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The day strangers became family

They began gathering near the barricades at Jalan Bukit Merah in the morning, standing by the road in small groups from around 10am onwards.

At about 11am, the skies began to darken. Umbrellas popped up. Still they stood there, refusing to budge.

Crowds line the road along Jalan Bukit Merah waiting for Lee Kuan Yew's cortege to pass.
Crowds line the road along Jalan Bukit Merah waiting for Lee Kuan Yew's cortege to pass.



The skies opened and a torrential downpour began. The crowd pressed in. More joined the vigil by the road - the old, the young, the able-bodied and the wheelchair-bound. None flinched despite the rain.

I parked myself on the second floor of Block 132, by Jalan Bukit Merah, for a better view and for some shelter. It soon became evident that the rain would not let up. Shortly after, I was joined by six others.

A small group gathers to watch Lee Kuan Yew's funeral procession pass through Jalan Bukit Merah.
A small group gathers to watch Lee Kuan Yew's funeral procession pass through Jalan Bukit Merah.



Not knowing when the cortege would pass by, I took out my iPad to watch the live stream. Soon, we were huddled around the iPad, watching Singaporeans like ourselves, drenched and standing outside Parliament House in ponchos and umbrellas, bid farewell to Singapore’s first prime minister.

I’ve never felt prouder to be a Singaporean. This week we showed we could queue for hours for something a lot more important than a freebie. Today, we showed that the worst of Singapore weather couldn’t stop us from saying goodbye.

Singaporeans watch the live stream of Lee Kuan Yew's funeral while waiting for the state funeral procession to pass Jalan Bukit Merah.
Singaporeans watch the live stream of Lee Kuan Yew's funeral while waiting for the state funeral procession to pass Jalan Bukit Merah.


As the rain grew heavier, we shared umbrellas and called friends located at other parts of the procession to find out when the cortege was passing through Jalan Bukit Merah.

Retiree Yeo Hang Yong came with her mother and teenage daughter to witness the moment. She’d already queued six and a half hours through the night on Thursday to pay her respects at Parliament House.

“It was all worth it. We reached home after midnight. At the end of the day, Lee Kuan Yew is a great man beyond words. His singular passion is Singapore,” said Yeo. Choking back tears, she continued, “If not for him, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy what we have now.”

And then came the cry that got all our attention.

“It’s coming, it’s coming!” exclaimed one middle-aged lady in our group.

In front of us, the crowd on the other side of the road rushed to the middle of the road divider, eager to catch a last glimpse of Lee Kuan Yew as his coffin was borne on the gun carriage.



Drenched mini flags in one hand, and umbrella in the other, our little group chanted “Lee Kuan Yew! Lee Kuan Yew!” as the cortege passed through.

I had left my phone on the ledge to record a video for work. In the rush to get into our positions, I accidentally knocked it over the ledge, and into a puddle.

“I’ll get it,” said a soft-spoken Chinese man next to me. Without hesitating, he hopped over the ledge and fished the phone out of the puddle. I didn’t even get his name to say thank you as he melted into the crowd after the procession passed our area.

For those brief few minutes, it felt like we were one family looking out for each other.

“There isn’t anybody who can replace him,” said Yeo.

I wonder if there'll be another moment like this where a group of strangers turns into friends to say farewell to a great man, or if it's just something we did for the father of our nation.