.

jantai@sph.com.sg

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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Fewer homeless families are being picked up by the authorities.

Last year, 93 families were admitted to shelters, compared with 144 in 2013.

In contrast, 71 homeless individuals moved into transitional shelters, compared with 49 in 2013. Another 105 were sent to welfare homes last year.

The Ministry of Social and Family Development (MSF) said there are fewer homeless families now, as efforts have been made in recent years to ensure those in financial and housing difficulties are referred early to family service centres (FSCs) for help.

Associate Professor Irene Ng, from the National University of Singapore’s (NUS) social work department, said households have also benefited from adjustments to housing policy.

“In the past, the problem of homeless families was partly due to some overstretching themselves to own a flat and having to sell it when in financial difficulty,” said Prof Ng.

“This issue is being addressed with refinements in HDB criteria as well as the development of interim rental housing for families.”

NUS sociologist Tan Ern Ser agreed that families have more housing options now.

“Perhaps family units are more likely to be given priority with rental housing,” he said.

“Also, they may be less choosy when offered shelter or interim housing, as this would be in the best interest of young children.”

There are three government- funded shelters that allow people to stay for up to six months for as low as $50 a month.

Places in these shelters – which can accommodate about 150 families – are reserved for those who have exhausted all means of accommodation and need immediate housing assistance, said MSF.

Those who do not qualify or cannot wait for a place in a shelter can apply for the Housing Board’s interim rental scheme, which costs about a few hundred dollars a month for a room. They can also try to rent on the open market.

Homeless individuals tend to be older, have health conditions and lack any means of supporting themselves or their families.

They are often admitted to welfare homes, said MSF.

To help homeless people, the Government works with social service and community agencies to address underlying issues, providing employment assistance, counselling or childcare referrals.

MSF said it works closely with FSCs and HDB branches in each town to identify and support those at risk.

Its spokesman said: “As we strive to provide support to the needy in our community, we are also mindful that some prefer to be self-reliant and decline assistance.”

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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A “town hall” meeting was in progress, with lively chatter from those huddled together over dinner. But this was no government feedback or consultation session.

There was no comfortable air-conditioned room either. Instead, waves crashed on the shore, barely metres away.

Under an East Coast beach pavilion, six homeless people shared their problems and hopes with one another and social workers from the Marine Parade Family Service Centre (MPFSC), who asked for ideas on how to tackle their issues. The social workers also helped decipher official documents they had received, such as an application for a rental flat.

The monthly meetings, organised by MPFSC, have been held since last November.

Social worker Chan Xian Jie said: “We wanted them to have a say in how they would like to be helped, since they already don’t have many choices in life.

“When they do something for themselves, rather than just receive food or rations, any sense of dependency is discouraged.”

The centre refers them to government agencies to assist with accommodation, but the solutions do not always pan out.

Getting the group to turn up was already no mean feat. It took five years to build up trust. “They were very defensive when we first got to know them,” said Mr Chan.

The social workers persevered, seeking the group out every week to find out how they were coping and what they needed help with.

Sometimes, they organised barbecues or distributed items such as insect repellent.

The trust forged enabled the social workers to try new methods of engaging and supporting the itinerant beach community, such as the town hall meetings.

The rapport also gave the social workers the rare chance to collect data, with the aim of coming up with useful services or programmes. In 2014, MPFSC completed a profile of homeless people based on cases it handled.

It is now studying how homeless people view themselves and how indicators such as violence or addiction levels differ between homeless and low-income families.

One aim is to change perceptions of homeless people.

Mr Chan mentioned seeing flags hung outside tents every National Day. “They are patriotic, too. They have their own stories and circumstances, and we want to journey with them, regardless of where they decide to stay.”

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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Others might prefer spots where there are bright lights and bathrooms, but Mr Kamal is content with a staircase landing.

“I prefer to sleep on my own… no one bothers me,” said the odd-job worker, 52, who declined to give his full name.

He has been living on the streets for seven years. He said he lived in a three-room HDB flat until he injured himself and lost his job a decade ago. His relationship with his wife grew strained when he could not support his family, he said.

Fewer people now frequent previous haunts such as Chin Swee Road in Chinatown, said Pastor Caleb How of His Glorious Church.

“Common places are by the riverside, staircase landings… and they sleep near their friends, who might give them food and let them into their homes to shower,” he said.

Still, frequent spot checks by the authorities have kept many away.

Mr Alan Elango, a volunteer with a Christian organisation, slept on the streets for more than two years after falling out with his sister because he was an alcoholic.

Read also: Where the displaced seek refuge

The 40-year-old used to drink under a pavilion outside a supermarket in Chin Swee Road.

Then he tried to take his own life and was hospitalised.

Things turned around for him when he was introduced by a social worker to the Christian group, which gave him a place to stay.

“These days, I come back (to Chin Swee) every three months to check on the people here,” he said.

“Last time, there were many more. But three of them have died.”

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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Maria, in her 50s, moved out of the rental flat she shared with her son when they could not get along.

She spends her days now at a 24-hour coffee shop in Chinatown before going to bed along a corridor nearby – making sure she remains in the vicinity of the round-the-clock establishment.

“It’s safety first, for us women,” said the unemployed mother of three who declined to give her full name. “There’s a 24-hour supermarket nearby, a coffee shop and a park where people sit.

“It can get noisy, but it’s better than sleeping at a place that is far from people.”

Read also: Some are sticking with solitary spots at stairways, riverside

More people who sleep on the streets have moved to public urban spaces to spend their nights.

Mr Abraham Yeo, from volunteer group Homeless Hearts of Singapore, said younger homeless people, in particular, seek out places such as 24-hour eateries or Internet LAN shops.

Read also: Fewer homeless families now: MSF

But even brightly lit areas are not always safer, he cautioned. A man’s bag was stolen when he left it outside a convenience store while he took a shower at a toilet nearby.

At East Coast Park, many who used to sleep in tents on the beach have taken to bedding down near Parkland Green, which opened in 2014. The Sunday Times saw about 10 people sleeping on benches nearby about three months ago, but numbers have halved of late.

A 60-year-old man who wanted to be known only as Moses said he used to sleep on the beach.

“If it rained, we’d move to a pavilion,” said the security officer, who had family problems. Late last year, he took to sleeping under shelter near Parkland Green.

Read also: Beach community finds a voice in ‘town halls’

Others might sleep at newer facilities, such as malls.

In the middle of last month, it was reported that a 35-year-old man had been living at Jurong Point shopping mall for nearly four years despite renting a room in Boon Lay. The mall is air-conditioned, and has a 24-hour supermarket, Wi-Fi and electrical outlets.

A spokesman for Jurong Point said the man was welcome as long as he did not pose a nuisance.

Others seek out spots in Changi Airport. One woman is believed to have lived there for eight years and is one of more than 10 “regulars”.

Read also: Where the displaced seek refuge

Mr Jabez Tan, who founded eatery Soon Huat Bak Kut Teh, said people seeking refuge at the airport move around to avoid being chased away. He has employed more than 10 in the past four years.

But old habits often die hard.

“Even when I provided them with a place to live, one of them used the housing for only one to two days a week,” said Mr Tan. “On other days, he would go back to the airport.”

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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Blogger Wendy Cheng’s Web video series Xiaxue’s Guide To Life and Jack Neo’s Ah Boys To Men film franchise are well-known shows among Singaporeans. For one thing, they are filled with colloquial terms, local references and copious doses of Singlish terms such as “lah” and “lor”.

But they are not merely for entertainment. In recent years, such shows have found a place in universities around the world, where linguists draw on dialogues used in these local productions to introduce to undergraduates and postgraduate students how Singlish has become a unique variety of the English language.

This comes even as concerns have been raised over how Singlish could impede the use of standard English here.

From Italy and Germany to Japan, at least seven universities around the world have used Singlish as a case study in linguistics courses over the past decade. This is on top of more than 40 academics outside of Singapore – some of whom were previously based here – who have written books or papers on Singlish as part of their research.

Last December, assistant professor of linguistics at Boston University Neil Myler introduced Singlish in a module examining the relationship between accents, dialects and society that was taken by 60 students, after coming across the language variety in his own reading.

“I can’t help but be fascinated by Singlish, which has a number of grammatical properties not shared by other English varieties,” said Dr Myler. Among its unique features are particles, or “little words” such as “lah”, that go at the end of sentences and “indicate all sorts of subtle meanings”, he said.

On top of giving a brief general overview of the linguistic features and history of Singlish, Dr Myler used two video clips in his classes.

One was of Ms Cheng explaining Singlish terms, such as how words such as “liddat” and “neh mind” are contractions of phrases “like that” and “never mind”. The other video had Singlish dubbed over a clip from Disney’s animated film Frozen.

Dr Myler said: “I thought the students would find (Singlish) interesting, since the differences are so striking and its history as a contact variety is fascinating too.” Contact variety refers to a language that has been influenced by words used by several ethnic groups.

In Singlish, English words are mixed with terms from Malay, Mandarin, Chinese dialects and Tamil.

Dr Jakob Leimgruber, an assistant professor at the English department of the University of Freiburg in Germany, has been introducing Singlish in classes since 2007. These include courses in sociolinguistics at Britain’s Oxford University, the University of Lausanne in Switzerland and in his classes at Freiburg.

Dr Leimbruger noted that in Singapore, English is in constant contact with other languages. This means there is no end to potential changes in Singlish.

“(This is what) makes (Singlish) so interesting for both researchers and students,” he said.

He said “lah” is his favourite Singlish term because Singaporeans appear to attach a lot of significance to it (see video).

In addition to work by academics, more than 20 Singlish words were added to the Oxford English Dictionary last year.

There are usually about 30 students in Dr Leimbruger’s undergraduate introductory classes, and he has marked about 20 undergraduate essays and five theses submitted by students who have chosen to do research on Singlish.

Snippets from films such as Ah Boys To Men and Singapore Dreaming are also used in his classes.

“They are nice because they also feature full-blown code switching, which is often absent from newscasts,” said Dr Leimgruber, who added that words such as “kiasu” are a favourite with students.

Code switching refers to how someone may alternate between two or more languages or language varieties in a conversation.

Dr Leimgruber said Singlish should not be seen as merely ungrammatical English, though scholars are divided on whether it can be defined as a creole language.

“I, like all other linguists working on Singlish, consider it an independent variety of English that comes with its own set of grammatical rules,” he added.

Ms Celia Daggy, 19, an American freshman studying viola performance at Boston University, said she “knew next to nothing about Singapore”, but had a chance to learn about Singapore culture through the class last month. “It was pretty cool to see a mixing of Eastern and Western languages,” she said.

Concerns about how the use of Singlish may displace the mastery of standard English by Singaporeans have been raised in the past.

Last year, the press secretary to Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong responded to an opinion piece on the flourishing of Singlish in The New York Times by Singaporean poet and literary critic Gwee Li Sui, saying that the use of Singlish “will make it harder for Singaporeans to learn and use standard English”.

Mr Goh Eck Kheng, chairman of the Speak Good English Movement, had also said that not everyone who speaks Singlish can speak English.

“There are those who think Singlish is English. Others habitually use ungrammatical, fractured English,” he said last year.

Dr Ng E-Ching, a lecturer at the National University of Singapore’s English department, said the increasing use of Singlish has accompanied increasing use of standard English here, and that it is difficult for critics to “hold back the tide” when it comes to Singlish usage.

“If people are going to be proud of being Singaporean, they’re also going to want to sound Singaporean. The prestige of Singlish will rise or fall with the prestige of being an ordinary Singaporean,” she said.

yuensin@sph.com.sg

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Overseas academics’ take on Singlish

UNIQUE VARIETY OF ENGLISH

“I can’t help but be fascinated by Singlish, which has a number of grammatical properties not shared by other English varieties.”

DR NEIL MYLER, assistant professor of linguistics at Boston University.

INTERLACED CULTURES

“It was pretty cool to see a mixing of Eastern and Western languages.”

MS CELIA DAGGY, 19, an American freshman at Boston University.

This article was first published on Feb 5, 2017.
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