Sociology Day

If the new Sociology major in Singapore has a "tradition" so far it seems to be a semi-regular event held at the Singapore Institute of Management (SIM), organized by my local colleague, Kaveri. She routinely adjuncts for SOC 101 and each time she teaches she organizes Sociology Day for the edification of all who pass through SIM's Atrium.

I never intended for my [38] SOC 293 or [115] SOC 101 students to do any more than attend her Sociology Day thing, in solidarity. The very idea of being directly involved with show and tell made me shudder, students in their "natural" classroom environment presenting to one another feels much more comfortable to me. However, when neither course textbook arrived for the first month of the semester, a substitute for the first of three exams had its charms, and riding Kaveri's coat tails for Sociology Day grew more appealing. So I made up new handouts, had students organize themselves into groups, and put it out of my mind for a month. Before I knew it, November 1 arrived and Sociology Day (November 24th)loomed.

The task for SOC 101 (Intro to Sociology) groups was for each member to review a relevant scholarly article and present a "big" sociological concept (anomie, stereotypes, deviance) in some focused manner.

The presentation had to be clear enough that non-sociologists could understand the gist of the sociological concept they chose to elaborate. SOC 293 students had to review literature, design a study, collect and analyze data, and present their findings in a research poster, similar to what would be presented at a professional meeting.
Kaveri had a plan and the Sociology Day schtick down pat. I, having no plan, adopted a more novice and less directive approach, and presumed students could organize themselves into doing something moderately interesting, without much herding from me. In the end, I think it might also be fair to say that my students' exuberant and less synchronized and scripted participation had a more "spontaneous" air about it....yeah, that's the ticket...spontaneous, that was what I stumbled upon, er...planned, yeah, spontaneous.

[I have to give a BUNCH of credit to Lynne Cossman, who excised a couple of the spontaneity demons and imposed what discipline and orderliness there was for my two classes. I don't know how she did it, but she did. And my soc students were thrilled to meet another U.S. sociology professor, especially one they had heard about in class.]

While Kevin McKelvey, Resident Director of UB-SIM, enthused about the ghost of Sociology Days past, he had some trepiditations about the present. What might my students do at Sociology Day that could be "awkward"? There are so many relatively verboten subjects in Singapore, given local cultural and political sensibilities, that youthful exuberance and a superficial exposure to sociology (let's face it, this is SOC 101) could inspire ... or wreak havoc. Who knew?Singapore generally is a very orderly, very conservative, very rules-oriented society, and SIM is a rather tightly wound microcosym of that culture. Also, Delores sometimes delights in teasing Kevin, and Debi had asked students to think sociologically and be imaginative (and if they happened to out-do the other SOC 101 class, that would not be the end of the world...we discussed in class the cultural norm of competition in the U.S. and its similarity to kiasu in Singapore).

A generalized bemusement about sociology in general may have combined with knowledge of the rule-breaking exercise SOC 101 students were assigned earlier in the semester seemed to elevate Kevin's fear of attracting ANY untoward attention to the UB program. For kids who ALWAYS follow the rules, exhorting students to break a few led to the brief sit-in at the Atrium, singing in the elevator, walking into a classroom and joining the surprised professor briefly on stage and then racing out, laying down in front of the library door, cutting in queues...etc. The hundred or so "actor" students and their confederates were so excited to report back reactions to breached norms that it is easy to imagine attracting a wee bit of attention at SIM(I don't know for sure, I was waiting back in the classroom). Of course, the prospect that "SIM people" might have noticed "deviant" behavior "encouraged" by a UB sociology professor [deviant is a word thrown around pretty loosely here] made Kevin a tad nervous. And then there was that group video I had to veto twice and hadn't yet seen the final cut for Sociology Day..."What will they do?" Kevin asked, in a worried tone of voice. After all, if students cooked up some "zany things to break rules" on the spot and those attracted attention, what might happen when students had months to plot?

Kevin looked paler than usual when he came to the Atrium to acknowledge Sociology Day. He needn't have worried.

I believe the first part of the program lived up to his fond memories of Sociology Days past...maybe even surmounted them. Obviously Kaveri had different ideas about what Sociology Day was (and fair enough, since she invented the event) than I did. She explained aspects of the event, and left plenty for me to discover on my own, too. Her 99 SOC 101 students did 99 individual posters (A3 size) to present their sociological concepts. That class had an organizing committee of 23 helpers, issued formal invitations to SIM administrators and colleagues, parents, onlookers, and passersby. Not only did it feature imaginative, thematically arranged posters that conformed precisely to size/shape requirements and communicated sociological concepts, but students also staged a fashion show of several traditional dress traditions in Asia. Besides the emcee (complete with script), there was a team of photographers and videographers to document happenings. They even interviewed me. All in all, a very well-organized event. Kaveri's SOC 101 class took the first hour and a half of Sociology Day (maybe we should call it Sociology Morning)--which was only half a day. Fortunately, for us, my two classes had the time that was left until noonish.

First, the SOC 293 students (one volunteer helper, one drafted helper and two emcees) presented their research posters using data they collected themselves.
Their posters explored reasons for body modification, Singaporean attitudes towards masculinities, opinions about househusbands, reasons behind women's choices to delay childbearing, gender differences in the ideal age of marriage, subtle racism in university education, and age-based differences in attitudes towards homosexuality. Their work was very well executed and my colleagues were pretty impressed with the professionalism of the student posters (as was I...they did a great job given their brief, single-semester exposure to research methods, even if there was sometimes more style than substance). Student emcees did "man and woman on the street" type interviews with students at each of the posters, asking good questions...and best of all, getting good answers! Students fleshed out the findings reported on the posters, acknowledging their gaps in knowledge (hurray, they are confident and recovered from the embarrassment of not knowing every single answer when asked a question!) They stuck to claims the data supported. How research-y!
The SOC 101 students came next, chaotic and inventive. Each group was interviewed by roving reporters; again, students handled the queries with aplomb. Too bad that the wretched acoustics in the Atrium made answers incomprehensible to anyone more than about two feet away (the amplified interviews also could be heard fairly clearly on the fifth floor...but not close enough to the posters and presentations to make any sense!). Still, the elaborations and responses I heard were pretty not bad! Student groups produced myriad presentations in every format they could imagine. Original photography and artwork, skits, a puppet show (it devolved to puppets only after the student could not quite master the ventriloquism in time for Sociology Day). There were several videos--two on racism, one on attitudes towards homosexuality, another on social stratification, one of food cultures, another on computer gaming, the Singapore practice of kiasu, a photo montage of the material culture of different countries' wedding practices and more. A newspaper format project reported stereotypic accounts of guest worker malfeasance on its front page...and devoted the inner pages to correct the record by documenting guest workers' contributions to Singapore's "miracle" economy. Beyond performance and video, series of clever posters elaborated themes, a board game students invented challenged popular stereotypes, the audience had a chance to see costumes and taste food students made to reflect the material culture of weddings in three Asian traditions. A mannequin adorned with images of women conforming to different norms of beauty in different cultures attracted lots of attention (and inspired many photos taken alongside our own version Paris Hilton)...







I still perceive Sociology Day as too much show and tell for me, and I can't express how happy I am that it is over. I know why I'll never likely attempt it again. But it had its moments, students did themselves and UB proud, and Kevin breathed a very heavy sigh of relief, having dodged another metaphorical bullet. He'll miss Delores when she's gone! After all, look at all the little prospective sociologists she tried to recruit for UB SIM!

Thanksgiving

Three nights aren't enough to scratch the surface in Thailand, though Lynne and I tried. She's writing a travelogue on Facebook, and as an anti-Facebookist, I will leave most of the story for her to tell.

In Bangkok we stayed about half way between two stops on the (relatively) new Skytrain. Versus the three to five hours it used to take to get from airport to downtown, we were whisked to the hotel in a pretty brisk hour and fifteen minutes. The walk from the Skytrain to the hotel was eye-and nose-opening, past several sidewalk restaurants (that give al fresco dining new meaning), . satay and fruit vendors, a flower garland seller, around several beggars, over railroad tracks, under overpasses, past many armed guards--only about two blocks--freaked Lynne out that first night, but she was a trooper.

Determined as I was to use public transportation, where the cost of a ride is entirely predictable both in baht and in time, we were only scammed 2.5 times by taxi drivers out of our first three rides in Bangkok.

How we were treated by our Grand Palace tour guide Lek, is another matter entirely. She did not scam us. We paid to be browbeaten, dammit! To the extent that two big noisy North American women can be intimidated by a teeny Thai woman, we certainly were. No pictures could happen until Lek had fully informed us about the history and significance of the vista we wanted to shoot, "First I will say, then you will know" then she would say "Okay, now you can make picture."

No surreptitious picture-taking, either. "No, not there...there, stupa number two, not stupa number one. Not til I say make picture."

She wielded a hot pink umbrella against the relentless sun, and to be absolutely certain that she could put it up above crowds to draw our attention if we somehow didn't spring to attention when she spoke. I believe she'd have used it to whack us had we snapped the wrong stupa or sequence of events (the correct sequence being Lek speaks, points, Depi and Lynne dutifully make picture). Lek did, after all, say "You, hat off," then physically snatched it from the head of a Japanese tourist silly enough to fail to uncap in the presence of Buddha...and Lek. If Lek would do that to an unsuspecting passerby, what might she do to us, whose names she already knew?

"Lynne. Nice name. That sound Asian. Depi, that not sound Asian."

Lek was a piece of work for sure. For some reason, she figured that I'd be the more easily intimidated, perhaps since I lacked Asian name. Lek would slap me on the arm (not a tap, a slap, with just a tad of sting) and say "Come this way. Where Lynne?" and we'd both trot to keep up with her...Lynne somehow managing to avoid the physical abuse that Lek showered ever so affectionately on me.

"Lek make picture of Lynne and Depi. Depi, you stand there. Lynne, you stand there. No Lynne, I said you stand there. Okay, Lek take picture now. One...two...two and a half...three.
Okay, I show you more."

"Take intermission. Now. Sit." That meant that Lek wanted to sit in the shade for a minute or two. Then she'd swat me again ("time to go look something else") get the death grip on my arm and haul me to the next item of importance in Lek-world (aka the Grand Palace complex), recognizing that a magnetic force drew Lynne along, too, as I was being woman-handled (or maybe Lynne just enjoyed observing the abuse and didn't want to miss any!). "I will show you three more buildings then Lek go and you stay at air conditioned museum. You see what Buddha wear in summer there. Pay attention."

We did. We dare not disobey Lek's command.

Sadly, we left Lek behind to abuse and amuse other unsuspecting tourists at the Grand Palace and struck out on our own to see other sights in Bangkok. Emboldened, by the example set by that elderly Thai woman, we waged psychological combat with a couple of officious guards who wanted to confiscate our purses and cameras at our next stop, the Teak Mansion (they won). Next, we didn't buy the ratty looking polyester wrap around skirts to be permitted in to the former Parliament building, since we were covered elbows to ankles in deference to all the Buddhist temples we'd already visited. In that skirmish, we accomplished a draw. We won, in that we do not own ratty skirts. Perhaps we also lost, in that we did not see the inside of the building. By four pm, we'd probably been too long out in the debilitating heat and verged on cranky...ready for a quiet night at the hotel. Plus, we planned to have Thanksgiving "dinner" in the executive lounge at the Marriott.

There, we were very thankful (though maybe mostly for conditioned air). We had turkey something or other, an oddly sweet chopped bread item the chef said was stuff (that cracked me up, because I *think* he meant stuffing, but maybe he did actually mean stuff), the ubiquitous pahd thai in lieu of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables with oyster sauce, a peculiar pumpkin dessert (I really believe that was just an alleged pumpkin). The Thai take on Thanksgiving dinner was unique. But several glasses of wine compensated for any culinary deficiencies, real or perceived, of the Thanksgiving feast. Beyond enjoying food and drink, Lynne was also thankful that we had not been scammed by multiple taxi drivers, pick-pocketed, and that the Marriott did not get attacked by terrorists during our visit. I don't know what makes me say things that makes Lynne worry, but in my own defence, she's a worrier.

An after dinner stroll took us to the shopping quarter, in honor of Black Friday, and another opportunity to savor the weirdness of the run-up to Christmas as experienced in Asia. I know, there are many things wrong with the whole set of rituals that accompany Christmas, wherever encountered. But there's something horribly wrong and very funny about hearing Elvis lament in surround sound that it will be a blue blue Christmas without me, in 90 degree weather, against a backdrop of palm trees, tuk tuks, and street vendors, in Bangkok.

To get a little feel for non-urban Thailand, we spent most of Friday in Nonthaburi. The water taxi was only 13 baht (about 30 cents), each way, for an hour ride upriver from the city. But for the diesel fumes from our boat, it was nice to leave the smell and crowds and grime of Bangkok behind for a few hours to enjoy a different kind of smells and crowds. Nonthaburi had just opened a brand new provincial museum (very well done, housed in an old colonial administrative complex that was being refurbed) where we spent a cool half hour, then on to another of the hundreds of amazing Buddhist temples large and small that dot the landscape, to a great waterfront restaurant. There, for just over $10 we had rice, pahd thai, a couple of bottles of water, iced coffee, and a whole sea bass cooked on a charcoal brazier right in front of us, with a view of long-tailed boats skim up and down the river. Nonthaburi's town market was next, full of both novel and mundane wares and abundantly odoriferous, especially the wet market part. Trudging through sludge in the wet market also caused fairly odorous feet, given that we walked through puddles of various fluids draining from fish, eels, eviscerated frogs, all kinds of land creatures, shellfish, etc. It was mostly noticeable when we got back on the boat and the sun started baking our feet...anyway, the wet market was a potent reminder about how far we are away from the knowledge and reality (sights and smells) of our food supplies, and how much closer, still, Asians are. The wet market still thrives across Thailand and many other Asian countries, but is on the verge of extinction in Singapore. Just another reminder of the pace and direction of change and how quickly difference (which we experience as exotic and the native people experience as daily life) is vanishing around the world.

Too bad it seemed impractical to stick around for whatever event the local Nonthaburians were setting up. I speculated dragon boat races (mainly from pictures) in honor of the King's birthday (coming December 5th--at 62 years on the throne, the longest reigning monarch in the world, venerated as a near-god). There were bleachers going up on the pier, Thai flags and yellow bunting, and durians (a very smelly local fruit) hung from many of the lampposts. There seemed to be an air of pent up festiveness about to erupt, but we wanted to get back to Bangkok before dark, around 6 pm.

So we headed back to Bangkok, dining that evening at the very lovely Blue Elephant restaurant. The meal was superb and the ambiance high colonial. You just expected a pukah sahib in a pith helmet to stick a head around a corner any moment. I ended the meal (yummy) with a Bangkok sampler--tiny tastes of desserts. I wanted mainly to try the durian cheesecake, without committing to an entire serving. What can I say? The coconut flan was great, the sticky rice with mango was delicious, the black sesame ice cream was definitely intriguing, and the durian cheesecake with ginger crust--tasted nearly as bad as durian smells. I really tried not to smell it and only to taste it, and I tried as hard as I could to think about only the taste sans smell. But I don't think durian will EVER be one of my acquired tastes. In fact, even 24 hours later, thinking about having that in my mouth makes me feel a little queasy.

Chatuchak market Saturday morning rounded out our three day sojourn to Thailand. As alien as some experiences seemed, western influences have changed the character of the city dramatically in the past ten years. Hearing Bing Crosby singing White Christmas, was as incongruous as Elvis the night before, that's for sure. Tacky tee shirts and souvenirs were in abundance, alongside beautifully made handicrafts and silk items. We shopped and regretted having too little money and carrying capacity that limited our purchases. Thankfully, we hit the market early enough; as we left just before noon, people were streaming in their thousands into the market--already oppressively hot and airless and nearly as jammed as Bangkok's roads. Time for a swim in the chilled pool at the Marriott (we were actually cold and had to bundle up when we got out, LOVELY, I cannot wait to be routinely cool again!), then the bag drag to the airport via Skytrain as a human pack mule (no unnecessary traffic james and taxis for the intrepid and scam averse) and goodbye Thailand.

Bangkok was fascinating. Lively, exotic, smelly, intriguing, worrisome, noisy, delicious, dirty, charming, all at the same time. The military and police are very high profile which lends a sinister air in a country where a coup seems always in the offing, and scam artists keeps you on your toes. Yet there are breathaking sights, delicious flavours, and the amazingly gracious and friendly people who greet you by making wai that make you want to come back. It was only a few days, but it certainly was an Asian experience different from what Lynne will experience here.

We're back now, safe and sound, if slightly bored, in the Asia-light that is Singapore, Sameapore, Singlebore. Back to work for the two of us.

Deja Vu all over again

Yes, it is entirely possible to unintentionally crash multiple funerals. I really am not a boorish, culturally insensitive moron, au contraire. Curious, sure. Gregarious, guilty as charged. Sometimes prone to reason to incorrect (even if logical) conclusions, especially given sparse evidence. Yup, that too.

Lynne and I were coming back from a morning of sightseeing down by Singapore's harbourfront, and had just hopped off the bus near my flat. Lynne (who coincidentally is teaching a sociology of death and dying course this fall) looked over her shoulder and said "would you look at that".

There it was, bigger than life, a great big banner, strung up by the void deck of an HDB building, offering discount coffins!

Despite the misnomer, void decks are just the opposite of places devoid of activity. Some is strictly social, but lots is commercial, including the junk collector, the otah salesman (who moves through the complex like clockwork, selling his meals from a box on the back of his bike) and of course, the "mama" shops. But even I thought, now I've seen everything, discount caskets at an HDB estate with many elderly residents, how efficiently Singaporean!

Of course, I had to get a picture. I zoomed my camera and snapped. By that time, Lynne had already left the sidewalk for a closer look, wanting to see a coffin sales showroom in the sheltered space beneath an apartment building. I probably muttered something profound like "only in Singapore. Cool or what?"

I've been snapping shots of strange or entertaining signs all semester. It would be hard to guess how many chances I'd have to get this one, since void deck activities often have that "here today, gone tomorrow" insouciance. Despite the light drizzle, I thought, I'd better take this now while I can, adding one more sign trophy to my growing collection. I also realized I could take the photo without the palm frond in the way if I just followed Lynne.

As we got closer I thought to myself, "I can add photos of the discount caskets to my other growing collection (a set of photos of "void deck" activities and objects)...how cool will that be? This will be one of my most unusual void shots of all. So I moved in for some closer shots. Last week, the same space had been the site of a Muslim wedding. I hung around at a discreet distance, hoping that someone would notice and invite me to see more, up close, but no one did. So I didn't get any photos of that wedding. But commercial ventures in public spaces, those I always regard as fair game.

"Hey Lynne...don't you think they went to an awful lot of trouble for not very much merchandise?" I snapped another photo, this time of the rather attractive pedestals that funeral operators provide for local flower arrangements.
Skimpy though, there sure didn't seem to be much merchandise and from that vantage point I could see the edge of a shiny black coffin peaking out tent that was blocking my view of the other merchandise. That would be my next shot.

It was about that time when a very pleasant young woman (who I later learned was named Debbie) approached and asked if she could help us, or if we were there to pay our respects to her grandmother. Oh dear.

So that was how, as that frisson of embarrassment ratcheted up into the wave of "oh no, I've done it again" feeling, I could I possibly crash two funerals in just over three months! My motivations were pure, even if my execution was inappropriate. Anyway, since I'm always determined to both confess and try to make right, Lynne (who I think might have preferred a discreet and unobtrusive getaway) and I sat down with the decedent's granddaughter and a family friend, and discussed teaching at university in the U.S. and Singapore (where I took pains to proffer Lynne's "death and dying" course this fall as a potential rationale for my otherwise inexplicably bizarre interest in strangers' funerals).

After some conversation Debbie commented that while she understood what had happened, most Singaporeans would regard it as very rude for a stranger to take a picture without requesting permission at a funeral. Confession time. I told her that was the last thing I'd ever do deliberately. That when we saw the banner from the bus stop, we thought it was advertising a casket sale being held in the void deck. I was pretty relieved when she really laughed at that...which, of course, was the absolute truth. As appalled as people are when they have seen me taking pictures (always believing it was appropropriate, never thinking I was snapping funerals) I think in the end they realize there was no disrespect intended, and that I'm sorry for their loss...and that they see the humour in some of the situations I manage to get in since I make no secret of my embarrassment. Funny, how the combination of truthtelling and admitting mistakes can be disarming. Lucky for me that, so far at least, that has worked.

The other mourner (who asked our names, but did not introduce himself), gave his version of "Singapore" success--and Debbie appeared to forgive my blunder. But I've got to say, it is easier to crash a funeral here in Singapore than you might imagine. So before you go all smug and think "that would never happen to me"...you should realize that most people wouldn't live in a public housing estate so that it COULD never happen to them. And that nothing embarrassing and/or interesting would ever happen if I was just a bystander, and I'm willing to be embarrassed if that's part of the price for a set of interesting experiences. I'm either one of those right time, right place kind of people (for satisfying curiosity and having unique encounters). Or, maybe I'm a wrong place, wrong time kind of person (if the aim is an uneventful and completely dignified funeral in the Serangoon neighborhood).

Debbie, who had a pretty good sense of humour said, "If you showed up tonight with your camera, you'd have people scratching their heads trying to figure out why they don't know the ang mo branch of the family." Fair enough. She accepted my explanation and laughed, and offered its counterpart from her perspective to help me save face. Very Asian. Twenty minutes seemed an appropriately serious amount of time to apologize several times and express our condolences and take our only somewhat 'tail between the legs' leave of her grandmother's visitation hours.

We crossed Boundary Road, and walked only a hundred yards before we happened upon the interesting sight of activity as a large festival tent being pitched in the field across the street from the main entrance to my housing estate. I saw some women setting up food and drink, and said to Lynne "Let's check this out." I forget, being a veteran of "unexpected" social interactions how traumatizing some of the earlier ones were. Lynne looked a little pale, I'm sure wondereing (what the hell, has she found another funeral?) and said "I think I'll just hang back here." So with Lynne only the tiniest way behind me, I asked the women what was going on.

So I have a witness, and on very good authority, that is it NOT another funeral nor is it a Chinese ghost or god ritual. Although I'm pretty sure that the "big" event is on Wednesday evening (when we'll be in Bangkok), we managed to get ourselves invited to the first evening of the Buddha festival tomorrow night. Not sure what all the particulars are, although there will be two altars and a guest priest and several other activities that we couldn't quite translate into English, but I think I grasped either puppet show or opera...or maybe something completely different. I'm almost always surprised at the difference between what I think might happen and what actually does happen. But in the meantime, I'm determined that Lynne will have as many neighborhood adventures and as memorable a time as we can manage while she's here.

And I'm glad that I finally have a witness who can vouch for my claim that it is really easy to inadvertently crash a funeral when you're an ang mo like me, and it's happening in the void deck of the HDB.