I have a story to tell of a Singaporean who grew up in an environment that really is considered horrific and impossible to believe can happen right here in Singapore.
A True Singapore Story
He was fostered out when he was 2 to foster parents who were forever quarreling. Growing up in that environment, he was physically abused. Beaten with whatever was at hand, whether a hot iron, broomsticks, burning joss sticks, fists, belts and whatever was within reach. No love, no hugs and kisses a normal person got from their parents, but punishments that he endured daily, from his caregivers. The physical scars may fade, but the wounds are deeply embedded in his memories and will remain there forever.
The punishments continued until he started school where he also needed to earn some money for his upkeep. Waking up in the early hours of the morning to sort and distribute the newspapers. That was also the time the foster father left home for good without leaving anything for the family to survive. The foster mother then became depressed, and suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) which eventually developed into paranoid schzophrenia.
The beatings and punishment became even worse for him. Then came a day when both his hands were tied behind his back, and a rope around his neck and he was bound to the window grills. She will pour urine on him, feed him faeces for meals, placed a hot iron and burning joss sticks on his back. He was confined in that manner for 6 months and did not attend school at all.
He only managed to get his freedom by dropping little pieces of paper over the window ledge after scribbling the words "help me 05-2198." Four days went by before help arrived when a shopleeper below the block picked up the papers and called the police. He was freed and taken to a juvenile halfway house and taken care of there. The foster mother was also taken away and admitted to Woddbridge (now IMH). She remained there for 6 weeks and after her release, he was send back to the hell that was his home.
It was a relatively peaceful short period of time before the abuses started again. There was no let up in the physical punishment that was to be his lot. At age 12, he began work helping at a hawker stall, waking as early as 4 am to prepare the ingredients before the stall opens. Then back to school and after school he had to go back to the stall to help out. During that time, worse was to come when the foster father returned back to the home bringing along another woman to share the home with his foster mother and him.
This time the foster father had even worse vices, where before he smoke cigarettes, he started drinking hard liquor and gambled. There were now fights at home and he suffered at his foster father's hands. During those fights, he will smash up the furniture, glasses and whatever he can lay his hands on during his drunken state. The heavy drinking and smoking took it's toll until one day he had terminal cancer and died soon after, but life did not became better as the mentally-ill mother continued making life a living hell for the boy........
I will stop here as this is a private story and the person relating it does not want it to be told except to a few, so I will respect that. Why I am telling part of his story is to share with those who could not care about the plight of those who needed help. I will not speak more on this matter except that this story has a happy ending.
He is doing well, happily married and has forgiven his foster parents, but what they had done to him in the past will never be forgotten, but he had overcome the odds stacked against him and came out a winner. When I first heard his story, I felt his pain and sorrow but when he had finished, I was truly inspired.