Rockie's Tales - Waiting For Santa In Singapore

“Don’t worry darling… I’m sure he’ll come next year.” Mum said to the forlorn little girl staring downcast at the warm milk and soft cookies on the table.


A week later on the 1st day of school, the little girl couldn’t help but overhear school mates here and there gushing about Christmas night:
“… and Santa gave me this Hello Kitty backpack! Just what I want for Primary 2!”
“… almost as big as my baby brother! And then hor, when you hug the soft tummy, got music one leh…”
“… she ALWAYS gets more presents than me. Not fair!”

Of course, she was smart enough to know that not all presents came from him, no matter what they insisted. It wasn’t their fault though; it was just their parents lying to them about the origin of the presents. She would know. She caught her Dad 3 years ago.

One loud voice caught her attention. It was one of the more popular girls in school, the one with long, straight, slightly brown hair, always tied in two ribbons. But it wasn’t the volume, but what was spoken and the whining tone that stood out:
“… why must Santa always come at meenite? Then I want to watch the 10.30 movie on TV also cannot, my mummy say must close door and go to sleep else Santa wun come… Don’t come don’t come lah! Every year come very troublesome leh!”

She felt hurt for him. Knowing how popular this particular girl was, she was sure Santa DID drop by her place every year. She knew that if only he came to her place, just for once, she would welcome him warmly and treat him with affection and respect. But against her heart, she knew she shouldn’t try to make him stay – he would have many, many more children to visit and presents to deliver. This popular girl clearly didn’t know how lucky she was.


She knew he was real. Mum told her that she herself had a visit from Santa, when she was six years old. Only that one time, and never again. Mum reasoned that since Santa was an ang moh, he probably only came to Singapore occasionally. More often, he would be in those ang moh countries where they would get presents from him personally every year, or else those ang moh parents would get angry, and they probably knew where he lived.

She knew there were plenty of fake ones as well. Especially those at places like Toys R’us or those shopping centres with big water fountains. Santa wouldn’t have the time to sit around and pose for photos or ring bells and shout out “HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS”. During this period he would have so many toys to make and so many deliveries to plan, he would be as busy and cranky as Mum was during her peak periods at work.

Then she realized it might be the HDB flats that confused him! After all, he’s used to those nice ang moh houses with chimneys and gardens… maybe he got confused by the endless corridors with similar doors and windows. She never ever went to the far end of the corridor herself – she had been warned of a fierce dog living there. Maybe Santa could never get past that dog as well.


So this time round, she decided to help him find her house. With Mum’s help, they strung up twinkling lights on their windows and front door, in addition to the sparkling Christmas tree they kept on every night. On evenings, coming back from the shopping centres, she could clearly see her spruced up, twinkling and flashing windows, high up on her block, all the way from the playground. He wouldn’t be able to miss her house this year.

Of course, since they didn’t have a chimney, he would be coming in by the front door. She once did think that he would come in from the rubbish chute, and tried to leave the door to that open. But she dropped that silly idea since what Mum said was true – surely he didn’t want to come into people’s houses so stinky. And what if someone happened to throw a whole big bag of durian husks down? Surely he was too smart for that. No, he would still land on the roof of the HDB flat with his sleigh and reindeer… climb down the ladder from the roof to the staircase landing and visit each door one by one. She hoped that seeing the guiding lights on her front door would make him brave enough to quickly dart past the house with the fierce dog.

But still, they couldn’t leave the door unlocked for him. It wasn’t safe. Only Mum would be allowed to stay up and open the door for him. She wasn’t allowed to open the door for anyone at night anymore, ever since that year she happily dashed and opened the door to a drunk neighbour who mistakenly thought he was home. Her terrified scream woke up everyone in the block, and definitely sobered up the newly-oriented, unkempt and apologetic drunkard.

Even with plenty of earlier mistaken identities at shopping centres, that really bad scare, and with every Christmas morning being disappointing so far, she still hoped that one year, he would come. She wasn’t getting any younger… had a grand old age of 8, all she needed was 4 more years before she would have enough allowance to buy herself presents, and maybe then Santa would see no point in delivering to her anymore.

So she helped Mum place the usual tall glass of cold milk (they only used the tall glasses for rare, important guests) and a plate of eight Chipsmore chocolate chip cookies (her favourite, and signifying her age) on the table, with a note to help himself to more in the fridge, if the milk wasn’t cold enough or the Tupperware, if the cookies had gone soft.

That night, she couldn’t sleep, of course. But she knew she couldn’t let a soul know she was still awake as well, or else he wouldn’t come in. She hid under her comforter, alert for any and every creak, squeak or bump. Motionless and silent, she lay there until… until…


Her eyes shot open wide and stared momentarily, taking in the daylight. She fell asleep! She threw off the comforter and ran out of her room.

“Don’t worry darling… I’m sure he’ll come next year.” Mum said to the forlorn little girl, staring downcast at the warm milk and soft cookies on the table.