Semakau Landfill visit part one

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10 December 2019. 12 noon. NEA Environment Building. 

I stepped out of Newton MRT station with that same rush of excitement spilling through my veins. Turn right. Pass the toilet. Walk straight. Straight again. Adults brushed past me jauntily as they headed for lunch break, their lanyards swinging jauntily in rhythm. I put on a straight, emotionless face that I constantly felt like ripping away. Each time I walked here I felt like I had instantly transformed from a scrawny, immature teenager into a smart, no-nonsense, professional. It was special.

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Many people were already standing in groups, their laughter and chatter spilling all over and around. But there was no one I knew. I had come to represent Plastic-Lite Singapore, by myself, at the grand event of the 20th anniversary of Semakau Landfill. I stood alone, far away from the throngs of people and perform the teenager trick of tapping away at my phone busily. I desperately hoped someone would come - but no. Poor me. No one wanted to talk to this small cold hostile-looking girl.

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12.30pm.

As we moved closer to board the bus, a girl who looks vaguely familiar comes up to say hi. Ah, she says, we met before, remember? She grins at me warmly and I force a smile back, because my stomach is still bursting with grumps and self-pity. Be nice, I pinch myself, which makes me force a bigger smile. She introduces herself as Elisa and confirms my name - Ter-eese? NO! ..sorry - and we sit together on the bus.

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The bus is musty and slightly overwhelmed with cigarette smoke, undermining my attempts to be cheery and compounding the sticky dreadful feeling inside of me. It was going to be a long ride to Pasir Panjang Ferry Terminal. 

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Throughout the bus ride Elisa chatted with me about the green movement and what I do and what she does and all that. Then I also told her it's frustrating we still don't have taxes and more legislation to step in. She replied that ground-up movement is more effective, and that carbon taxes were burdensome on small businesses. And the harms of a plastic bag tax. I was kind of surprised.

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I told her small businesses were exempted from carbon taxes in Europe and in Singapore. And under our new Resource Sustainability Act, small businesses will be exempted from the Extended Producer Responsibility Scheme. For others, costs must be borne. It's painfully naive to think that the whole nation can transform to become more environmentally conscious with a few more years, a few more posters and campaigns. You can transform a few that way, but that's all you get. Meanwhile we're knowingly sliding ourselves into a manmade disaster.

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I tell her why I say this. I tell her about my family and how I am the lone environment lover. I tell her how some will flinch if you go on too long about the environment (that is, more than a minute). How people get annoyed at you for getting annoyed at them for not caring enough to bring a lunchbox when you reminded them five times. Or if they buy a bottled drink. Or if they take extra of those plastic bags with holes in a rectangle that are difficult to reuse to line the bin. In short, it's difficult for people to care enough about the environment even if they know the harms they are doing.

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Because laws don't reflect the severity of the problem.

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If there was a law it would mean Singapore has a serious problem. And people need to take responsibility for their share of the pollution. Those that don't pollute so much are rewarded. Those that originally just pollute because they can will try to cut it down to a minimum.

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Elisa tries to comfort me when I tell her about my family's habits. "Slowly, slowly. Overtime will change," she says. I smiled bitterly? sadly? forcibly? and say that overtime is basically another twenty years. Maybe never. I didn't really feel like talking much after that. I thought it was a pretty naive idea, this idea of transforming everyone.

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We waited at the Terminal until the Guest-Of-Honour Dr Amy Khor, arrived. Then a young lady approached me. Her name was Cara; she was from Green Nudge. What about me, she asked. I introduced myself, pleasantly surprised at how simple and easy it was to make new friends. I chatted with her up the ferry and sat next to her, together with another Green Nudge guy.

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The ferry was equally as bad as the bus; this time it was choked with diesel fumes. Maybe it was especially intense because I was sitting near the rear end. I made a mental note to sit in the very front the next time round. I thought what if I did the Greta Thunberg-thing of refusing to board the boat because it was diesel-powered and full of toxic chemicals. But of course I didn't go on ranting about it, because today is supposed to be a happy day.

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When we alighted the boat onto another island it was raining, but that's no matter because there was a human chain of people holding umbrellas to shelter all of us. :-) Then the emcee boomed into the microphone and called Senior Minister Dr Amy Khor to come up on stage please. He kept referring to her as SMS which I thought was kind of funny and weird. 

SMS gave her speech. I liked the part where she introduced the history of Semakau Landfill and its conception, and also shared with us about the two old landfills we had prior to Semakau. I was proud of the engineers who conceived it and made it work twenty years ago. Then she concluded with the platitude: "However, the Government’s efforts alone will not be enough". For all its truth, the government still does have a major role in curbing excessive, unnecessary waste. People's thinking are shaped by government policies.

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A three-dimensional infographic of Semakau landfill was briefly flashed onscreen after that. I found it SO COOL. But it was said to be online (I couldn't find it though) and so we weren't able to bask fully in this ingenious creation. 

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Next onstage came a large cake, a miniature of Semakau Landfill. Its sides were washed with blue cream, with the same rugged surface of ocean currents. The island had a brown hue, peppered with trees that reflected a gradient of green. It was the sort of cake that made you squeal in unceasing wonder, and never want to eat it. 

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