SINGAPORE - One of the workers injured in last Saturday's Tuas
fire died early Thursday morning (June 29).
Chairman
of the Migrant Workers' Centre (MWC), Mr Yeo Guat Kwang, said the man who died
was the 39-year-old worker from Jiangsu who had 90 per cent burns to his body.
"His
family were fortunately able to make (it) here in time, having arrived last
evening, to see and be with him when he passed," said Mr Yeo.
Mr
Yeo had said on Wednesday that both men were in "very critical
condition" at the intensive care unit of Singapore General Hospital (SGH).
The other worker is Mr Jiang Yong Teng, a 27-year-old from
Shandong who suffered 66 per cent burns to his body, who has been moved out of
the ICU into a high dependency ward.
"He
is awake, can smile and the nurse is hopeful that he will be able to make a
recovery in one to two months if no infection sets in," said Mr Yeo in
response to queries from The Straits Times.
The
Saturday fire, which involved scrap metal and plastic materials, broke out at a
warehouse at 28, Tuas Avenue 10. The two men were the only casualties.
Many Muslim foreign workers struggle to fast while coping with loneliness and heavy work during Ramadan
Until this year, construction worker Syedur Rahman Liton had yet to complete a Ramadan fast since arriving in Singapore seven years ago.
"The sun is too strong and it is very difficult to fast while working," said the 37-year-old, who hails from Bangladesh.
Although the practice of fasting from dawn to dusk is obligatory for Muslim adults during the holy month, the strenuous work and trying outdoor conditions make it difficult for migrant workers in the construction sector.
As of December last year, Singapore housed more than 315,500 foreign workers on construction work permits. A large number of these are from Bangladesh, where 86.6 per cent of the population are Muslim.
Some employers have taken steps to ease the difficulties faced by workers during Ramadan, which this year ended last Saturday.
For example, the construction firm Lendlease, which is overseeing work on the new Paya Lebar Quarter, a mixed-use development, has procedures in place to ensure that fasting workers are not overtaxed.
Supervisors conduct safety briefings every morning and fasting workers are tagged and assigned less strenuous activities out of the heat of the sun. But most work situations are not as ideal.
It Changed My Life: Migrant worker goes from painting condos to boss of own company
By Wong Kim Hoh, The Straits Times
Mani Malaichamy proudly surveys his Kaki Bukit office, filled with barrels of paint in different colours, before opening the door to show me his new 2.4 litre, white Toyota Harrier.
"I really believe God gave me everything," he says, eyes darting to a poster of Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, pinned to a wall.
The 47-year-old, who shelled out $420,000 to buy the office two years ago, is referring to the glorious way his life has panned out: An Indian migrant worker who arrived penniless in Singapore 20 years ago but defied great odds to found a painting company which pulled in $2.6 million in revenue last year.
"But I have a second 'god', Mr Ang Ah Teng," says the managing director of MMM Contract Services.
Mr Ang is his former employer, a man who, he says, taught him everything he knows and encouraged him to spread his wings.
The youthful looking Mr Mani speaks fractured English in an almost Singaporean accent.
The youngest of seven children, he is originally from a small village near the town of Tirrupatur in Tamil Nadu.
His parents were poor rice farmers who often had to borrow money when droughts destroyed their crop. To supplement their income, the family also reared goats.
Growing up, he remembers going to the fields with his school books to be a human scarecrow to frighten birds. "I finished school at 17. After that, no more studies. One thing, no money. Another thing, have to help the family," says Mr Mani who completed his secondary education at a village schol.
Jobs were not easy to come by.
For some time, he worked as an assistant in a provision shop in Chennai. He also had a stint teaching illiterate seniors to read and write under a programme by India's Ministry of Education.
When there was no work, he helped out on the farm.
"In a kampung, no need much money because no need to spend. We planted our own rice and vegetables; we didn't need to buy a lot of things," he says.
But he dreamt of getting a job which would pay well enough for him to build a house and help his parents pay off their loans.
"My two elder brothers did not help the family after they got married. I wanted to make money to help my parents and so that my sister could get married," says Mr Mani, who has four sisters.
He wanted badly to come to Singapore.
"There were many agents in my village recruiting workers to work here," he says.
The only snag was the hefty commissions they charged.
When he was 28, his brother-in-law - then a migrant worker in Singapore - cobbled together $4,000 and arranged for an agent to find Mr Mani a job here.
The gregarious man remembers the day he landed in Changi Airport. "I saw everything very nice and very beautiful. The Chinese people at the airport said my name very different. The smell here also very different," he recalls with a laugh.
His employer was a property development company in Marine Parade. Instead of a construction site, he was dispatched to the office of one of the company's new condominium developments in Bukit Timah.
"That's because I could speak a little bit English. The other workers could not," he explains.
His job included painting and fixing minor defects in the condo units. The company allowed him to sleep at the site office.
"I was very happy because I was alone. No one to disturb me. At night, I could read," says Mr Mani who devoured Rapidex, a popular series of English coursebooks for Tamil speakers.
He was paid $18 a day, and could earn a few more doing overtime.
Mr Mani (in blue) borrowed $4,000 to come to Singapore 20 years ago to work as a labourer, earning $18 a day. With help from his former employer, he now owns his own painting business, which pulled in more than $2.5 million last year. ST PHOTO: ARIFFIN JAMAR
"I worked every day, from Monday to Sunday, from 8am to 7pm, and until 10pm if there was overtime. My pay was about $600 a month, I don't go out except on Sunday evenings when I finished work. I went to Serangoon to talk to friends and relatives from my village," says Mr Mani, who saved money by cooking his own meals on an electric cooker in the carpark outside his site office.
Because he was so prudent with his spending, he paid back the $4,000 to his brother-in-law in a little over a year. He also set aside some to take English classes at a school for foreign students in Orchard Road.
Occasionally, he also handed money to an agent to take home to his parents in India.
On the advice of his boss, he got himself certified by the Construction Industry Development Board not long after.
After four years here, he returned home to India to get married. By then, his daily pay had gone up to nearly $30.
"I was already 32, so must get married mah," he says, using the Singlish word often used to express something which is obvious.
The marriage was arranged by his parents. His wife, Madam Mamathy, 40, has a Master's in Commerce from Alagappa University.
"But she never worked. Many women are very educated but never work, very common in India. I only saw her once before we got married, when she was 12 years old," he says.
That he was not as highly educated was not an issue.
"It's nothing. She and her parents know I have talent, and that I would make money and take care of her. They know what I can do, they know I can learn things very fast," he says proudly, without a hint of conceit.
It took him eight months and another agent to find a higher paying job in Singapore. By then, his wife was pregnant with their first son.
"I had to come back. I had only enough money to get married but not to buy a house. I also had to pay for my sister's marriage," he says.
His new employer was ATC Painting Specialist, owned by Mr Ang.
Mr Mani's resourcefulness and eagerness to learn earned him many opportunities.
"I did many things. I was driving a lorry, fetching workers, collecting cheques, making payments, supervising, taking care of projects," he says animatedly, adding that he also took a three-month course to get certified as a safety officer.
"My boss made me a supervisor. Every year, increase in pay, and bonus," adds Mr Mani, who sent the bulk of his pay to his wife in Chennai.
Unlike his colleagues who lived in hostels, he preferred to sleep in his company's paint shop.
"I liked (being) alone. I don't like to join them... quarrel, quarrel. Anyway I parked my company lorry there, so it's easy for me," he says.
Mr Ang, 53, says that his employee fell sick often when he first joined the company.
"I think he was not used to the weather. But he's hardworking. If he wasn't, I wouldn't have hired him. I taught him a lot, and he was not a bad learner," he says.
By 2005, Mr Mani was earning nearly $3,000, enough for him to get an S Pass, granted to middle-level foreign workers. Mr Ang also advised him to apply for dependent's passes for his family.
"Actually, I wanted to start a business in Chennai. I already bought a small piece of land. I wanted to build a two-storey house, use the bottom for a shop and live upstairs. But my boss encouraged me to try and apply for my family to come to Singapore."
He did, successfully. In 2006, they became permanent residents.
His journey, he says, did not happen without sacrifices.
"I worked so hard. I didn't see my elder son till eight months after he was born. I could only afford to go back once every five years.
"When my father died in 2004, I did not even go back. I just went to a corner and cried. I was doing an urgent project. And I was scared that if I went back, I would lose my job. That was what happened to my father, who worked in Sri Lanka. When my grandfather died, he went back to India but after that, he lost his job in Sri Lanka."
When his wife and elder son Arul Prakash, now 15, arrived in 2005, they lived in a one-room rental flat in Bukit Merah.
(Above) Mr Ang Ah Teng with Mr Mani Malaichamy’s younger son Areesh in the Pasir Ris condo. PHOTO: MANI MALAICHAMY
A few years later, he bought a three-room HDB flat in Bedok on the resale market. His younger son Areesh Prasanth was born in Singapore in 2010.
Getting his PR gave him the confidence to act on his entrepreneurial dreams. "I know I could come out and do business. I know my customers, I know how to apply for workers. But I thought of my boss, he taught me everything. Without him, my family would not be here with me."
Mr Ang, however, encouraged him to strike out on his own.
Mr Mani says: "He said, 'You go out and fight. If you are not successful, you can come back.' Where to find boss like that? Even I cannot be like that. I was so happy I cried," he says.
With his boss' blessings, he started MMM (his initials as well as those of his father and wife) in 2007 while still working at ATC. He accepted small jobs painting houses and bungalows at night and on weekends.
Three years later, he quit ATC, put $10,000 of his savings and plunged into his business full-time. He hired two workers, and got himself a second-hand motorcyle to run around on.
An interior designer got him his first major contract, worth $150,000, to paint a factory in Woodlands.
"I'm very lucky. All my Singaporean customers have been very good to me. They like me and give me a lot of jobs," says Mr Mani who now has 26 staff, including a couple of Singaporeans. He has another electrical services company.
Even Mr Ang passed him contracts, including one to paint Greendale Secondary School in Punggol. Since then, Mr Mani has landed contracts to paint several other schools including Marymount Convent and CHIJ Katong Convent.
Asked why he went out of his way to help his former employee, Mr Ang says: "It's very simple. I'm growing old. There's also a lot of work to go around. If he can chiong, let him do it," he says, using the Hokkien word which means to take risks. "You cannot keep everything for yourself. Anyway, if he's successful, I'm happy for him."
Mr Mani has taken a leaf from his boss' books on how to treat staff. He organises company trips to Malaysia and invites them over to his home for meals often.
"When you treat them well and become their friend, they will be so happy to work for you," he says.
He and his family have adapted happily to life in Singapore.
"When I first came to Singapore, the smell of durian made me want to vomit. But now I love it so much. I also love eating mee goreng for breakfast every day," says Mr Mani, who worships at Senpaga Vinayagar Temple in Ceylon Road and is active in the Parents' Support Group at Temasek Secondary School where Arul is a student.
He has, he says, worked extremely hard for what he has but sometimes finds it hard to believe he has come so far. Last April, he and his family moved into a $1.2 million condo in Pasir Ris.
He says: "I used to paint condos but I never dreamt I would one day live in one."
Phone helps foreign worker connect with son he's never met
By Malavika Menon, The New Paper
When Mr Asit Kumar's wife gave birth to their first child in Bangladesh last year, he was not there to witness it.
Instead, he was in Singapore working at a construction site.
Tomorrow, he will spend his first Father's Day with his son through a smartphone screen.
Mr Asit, 35, left Barisal, Bangladesh, in 2009. He has worked for three construction firms here, returning home twice in seven years. His son, Abrito, is eight months old, and they have yet to meet in person.
His friend, Mr Shepon Wahid, 40, joined a construction firm in 2005.
After five years of marriage, Mr Wahid and his wife, Monica, welcomed their son, Abid Ali, two years ago. Mr Wahid has not seen Abid for a year.
He said: "When he started speaking, he addressed my brother as his dad. That was a heartbreaking moment for me."
Both men are committee members in Dibashram, a local organisation that provides a space for migrant workers to gather in Singapore.
While it is difficult to live away from his family, Mr Wahid does not regret coming here.
"Singapore has strong laws and regular pay for foreign workers, and I provide enough for my family back home. I will work as hard as I need to, so my son does not have to work as hard as I do," he said.
Mr Mizan Shaikh, 42, has two sons, aged 13 and six. He came to Singapore in 2010, and has lived away from his younger boy for most of his life.
The father of two has not seen them for two years. But every day is Father's Day when he goes back to Dhaka, with visits to the museum and beach.
Mr Shaikh has worked for four construction companies here and has ambitions for his older son, Talha Jubair.
He said: "I will sell all my land and assets to educate both of them. Talha may make a good doctor in the future."
The founder of Dibashram, Mr Abdul Khaeer Mohammed Mohsin, 53, has seen many migrant workers in the centre separated from their families.
"It is hard for them to live like this for so long. Centres like Dibashram are a home away from home," he said.
When asked about his next visit home, Mr Asit held back tears and said: "For now, I can only see my son on the phone every day. But in a few months, I will get to hold him for the first time."
More sick bays for foreign workers at Jurong Penjuru Dormitories
By Jose Hong, The Straits Times
SINGAPORE - In the past, Jurong Penjuru Dormitory 1 and 2 had only one sick bay each.
Up to five foreign workers had to share each sick bay.
Now, the dormitories have eight sick bays each.
Instead of squeezing in five people, each sick bay takes only one patient at a time and comes equipped with cable TV.
The bed sheets and pillowcases are also disposed of after each sick worker leaves. MES Group, which built the dormitories, renovated the old sick bays at a total cost of about $100,000.
A spokesman for MES Group said that since the facilities opened three weeks ago, sick workers now take less time to recover, and morale has improved.
There are now also more beds for sick workers. Previously, Jurong Penjuru Dormitory 1 and 2 had 10 beds for about 15,000 people who lived there.
Now, in line with regulations that require one sick bed per 1,000 workers, there are 16. Eight are in Jurong Penjuru Dormitory 1 while the other eight are in Jurong Penjuru Dormitory 2.
Around one to two workers have used the facilities per week in each dormitory since they opened.
The MES Group spokesman said the eight sick bays in each dormitory are housed in an 80 sq m area, around the size of a standard dormitory room. The old sick bay previously occupied about 50 sq m.
In giving up dormitory space, MES Group said they stand to lose about $2,500 to $4,000 in rent per month.
But the benefits gained from minimising the spread of disease, and looking after the workers' welfare, far outweighs any potential loss in revenue, said the spokesman.
Minister of State for Manpower Sam Tan, who viewed the facilities, said that based on what he saw, MES Group has put in a lot effort to "make the dormitories as habitable as possible".
He said the Government and voluntary welfare organisations have been visiting workers to better understand their concerns and improve their well-being.
He emphasised that they are not just workers who come to here to make a living.
Migrant Workers' Centre targets having 2,000 volunteer grassroots leaders by 2018
By Priscilla Goy, The Straits Times
SINGAPORE - More foreign workers will be appointed as volunteer grassroots leaders who help to surface problems that their colleagues face to the Migrant Workers' Centre (MWC), a non-governmental organisation.
The MWC Buddies Network, formed in 2013, currently has 700 "MWC buddies" and 60 business contacts. MWC aims to increase the number of MWC buddies to 1,000 this year, and to 2,000 by end-2018.
MWC chairman Yeo Guat Kwang announced this on Sunday (May 21), saying that the centre hopes to increase its influence and connection with the migrant worker community.
The network also helps to disseminate information to workers, and give on-the-ground updates and feedback on unfair employment practices and potential incidents so MWC can intervene earlier before problems escalate.
Mr Yeo was speaking at the May Day Migrant Workers' Celebration at Sungei Tengah Lodge in Choa Chu Kang, the newest and largest purpose-built migrant workers' dormitory here. The event wraps up the labour movement's month-long May Day celebrations, and aims to thank migrant workers for their contributions towards Singapore's development.
About 10,000 migrant workers took part in the event, which featured carnival games and stage performances. Volunteers and guests also distributed more than 150 "thank you" cards, made by primary and secondary school students, to the workers.
MWC also thanked the event's guest of honour, Minister of State for Manpower Teo Ser Luck, for championing the migrant workers' cause during his time with the ministry.
Mr Teo will step down from office on June 30 and return to the private sector, at his request, but he will still be an MP for Pasir Ris- Punggol GRC.
I will never walk again: Injured foreign worker's journey home to China
By Toh Yong Chuan, The Straits Times
More than 13,000 workers were hurt on the job last year. Of these, about 600 suffered major injuries. The road to recovery is especially hard for foreign workers. Some leave Singapore after receiving compensation, others leave empty-handed. Manpower Correspondent Toh Yong Chuan and Photojournalist Kevin Lim trace one injured worker's journey home to Ganyu, China.
His flight from Singapore to Qingdao, China, was not due to leave Changi Airport until 1.45am.
But at 4pm, some 10 hours beforehand, construction worker Meng Xiangbo was all packed and dressed to go to the airport for his Scoot flight. "I am ready to go home," says the 39-year-old in Mandarin. "I have not seen my wife and two children for about a year since I went back home between my job contracts." He adds: "I came here to work in early 2010 with one piece of luggage and a backpack.
"Now I am going home with the same luggage and backpack. And that wheelchair."
Matter-of-factly, he points to a black wheelchair next to him in the six-bed, non-air-conditioned ward on the third storey of Ang Mo Kio-Thye Hua Kwan Hospital.
Mr Meng Xiangbo leaving Ang Mo Kio-Thye Hua Kwan Hospital for the airport with the help of volunteers from HealthServe on March 25. He snaps at one for being rough with the wheelchair. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
"The wheelchair has replaced my legs," says Mr Meng as he sits up in bed, the rest of his body from the waist down, inert. "My legs are paralysed. I cannot stand." "I will never walk again."
About work injury compensation
Workers who are hurt on the job are covered by the Work Injury Compensation Act (Wica), which allows workers to claim compensation for work-related injuries and occupational diseases.
They can also claim medical expenses, a lump sum for permanent injuries, and wages while on medical leave.
Claims can be made for up to one year from the date of the accident. Workers file claims with the Manpower Ministry (MOM) directly, without needing to go through a lawyer.
When an injured worker makes a claim for permanent injury, doctors will assess the extent of the incapacity. The compensation will depend on the injury's severity, and the worker's age and salary at the time of the injury.
Younger workers and those who earn more will thus receive higher compensation.
There are caps on compensation: $204,000 for death, $262,000 for permanent incapacity and $36,000 for medical expenses or for one year from the date of the accident, whichever comes first.
Work injury compensation is paid by insurers. Employers who hire foreign workers on work permits must cover them with Wica insurance.
MOM said most Wica claims take three to six months to resolve. 15,679 Wica claims were awarded last year, up from 14,221 in 2015.
Injured workers can also sue their employers in court. They will need to hire lawyers and pay legal fees.
Wica does not cover maids, contractors, self-employed workers and uniformed personnel such as police officers.
CRUSHED BY CONCRETE SLAB
The last time Mr Meng stood on his own two feet was Sept 4 last year.
He was working as a carpenter at a construction site in a public housing project in Sembawang when a slab of pre-fabricated concrete wall being hoisted by a crane fell on him. The crane operator could not see him.
"Everything was fuzzy. I remember a sharp pain on my back and legs. I could not move," he recounts from his hospital bed.
He cannot remember how he got to his initial port of call, Tan Tock Seng Hospital (TTSH). But he recalls a doctor there telling him that the nerves along the spine at his lower back were severed, and would not heal. "The news was hard to accept," he says.
He hid the injury from his family for more than a month: "I did not want them to worry about me. What can they do even if they know?"
He spent about two months at TTSH before being transferred to the Ang Mo Kio-Thye Hua Kwan Hospital to recuperate while the Ministry of Manpower (MOM) sorted out work injury compensation. "The (TTSH) doctor said there was nothing more they could do for me," he recalls.
His employer, Ban & J Construction, a sub-contractor, only visited him once in the hospital, he says. "It was to return my passport because I need it to go home."
At Ang Mo Kio-Thye Hua Kwan, which is a community hospital, Mr Meng met social worker Jeffrey Chua from HealthServe, a non-governmental organisation that provides healthcare services, counselling and shelter for injured foreign workers.
Mr Chua says: "When I first met Mr Meng in November, he was really worried about his family's finances. He is the only breadwinner. I flagged his case to MOM for attention."
The ministry tells The Sunday Times that it was alerted to Mr Meng's plight by HealthServe in November and expedited the compensation claim.
On Feb 6 this year, five months after the accident, Mr Meng was told that he would receive $327,500 in compensation. It is the highest amount that injured workers can receive under the Work Injury Compensation Act, for those like Mr Meng whom doctors certify as completely disabled and unable to work for the rest of their lives.
MONEY A WORRY
The money may look like a lot, (but it) will eventually run out in three to five years...This is so that I can go home instead of dragging out the case.
MR MENG XIANGBO, referring to the compensation payout of $327,500 and why he accepted it rather than sue his employer for more.
Of the amount, Mr Meng says: "The money may look like a lot, (but it) will eventually run out in three to five years."
However, he decided to accept it rather than sue the employer in the hope of getting a higher amount, a process that can take several years.
"This is so that I can go home instead of dragging out the case," he says.
But while Mr Meng received his $327,500 cheque in February, he still could not go home - the employer dragged its feet in paying him nearly $19,000 in wages that accrued when he was on medical leave. He received the amount only in the middle of last month.
It also claimed that it could not afford Mr Meng's plane ticket home.
The MOM stepped in, paying $732 for two one-way tickets for Mr Meng and social worker Mr Chua to go to Qingdao.
On March 25, more than six months after the accident, Mr Meng set off for home.
'WHAT IS THERE TO SMILE ABOUT?'
Mr Meng breaking into a rare smile while taking a wefie with manager Jeffrey Chua (holding camera) and volunteers Zhang Xihong (left) and Wang Qingguo at Changi Airport Terminal 2. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
Mr Zhang Xihong and Mr Wang Qingguo, two workers from China staying at the HealthServe's shelter for injured workers in Geylang, turn up at the hospital at 8pm to accompany Mr Meng to the airport.
At one point, Mr Meng gets annoyed when Mr Wang does not handle the wheelchair gently. "Be careful, the wheelchair is important (to me), cannot damage it," he snaps.
Mr Meng keeps to himself in the taxi to the airport, where Mr Chua is waiting. At the airport, the four pose for a wefie in front of a Merlion statue. Mr Chua coaxes Mr Meng to smile.
"What is there to smile about?" the latter retorts.
"You are putting this behind and going home to your family," Mr Chua replies. Mr Meng smiles, tentatively at first.
As a stewardess helps Mr Meng from a wheelchair to his seat in 12D, a red plastic bag falls from underneath his brown sweater.
"I am sorry. Be careful with it," he says, embarrassed.
It hides a urine bag that the nurses had connected to a urinary catheter. Mr Meng cannot control his bowels and urine. He wears adult diapers and a urine bag for the journey.
Mr Meng being helped by a stewardess into his wheelchair upon arrival in Qingdao on March 26. It is a four-hour drive to reach Mr Meng's village in Ganyu district, Jiangsu province, from the airport. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
The plane takes off at 2am. He sits upright throughout the six-hour flight, dozing off occasionally, but is never fully asleep.
When the plane lands, Mr Meng's younger brother Meng Fanjin, 37, wife Yuan Jie, 43, and cousin Meng Ning, 34, are waiting.
The reunion is undramatic. There are no hugs or tears.
Mr Meng insists on wheeling himself to the waiting car.
It is a four-hour drive to Mr Meng's home in Ganyu's Shimen (stone gate) village. Home is a two-storey, four-bedroom terraced house, on a land about the size of two five-room Housing Board flats, built in 2015 at a cost of about $50,000. Living there are his wife and son Meng Xiangjin, 10. Daughter Meng Yuan, 16, studies at a boarding school in the city and comes home every fortnight.
There are five steps from the courtyard to the living room. "Let me carry you," says Mr Meng Fanjin, piggybacking his older brother into a bedroom on the ground floor.
"I need to lie down," Mr Meng says. "I am very tired."
He falls asleep almost as soon as he is laid down on the queen-sized bed. His wife cooks a lunch that includes buns, fried beans with pork, steamed fish, fried cucumber with meat from a pig's head and cold quail eggs that are eaten together with their shells.
"These are local dishes that he likes," she says. "But he is sleeping now. You come back tomorrow."
'I AM HOME, BUT I FEEL LOST'
Mr Meng being pushed along by his younger brother Meng Fanjin, 37, upon arrival in Qingdao. Also at the airport to receive him are his cousin Meng Ning, 34, and his wife Yuan Jie, 43. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM Mr Meng Xiangbo's wheelchair at his two-storey home in Shimen village in Ganyu. His bedroom is on the ground floor. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
The next day, Mr Meng is still wearing the same jacket that he wore on the plane. "I am home, but I feel lost," he says. "I regret going to Singapore. If I hadn't gone, I would not have been injured."
When asked about his plans, he stares out of the window, saying: "I might look for a doctor in the larger cities like Nanjing. They might be able to help me."
Mrs Meng adds: "I am more worried about money. There is no one working to support the family now."
At about noon, Mr Meng's son Xiangjin comes home from primary school for lunch.
He hugs his father and holds his mother's hands. She whispers into his ear and hugs him. They cry. Mr Meng looks away, his eyes welling up.
Mr Meng and his wife Yuan Jie on his first day back at home. As Mr Meng was the sole breadwinner in the family, the couple are worried about the future. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
Later, Mrs Meng told The Sunday Times that she asked her son to study hard and not worry about his father's condition.
On the third morning, the journalists and Mr Chua visited the family to say goodbye.
Mr Meng's father, 66-year-old Meng Qingbin, showed this reporter his hands. His left hand is missing a thumb.
"We are a family of construction workers. I lost my thumb in 1974 in a worksite accident," he says.
Mr Meng's father Meng Qingbin, who was also a construction worker, said he lost his left thumb in a worksite accident in 1974. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
"It was a minor injury compared with my son now."
Mr Meng's brother Fanjin, who is also a construction worker, says he had thought about going to Singapore to work. "Not any more."
When asked how he feels about his brother's disability, he choked as he tried to answer.
He took out a notebook from his shirt pocket, tore off a page and wrote, ku du yu sheng.
The phrase 'ku du yu sheng' that Mr Meng's brother Fanjin wrote when asked how he felt about his brother's disability. It means suffering for the rest of one's life. ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIMThe phrase means suffering for the rest of one's life. "This is how my brother's life will now be," he says.
