--- title: "Helpful Lies - Chapter 8" description: "Chapter 8: Helpful Lies. Madam Lim Siew Mei's story in Singapore about reviving the kampong spirit through creative means." keywords: "community building, kampong spirit, Singapore, connection, empathy" url: "https://empathyisallyouneed.com/helpful-lies" language: "en" --- # Helpful Lies Reviving the kampong spirit Start Listening 0:00 ![Madam Lim Siew Mei looking out her window](https://46stkanv8b.koniglecdn.com/images/madam-lim-siew-mei-window.webp) Madam Lim Siew Mei stood at her living room window, gazing out at the towering condominiums that surrounded her own. The evening sun cast long shadows across the immaculate lawns and sparkling swimming pools below. Despite the proximity of hundreds of neighbors, an eerie silence permeated the air, broken only by the occasional hum of an air conditioner or the distant honk of a car horn. At 68, Siew Mei had long since retired from her job as a human resources manager at a large corporation. But retirement, she found, didn't suit her as well as she'd hoped. She missed the daily interactions, the silly dance of office politics, and most of all, the opportunity to make a difference in people's lives. Her eyes drifted to the framed photo on her mantelpiece – a faded image of her childhood kampong. She remembered the laughter, the shared meals, the sense of belonging. It was a far cry from the sterile, isolated existence she now found herself in. A movement caught her eye. In the building opposite, an elderly man struggled to carry his groceries into his apartment. Siew Mei's heart clenched. She had seen him before, always alone, always struggling. She wanted to help, but in this world of high-rise living and privacy fences, how could she reach out without seeming intrusive? That's when an idea began to form in her mind. If she couldn't approach her neighbors directly, perhaps she could create a situation where they would come to her. But what would bring Singaporeans together more effectively than...food? A slow smile spread across Siew Mei's face as she reached for her phone and skimmed through her building’s resident registry. It was time to make some calls. "Hello, Mrs. Chen? This is Lim Siew Mei from unit 1407. I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I have a bit of a situation. You see, my uncle from Malaysia just sent me 25 kilograms of durian, and I simply can't eat it all myself. I was wondering if you might help me out..." ![A pile of durians](https://46stkanv8b.koniglecdn.com/images/watercolor-durian-pile.webp) As she dialed the next number, Siew Mei felt a spark of excitement she hadn't experienced in years. Little did her neighbors know, but they were about to become unwitting participants in her mission to revive the kampong spirit in the heart of modern Singapore. The next evening, Siew Mei's small apartment was filled with the pungent aroma of durian and the buzz of conversation. Neighbors who had lived mere meters apart for years were introducing themselves for the first time. Mrs. Chen from 1205 was laughing at a joke told by Mr. Tan from 1510. The young couple from 1308, who Siew Mei had only ever seen rushing to and from work, were animatedly discussing their favorite durian varieties with an elderly gentleman from the ground floor. As Siew Mei moves among her guests, topping up drinks and encouraging conversation, she felt a warmth spreading through her chest. This, she realized, was what she had been missing. "Madam Lim," called out Mr. Zhang, the retiree from 1102, "where is this magical uncle of yours? We must thank him for this feast\!" Siew Mei's smile faltered for just a moment before she recovered. "Ah, he's quite shy, lah. Maybe next time." She quickly changed the subject, asking Mr. Zhang about his grandchildren. As the evening wore on and the last of the durian was consumed, Siew Mei's neighbors lingered, reluctant to return to their isolated apartments. Plans were made for future gatherings – a potluck next month, a weekend trip to the botanical gardens. Siew Mei's little white lie had planted a seed, and she could already see it beginning to sprout. In the weeks and months that followed, Siew Mei found herself busier than she had been even during her working years. Her calendar filled up with community activities, each one sparked by a carefully crafted "helpful lie." There was the afternoon she spent at the void deck, teaching a group of retirees how to use smartphones. It had started with a fib about needing help setting up her new phone, but soon evolved into a regular tech support group. Then there was the impromptu carpool she organized for the elderly residents heading to the nearby MRT station. "Oh, I'm heading that way anyway," she'd say, even when her day had no other plans. The gratitude in their eyes as they eased their aching joints into her air-conditioned car was all the reward she needed. As Siew Mei was waiting at the traffic lights from a similar trip, her mind wandered to her days in the corporate world. She was reminded of a memory with Li Hua, a quiet accounts executive who always seemed on the verge of tears. "Li Hua," Siew Mei had said, poking her head into the young woman's cubicle, "I need your help with something." Li Hua had looked up, startled. "Me, Madam Lim?" "Yes, you. I've got a presentation for the board next week, and I need someone with a keen eye to look over my slides. I've heard you're the best at spotting errors." It wasn't true, of course. Siew Mei's presentation was already polished and ready. But she had noticed Li Hua's slumped shoulders, her red-rimmed eyes. Sometimes, people just needed to feel needed. Over the next few days, as they worked together on the non-existent presentation issues, Li Hua had opened up. Her mother was ill, her boyfriend had left her, and she was struggling to keep up with her work. By the time the "review" was complete, Siew Mei had connected Li Hua with the company's counseling services and helped her apply for family care leave. A honk from behind jolted Siew Mei back to the present. The light had turned green. As she cruised away, she couldn't help but smile at the memory. Different times, different methods, but the same goal – to help, to connect, to build community. Months passed, and the change in Siew Mei's condominium was palpable. The once-silent corridors now echoed with greetings and laughter. Doors that had always been firmly shut now stood ajar, neighbors popping in and out for quick chats or to borrow a cup of sugar. But it wasn't all smooth sailing. One evening, as Siew Mei was organizing a residents' movie night \(under the guise of needing help testing her new projector\), she overheard a conversation that made her blood run cold. "You know," Mrs. Lee was saying in a stage whisper, "I'm beginning to wonder about all these coincidences. First the durian, then the smartphone lessons, now this movie night. Don't you think it's odd?" Siew Mei felt her heart race. Has she gone too far? Were her little white lies about to unravel everything she had worked for? But before she could panic, Mr. Tan's voice cut in. "Aiyah, Mrs. Lee, why you so kaypoh? So what if Madam Lim is making excuses? Look around you. When was the last time you saw so many people from our building together, happy like this? If she needs to tell a few small lies to bring us all together, I say let her." There was a moment of silence, then Mrs. Lee's grudging agreement. "I suppose you're right. It is nice to finally know my neighbors." Siew Mei let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She realized then that perhaps her neighbors weren't as oblivious as she'd thought. Maybe, just maybe, they had been craving this connection as much as she had. As the first anniversary of the "Great Durian Night" \(as it had come to be known\) approached, Siew Mei found herself once again standing at her living room window. But this time, the view was different. Where once she had seen only silent, impersonal towers, she now saw a vibrant community. In the garden below, a group of children played under the watchful eyes of their parents, who chatted amiably on nearby benches. On a balcony across the way, she could see Mr. Zhang tended to a small herb garden – a hobby he'd taken up after a condo-wide gardening workshop. Her phone buzzed with messages from the residents' chat group – plans for the anniversary celebration, offers to help with setup, debates about what food to prepare. Siew Mei smiled to herself. Her little white lies had served their purpose. The kampong spirit she had so missed from her childhood had found a new home here, in the heart of modern Singapore. And while the methods may have been unconventional, the result was undeniably beautiful. As she turned away from the window to start preparing for the celebration, Siew Mei made a silent promise to herself. From now on, no more lies – helpful or otherwise. Her neighbors, her friends, had proven that they didn't need elaborate excuses to come together. All they had needed was a little nudge, a reason to open their doors and their hearts. The kampong spirit, Siew Mei realized, had never really left Singapore. It had just been waiting for someone to awaken it. And now that it was awake, there would be no putting it back to sleep. ### Further Exploration * [Kampong Spirit](https://www.nlb.gov.sg/main/article-detail?cmsuuid=711ca6e3-f144-4861-bc47-a8ba848c9032) \- The National Library Board of Singapore's overview of this cultural concept of neighborliness \(Article\). * [Public Housing in Singapore](https://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/infopedia/articles/SIP_2013-08-12_112836.html) \- Understanding the shift from kampongs to HDB flats \(Cultural Context\). [← Do you litter?](/do-you-litter) [Reflection →](/reflection)