Before I elaborate on the content of this post, I would like to say that I've always embraced the fact that we live in a multi-racial and multi-national city, and I fully appreciate how interesting this rather harmonious integration has made Singapore. But having said that, there are occasional run-ins that make me scratch my head and go, "WTH?!"
I very recently had a nasty encounter with a lady of a particular East Asian nationality. I was nursing Chubbs in the nursing room in Liang Court, and I had locked the door before I started because:- 1) There are signs by the door and the nursing chair that said, "Please lock the door while nursing." 2) There a hot water dispenser that the staff (both male and female) of Liang Court use for their hot beverages- main reason for (1).
Midway through nursing Chubbs, I hear this urgent knocking on the door. When I ignored it, because the sign that says to lock the door while nursing is in plain sight of the person at the door, the knocking became louder, fiercer, and I could soon hear a shrill female voice yelling at me. So I craned my neck to see what the ruckus was, and this lady from the most populated country in the world was hammering 0n the door, waving a milk bottle in her hand, and shouting goodness-knows-what at me. So I had to interrupt Chubbs, get dressed and see what the matter was. In a level of English I can barely understand, she said something about needing hot water, that I was selfish, and asked why I locked the door. I very simply pointed to the sign and read it word for word to her. PLEASE LOCK THE DOOR WHILE NURSING.
Her: Yes, but why you lock door?
Me: Because I was nursing my baby.
Her: I want hot water.
Me: I know, but you should have waited, because I was nursing my baby.
Her: Why you lock door?
Me: Urm... Can you read the sign? Do you understand it?
She muttered something I can't decipher, pushed Chubbs and I aside, barged to the hot water dispenser and helped herself to hot water. She continued to speak rudely in a loud voice to me, but I honestly couldn't understand her.
Me: I don't understand what you are saying, but I hope you can stop screaming. And please learn some patience to wait for your turn to use the room.
Her: I always use this (pointing to curtain that partially covers nursing area). You can use this.
Me: Is this called a door? Can I lock it?
Her: You selfish.
I give up, take the high road, and stand patiently there with Chubbs until she's done, given Chubbs the dirtiest look I've ever seen, and stomped off with her precious bottle of hot water. I locked the door after she leaves, hoping to continue nursing Chubbs, who's rather startled by this point. As I sat down, the knocking started again, this time with more yelling. I called Fuzzy on the phone, and told him to come stand by the door (he was shopping at another part of the mall).
She had left before Fuzzy came to my rescue. And I caught a glimpse of her with her son and husband when I came out of the room. She was staring at Chubbs and I. I was thinking in my head that she could have been more resourceful if she was really desperate for hot water. Like maybe politely asking it from anyone working in the numerous restaurants. Conversely, I could be called a prude for preferring to nourish my baby using the facilities made available to me, instead of on just any seat in the food court/ lift lobby/ restaurant, where strange men of different ages and colour have full access to a view of my engorged boobs.
I have so far been very kind to the folks of the land where people run into kindergartens and slaughter children for no reason, and I actually have a really close friend, an ex-colleague, from there. I calm myself down, even when they (healthy men and women in their 20s and 30s) jostled and dodged in front of me when I was eight months preggers, and carrying a few bags, to race for the only seat available in the MRT (which is incidentally below the pictorial sign that says to give this seat to the elderly and pregnant women), and narcoleptically dropped off to sleep the instant their bum hit the seat. But guys, seriously, you have to be able to understand simple English and instructions, learn some patience, and know right from wrong. And don't ever mess with me when it comes to my son. Thanks.
