You only have to look into his eyes to see that he bears a burden too heavy to be described with words. Simple kindnesses bring tears to his eyes, even in his smiles his pain seeps through.
Uncle Chong's son is on death row. He got there because he was caught with more than a certain weight of illegal drugs as he was crossing our borders, and that, under the law of this land comes with a mandatory death penalty. The reasons are not important, your ignorance does not save you, being deceived into doing it is not considered, who's masterminding the whole syndicate is not important. Only the fact that at that point in time you had illegal substances on you. The only way a man can walk away with his life, is if the president would grant pardon. And that, has never happened in the whole of our history.
I don't know what the arguments are for the mandatory death penalty. But I do know the man whose son is on death row. I have spoken to him, seen his tears, felt his love for his son and sensed his desperation.
Every Monday morning at about 5am, Uncle Chong would faithfully ride his scooter or take a bus into Singapore to visit his son in prison. After his visit, he might stop by the lawyers' office to give the lawyer a sack of sweet potatoes from his farm and see if there's any news about the case then head home. (M. Ravi, uncle Chong son's lawyer with a bleeding heart, has taken this case on as with many other cases he's taken on to help those who can't speak for themselves. Ravi fights to change the laws that systematically dis-empower the poor and lowest in society.) In JB Malaysia where he lives, Uncle Chong works hard at several jobs so that he can pay for any fees that might be incurred at the lawyers. In the mornings he would sell food at a stall, in the afternoon, he tends a plot of land that his friend has loaned him to plant crops to sell - this of course is back breaking work, in between he is an estate agent and takes potential occupiers to view rooms and stalls. As and when there are makeshift markets, he would rent a stall space to sell toys and various knick-knacks. He rents out most of the rooms in his home and keeps just a small room for himself so that he has a place to lay his head.
Even with all he bears on his shoulders, the few times I've met and spoken to him, he's kind and generous. When we visited his farm in Malaysia, he insists on buying us lunch at a restaurant, though lunch for him often means a slice of bread or two. Gives us sacks of rambutans, sweet potatoes, guavas, durians... whichever was in season at that time. I will now always associate sweet potatoes with the desperate struggle of a man.
I won't paint him out to be a saint, his wife and daughters have left him, his son is in prison caught for something he wasn't supposed to do. I can't imagine what transpired in these lives, in this family. Nobody chooses, even if they picked a path, to be in such situations. A punishment as permanent as death should not be used as a blanket rule without considering all factors or considering ways for recourse.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Wang Qi Lin's family
A team of three of us made our annual trip to China, Shandong and Henan in April this year. It was a good time of seeing familiar faces and catching up with old friends. Some of them have settled and coped relatively well with life after their injuries, having managed to find suitable jobs and even start businesses of their own while others still struggle to find their feet or are still waiting for resolution of their cases in Singapore. But of all the updates of the people we have managed to gather, one in particular griped my heart.
Wang Qi Lin, was injured on the job, found out that he had throat cancer, battled it, got better but finally succumbed to it in December 2012. Jeffrey (my colleague who visited Qi Lin last year right before he passed on) still keeps close contact with the family, so this trip we decided to visit his wife and children to see how they are getting along.
The journey from the city to their home was about 45 minutes long, as we arrived at the dirt road junction that led to her home, Mrs. Wang was already there and greeted us cheerfully. We trooped into her home and settled onto the couch and little wooden stools. She offered us water. Their home seemed emptier somehow… compared to my memory of it just a year ago.
In the simple exchange of pleasantries and asking how the children were, we were able to clearly see that the family was barely managing to make ends meet. Three out of the five children were working in the same shoe factory in He Bei, the youngest of which is only thirteen. Mdm. Wang herself was doing various odd jobs like making goods deliveries and weaving wicker chairs while taking care of the remaining two school-going children, 14 and 7 years.
Though none of us said anything while Mdm. Wang was talking, I believe all our hearts sank when we heard about how even the thirteen year-old had to quit school and go off to work. As we spoke to her and mentioned the importance of education for the children, her tears started to flow. She told us she knew its importance but she simply did not have a choice. Most of their savings were spent on Qi Lin’s chemotherapy and medical fees. She could not work full time as the youngest was still too young to be left alone. Even as she related the situation, I could feel the desperation she must have felt.
After making some calculations, we figured that if we could get the eldest child a job in Singapore, the salary that she would get will be equivalent to the combined amount of money the three children are currently getting. As we offered a possible solution, discussed the logistics of getting a job overseas, we could see Mdm. Wang slowly lighting up, becoming a little more hopeful. The road ahead for the Wang family seems long and arduous. I hope our little efforts will somehow help ease the family’s burden.
Wang Qi Lin, was injured on the job, found out that he had throat cancer, battled it, got better but finally succumbed to it in December 2012. Jeffrey (my colleague who visited Qi Lin last year right before he passed on) still keeps close contact with the family, so this trip we decided to visit his wife and children to see how they are getting along.
The journey from the city to their home was about 45 minutes long, as we arrived at the dirt road junction that led to her home, Mrs. Wang was already there and greeted us cheerfully. We trooped into her home and settled onto the couch and little wooden stools. She offered us water. Their home seemed emptier somehow… compared to my memory of it just a year ago.
In the simple exchange of pleasantries and asking how the children were, we were able to clearly see that the family was barely managing to make ends meet. Three out of the five children were working in the same shoe factory in He Bei, the youngest of which is only thirteen. Mdm. Wang herself was doing various odd jobs like making goods deliveries and weaving wicker chairs while taking care of the remaining two school-going children, 14 and 7 years.
Though none of us said anything while Mdm. Wang was talking, I believe all our hearts sank when we heard about how even the thirteen year-old had to quit school and go off to work. As we spoke to her and mentioned the importance of education for the children, her tears started to flow. She told us she knew its importance but she simply did not have a choice. Most of their savings were spent on Qi Lin’s chemotherapy and medical fees. She could not work full time as the youngest was still too young to be left alone. Even as she related the situation, I could feel the desperation she must have felt.
After making some calculations, we figured that if we could get the eldest child a job in Singapore, the salary that she would get will be equivalent to the combined amount of money the three children are currently getting. As we offered a possible solution, discussed the logistics of getting a job overseas, we could see Mdm. Wang slowly lighting up, becoming a little more hopeful. The road ahead for the Wang family seems long and arduous. I hope our little efforts will somehow help ease the family’s burden.
