From Two Perspectives

From Two Perspectives
My mission trip to Chiang Rai has been a heartening experience for me, and in the process inspired me to write this "short" story, based on what the children living in huts had shown me.

Boy from Thailand, Chang Rai
Dear Diary, today was a great day. My parents were happy, and I wandered across the street and found a toy that brought fun. Let me begin from the start of the day.

I enjoyed another beautiful sunrise on the way to school, along with amazing greenery to begin my day. Cycling to school is fun, even though it is tiring. When I reached class, I was just in time for our first period, math. Alas, our usual teacher was substituted, as he had a sick father who needed support. Oh well, I hope he returns tomorrow, so I can enjoy his lessons. The teacher than gave us instructions to do a few questions he wrote on the board on our books. Most of us didn't have calculators to do the questions, so majority of us did it mentally, while the rest did them with ease thanks to those devices. Got all the questions correct anyway, yay.

After lesson, it was time for recess. The usual players were on the field again, with me teaming up with Kop, Yee, Tarr, and a few others. Our ball was peeling, so Tarr wrapped a plastic bag around it to solve this matter. During the match, I fell and got a pretty deep cut, so my teacher washed it and wrapped it with cotton. It hurt badly, but on the bright side we won three to one.

Time pasted pretty fast, and lunchtime took over. Since the school did not have enough funds, we had to bring our own lunches. Tarr did not bring anything to eat, like other days, so I gave half of what I had to him. Poor him, his parents were weary and old, barely earning 150 baht a day, so they were unable to provide lunch for him. On the bright side, he and I enjoyed plain, sticky corn and rice to fill our craving tummies.

I had been waiting till this day and moment; the period where I receive my exam results. Much work and determination was paid of after the teacher announced me top of the class in math, with both my English and science scoring band 1, followed by my social studies merely a few marks away from 70. Couldn't wait to show my parents those grades when I reach home!

The clock hit three, the end of school for the day. Lessons flew by fast, before I knew it, I was cycling back to the house. Midway through the journey, a wooden figure on sight caught my attention, so I got out of my worn out bike to pick it up. By such luck, it was a yoyo! The sides were smudged with dirt, partially damaged, and the string was in two pieces. I was so happy! I could fix it! The yoyo's condition was not in its best state, but was still usable. Excited with my finding, I hopped back onto my bicycle and completed the journey home, where I could fix my yoyo. I always wanted to try out those cools tricks that I always saw on TV.

Playing with yoyo seemed to fast-forward time, until my parents came home, looking worn from work, having the same fond smile and intimate hug that greeted me before dinner was cooked and served.

During dinner, I couldn't hold by tongue back, ending up babbling my results out. I swore could see the joy inside their faces, and their stubborn tears that drew back from flowing down their eyes. They were elated, clearly. We all had been waiting for this moment, the day when I could get my direct school admission to a great school, so I could get a great job to support them in the future.

On my way back earlier on, I saw a kid like me, being driven home by a personal driver, driving, what clearly looked like a Mercedes car. Those come around one or twice a year in the village. It was obvious that he came from a wealthy family, making it more obvious with his hand held electronic device that didn't belong here. Anyways, I wondered, if my parents were that wealthy, being able to be driven around and enjoying the luxury of a phone, how great life would be for me.

Boy From Singapore
Dear Diary, another boring day passes me by as time flies on. I don't even see the point of writing this journal much anymore. It's just the same boring routine everyday. Wake up, school, homework, dinner, sleep. Whatever man, my dad forced me to write one, so here I am.

I was late again, for the fifth time this month, as my alarm clock failed to awaken me from my slumber again. It was 5 past 7, I recalled, when I woke up, and had only 25 minutes to prep up and reach school, which was impossible for me to do so in time. To make things worse, my mum refused to drop me off as she told me I should face the consequences of waking up late. That meant I had to take the bus, which was something I rarely did, as she usually drove me there.
Heck, I wasn't going to do that. So after grabbing my bag and changing up, I left without a word of goodbye and hailed a cab. Dad had given me 90 dollars to last this week, so I could afford it. After a few minutes had passed, I realized that my damn maid had forgotten to pack one of my textbooks. Ugh, she always has issues attending to me, especially with my dinner. The steak she cooked was tough and tasteless, and the sauce didn't make it any better. I told her I liked it "well done" but it continued to taste like rock. I didn't bother with her after that. Anyways, I reached school 5 minutes late after I paid for the fare, and was excused. Phew.

Math was our first class, and our usual teacher didn't appear, but instead was some old, substitute teacher who looked like a cleaner. Thank God. I had enough of Mr. Tan's boring lessons that none of us understood. However, we still had to do some homework that he instructed us to. So we told Bryan, the smart guy, to do it for us, and lend us his answers after that. From then until the period ended, we had a paper ball fight till class ended.

Recess followed after that, and my classmates and me played soccer, and scraped my knee halfway into the game. Pained coursed through my veins as I grasped in pain. It hurt so badly, that my friend had to support me on my way to the general office for treatment. I quickly sat down as I entered, and thanked him before a teacher came. He saw my wound, and went away and back with a bandage and some alcohol. That was it? I expected some cream that would ease my pain and a cotton bandage that felt soft to the touch and would not stick to the scrap, just like those at home. Well, there was no use complaining then, as I knew my maid would change it later after school.

With the rest of my recess time, I rushed to the canteen and queued up for a snack, when that same kid came up to me asking for a couple of bucks to lend. Like always, I refused, as I learnt awhile back that he couldn't pay it back. If I recalled hearing, his family was from a poor background, with his dad working as a fulltime cleaner and mother as a waiter, and was provided with no pocket money on most days. I wondered how he ended up in this school. Too bad for him. As my tummy needed filling, that my money pays for, I ignored his pleads for money to buy food without making eye contact.

After grabbing a quick bite, I rushed back to class to heave a sigh of relief to know that I wasn't late, for the second time today. Just in the nick of time, I entered class right before my form teacher, Mr. Wan, came in with a stack of blue books. I feared, for then I remembered it was the day I was receiving my results. Oh gosh, I thought, those days of playing had caught up to me, be it not paying attention in class, not doing my homework, or just getting too distracted with my iPad, it was time to face the consequences. I sat at my seat, looking down, waiting for my report book to be passed down to my seat and brainstorming up an excuse to give myself another to spare before mum would confiscate my device.

All that thought had lead to nothing, coming up with "I've yet to receive my report book", and me leaving it under my desk. I sat in misery, letting lessons go by till it was time to head home. Since my money was running low, taking the bus was the only option in surviving this week without running out. A couple of hundred meters towards the bus stop seemed forever, but something stopped in my tracks. I looked down and saw, what looked like a disfigured piece of damaged plastic, with string attached to it. I recalled, playing with a toy similar to it, a yoyo. I remembered discarding it a few minutes after figuring out how to use it, as I found no fun in playing it. Sure those tricks on TV looked cool and all, but the process of practicing it gave me confirmation that I genuinely disliked it. In addition, yoyos are now outdated and old, and who would wanna play with those anymore when they are iPhones and iPads? It was not a surprise that a white elephant would have ended up on the streets.

From sitting on the bus to lying on my bed, my iPad had engrossed me for those hours till dinnertime arrived. My maid had prepared the food on the dining table with my mum waiting for me patiently. I hated dinnertime, mainly because she never allows me to play while eating, as she says it's a "bad habit" and that I'm too hooked onto games, so I'd usually gobble my food down without starting a conversation with her and quickly go into my room to continue my game of COC. This dinner, however, had my mum asking me for my results. Just as planned I quickly said that I had not received them yet, and ate at steadfast speed before she would have realized my sweating forehead and nervous eye movement, which would make her suspicious, and quickly headed into my room. Great that my dad only came home during late hours due to his busy job as being a banker, so he wouldn't know about my exam results until the weekend, giving me even more time to relax.

Ugh, I just remembered about my wound, I'll ask her to change it tomorrow. What a boring and unlucky day it has been. I then thought, what if I were from a broken family? Not having these devices to have fun with and not having much in my pocket to spend? How dreadful life must be for them.

Singapore is considered one of the unhappiest countries in the world, even though we are one of the richest. And when compared with Chiang Rai, an undeveloped country, the children there seem much happier than us. Why is that so?

Life in Singapore is fast paced, from the students to the adults; all of us fall into a spiral of a daily routine of coping with stressful jobs with the need to achieve, and through this cycle we become anxious, forgetting how to appreciate life. We all want to get the grades and jobs of our choice, so we push ourselves to the limits in the competitive environment. So desperate we are in attempting to get somewhere, and we forget to enjoy what we have in this prosperous country. Privileged we are, and yet we tend to complain about what we don't have.

In contrast, the children in Chiang Rai value what little they have compared to us, such as their education. They support one another, from doing small acts of kindness to taking care of their younger sibling, and also learn to be independent, resilient and hardworking.


So we should open our eyes, to start treasuring and stop complaining, look back to see how far we've gone and be happy with it, lending a helping hand to the needy, treasuring relationships with our friends and family, then we can find true happiness that resonates with our spirits.

"Being alive doesn't mean you're living", so start living the life to your fullest.
Let us take time to relax, count our blessings, be optimistic, smile more, live life to the fullest, and share it with others.

Here's a song for you to aid your relaxation. :P
https://soundcloud.com/dukedumont/duke-dumont-feat-jax-jones-i