Ten minutes stretched into a half hour of waiting for a friend to meet me at Raffles Hall, which should’ve been a short, easy commute across the bridge. One might say she is directionally challenged.
My phone buzzed: You literally live in the jungle!!!
Intrigued by her text, I peeked out the open window of my eighth-floor dorm room. It was nearly a week into my semester abroad at NUS, and I had swatted away mosquitoes and been suffocated by heat, but never considered that I lived in a jungle of sorts.
However, gazing out at the lush botany and looming trees that surround – almost swallow – Raffles Hall, I realised that she was not wrong. We do have a jungly little oasis of our own, tucked away from a street of student-packed buses and a bustling university campus.
Whorled and woven tree trunks; unruly, tangled vines climbing upward; a full-colour palette of flowers caught somewhere in the cycle of blooming, falling, or resting nestled in the grass, ready to be absorbed by the earth. Even critters make themselves at home here, whether it be the resident Chinese Silkie chickens or the pesky, imposing insects that become our unwanted roommates.
Raffles Hall’s flora and fauna set it apart from NUS’ ultra-modern University Town (UTown), or even the clear-cut hedges and uniformly spaced palm trees of my home university in California. Spaces that integrate plants, yes, but prune and pluck so much that the greenery is artificial, controlled, dominated.
Here, however, it’s not overly manicured, polished foliage, but the kind of untamed (yet still well-maintained) growth that fosters real coexistence with our plant and animal counterparts. One could almost forget we live at the heart of the entirely urban city-state and island that is Singapore.
Of course, our interactions with nature might not be chosen or conscious as we navigate the web of Raffles Hall’s concrete paths, hurrying to a class or Comm Hall before dinner ends. Yet, that glance at a butterfly or the ruffling leaves of trees pulls us – just for a second – out of our overwhelming, overbooked lives and into a moment of peace.
It’s a simple thing, really, but science says that connecting with nature is key to our happiness and stress levels, thereby improving both our physical and mental health. And we could all use that – at least I do.
Exposure to biodiversity and ‘high-quality’ nature is actually correlated to our emotional well-being. So we don’t just need green spaces where plants are bound by concrete structures and cosmetic landscaping; we need places like Raffles Hall, where all kinds of species thrive.
Plus, in a dying world, it's unrealistic – and really, unfair – to expect people to protect what they do not know. For our generation to fight the climate crisis and ensuing environmental catastrophes, we need to feel the gravity of what we will lose. And mowed grass lawns, man-made waterfalls and steel Supertrees are not particularly motivating feats of nature.
I get it, our nearly 70-year-old residential hall is dated. There’s no rooftop pool and our aircon is abysmal, but unlike the fancy-schmancy others, Raffles Hall is a living and breathing community of humans and nonhumans alike. It’s not obvious, but if you stop to look around, I promise it’s there. Just stick your head out the window.
As it turned out, my friend had been led astray by Google Maps and trekked through the side instead of the front entrance of Raffles Hall. But her silly remark – and the split second I took to entertain it – brought out a newfound appreciation for this place that I’ve held onto since my first week on exchange.
Now, even when I’m scrambling to make it to class or suffering a case of homesickness, I take a moment to soak up the leafy landscape around me – dainty petals beneath my feet, fruit ripening in the garden, squirmy lizards scaling walls.
All of it for what it is: a home to more than students, but to life all around.
Photographs taken by Isabella Genovese.
Written by: Bella
Edited by: Clarissa, Joelle, Min Shen, Warren
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