Malaysian Kalwant Singh and Singaporean Norasharee Bin Gous have been scheduled for execution in three days, on 7 July 2022, at Changi Prison in Singapore. These are the 7th and 8th executions to be scheduled in Singapore so far this year — all of people convicted for participating in the drug trade and sentenced under Singapore’s mandatory death penalty regime. Last-minute legal applications have managed to delay four executions. We’ve lost Abdul Kahar bin Othman and Nagaenthran Dharmalingam. Will we lose Kalwant and Norasharee this week, or will we #stopthekilling?
This is Kalwant’s story.
By Kokila Annamalai | Singapore |
When Kalwant was four years old, growing up in Cameron Highlands, he snuck out of the house one day, got into the driver’s seat of his father’s land rover and started the vehicle. His family, who were watching TV indoors, saw the car move out of the corner of their eye and rushed out, alarmed. After rolling about 200 metres down the hill, one of the car’s tyres got stuck in a drain, bringing the rover to a stop.
“It’s a miracle he lived! It’s a steep hill, you know! Can you imagine if the tyre didn’t get stuck? He was so naughty!” Sonia, his sister, exclaims.
Their father was a farm worker and as children, Kalwant and Sonia would go with their father to harvest cabbage, French beans, strawberries, chillies and tomatoes from farms around Cameron Highlands. The siblings would squabble over the juicy strawberries they got to keep.
Their idyllic life in the hills was disrupted when Kalwant’s mother died suddenly – he was just a 12 year-old boy then. After his mother’s death, Kalwant grew withdrawn, staying out of the house more and more. But he stayed close to Sonia, who was 9 years older than him. When Sonia had a baby – Kellvina – Kalwant fell in love with the child immediately and took her under his wing. A single mum, Sonia worked in Kuala Lumpur to earn a living and support her family, while Kalwant cared for Kellvina.
“He’s the one who raised her,” Sonia keeps repeating. “He’s her baby girl.”
SEE ALSO: Singapore to hang Malaysian drug peddler next week, family won’t get another visit
When we talk, Sonia and Kellvina are upbeat, and eager to share stories about Kalwant. Their eyes glisten with love, and then quickly brim over with uncontrollable tears.
Kalwant left school at seventeen, and started working odd jobs as a waiter, a courier, a tour guide, a truck driver. He was inseparable from his cousin Sukhjeet, whom he calls ‘adek’. They were (and still are) huge Manchester United fans. Sonia loves to tell the story of how, when Man U came to Malaysia for the first time, Kalwant bought his sister and himself outrageously expensive tickets. Sonia still remembers exactly how much they cost – RM 480 each. “I didn’t even care about Man U! And it was a big sum of money to him, but he wanted me to be part of all the fun. And wah, how much fun we had!”
In 2011, Kalwant started commuting daily to Singapore for work from Johor Bahru, as many Malaysians do. He was a mortuary worker at a local hospital here. He had a girlfriend, he seemed happy. Meanwhile, in Kuala Lumpur, Sonia found herself slowly fading away. By 2013, Sonia had been struggling with depression and unemployment for some time, and felt stuck in a rut she didn’t know how to get out of. One day, Kalwant called her and asked if she would like to come live with him. He said he was worried for her and wanted to take care of her. Sonia immediately agreed. Kalwant’s invitation gave her much-needed hope, and she started making plans to move. A few weeks later, Kalwant was arrested.
After Kalwant was arrested, his father, who was then driving a taxi, started working himself to the bone so that he could afford to make the regular trips to Singapore to see Kalwant and pay the lawyer they had hired for Kalwant.
“After my father died last year, I checked the odometer on his taxi. It showed 820,000 kilometres. That’s how much he had driven for Kalwant. Every morning, he started the car at 4am, and drove nonstop. He took every job.”
This was the taxi in which the family came to see Kalwant, all the way from Cameron Highlands. After visiting him in prison, they would often park at Changi Village and sleep in the car. Then, they would visit Kalwant once more the next morning (back when families who were coming from further away were allowed two visits since they couldn’t come as often) and drive back home.
“Once, when he came on his own, my father even slept in the toilet at Changi beach,” Sonia recalls sadly. “He was the most dedicated visitor, he always showed up for Kalwant. Till he died, my father believed Kalwant would come back home. He had so much faith.”
“My father’s last visit with him was in March 2020. In Feb 2021, he was diagnosed with cancer, and just three months later, he died. Kalwant dreaded this all along – people he loved dying while he was trapped in prison, without even knowing what had happened till weeks or months later. “How will you come and tell me when papa dies?” he used to ask me.”
Kokila Annamalai is a writer, researcher, facilitator and community organiser. Read the full story, “I will fight till the noose is around my neck” (Learning from the Margins, 4 July 2022), here. Learning from the Margins reflects on activism, community organising and social justice work in Singapore.
RELATED STORY:
Singapore to hang Malaysian drug peddler next week, family won’t get another visit (Asia Samachar, 30 June 2022)
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