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The melting pot that is Singapore

by | 21 July 2017, 6:53 PM

“Is it Masterchef today?”

Nadzirah’s eyes sparkled with excitement. It’s a quiet Saturday morning but there’s a buzz of excitement in the air. Everyone’s come armed with pots and groceries.

It’s an unlikely bunch we have in the kitchen today: Ze Qiang, an engineering student, together with exhibition designer Nadzirah and graphic designer Veneetha.

Their challenge for the day: To teach each other how to make a signature dessert from their own culture.


Nadzirah starts the ball rolling by explaining her dish for the day – ondeh-ondeh. This well-loved dish only requires a few simple, common ingredients.

The trio splits the work between them efficiently. Nadzirah instructs Ze Qiang to cut the gula melaka – the ingredient crucial to the dish – into little cubes, along with the pandan leaves into very precise 4cm strips. After all, precision is key to Nadzirah’s interior design background.

“Pandan leaves are there to add flavour and for the coconut to last longer. That’s what my mum told me,” Nadzirah says confidently as she puts the grated coconut into the steamer and begins on the dough.

“Why do you use glutinous rice flour?” Ze Qiang asks.

“Err … actually I don’t know, ask my mum.” Nadzirah answers with a little laugh. This is far from the only time their mums are mentioned throughout the day, as the source of the recipes and tips.

“I hope this will make my kampung proud!”


“I’ve actually never made gulab jamun myself before.”

Veneetha looks sheepishly at Ze Qiang and Nadzirah. Out of the snacks her Indian family makes on Deepavali, gulab jamun is the easiest to make. And it is also her personal favourite.

“It’s is a milk-solid-based ball that is deep fried and soaked in syrup. Many people think that it originated from India. But we kind of stole it from the Persians.”

Everyone laughs. The dry ingredients are poured into the mixing bowl. By now, the trio has clearly warmed up to each other in the kitchen.

“Before I saw the recipe, I didn’t know that it was mainly milk powder. I always thought that it was made of something luxurious.”

Ze Qiang asks Veneetha about the origin behind the name of the dish.

Gulab refers to rose water in Persian, so they used to use rose water-infused syrup. Jamun refers to an Indian fruit with a similar size and shape.”

“Food does bring people together!”

They split the load of forming evenly-shaped balls from the dough. No one’s made this before, so the trio decides to experiment frying just one ball first.

Nothing happens.

“I guess it is a little too calm,” Ze Qiang says, laughing. Then they realise that the stove hasn’t been switched on and everyone breaks into laughter.

“When I told my mum I was going to add honey to the syrup, she was a little doubtful. I think it’s a modern take to this dish,” Veneetha explains as she starts on the syrup. The traditional recipe uses cane sugar.

The frying continues and the sweet fragrance of milk fills the air. Nadzirah shares about her experience buying gulab jamun from a stall at Little India.

“The uncle just put that one ball and the syrup into a teh peng bag, I was just carrying it around like that!” She recalls the overwhelming sweetness from that time, but is excited to try it again today with Veneetha’s modern spin on the recipe.

For the rest of us, it is our first time ever hearing of this dessert.


It’s almost lunchtime as they move swiftly through the preparation of the ingredients for the final fish. Nadzirah attempts at chopping the yam into chunks. Looking at the amount of strength she is using, Ze Qiang steps in to take over.

Orh nee is served at almost any Chinese restaurant. It is usually paired with gingko nuts and pumpkin. But this recipe is passed down … It’s like a family recipe,” he says.

“My mother was quite insistent that I made this.”

They practise pronouncing the name of the dish while waiting for the yam to be ready. Veneetha and Nadzirah repeat the words after Ze Qiang slowly a few times. Singaporeans know it as orh nee, meaning yam paste in Teochew.

The sliced shallots are lowered into the hot oil. Everyone is mesmerised by the fragrance and sizzling sound of the shallots being fried. Ze Qiang motions for the girls to try the perfectly fried shallots. Everyone’s eyes widen upon tasting the shallots and Nadzirah goes back in for more.

“This will go so well with mee soto. Or briyani!”


It is finally time to taste the three dishes after a hectic morning.

As they taste the dishes before them, their eyes light up in delight. Smiles appear on their faces.

“I would never have thought of having shallots in my dessert,” Veneetha casually comments.

Nadzirah is also pleasantly surprised that the gulab jamun turned out to be less sweet than she expected. Veneetha guesses that it’s due to the honey substituting the cane sugar, as well as a shorter soaking time. Traditionally, the balls are soaked in the syrup overnight.

“Well, I like it better this way!”

As they eat, laughter fills the air, along with nods of approval, relieved faces and satisfied tummies. Which is your favourite, we ask the three.

Eyes dart left and right. They say it’s hard to pick a favourite because they’re all so differently unique: The savoury yam paste, chewy ondeh-ondeh and not-so-sweet gulab jamun.

We realise that that’s the trademark of Singapore – where vibrant and diverse cultures live together in harmony.

As Ze Qiang puts it, the diversity we have is what makes Singapore unique.

“Having diversity in races adds colour to our country. For example, the different kinds of food that each race brings gives us a variety of food which allows us to experience the different flavours we would not have known otherwise. This includes the traditions and cultures too.”

Nadzirah agrees that it is important for Singaporeans to make the effort to get to know different races and understand the different cultures.

“Getting to know different races, understanding different cultures just add colours to your life. Colours are very important to me. I don’t like to lead a dull life.

“I’ve learnt that there are so many other desserts out there that we have yet to try. If we just stick to what we know, our own culture, we tend to miss out on a lot.”


The trio also acknowledged how blessed we are to live in a country where there’s an intrinsic respect for each other’s roots, and where we have a culture of openness in asking and learning.

Ze Qiang believes that being conscious and respectful towards each other’s beliefs and culture is also key to maintaining racial harmony in such a diverse society. Everyone has a part to play in this.

“I think generally Singapore is quite harmonious. However, there can be some unintentional segregation that happens naturally if we are not careful. Like how people tend to stick to their own kind. We are also bound to have conflicts over different beliefs and cultures,” he says.

“But if everyone takes the effort to understand and reach out to the other races, everyone can live in harmony.”

“Having diversity in races adds colour to our country.”

Veneetha adds that the openness to working together is key.

“Before coming into this, I thought the other recipes were going to be complicated and probably something that I will never be able to do on my own. But with some help and guidance from my friends, the recipes that were shared turned out to be surprisingly simple and I will definitely make them again.”

She also felt that finding a common interest also helps to bridge the gaps between people and their differences.

“This simple experience made me more knowledgable about the other cultures in Singapore and I think everyone should make an effort like this. Food does bring people together!”

Nadzirah recalls that as part of the preparation process prior to this shoot, everyone brought brand new utensils and crockery to ensure that halal standards are respected and adhered to.

While this made things logistically more complicated and troublesome, everyone chipped in without complaints.

“Thank you for complying to the halal standards, I really appreciate it,” she tells the other two.

Singapore: We may be made up of different ingredients and cultures, but we’re still good and sweet together.

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Should I be giving to every peddler I see?

by | 18 October 2017, 1:44 AM

Most of us are used to being approached by old, hunchbacked elderly selling tissue packets, but I was once approached by a young man who asked for some money for lunch. Although I typically walk away when such people approach me, my heart was softened that day.

“Sure, shall we go to the Kopitiam?” I offered.

I accompanied the man there and bought him a plate of mixed rice. On his part, he was careful not to exceed the budget he’d asked for, carefully deliberating his choice of vegetables.

As I watched him gratefully tuck into his meal, I wondered if I would do this again. I still feel like I did the right thing that day. Why?


The call to be generous towards the needy is found in both the Old and New Testament.

In Deuteronomy 15, Moses teaches the Israelites God’s Law on the year of the Sabbath. In view of Israel’s inability to keep the Law perfectly, Moses tells the Israelites, “there will never cease to be poor in the land”, therefore they are to open wide their hands to their brother, to the needy and to the poor in their land (Deuteronomy 15:11).

In trusting God to meet our needs, we look away from our sufficiency to God’s sufficiency.

This commandment is echoed in the New Testament in Luke 14:7, where Jesus teaches that believers are to aim to do good for the poor without expecting to eradicate poverty in this age.

As we heed this commandment, we may be questioning the value of being generous with those in need. Proverbs 19:17 makes this clear: graciously lending to the needy is akin to lending to the Lord.

As we meet the needs of others, we demonstrate reliance on God to provide for our own needs. In trusting God to meet our needs, we look away from our sufficiency to God’s sufficiency.


Cynics will argue that peddling tissue has become a profitable income-earner, where peddlers are scamming their buyers at rip-off prices. Yet, I choose to ask myself: Would I rather be in their position, where I have to make ends meet by hook or by crook?

Of course, I cannot be certain how the money will be used – if it will be used in the way the person claims. Hence, I admit I tend to err on the side of caution as I don’t want my generosity to be taken for granted. I don’t want to risk having my money being used on feeding a harmful habit, such as the consumption of cigarettes or alcohol.

But I also remember this: In showing love to someone else, I do him no harm (Romans 13:10). So, taking this all into consideration, I’m willing to be generous in kind rather than in cash.

In showing love to someone else, I do him no harm.

In personal experience, I have had the privilege of sharing time and energy with a family who is less well-to-do, by reading with their preschool children. They have been directed to the appropriate platforms for financial assistance; nonetheless, I am repeatedly reminded not to give them money, were they to ask for it.

As I give my time and energy, I believe the family is no less blessed – my presence is an opportunity for their caregiver to take a momentary pause in caring for them. I know she appreciates my presence – in the midst of caring for young children, she treasures conversation with other adults.

Likewise, the children anticipate my visits – being read to is a treat their caregiver cannot afford time for, as her time is spent on taking care of their basic needs.


As we seek to be generous both in cash and kind, it is worth remembering we are not always able to give to every person we meet. Hence, we give as we are able, bearing in mind their greatest need is not physical, but spiritual.

The New Testament speaks of spiritual hunger and thirst in the gospel of John.

When Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at the well in John 4, He offers her some water, telling her that whoever drinks of the water that Jesus will give them will never be thirsty again. The water that Jesus will give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life (John 4:14).

This water Jesus professes to give refers to the Holy Spirit dwelling within a believer (John 7:38-39).

Later, Jesus tells the crowds He is the Bread of Life (John 6:35) – which is superior to the manna provided in Moses’ day. He says this to tell the crowds He gives essential and eternal spiritual nourishment, instead of meeting only physical needs.

Hence, while we are called to give generously to the needy, we do so with discernment – in order that we don’t run the risk of doing more harm than good for the needy person. We also should be looking out for opportunities to meet their spiritual needs, not just their financial ones, as God avails.

At the end of the day, we cannot guarantee they’ll always get helped, but we can ensure they’ll always get loved.

“What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” (James 2:14-17)


Eudora found herself writing on public platforms by chance. Apart from writing, she likes many random things, including spoken word poetry, adult colouring books, tea, stationery and fresh, clean laundry.


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Reflections on Skyrim: I didn’t make my lives count

by | 17 October 2017, 5:31 PM

Skyrim (2011) is a video game from the Elder Scrolls video game series that originated in the nineties. The player learns that he or she is the chosen one, prophesied to defeat Alduin the World-Eater – an ancient and massive dragon hell-bent on destroying the realm of Tamriel.

Yes, I know how nerdy that sounds.

But I certainly found it interesting. And recently, I saw that Skyrim was on sale on Steam, a gaming platform where games’ prices are periodically slashed and users are alerted to video games they might like.

It brought many memories back. I’ve owned this masterpiece of a video game for 6 years, yet I never actually finished it.



In Skyrim‘s grand opening sequence, you are a prisoner in shackles who is about to be executed. At the eleventh hour however, you are delivered from the chopping block when Alduin attacks, and chaos breaks out in the town.

Over the next few minutes, you successfully escape out of an underground labyrinthian network of caves. You then emerge headlong into the cold mountain air, where a magnificent vista greets you:

Lines upon lines of mighty, snow-covered fir trees stand sentry in sweeping frosty meadows. Snow-capped mountains rise defiantly in the distance, beckoning you to climb them – and you must.

For Alduin is perched atop one of these mighty mountains, scheming where to strike the world of Tamriel next. It is later revealed that the Dragon intends to destroy Tamriel’s afterlife itself – a plane of existence called Sovngarde. Which is kinda like our Heaven. So our primary goal is to save humanity by taking down the ancient dragon before Heaven is no more.

However, this great quest we are commissioned to undertake is immediately waylaid by a myriad other smaller quests. One of the common comments about Skyrim is that it’s easy to forget the main quest because there are thousands of other things to do in the world.

And these side missions have rewards so immediate – so here and now – it’s often simply a lot more appealing to do them. Walk into a cave, kill a troll, level up – profit.

The greater good isn’t as fun as doing what we want, whenever we want. So we just end up doing our own thing, chasing what pays and what gratifies.

Eventually, we’ve completely lost sight of the larger goal and our original purpose. We forget why we were spared from destruction in the first place. Sounds a lot like real life to me.


Maybe it all sounds like a bit of a stretch to you, but gaming really makes me reflect like this.

In Tamriel, I ultimately became rich and powerful. Whenever I walked into a town, people would greet me as if I were a king. I could build homes, or I could just as easily raze them to the ground.

But for all of my might, I left no impact on the world. The characters around me would still go on with their lives, oblivious to the great threat which hung above them – biding its time. They would die, and when they did there’d be no Heaven for them to go to.

Yet all the while, I could have done something. I could have “saved” them.

This isn’t an exhortation to climb up a mountain and spear Satan or something. To be clear, we don’t exactly get to save the day. Christ has already defeated death, and saved us. He has already won.

Having been delivered, our job is to now deliver that good news of salvation to others who remain mired in darkness. Our job is to make disciples and to make Him known in the world.

But what is common to open-world roleplaying games and the Christian walk, is the propensity for distraction. There are ten thousand other things to do in this life, and many of them are far more “rewarding” in the here and now.


Maybe some of us had a dream for God once. But maybe “real life” caught up, and we ended up losing sight of that vision along the way. You might say you have no particular calling – that still doesn’t absolve you.

That certainly doesn’t allow you to waste your life. We all have the same commission (Matthew 28:16-20). We all have the same main quest.

In the various classes – no, professions – that we pick, it’s worth examining: What are we really chasing with our skills and talents?

While we’re caught up with the world, humanity hinges on what we make of the sliver of time and life given to each of us.

I didn’t finish Skyrim in the end. But in this real life, I intend to focus, fight well, and run long and fast.

I’m playing to win.


Gabriel isn't a hipster, but he loves his beard and coffee. In his spare time, he'd rather be on a mountain.


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by | posted 17 October 2017, 5:03 PM


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Am I still a female if I’m unfeminine?

by | 16 October 2017, 12:37 PM

I was never a feminine girl.

Just ask my grandma. She’ll confirm that I used to be punished with the boys for being a nuisance during kindergarten. We’d face the wall as our punishment – and I would invariably be the only girl standing among a row of boys.

At home, my mom would often berate me for being chor lor (uncouth) as I liked to sit with one foot propped up on my chair. She wasn’t a fan of the habit I picked up from my Dad; it made me look like a Chinese coolie, she said.

More recently, in my university days, my female friends would laugh at my lack of empathy. Memorably, I once dozed off in front of a friend who was droning on and on about her problems.

Aiyah, Siqi thinks and acts like a guy lah,” my friends joked. I laughed along. I really didn’t mind the label they slapped on me. I thought it was accurate.

Until I became the leader of an all-female cell group.


I became painfully aware of how different I was after I was thrown into this group of girls. Having to intentionally reach out to them on a regular basis, my stunted emotional intelligence in the realm of feminine conversation proved to be a barrier in relating to my cell girls.

I just wasn’t girly enough.

Soon, I began to question something I had never thought about, something I had never cared before: My identity as a female.

That night, I cried myself to sleep. I was afraid there was something wrong with me. I felt like a disappointment and a failure. I was even afraid of what God would think of me.

Comparing yourself to others is poisonous for the soul.

In an attempt to become more feminine, I began to imitate my other female friends. But I could never measure up; I wasn’t as gentle as this girl, as relational, as patient. I found myself constantly miserable and tired from chasing other people’s shadows.

Comparing yourself to others in this way is poisonous for the soul. I ended up feeling even more confused about my identity. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

That was when it hit me: I was worried about going against God’s design, but I was now doing it all the more.

God didn’t create me to impersonate others. I’m unique (Psalms 147:4) and crafted with a specific purpose (Ephesians 2:10). I was dead wrong thinking I could “create” my identity by trying to be like someone else.

That’s not to say we shouldn’t model ourselves after our Biblical heroes. There’s a difference between imitating people and imitating Christlike values. While I can’t express compassion the same way my friend does, I can learn from her to be more empathetic in my own way.

I’m called to imitate Christ, not to be a poor copy of somebody else. When I try to imitate others, I’m only losing out on how I was uniquely created by God and what I was designed to offer (1 Corinthians 12:18-20, 1 Peter 4:10).


It took me a long time to understand that my identity is only determined by my Maker.

People may say that I act like a tomboy, and some days I feel like the most unfeminine person on earth – but ultimately it’s what my Creator says that truly matters.

It took me a long time to understand that my identity is only determined by my Maker.

I’m a female because that’s what God made me (Psalm 100:3).

All I need to do is to simply abide in God, obey His Word, and I know He will lead me to become the person He created me to be (John 15:5, Romans 12:2, 2 Timothy 3:16-17).

Sure, I may not be feminine – I still sit like a coolie when I eat my meals at home – but I’m me. Fearfully and wonderfully made. Me.


Siqi loves to eat. Except for peas, egg yolk, cucumbers, livers, intestines. Among others. She also happens to be a writer.


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“I thought it was my inevitable reality as a woman”: Sexual harassment in the workplace

by Ashley Chan | 14 October 2017, 3:00 PM

I had been praying for the right work opportunity after ‘A’ levels to earn some pocket money and also start on a personal missional lifestyle: To share the Gospel with my colleagues as salt and light in my workplace.  

I was eventually introduced by a female friend to a Thai restaurant in order to take over her part-time position as a waitress. She was going to be starting a new job elsewhere soon and assured me that it would be a fun and dynamic environment with nice colleagues.  

I was the only woman and Chinese Singaporean at my workplace, but I was quite excited at the prospect of being able to share about God to my new Thai friends, having recently started learning Thai for future mission work.

There were a few newcomers besides me, so we had a welcome party after work in the first week. Out of nowhere, one of the older men started joking about how he visits prostitutes. Suddenly, I could feel eyes on me. Then another colleague blurted out, in Thai, “Too bad she’s young. I would pay a high price for girls like her at the brothel.”

He downed another shot. I hadn’t drunk much, but my face was on fire. I didn’t know how to respond. They didn’t think I’d understood, but even with my limited Thai, I had.

I wanted to believe it was just the alcohol speaking, but later incidents proved otherwise. 

There were situations where more than one of us servers were squashed against the cash register, trying to settle the bill. This happened whenever the restaurant was particularly crowded.

I was taking out some change for the customer when I felt one male server standing very close behind me. He pressed against me, arms swooping between mine and intercepting me to the cash register. “Sorry, customer is rushing me,” he mumbled in my ear as he swiftly retreated, but not without grazing my chest and slapping my butt.

I was afraid to speak out for fear of being too sensitive or confrontational. The other guys didn’t think it was a big deal at all. 

I was unsure if it was an accident, or if he was treating me like a “bro”. Did “bro’s” do that to each other? In the end, I decided to dismiss it as he didn’t seem to think much about the matter. Also, I was afraid to speak out for fear of being too sensitive or confrontational. The other guys didn’t think it was a big deal at all. 

This wasn’t the first time I’d faced some form of sexual harassment. It’d happened to me before on public transport and with people I knew and trusted. Somewhere inside me, I thought I ought to accept all these incidences as part of my inevitable reality as a woman.

When I tried to tell others about it, the common responses I got were: 

“Are you sure…? Maybe it was accidental.” 

“You? Sexual harassment? They must’ve been blind …” 

Why would guys want to touch you?” 

“Stop being dramatic .. you also not that pretty.”

“You look like a man leh.. are they gay?” 

I decided to stick it out for another few months. 

I was working the closing shift when my male colleagues were making sexually suggestive jokes, directed at a female patron just out of earshot. Unable to stand the coarseness any longer, I asked them to stop it.

They looked at me and burst out laughing, saying, “Just a joke what … You also have nothing for us to look at so we look at other people lah.” They proceeded to spend the next few hours making fun of me, accusing me of only liking Caucasian men because of my bigger build.

I couldn’t get openly angry because there were customers around, and neither could I leave if I wanted to be paid. I had prayed to God for a resolution, for some sort of way to end all of this. But it seemed like He hadn’t changed their minds and made them stop.  

In fact, it only got worse. For some reason, that night, the boss came by after closing and requested to speak to me. I thought that it might be a good time to broach the topic of my colleagues’ behaviour. But before I could start, he pointed to my baggy work-wear and asked, “Why don’t you wear tighter jeans? You’ll attract more male customers that way … You’re the only girl here.”

They all laughed. He beckoned me to sit beside him as they smoked and drank, and again I tried to share about the uncomfortable experiences with my male colleagues. Midway through, he swivelled towards me, a wry smile on his face.

“Have you ever had sex?” He asked. The table roared. “She’s Christian and definitely a virgin!” Someone else piped in. I stood up in shock, holding back tears in my eyes; I had to get away from these people. But my boss gripped my arm tightly, insisting he was just joking and would drive me home afterwards.

As I fled the scene, my head was spinning and all I could think was, men will be men.

Coupled with my past experiences of being sexually assaulted, I was disillusioned and angered. I felt entitled to my bitterness.  

There was a point where I even questioned, “Why am I even praying for them? They deserve to go to hell.” I know Christians are continually called to be counterculturally meek and loving, but is this what I have to put up with? Is this really what I’ve been called to do? To love these people in spite of this? 

In the news, we hear of horrifying reports of sexual harassment and abuse. The Harvey Weinstein scandal brings to mind every incident where I had been sexually harassed, assaulted and violated. And whenever I remember, every suppressed emotion that I felt in those moments rises like bile from inside, choking me with violent intensity.

But in my quiet time of prayer one day, I heard, “Even then, love.”  I was shaken and broken to tears. Yes, I saw myself in those memories, hurt and confused. But for the first time, I was looking at my pain through His perspective. I felt the Father’s love overflow in my heart.  

“Come to me.”

And then I knew: He had been there, in every moment, in every situation, weeping with me.

What does love look like when you’ve been violated? 

What does forgiveness look like when you’ve been wronged?  

What does redemption look like, in a disordered, perverse and sinful world?  

Christ-like meekness doesn’t mean aggressive confrontation, neither does it mean to suffer in silence. Whether you’re a man or woman, whether you’re facing this for the first time or to the point where you think you’re desensitised to it – it doesn’t make sexual harassment or abuse okay. If you’ve felt uncomfortable in a situation that you were unable to escape, it is not your fault and you are not alone.  

In the darkest moments of self-condemnation, bitterness and shame, I find comfort that Jonah prayed to the Lord his God from the stomach of the fish.

“I called out of my distress to the LORD, and He answered me. I cried for help from the depth of Sheol; You heard my voice.” (Jonah 2:2)

God can hear the words you can’t say. Your suffering will be redressed, even if you don’t get to see it for yourself. Injustice will not go unpunished. Vengeance is His, and He will repay (Romans 12:19).

Ashley has since left her waitressing job and found a safe and loving work environment. If you’ve ever been sexually abused, assaulted or harassed, seek help – be it reporting your case to the authorities or speaking to a trusted loved one. Your well-being is top priority.


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Article list

The melting pot that is Singapore

Should I be giving to every peddler I see?

Reflections on Skyrim: I didn’t make my lives count


Am I still a female if I’m unfeminine?

“I thought it was my inevitable reality as a woman”: Sexual harassment in the workplace