Activism rules, as long as it involves the f-word
Uncle Kang was an old-school Singaporean character. He was jovial, generous and utterly obsessed with the government.
In the late 1990s, he was my landlord, confidant and Jedi master in the ways of the little red dot. His sales pitch for my first rental flat in Toa Payoh remains unsurpassed. When I mentioned that the apartment was the furthest from the lift, he replied, “Less chance of being burgled, too far to carry your furniture.”
He exuded confidence on all Singaporean matters, except those pertaining to the government. “Eh, I
