I got up at nine fifty nine, bustled around--in time to meet Hannah at ten twenty at the lodge. The plan was to have breakfast somewhere and then go to St. Ebbe's.
We had breakfast down St. Giles, in Greenes (I think...) Cafe. I had a bacon baguette with an Americano while Hannah had what I usually have for Coffee Bean breakfasts, the equivalent of Muesli Parfait...and yes, we were number 14, again.
Had a nice little chat, just to keep up. Seems that everyone gets bogged down by work in the 5th week. 5th week blues are real and tangible. No smoke without fire.
Finished breakfast just in time to rush back to college to meet up with the group going to St. Ebbes, but when we stepped back out onto St. Giles we heard the singing of a choir, coming from a left-ish sorta direction. And we saw a whole crowd of people gathered further down St. Giles. All traffic was halted. Apparently, there was going to be a procession and a service to commemorate those lost in the war. Come to think of it, even the cafe had a sign up saying "Please respect that we will be having 2 minutes of silence at 11am."
We made a quick decision and stayed for the thing. The choir finished singing; there was a prayer and people started clearing off the streets. Three jet planes flew past overhead. I didn't know why, but as the little boy sitting on his dad's shoulders said, "That's so awesome." One could almost, almost feel how it was like during those days. The sound of jet planes roaring past.
The band started playing. Drums. Then trumpets. Didn't hear much else. The xylophone came in a little later. As they marched past, the feeling grew stronger. How horrid the feeling of standing there and waving the army off to war. Horrid, heavy but brimming with pride. With all due respect to those who did wave someone off to war, I will never know how it was. But at that moment I wanted to break down and sob my bloody eyes out. The three jet planes soared past again.
The air force, navy, infantry, air force, navy, scouts, brownies marched past.
Then I heard the sound of clapping coming from down the road as another group marched by. And the crowd converged behind that group. The clapping meant nothing. I didn't know what I was clapping for so I clapped half-heartedly twice, all the while looking around to see if anyone else was clapping too, until Hannah said, "Those are the war veterans." And the group emerged before me. Old but healthy-looking, not a step slower than those before them. Everything fell into place as I started clapping vigorously. Then I realised how muffled the sounds were with my gloves on, so I took them off. I've never wanted someone to hear my clapping so badly before.
We joined in as the crowd continued to converge behind the war veterans, and started talking about what has been done for them. Hannah didn't think it was enough, not enough to reflect their contributions. I thought that having such a day was a miracle in itself! Not even Singapore has it! And for the SEA countries especially. All those who defended the country were not even fighting for grounds that belonged to them. All those who survived were not given the proper respect due them.
At that point in time, I realised how beautiful this country is. Not perfect, but its heart is at the right place.
