Have you ever wondered what is the price of migrating to another country?
If you are Singaporean, there is a tendency you are here with dollars and cents in your mind. That is okay. Having a money face and a money mind is normal. It is our DNA. If it isn't discussed to death already, just for your benefit, Singaporeans migrants fork out a few thousand bucks in fees for their entire immigration process to Australia. Most of us spend a several thousand more though, by hiring a migration agent to fill in some forms for them. Unless your case is a complicated case that needs special expertise and constant close monitoring, I wouldn't recommend using an agent. But then I am the sort of guy who will change my own engine oil and sell my own house if I have to. So don't let me dissuade you from feeling good about spending a few extra thousand dollars.
What I want to talk about today though are the other forms of costs.
Yes, of course you know that. The cost of buying a brand new car in Australia. No COE there, hoot ah! The cost of half a year of rental and living expenses, because we are prepared to give ourselves half a year to find our dream jobs before heading back with nothing and blaming racist Australians for not giving us a go. No, casual jobs are beneath us and we wouldn't consider that. So a war chest of cash is definitely required, no? Cost of migration, no?
Maybe on another day. Not today.
After 3 years of Perth, I have experienced a good amount of emotional up and downs that may have been addressed different if I had not left Singapore. Both my dogs died a week apart within half a year of my departure. I would never forget how I had to clear my safety goggles of tears that I shed the entire night at work after I received the bad news.
When I was told that Jen's birth delivery were having complications and Albany's life was in danger unless we did an immediate operation, I was left sitting outside the theatre with hands trembling too much to text my old friend in Singapore. There was no hands to hold on to and only imaginary arms around my shoulders for comfort.
Whenever I hear my father being hospitalised, there was little I could do but to lend a listening ear to my mother over the useful helping hand which I would rather offer.
I had to endure days of missing my wife and daughter when either one of us return to Singapore to attend important events, such as weddings or funerals.
True. To a large extent, money solves a lot of problems. The above situations are no exception. Need love? If I am that 15 million lotto winner, I could fly the entire contingent to celebrate my daughter's birthday. I could fly back in my private jet any time as when I wanted. Money closes gaps and ease pains but it doesn't substitute what really mattered. Even a private jet wouldn't be fast enough to catch my dog's last breathe, or hear the last words of a departing loved one when it happens, or be there for a friend at the most crucial timing. Money cannot buy me that missed moment of a shared joke or the optimal elation of hearing the breaking of a piece of happy news, 'live'. To make it worse, let's come back to reality and realise I am not that 15 million lotto winner.
But so aren't the rest of us, the many Singaporeans who had already left and the future ones embarking on the lesser threaded, dimly lit treacherous path. This is the curse all migrants have to accept. The price of migration. A price that cost no gold but demand a bit of humanity in you at every corner. Until you learnt to be hard, much harder than you ever wanted to be.
A Singaporean Son
*The writer blogs at http://asingaporeanson.blogspot.com/