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SHE cuts a strange figure, sitting quietly on the void deck bench with a thick cane in her hands.
She says in Hokkien: 'There is a mentally unstable young man who comes around and scolds me loudly sometimes. I wave this cane to keep him away.'
'But really,' she adds, 'there is nothing to be afraid of around here.'
Ms Leow Tham, 55, is one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of older public housing residents around Singapore who find the void deck a good place to shoot the breeze without venturing too far from their homes. Many of them live on little or no income, so air-conditioning is out of the question.
It explains why senior citizens' corners - complete with chairs, tables and sometimes TV sets and pantries - are popular during estate upgrading exercises.
Ms Leow, who is single, shares a three-room flat in West Coast Drive with her younger brother and his wife.
'It is hot in the flat, so I sit downstairs every day,' she says.
The former school cleaner has been jobless for seven years because her weak knees and heart condition prevent her from getting paid work.
'My brother gives me about $10 now and then. But I live off him, so I don't dare to ask for more.'
The easy-going woman makes it clear during the interview that she does not want charity. 'I don't want to ask people for money,' she says.
This independent streak can be found among other void deck regulars, like Mr Chui Euan Guan, 83, who spends his mornings catching up with neighbours at the foot of his apartment block at Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10.
The retired plant operator, who has six grown-up children and now lives with his wife in a four-room flat, is concerned about falling ill and becoming dependent on his children.
He says: 'My children sometimes give me $50 to $100 each month. But they have to take care of their family expenses too.
'I don't dare to ask them for money, because if they don't have it, my request will make them feel sad.'
This article was first published in The Straits Times.
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