I go to The Punggol Settlement often enough, strolling between Punggol Beach Park, the jetty, and the entrance/exit to Coney Island. It's a long drive, but it ends in easy strolls, fresh air and dinner at one of the restaurants at the Punggol Settlement.
I know that it one of the sites used in discarding bodies during the month-long Operation Sook Ching in 1942. However, my brain didn't make the connection till the recent visit to Punggol Beach Park. And it was right at the instant when I was taking a photo of the dog that a chill settled over the back of my neck and I realized it. Those boulders/rocks.
Oh, so this is exactly where the bodies of Chinese men were discarded. I'm standing right on it. What have those rocks witnessed? I grimaced. It's a part of history I don't want to think about. It's a page in our history that I hope never to be repeated between Japan and Singapore, or any other country. I can see why the privately-owned Yakusuni Jinja is important to many, but as time goes by and the definition of war criminals are set, then I can't agree with the continued revered status of the souls hosted in this shrine, or for the government or Japanese premiers to honor them. The monarchy (the Emperors) has wisely avoided visiting the shrine. To pay respects to the war dead is one thing, but to continuously fete them, is another. Nobody wants a repeat of the 'Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere' or share any part of Japan's war legacy or arrogance.
I live in a bubble, and I'm getting more and more conscious of that. It's the realness of looming mortality as I age. The privilege of having a job, income, a roof over our heads, access to the internet and social media, and not having to worry about the next few meals or how to pay bills? This is privilege that I fear to lose. The state of world affairs is grim. Is it more grim than those bumps in history? I don't know. It's always grim for the people currently living through it.
What concerns me, may not concern another. And my concerns make me mildly depressed at times. My mental health is fine, thank you for thinking about me. But I have morbid thoughts daily. Heh. Sure, we move on from pain and hurt, but can we? Does it seem tougher to do so nowadays? But at some point, we ask ourselves, in lockdown, what is the meaning of life? Can I hold on to what is important to me? Can I still do what I want to do in this life before I die? We have the pandemic (the first of many, I'm sure), climate change and the erratic weather patterns and destruction in its wake, the Taliban, religious and political right-wing fundamentalism, dictators, authoritarianism and such. Geographically, these are relatively far away shifts; it hasn't intruded upon my life yet, although work is all about it. I shouldn't be so emotionally affected, yet I am. Where are my moderate center people or those leaning slight left?
I'm insanely thankful that I chose not to have children. How do I raise kids right in this world? Do I want to raise them 'right'? Or left of center? I won't be able to navigate the perils of parenthood. I'm not cut out for that. My maternal instincts never... materialized. Hurhurhur. Luckily, I only have to care for the dog. Even then, she makes me more of a worrywart. I have to think about her in all that I do, simply because she's defenseless. She's a total innocent. She's hardy and can adapt, but I'd rather her not have to be unnecessarily hurt or be bewildered.
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