Something sent to me by rae Ume:

Part 2 of this tale of woe and despair has also been published!


I was enlisted on the 2nd of April. I was sent to Taurus Company in BMTC 2. It was a good sunny day. We had our heads shaved. We paid money for it! Paying money for something that we did not intend for sounds weird, but that is just the tip of the iceberg for what gives in this presumptuous State. The experience for me is rather routine for the conscript. Getting harassed and getting pushed around, getting the feel of submission and fear into familiarity. It was not novel for me, I have had such experience before; I coped well too then, because I wanted it and I embraced it. However now it was different for me, I was no longer impressionable and I simply cannot follow anything that someone wants me to. The concept of authority and the individual has developed in me, and when that has happened life's perceptions change a lot. The instrument of fear is highly effective in controlling a person, and how far can one person overcome fear? Especially not someone who has yet to see and experience much of life, and who has not the desired wisdom and resolve to handle fear, or life and death, like me. I did not really cope well with the system. In the beginning, I would question and grudge, but I did not actively pursue my opinions. That was for the first two weeks of BMT. Every night I would steel myself to resolutely and sincerely challenge affronts to my individuality, even though it would seemingly seem impossible to do so. And indeed, it would fail all the time, because I have to submit in the end for every action demanded of me. By the end of the 2nd week, I had decided to end this insincere lifestyle by coming clean with myself. I was not keen, nor brave enough for DB, and life then was exceedingly dishonourable and disappointing for me, so I decided to take the path of suicide.

It was just before going for swimming lesson. I had it all planned out actually almost a week before. I even had my suicide note in my drawer. I planned on jumping down from my block. My emotions then were quite uncontrolled. I was standing there motionless, and tears were streaming down my face, even though I did not want them to. Mostly when that happened I bent down on the ledge and covered my face with my forearms, to salvage my dignity. I suppose I was rather resolved on doing it, because I was thinking about so many things, and especially the people I love whom I was going to abandon. I kept questioning myself to see if there was no better path for me to take, and if this was indeed the best route, and the correct way to do it. Was there something missing? I had to be sure of my actions. When one consciously and soberly comes to the issue of death, one generally does not take it lightly. That so, I was hesitating, and waiting, contemplating of my action again and again, in this hurried circumstance, to betray no alternative that I could have taken. The hesitation was ineluctable, even though it would be better to have none of it. Someone reported to my superiors about this curious sight standing beside the ledge, and soon they were at my elbows. They were sympathetic and amiable, but they fail to see that this is already beyond them. My issue was with the system, not with these individuals, the executors of the system, men who are just like me, men who are victims in their capacity. What am I actually compared to them? They who never had the freedom of thought and the freedom, or courage and understanding, to pursue their beliefs in this period of physical and mental bondage? They have rallied in tough times, and I believe that deserves its own respect. My PC came to me and told me I could get out of this environment if I wanted to. That was the turning point for my impending suicide. I thought I could cheat the system somehow and still live the life that I believe, the life that I will die for. He led me to the counsellor's office and I was interviewed by this exceedingly detached man whom had not the slightest idea of my mentality. When he was asking me if I had trouble with the pull-up bar, I knew that confiding in him would be a very big error. It would be sedition! It seemed highly shallow to me that he was worrying if I could do pull-ups or not. I did not tell him anything in the end. I just told him I wanted to see the MO because I had a backache. Little did I know that the biggest screamer was going to come from the MO! Haha! I waited in the waiting room, staring at the wall in front of me and wondering if I should crack my head against it, as suddenly it seemed that my chances of cheating the system was evaporating. It seemed really real to me, the notion of cracking my head against the wall. I tested the sensation of it, by placing my head against it. It was really hard. But at that point I was not really bothered about pain. It was more about whether I should be doing it or not. The issue of pain scarcely factored for me at all. Mortifyingly, at that point of time the notion of splitting my head seemed delightfully gratifying for me. Anyway, I had already regained mastery of my faculties and I was very calm and like my usual self, which includes lots of cheeriness and sensitivity to my actions and my surroundings. I only found out later that being a master of oneself will penalise one during any medical examinations done for the purpose of the SAF. I was finally called to be interviewed by the MO, and I was nervous as to my demeanour, for I was still planning to examine the system somehow and I also wanted to do things in my usual way, which would involve mastery and professionalism of one's conduct and manner. In the end it was a compromise between the two. I acted depressed, which I was not, for I have been in full conscious knowledge of my person, and thus I did not act out depression so dramatically. I was quite alert and focused on the situation then. Having declared my suicidal tendencies, though not elaborately my reasons for doing so, I was sent outside again to wait. After waiting for about 2hrs, I finally saw my 3SG and he led me to the jetty! I was going to see some relief from this Tranquility Bay!

I was driven to IMH when we reached shore. I was assessed and the doctor gave me a choice: he asked if I wanted to be warded. I thought it would be a good idea, because I do not know what the alternative would be, and I thought it would give credibility to my perceived mental state. It was a bad choice. It was one of the worst experiences I have ever experienced. I felt like a fish, because my fellow crazies were empty in the head, and because I kept lapping the ward in circles, truly like a shark waiting for its repast. There were no books there to keep me company. There were lots of really insane people though, and I would never wish my worst enemy to be sentenced to the same place as I was. I walked barefeet. The floors were sticky and smelt of urine. I could not lie down on the floor if I was tired, though some of them were. The chairs were where I could find rest, but it was noisy, so I could not really rest at all. I saw the father of my friend there too, but that is another story. Anyway he told me he was the reincarnation of some biblical figure, which was mildly interesting, and that he may have Apocalypse all figured out. Probably soon, I do not really remember. We were not led out of the ward at all for the entire day. Our day starts and ends in the ward. It was around the size of 25-30 metres squared. The entrance to the ward was kept locked. The only sane people there were the nurses. I befriended one of them and he was a really nice Filipino. He seemed to realise that I was not mentally disturbed like the rest. All this while, I did not contact my parents. I thought I was not allowed to use the phone, and I also thought the SAF might have done it already. Anyway I borrowed the phone in the late afternoon, and my parents were shocked to find me there. The patients were all made to sleep at around 8pm. I requested to talk to the doctor on duty and want to be let out. He said that I was malingering. I felt like crying. Anyway I learned the nature of the game pretty well already by then. The only way for me to live is to surrender myself and submit entirely and sincerely. It was quite clear I was unwelcome alive if I persisted in my individualism.

I slept little in the night. I was extremely noisy. The nurse on duty was painfully frosty. The fan made it extremely chilly and the blanket and pillow was unconscionably smelly and disgusting. I did not use either of them and I was freezing basically. I did not sleep a wink. One guy kept walking past my bed and kneeling down at the end of the ward. I would have sworn he was possessed. He does not blink at all too. In the middle of the night some guy was led screaming from my ward to another ward, in a restraint bed. I borrowed paper from the nurse and began to write a note for the doctor. I stated that I was "sane and that I was foolish". "I believe in conscription wholeheartedly now. I was selfish and immature to begin with. I am totally reformed now." I completely sold myself out. The asylum does amazing things to the mind. I saw the doctor and he agreed to let me out. He also gave me a weeklong MC. When I went home I decided to use only 2 days of the MC and return to camp early. I wanted to live, and I realised there was only one way to live, and it was their way. When I was on the ferry terminal waiting for the ferry, I saw a SAF poster. I cannot remember now what it wrote, but I remember then that my heart broke and tears flowed from my eye, and I wonder whether I should have died after all on that fateful day.

Part 2 will come right up, but I have to sleep now because I have work tomorrow.

[Addendum:

seekok in the comments box: "THE ward has a lot of abuses due to the doctor there. There was a case where one of the medic molested a patient. The nurse briefed the medics on 'what actually happened' so that they can give a unified version of happenings to the investigators. The medics were told what to say line by line (e.g. the molester medic was at the computer, and the patient was in the room at certain time)

THe head doctor threatened to charge the accuser to make sure he 'spends the rest of NS in DB'.

FUrthermore, drugs are given and patients are not briefed on their right to refuse them or seek a second opinion. Drugs are often given out wrongly too. Someone was so drowsy he could not stay awake the entire morning. THe doctor threatened to punish him for not being able to stay awake which implied that the medicine he took was not suppose to be a sleeping pill. (and who gives sleeping pill in the morning anyway"

Part 2 of this tale of woe and despair has also been published!]