Why can't the civic sector in Singapore collaborate?

It’s blog posts like these, from Carla Thompson, VP of Programme Strategy, that really perks me up when some days are the darkest.  I get inspired by the possibility of philanthropy thinking innovatively, acting decisively, breaking out of various assumed constraints, to truly work towards social impact. 

When we read it again, surely it is so intuitive that solutions that address children and parents should be looked at together? Yet we know that history does not show this.  Foundations, and other grantmakers, have consistently espoused individual impact, showcased individual performance. 

No more so has this been more the case in Singapore, in my view.  There may have been the odd examples of charities and nonprofits collaborating on ad-hoc projects; and surely we have seen the multiple-party multiple-logos on the banner kind of “collaborative” fundraising events. 

Yet the long-term, shared-vision and shared-resources approach of solving a pressing social problem through collaborative effort, like the Strive Network, is still elusive.  Singapore has taken the approach of “cross-sectoral agencies”, like SG Enable, Agency for Integrated Care, etc. which show that our government is making an effort (weak still, in my view).

But what of the civic sector? Why are nonprofits and philanthropy so unwilling, or unable, to collaborate? At the worst, we see more money chasing after commonly funded issues (see recent Commissioner of Charities Annual Report and this insightful view on funding duplicate projects).

I have some views on this:

1)      Everything is a competition.

a.      Funds, attention, manpower, resources.  Singapore’s preoccupation with the winner taking all, seems to extend to our civic sector as well. Nowhere is this more at risk than – gulp – funding.  “How would a common pie be split among different partners?” would be one of the first questions to be asked.

2)      Working with partners is risky. 

a.      How do we keep tabs on the other guy? When it’s a commercial partnership, expectations are clearer as they are determined by a common bottom-line – profit.  How do we manage risk when what’s at stake is the social welfare of our communities?

3)      Funders are – at the end –self-serving. 

a.      No, not selfish – just self-serving.  Because they still see their acts of philanthropy as a way through which their mission should be met.  Philanthropic mission, which by the way, may not be aligned with the social issue to be addressed.  This gives rise to the tendency to call your own shots, be the sole funder, so you can identify the sole star non-profit that is solely attributable to delivering that star social impact. 

4)      Good news is good to share, bad news is my own. 

a.      Effective collaboration requires open transparency and a combined effort to share information for all members’ learning, so that the work can improve and progress.  This means sharing not only all the good stories, but also the failures, experiments, pilots, bad decisions.  Our culture keeps bad news under cover, even within our organisations. What is the likelihood we will share it with collaborators?

True, a real collaborative effort that seems to harness collective resources for collective impact, is a long-term commitment, requires heavy investment, open transparency, and strong risk appetite.  Question is – where are Singapore’s changemakers and trailblazers to make this happen?

Share with me your ideas for encouraging truly collaborative philanthropy and social changemaking!

A mother's wish for a new king

Dear Baby George (although personally I prefer to call you Alex or Lou),

Congratulations on being a new face on the royal block!   I'm not going to make fun or be bitter about all the attention you're getting – Aunty Pat isn't bitter like that (or I won't be, when speaking to babies).

Isn't it fantastic to be showered with the attention of such a global family? I suppose it's no different to you whether it's a gang of 10 relatives or 10 million people that are gawking at you, as long as you are held in the sure arms of your mum and dad.  The joy on their face is unmistakable and classic. So are the polka dots worn by both your mum and your grandma when they just left their respective hospital beds =)

There are plenty of flippant notes out there giving you some advice in your new life.  I'd like to, instead, appeal to you to consider something different when you grow up.

1. Love your parents for being your parents, for being human. Royalty was not their choice,  but learn from them the grace with which they bear this responsibility.
2. You are George first, William and Kate's son second, Prince third, and public property last.  Keep this perspective so you don't lose your soul to the pressures from the world.
3. Remember the face of every person who works with you, whether your nanny, chauffeur, cook, colleague, the lady who brings you your tea and biscuits.  Look them in the eye, thank them, and smile. If you have time, ask them about their family.  It makes you, and others, feel good when you behave like a human and treat them the same.
4. Break down your internal barriers - no one said royalty can't muck around in the mud, backpack for a year, bop on the street, or trip over your own two feet.  Your grandma held dying children from the poorest of the poor in her arms - you can't find a better example than that.
5. Never be prideful. You will always be learning in this life, and others will learn from you.  When you think you have it figured out, challenge yourself to think again.
6. Be a positive influence in this world.  Kick yourself when you want to laze and mooch, when you feel like you're entitled. Every privilege you have, you have a responsibility to give more than you have received.  Only then will the world be a better place than before you entered it.
7. Kiss your mummy and daddy every day and tell them you love them.  There will come a time when that will be the only thing that keeps them going.
8. When you see another woman, think of your mum, grandmother, great grandmother, and remember how you treat other women should be how you would treat them.
9. If you want to tear up the town, party it up, smoke and drink and guzzle and snort, know that you are doing your body in and it will only  be able to put up with it for so long.
10. Be an upright, respectful, responsible citizen of the world. 

When you have time, come visit Layla and Mira because I would love for them to do all 10 things above too.  We've got Cheerios and Legos waiting for you!

With warmest wishes and a kiss on your cheek,

Aunty Pat

Hi again

Hello fearsome world of blogging!

Just re-read the history on this blog and realised that since my last post, I have gained and lost some.  Gained another child, Mira, a younger sister to the lovely Layla.  Gained incredible perspective as a mother. Promoted at work. Lost a lot of years. Lost some weight. Lost some dear friends' parents, lost the wonder as a first time mum. 

In some ways it also feels like I have gained another brain. A brain that since 2008 seemed to have mutated into some kind of social justice crusader, that has mushroomed into an exhilarating cloud of frenetic energy that wants to think, brainstorm, plan, do, fail, try again, fail, learn some more, and the heck with the rules.  This other brain has forgotten detachment, objectivity, rationality. It despairs as it rejoices. It is moved to tears as it is quick to shout and scream.  It is my conscience. And it needs to have its voice.

I've expressed as much on Facebook, but I think the other brain is constrained by status update character limits.  So it is time to blog again - wish me luck as I dust off the rusty writing skills.

PS. Posts on this blog reflect purely my personal views.  To the extent that I have posted in a professional capacity, that is usually published elsewhere. However I reserve the right to make known my personal views about such postings on my blog - i.e. this blog.  I trust visitors to be adult in their blog-reading and know the difference.  If you don't, doesn't bother me.

Layla Milestone Diaries: Live-in Help

I've already gone through the pros/cons and various alternatives to hiring a live-in helper. In the end, due to our respective jobs, lack of trustworthy nanny referrals and ridiculously expensive infantcare options, economics and time pressure dictate that live-in helper is our optimal choice.

Our helper, Jubilah, started today. Based on our requirements, the agency assures us she is qualified. My interview with her proves benign, and she appears to handle Layla with sure arms and clean hands.

What caught me off-guard was the whallop to my stomach that I felt when I passed Layla into her arms. I think in the back of my mind I knew that my greatest fear was for Jubilah to become such a critical part of Layla's care, that my role will be steadily diminished. Rationally I know that I will never allow that to happen (although there are plenty of examples in Singapore to disprove that).

But as we went over the various tasks on Layla's schedule that Jubilah will have to help me with (especially when I return to work), the same tasks that I have taken great pains in the past 12 weeks to master on
my own, those tasks over which I am proud to say I have been able to accomplish despite having little help, I felt a jealous monster arise in my chest that wanted to growl "Mine!! She is MINE!"

That dreadful feeling grew even stronger when I realised that in a full day, 5 out of 7 feedings will have to be done by Jubilah. Ah the double-edged sword of bonding with one's child over breastfeeding - how keen the cut when your child is no longer in your arms when she needs sustenance.

I know this is ridiculous and surely time will no longer keep the baby a little koala forever snuggling in my arms. I just did not expect this keen response to guard my bond with my daughter.  The dry run that I did some weeks ago with mother-in-law was not quite so bad as I knew that it was only for 1 day... Jubilah's presence reminded me that the separation coming up when I go back to work, will be for a lot longer than 1 day.

Well am I reminded that I go back to work in 2 weeks. T-16 days and counting...

The Breakup

* This was written in April 2008, on my phone, when I resigned from my job as a Managing Director in a major international financial institution. I found it in a rescued thumb drive.

I thought it would be one of those conflagaration of emotions, with outpouring of well wishes and tears and hugs and teddy bears.

Reality was a diferent matter. I suppose in recent times when we all lead transient lives that emphasise mobility over rootedness, "moving on" is an expected milestone. No different from the 21st bday, or the silver wedding anniversary.

I resigned a month ago, and yesterday was my last day. The month's worth of notice period flew by -  i made my last business trips, caught up on as many loose ends as i could, said as many goodbyes as i could.  Tried to leave behind as much advice as i could to the junior members of the team - they were the biggest reasons for me to stay, yet my departure would have given them the biggest opportunity to advance. 

I thought deep and hard about the lessons i would take with me, 14 years of career-building and the metamorphosis of human nature from the pure naivete of earnest ambition to questionable integrity at the height of one's career. About the principles that i was, despite my best (and worst) efforts, able to maintain and stick by. About the people in whom i have lost faith and respect, and the ones whom i count as mentors i will never forget. About the tea ladies and receptionists, the analysts and vice presidents, the mailrunners and managing directors.

A friend said that perhaps its because i've put in 14 years in this field that the departure was sentimental. In his view, "a job is just a necessary evil". 

Perhaps he is right. My job has been my life so far, not just because it enables me to pay my bills or expands my knowledge.

But because I could learn and see what life has to offer in this sandbox that is corporate life.  I am not sure that if i was doing anything else that i could have become the person I am, with the views and principles i have. I learned to love, hate, judge, despise, stress, evaluate, drive, mentor, be patient, and finally, let go. 

It's rather sobering to finally realize that my feelings about leaving this stage of my life meant more to me than to the people that were such a big part of it. Some were caustic about my departure while others were selectively restrained in their send-off.

I re-read some of my old b-mails (ie. Blackberry emails) and am a little scared of how unhappy and angry I was when I wrote them.

So i guess in the end it is a better thing that i take a different path. My colleagues are going to be fine, and even if they aren't - they're all smart people and this bank isn't the only bank to make a living.

As hard as it was to say goodbye, like breaking up with a dysfunctional lover, in the end it was for my own good. I suppose i shouldn't be hoping for any more expressions of love as after all, it's a breakup - it was time to move on.

Ps. I did receive, after my last day, a card handmade by Sara signed by everyone, which was a really touching parting gift. That, will remain in my files with my old boyfriends' photographs.

Layla Daily Specials: Week 3 (Age 8 weeks)

Reality has intruded and I am now sick of writing in third-person or Layla voice - so back to Pat's view as new mother.

14 Dec

I was bored of being inside today. Layla had always shown remarkable composure while outside, despite the rashes and bald head I needed to connect with the outside world. So I decided to do what tai-tais do in this part of town - go to Parkway Parade at 4pm with my mum and my daughter. What a luxury to stroll through a well-appointed mall, had coffee and cake at a cafe, looked at handbags and bras and finally ended up at the baby section to nurse Layla in the nursery area at Isetan. Looking around me, I saw more of the same - perhaps because it was school holidays, perhaps we are at the confluence of East Coast Road, Meyer Road and Mounbatten Road - all chock full of women whose husbands are fighting the corporate rat race and the maid has the housework well in hand - so air con and cappucinos it is. I felt in turns entertained, but also quite hollow - if it wasn't for the warmth of Layla against my chest, the entire exercise would have made me laugh in my own farce (pun intended). But given I had been cooped up at home for as many weeks, it was a much needed break albeit taken in a way that is not my typical style. Then again who knows what my typical style will be anymore given the little girl.

Side note: A nursery area in Isetan, very happy to see one - I doubt many malls in Singapore have them. CHanging tables in the ladies room would typically be woefully ill-appointed - cramped up next to women trying to wash their hands, seldom if at all installed in men's rooms. Glad to see there is a standalone nursery room in Isetan Parkway, as the mall bathroom is the most bacteria-infested place in the mall. This one has 3 changing stations, 2 private nursing rooms, a thermos with hot water, a jug with tepid sterile water, and a sink for washing up. Although must admit to amusement that it was necessary to include a sign by the sink that discourages people from washing their babies' bums at the sink. One would have thought it self-explanatory.

15 Dec

Stayed in today. Experimented with bathing Layla the new way with an additional variable - before she was fed. She was able to make it past head-washing and front-washing before she started to cry and wriggle. Doctor's recommendation is a total of 750ml a day - which means we are back to using more formula as supplement. Kind of ironic as my breast milk production just caught up to a total of 500ml a day. We'll just keep on going. I'm amazed at how fast she is growing - 5.2kg seems so different from the swaddled baby handed to me at the hospital - she was big then - but is sturdy and stout now. Her eyes are tracking now, and she's making sounds that mean "A Goo Goo" and "Ngg-gah" and weird squeals that always bring a smile to my face. Jo and I are slowly getting a routine in place - and we're slowly trying to build a routine for Layla as well. Wonder whether we should let nature take its course or put nurture into practice and "teach" her a routine... everyday I just keep thinking of having to go back to work and worry about what will happen to this little girl - so am fearful of a fly-by-seat-of-diaper way of bringing up baby.

16 Dec

I asked mama to come over to babysit today so I could go to the US embassy to run an errand.  First time I was out and about without baby, and it felt strange. nostalgic for when I was not yet a mother, worry for baby at home, trying to stay focused to finish as much as I can as fast as I can.  Coming home I felt such joy to see Layla again, couldn't wait to have her in my arms again. -a portent of what things will be like when I go back to work!

Layla has, to our great amusement, learned how to shout. Not the loud crying kind of shout, but the kind that is accompanied with gurgling and smiles. The kind that tells me she has discovered her vocal strength! And they are strong, like she is :) 

P.s. I know it sets a bad precedent but I love having her sleep in my arms

Layla Daily Specials: Week 2 (Age 7 weeks)

7 Dec
Continuing journey as Singaporean by visiting 2nd mall of her life - Parkway Parade! Dad and Mum took advantage of morning quiet to get some mee rebus in the food court, and Layla was very well-behaved in the Baby Bjorn the whole time. Good girl :)

8 Dec
Grandma is back today! We went to the airport to pick her up and Layla was a peach for the 1st time in the car seat. Must be the soothing engine sounds and the motion of travelling - she literally knocked out and slept the whole way. Getting carried in the arms was probably less comfortable!

9 Dec
Seminal day! Layla lost her hair today. It took 2 hours plus 1 diaper change plus 2 pairs of hands cutting and razing and 1 pair to hold her, and a very important pacifier. She had a great time at the bath with grandma after the haircut so mummy is now wondering what she was doing wrong for Layla to be so upset before. Good thing we shaved the head though, as much as we loved her punky hair - we now can see some cradle cap and rashes on her scalp.  We then visited an aunt who exchanged lively old wives' tales with grandma about how to treat rashes - see detour blog post Old Wives' Tales.  Dinner at a food court later, we were finally on our way home - what a long day.

10 Dec
Mummy was not feeling well. Layla was hard to put down after 3am feeding but eventually fell asleep - but mummy ended up with a runny nose and a terrible sore throat. She slept in and Daddy took over the morning feeding. Today we applied baby oil to Layla's scalp for cradle cap and some powder for her rashes. Really weird carrying her with no hair as her stubble chafes the arms - but strangely the lack of hair makes her look bigger :)

Good day at the bath! Mummy thinks she may have figured out (for now) what was bothering Layla before... so let's hope we can repeat it tomorrow :)

11 Dec
Mummy had her first massage in ages today - neighbour makcik came up and did magic with her fingers. Hurt by the abdomen area but not badly - interestingly right-side of the abdomen a lot more sore than the left, which according to makcik is normal as girls sit on the right of the uterus whereas boys sit on the left. Another theory to be tested on oldwivestales.com!

Layla rocked tummy time today - lifted her head clean off the mattress and almost pushed her chest up with her arms. This girl is strong! Rashes are getting a little too angry-looking for my comfort so we're
going to monitor it for tomorrow, then decide whether to take her to the ped.  Bath time was so-so - went well for the first half but a draft spoiled all the good work in the second half.  Mummy had another mini meltdown at night - resentment at Daddy's free time to play PS3. Mummy needs to get out or she'll go mad - just watch.

12 Dec
Layla had a visit from Chian Ying, Ee Chian's daughter - who is now a whopping 5.5 months old! She can turn over on her own, and seemed to have great fun staring at Layla. The 2 girls synchronised their poop - one went right after the other, so courteous so they could take turns using the diaper table, probably.  Layla also took her stroller out for a test drive today - at dinner with the Gang. Not the easiest to
manouver given the stickiness of the equipment (not difficult to assemble at all) but she seemed to really like the car seat. The spotlights at the restaurants fussed with her a bit, but getting rocked to sleep by aunty Eggie and aunty Candice seemed to work for her :)  Dad noticed that there were many many strollers in Marina
Square that night - or  where there always many strollers and he only started to notice now?  PS. Apparently Chelsea had a DRAW with Spurs - for which Layla is kinda excited about :)

13 Dec
We're visiting the ped today - Mummy wanted to take Layla there on the MRT but Daddy wants to drive us there. Grandma is coming over to cook for Mummy again - duck soup this time! The ped was a different doctor in the same clinic - who congratulated Layla on now at a hearty 5.2kg, then made mummy's heart sink when she said the bits behind Layla's ears were a rather bad skin infection.  Waves of guilt made her blood run cold. After all the effort we made, and there was still an infection? Thank goodness for Daddy's nerves of ice who made Layla giggle and reminded mummy that surely it can't be all that serious if the antibiotic ointment prescribed only cost us $6. Nothing like price-value relationship to help mummy put things in perspective.


When cleaning and applying ointment on the infected areas that night, poor Layla was in pain and cried whenever the Q-tip touched her. Putting it in perspective, I suppose some other babies would have cried long before and long after, our girl just put her arms and legs to good use to kick and swat everyone but stopped once the Qtip left her skin.

It's heartbreaking to hear her cry - the level of impotence that one feels is crippling. Yet in a strange way I'm comforted by her swatting and kicking - my girl's got spirit, much like me when I was hospitalised at age 4 for pneumonia. Apparently it took 5 nurses to give me an injection each time - 2 for my arms, 2 for my legs, and 1 to inject.  The genes will tell.