Schemes for the needy
ALL the five community development councils administer the following four schemes:
1. ComCare Self-Reliance:

Targeted at improving the work prospects of needy, low-income families to get them out of the poverty trap. The Work Support Programme is the main vehicle for delivering self-reliance. It is directed at three sub-groups - the unemployed poor, chronically poor families and those who are too old or ill to work.

Number of cases all five CDCs helped in financial year 2006 (FY 06): 4,233

Amount they spent in FY 06: $10.1 million

2. ComCare Grow:

This scheme helps ensure that children from needy families are looked after before, during and after school, while their parents are earning a living. There are three broad schemes in this category: The Kindergarten Financial Assistance Scheme (KiFAS) gives needy families with children in kindergarten subsidies of up to $82 per month. The Centre-based Financial Assistance Scheme for Childcare (CFAC) gives subsidies of up to $320 to offset childcare fees. The Student Care Fee Assistance Scheme (SCFAS) provides subsidies of up to $160 a month for parents who place their children in student-care centres before or after school.

Number of cases all five CDCs helped in FY 06: 13,012

Amount they spent in FY 06: $18.8 million

3. ComCare EnAble:

Focuses on helping the needy who require long-term assistance because of disability or old age. Funds the Public Assistance Scheme for older folk without family support.

Number of cases all five CDCs helped in FY 06: 2,947

Amount they spent in FY 06: $9.8 million

4. Home Ownership Plus Education (Hope) Scheme

Gives young, lowly educated, low-income couples around $100,000 worth of incentives, including housing and training grants and education grants for their children. But couples cannot have more than two children and cannot divorce.

Number of cases all five CDCs helped in FY 06: 226

Amount they spent in FY 06: Not available.

For more information, log on to www.centralsingaporecdc.org.sg or call 1800-222-0000

More relief at 'local' level
Local schemes are meant to plug gaps not met by national aid programmes


GRASSROOTS AID: Retiree Chua Teng Siew, 73, receives meal and grocery vouchers under a new scheme by the Central Singapore CDC. -- ST PHOTO: DESMOND LIM

WHEN retiree Chua Teng Siew returned home with a bag of five apples last September, it was the first time he had bought fruit in years.
With no family to fall back on and no savings, the 73-year-old bachelor has been on public assistance since 2001.

The $290 he gets from the Government every month is enough to meet his rent, conservancy charges and three square meals, if he sticks to bread and water for breakfast and $2 economy rice meals for lunch and dinner.

In a bid to get the elderly poor to eat more nutritious meals, the Central Singapore Community Development Council piloted a scheme last September to give them $30 worth of food vouchers every month.

The brainchild of Jalan Besar GRC MP Lily Neo, the vouchers can be exchanged for groceries at the Sheng Siong supermarket.

Says the MP: 'Good nutrition is really important if our elderly are to remain active as they age. Our voucher scheme is just a way of providing the elderly with the opportunity to have food they cannot otherwise afford.'

Mr Chua, for instance, uses the vouchers to buy fruit, milk and, occasionally, coffee. About 300 hawkers in the area have also begun accepting the vouchers in lieu of cash.

In fact, some like noodle stall vendor Ngo Meng Nguen, 49, have gone a step further. He 'subsidises' those who pay with vouchers, and accepts a $2 voucher for a plate of seafood hor fun that normally costs $4. 'I've always wanted to do something for those who are less fortunate. It's good to get this chance,' he says.

In nearby Kampong Glam, another initiative started by the local residents' committee is improving the diet of poor folk. Every Sunday, local grassroots workers distribute bread that has been donated by upscale hotels and eateries and is delivered by the Food From The Heart charity.

Among regulars who queue for bread every week is Hamidah (not her real name), 29, a housewife and mother of four whose husband is in jail. Her children look forward to the bread the entire week. 'It's a treat for them,' she says.

Usually initiated in partnership with local grassroots or voluntary welfare organisations (VWOs), the CDC's local schemes are meant to plug gaps not met by national schemes such as ComCare, says CDC general manager Agnes Kwek.

Each CDC has the flexibility to devise schemes that it feels are best suited to meet the unique needs of its resident population.

Here is a snapshot of some of the other local help schemes available at Central Singapore CDC.

Safe Home Scheme: The scheme gives the elderly poor and the disabled subsidies of up to $1,000 per household to 'elder-proof' their homes, by adding features like grab bars and slip-proof tiles to ensure the elderly don't hurt themselves at home. The applicants, however, must be prepared to pay a part of the costs. Applications are administered by the VWO Touch Caregivers.

Ride Scheme: This is a transport subsidy, capped at $150 per month, to help those elderly who wish to attend day care or day rehabilitation centres defray their transport costs.

Talking Dollars and Sense: Conducted in English, Mandarin and Malay, these are three-hour basic budgeting workshops that teach families which are in financial distress how to save money and live within their means.

Nurture Programme: Meant for children from low-income or single-parent families, this weekly programme is both educational and fun. Children aged between six and 10 are treated to art and craft, storytelling, balloon sculpting and reading sessions.

RADHA BASU






SCHEME #1: PUBLIC ASSISTANCE FOR THE DESTITUTE
Making every cent count
Aid recipients try to make the most of cash grants through careful budgeting
By Radha Basu, Community Correspondent


GETTING BY: Widow Jenny Tan and her intellectually disabled sons Andrew (left) and Eddie survive on a government grant of $580 a month and $100 from a church. -- ST PHOTO: DESMOND LIM

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AFTER a stroke felled Mr Koh Cheng Huat in 1995, his wife and their two intellectually disabled adult sons were reduced to living on the $500 his former employer gave them out of charity every month.
As the ailing karung guni helper's medical bills piled up, so did their financial woes. 'There were days when we lived only on rice,' recalls housewife Jenny Tan, 68.

Ironically, things eased after he died in 2001 and aid from his employer dried up. The family was put on public assistance, which is administered by the community development councils. They now get $580 a month from the Government and another $100 from a church. They are also eligible for free health care, free rations and, occasionally, free cooked food from local welfare organisations.

Madam Tan and her sons, Andrew, 32, and Eddie, 31, are among Singapore's 3,000 or so destitute folk who have no other means of support and are on public assistance. The Government gives them a monthly cash grant ranging from $290 for a single living alone to $940 for a family with three school-going children.

Parliament witnessed a heated debate in March last year on whether these amounts were enough.

According to neighbours Monah Selamat, 76, and Emily Low, 78, who each gets $290 a month in public assistance, it is enough if you are thrifty and budget carefully.

They live in adjacent one-room rental units on Mei Ling Street.

They prepare small meals of rice and meat or vegetables at home and are in bed by 9pm to save on electricity. After paying the bills, they say they have enough left over to go on at least one outing a month to Tekka Market or IMM shopping mall.

'We pool our money and sometimes can even afford to take a taxi back,' says the childless and widowed Madam Monah in her prettily decorated flat, complete with colourful lace curtains and a matching bedspread.

A floor below is the stench- ridden flat of another public assistance recipient.

Grime coats the floor. A 81-year-old widow lives there with six cats. A leaflet from a welfare organisation offering free home cleaning services is stuck to the door, but she has refused help.

CDC social service manager Sani Lim, who drops in on all three women once a year to check on their well-being, says that sometimes it is personal habits and disposition, rather than money, that make the difference in how a person lives. 'There is very little you can do for a person who does not want to be helped,' he says.

radhab@sph.com.sg

SCHEME #2: WORK SUPPORT

THE year 2006 almost knocked out Mr Ismail Sanif.
In July, the 40-year-old father of two was retrenched from his warehouse assistant job. Soon after, wife Hasna Hamid also lost her factory operator job.

September brought the final whammy. Unable to pay a $3,000 fine for being involved in a bar brawl, Mr Ismail was sentenced to 37 days in jail.

Life worsened upon his release. He sent out three or four job applications every day, all in vain. 'No one wanted an ex-inmate,' he remembers.

The nadir came when the electricity in their three-room Ang Mo Kio home was cut after one too many unpaid bills. He had to fan his two girls, aged eight and 10, to sleep on hot nights.

After a year of unemployment, he approached the Central Singapore Community Development Council for help in June last year.

He was placed on the Work Support Programme that helps low-income families become self-reliant by improving their job opportunities. He was given $150 cash to help with transport money for job interviews and vouchers to settle his electricity bill arrears.

Two days later, he was referred for an interview as a dispatch rider and hired on the spot. 'My new boss said the company did not care about my past, only my future,' he recalls.

He put in long hours and did extra deliveries for extra cash. Six months on, he earns around $2,200 a month, more than he ever earned before. Madam Hasna too has found work as a factory operator. The family has not returned for public assistance since.

Since it was introduced in July 2006, the Work Support Programme has become one of the key pillars of the CDCs' drive to help the poor help themselves. More than 4,200 individuals and families have been helped since the programme began.

Central Singapore Mayor Zainudin Nordin says: 'We want programmes that are sustainable and allow our clients to take responsibility for their future, rather than depend on handouts.'

The programme is divided into three schemes. The first, which Mr Ismail benefited from, targets the unemployed.

Apart from help to get a job, poor families are given cash grants or vouchers, as well as 'top-ups' to childcare or kindergarten subsidies, for up to six months. In return, the clients must work with officers to get a job within that time.

A second scheme is aimed at people who may be employed but are in such low-paying jobs that they cannot make ends meet. They get cash and vouchers and can also make use of a training grant to improve their chances of getting better-paying jobs. The vouchers can be used to pay rent, utilities or conservancy charges.

Support under this programme is extended for a maximum of two years.

The final programme is for those who cannot work because of old age, illness or a disability. Clients require a medical certificate to get help, which includes cash handouts and vouchers.

Assistance is usually reviewed every six months for the second and third scheme and only rarely does a family get the maximum level of subsidy.

RADHA BASU

SCHEME #3: HOME OWNERSHIP PLUS EDUCATION (HOPE)
Hope for lower skilled comes with strict terms
Package of up to $100k requires families to stay small and intact
By Radha Basu, Community Correspondent

A RIGHT-SIZED HOME: The scheme not only helps oil rig worker Mohamad Esmon Omar, 32, and wife Olivia Castillo, 31, with a housing grant for their Bukit Batok flat and grants to upgrade their skills, but also provides bursaries for children Netashya, (left), 13 and Shyaquir, seven. But their much-needed financial security comes with strings attached: they cannot have more than two kids or divorce. -- ST PHOTO: DESMOND LIM

WHEN Ms Olivia Castillo spotted teenagers doing drugs along the corridors of her Lengkok Bahru block of one-room rental flats, she knew she had to move out - and on.
She and her husband, then working as a dispatch rider, were too poor to buy their own flat, so they and their two young children bunked in with his parents for nearly a decade while they dreamt of having their own place.

That dream came true last year.

Home is now a spacious 12th-floor executive flat in Bukit Batok, complete with a plush sofa set and crystal chandelier.

Ms Castillo says her dream was made possible by hard work and a government scheme that gives up to $100,000 worth of incentives to low-educated, low-income couples to lift them out of the poverty trap.

It includes a $50,000 housing grant - given in monthly instalments - bursaries for children as well as a training grant of up to $10,000.

But the largesse under the Home Ownership Plus Education (Hope) scheme comes with strings attached. Female applicants must be aged 35 and under. Couples cannot have more than two children. They cannot divorce.

None of that deterred Ms Castillo, 31, when she first read about the scheme in 2004 and approached the Central Singapore Community Development Council to sign up.

Childhood sweethearts, she and her husband dropped out of school to marry after their N levels. Daughter Netashya, now 13, was born soon after. Son Shyaquir Mon followed six years later.

After a few false starts - a truncated education, early marriage - life is finally looking up for the family.

Her husband, Mohamad Esmon Omar, 32, has spent the past five years working as an oil rig 'rope-access specialist'. He climbs up heights of 50m on a rope to access parts of oil rigs that cannot be reached by machines.

It is dangerous, back-breaking work but, by sheer grit, he has reached a supervisory position and quadrupled the family income in the last four years.

The Hope scheme provided the family with much-needed economic security, says Ms Castillo.

But their prosperity today is due largely to her husband who has tirelessly toiled seven-day weeks, without taking any vacations.

'There is no substitute for hard work,' the housewife concludes.

Not everyone on the scheme, however, has success stories to share.

Part-time telemarketer Khadija (not her real name), 36, signed up in November last year because her husband, a frequently unemployed odd-job worker, was in prison.

Her infant son cannot hear very well and has a deformed foot. A recent medical bill was $1,000 - $300 more than what she earns each month.

But their marriage has gone downhill ever since she found out he was a secret society member. 'He also lied about his job, saying he owned a barber shop, before he married me,' she laments.

Because she is seeking a divorce, she has returned the Redhill flat she got through the Hope scheme and lives with her mother now.

radhab@sph.com.sg






Long hard road to self-reliance
Despite nearly full employment in Singapore, there are still some people who slip through the cracks. But there is hope for them. Community Correspondent RADHA BASU worked with officers of the Central Singapore Community Development Council to find out how the organisation helps


HELPING HUB: Service@Central is the front office of the Central Singapore CDC at Toa Payoh's HDB Hub, where those in need can go for assistance.

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LAUGHTER gurgles from Mr Ahmad Habib's two-room rental flat. His grandchildren are involved in a riotous jumping game. But the unemployed 59-year-old's face is creased with worry as he spends his days reciting the Quran and praying for divine intervention.
'Do you think we will get any help? My bank account is empty,' he implores from behind his metal grille gate, worry dispensing with the formality of a proper greeting.

An unusual assignment has delivered me to Mr Ahmad's doorstep. For two weeks in November, I worked alongside officers of the Central Singapore Community Development Council (CDC) to find out first-hand how this key pillar of Singapore's social security system works on the ground.

Weeks earlier, Mr Ahmad was one of the 3,400 weary and worried souls who shuffle through the doors of the CDC every month. Most are in need of money, jobs or just empathy. When his divorced younger son was jailed in 2006, he was saddled with caring for his two young grandchildren aged five and eight. But back then, he had a job.

The $1,000 he earned as a Changi Airport gardener was enough to feed his wife, Madam Salamah Nor, 55, and the two young ones. But when Madam Salamah became bedridden after a spinal operation in April, he had to quit his job to look after her and their grandchildren.

His two other children are in no position to help. His eldest son, a bachelor, was recently released from jail and is unemployed. His divorced daughter is struggling with four children of her own. With less than $200 left in his bank account, Mr Ahmad approached the CDC for help late last year.


After hearing out his tale of woe - and checking papers such as his bank book to ascertain his financial status - social assistance officer Gin Chua put Mr Ahmad on the ComCare Work Support (Employment) programme, which helps unemployed people from low-income families get jobs. The CDC also agreed to provide him with $250 a month in cash, and pay his rent and conservancy charges for three months.

But while the paperwork clears, Mr Ahmad has been scrimping on food. 'These kids are not choosy - their favourite food is eggs and ketchup,' he says. 'But even that costs money.'

IT IS another busy afternoon at Service@Central, the front office of the Central Singapore CDC at Toa Payoh's HDB Hub. Perched on one of the nondescript plastic chairs that fill the waiting room, an elderly man is muttering to himself and wiping away tears with a grubby sleeve. His emaciated fingers clutch a plastic bag filled with documents.

'My money will end next month,' he rails, pulling out a white card. 'How will I live?' The card states he will receive $250 from the CDC every month till end-November, 2007.

The counter staff quickly alert social services manager Elizabeth Aw, 24, the officer assigned to his case. She calmly escorts him into a tiny cubicle, where she assures him in soft, measured tones that his assistance will be extended.

The former restaurant worker suffers from an anxiety disorder and has been certified unfit to work by the Institute of Mental Health. He had already been informed over the phone that his assistance would be extended. 'I guess it was his worry that drove him here,' Ms Aw says, smiling wanly.

Later that day, a grey-haired housewife in a worn sweatshirt comes in. Her odd-job worker husband earns $40 a day, but most of it goes to paying for his father's nursing home fees. She is 53 but kidney problems and depression have made her unemployable.

The couple have a three-room HDB flat, but she maintains that 'it's old and not renovated, no one will want to buy it'. Before she is escorted out, a date is made for officers to visit her husband the following week.

WITHIN a month, Mr Ahmad's assistance is approved. But the housewife's case is dropped. Her husband has flatly refused any assistance. 'We don't have much but don't need any help. My wife approached the CDC without my knowledge,' he says.

About six in 10 people referred to the CDC for financial help return empty-handed. Some refuse help, and most others have stable sources of income. To make sure tax payers' money goes to the genuinely needy, the CDC staff spend a lot of time doing assessment interviews, document checks and home visits.

A few days after former cleaner Wasi Rashid, 69, and his nephew Haris Abdullah, 59, come to the CDC for help, social services manager Nazrin Begum Hamid, 33, turns up at the two-room rental flat that the two men share.

Mr Wasi is partially blind and cannot hear well. Mr Haris suffers from psychiatric problems. Neither is employed. The bachelors live on around $500 a month from their CPF savings and the Islamic Religious Council of Singapore (Muis) and occasional food rations.

The flat is dark and dank, with the rain falling heavily outside. The lights are not switched on because the previous month, they chalked up arrears of $16 on their electricity bill.

After scrutinising their bank books, and inquiring about outside help, Ms Nazrin makes a quick tour of the flat, lifting cushions and peering under the sofa with a torchlight. 'Such visits allow us to check for bedbugs and to ensure that the homes of the elderly are clean,' she says, recalling a case when she noticed bedbugs crawling out of the shirt of a client she visited.

About three weeks later, their request for help is denied because they still have money left in their CPF accounts.

Ms Nazrin's next stop is the one-room Telok Blangah flat of former stall helper Pichagani Shaik Dawood, 82. For the last six months, unable to work and with no more savings, the wiry man has been surviving on $200 he gets monthly from the CDC, which is up for review.

For the past 50 years, he has led a lonely existence in Singapore, working in menial jobs to support his family in his native India. But in October, a $1 4-D ticket he bought yielded a rare stroke of luck - a $2,000 win, he reveals cheerfully.

Unfortunately, the revelation of a windfall means his assistance will have to be terminated, for a while at least. When Ms Nazrin first explains to him that others could use the financial help more than him right now, he looks a bit perplexed, then nods his assent after realisation sets in. But before she leaves, she arranges for a voluntary welfare organisation to provide him with free meals at home in the interim. At the door, she reminds him: 'Uncle, please contact us when the money runs out.'

FOR many of the CDC's 112 officers, the long hours of playing financial adviser, agony aunt and private investigator all rolled into one can be exhausting. But the responsibility comes with rewards. 'I am always moved by the trust the clients put in us, sharing their most personal details,' says Ms Aw, a National University of Singapore social work graduate, who joined the CDC two years ago.

Recently, she was the first person one of her clients - an unemployed mother of four - called after landing a job. 'Sharing a client's joy after months of hardship and hard work is the biggest reward.'

Despite nearly full employment in Singapore, there has been no let-up in the numbers trudging into the CDC seeking jobs. In November last year, there were 594 such cases, up from 518 last January.

One such person is Madam Julia Jacqueline Pang, 61, who wheeled herself into the CDC looking for work one morning. Childhood polio left the spunky mother of a grown-up son wheelchair-bound, but she managed to work as a factory operator earning $800 a month. But in 2005, an accident robbed her of mobility in her arms.

Two years on, her savings have dried up. 'My son has his own family to look after; I don't want to burden him,' she says, 'I just want to rely on myself.'

The CDC, working in partnership with the Workforce Development Agency, has a comprehensive scheme to help her. Career consultants fill in an electronic questionnaire listing her qualifications, work experience, state of health and job preferences. They then scan various job databases to find a suitable match.

There is also a free computer aptitude test for job seekers to find out where their strengths lie. Those who need to brush up on skills are sent for training courses. Not only is the training free, but candidates are also given a stipend of $30 a day to attend.

To MP and head of Central Singapore CDC, Mayor Zainudin Nordin, ensuring employability is one of the most important aspects of the CDC's work. 'If your focus is self-development, then even if your company or job is in jeopardy, you will be likely to find another job quickly,' he says.

But helping put low-income, lowly educated workers on the path towards self-reliance is a long, arduous process.

In the first half of last year, about 440 job seekers registered with the CDC every month. About 260 - or more than one in two - were successfully placed each month. But many could not keep their jobs due to ill health, mental problems or 'attitude problems'.

When Ms Sumathi Gopal walked into the CDC last year, she had no home, no job and only $1.80 in her bank account. Her mother was dead, her father in a nursing home and she had fallen out with her only brother.

The CDC's first priority was to get her employed. But with only primary school education and health problems - a leg infection that made her unable to stand for long periods - this was easier said than done.

As part of the employment assistance programme, she was sent on a six-day 'job preparation exercise' that taught her how to face interviewers and manage stress. Then she was linked up with a company looking for a carpark cashier, one of the few available blue-collar jobs that would not require her to stand for long periods.

She began work in late November. 'I don't think I could have managed to get a job without the CDC's help,' Ms Sumathi said then, beaming.

Barely a month later, her leg condition worsened. She was warded in hospital for five days, quit her job and neglected to inform her CDC career consultant Rasidah Rashid.

Now, she's better and is back in the queue for a job.

Like most of her colleagues, Ms Rasidah is used to such setbacks. 'I tried calling her several times to check how she was doing, but she never returned my calls,' she says, her tone tinged with disappointment.

'Now I guess we need to start over again.'



CDCs: A brief history
What are CDCs? When were they set up?
The community development councils were set up just over a decade ago - in 1997 - to foster community bonding and enhance social cohesion among residents.

The brainchild of then-prime minister Goh Chok Tong, they were first mooted at the National Day Rally in 1996 to build 'heartware', bind Singaporeans together and motivate them to take part in community projects.

Singapore was carved into nine distinct geographical 'districts', each with its own CDC. The CDCs were tasked with administering a few help schemes for the needy, such as the Public Assistance Scheme, where the destitute get a monthly government grant.

In 2001, the nine CDCs were reconstituted into the current five - covering the central, north-east, north-west, south-east and south-west parts of Singapore. Each CDC is headed by a government-appointed Mayor.

While community bonding is still a mission, since 2001, the CDCs have evolved to become the lead government agency that disburses help to the needy.

They still administer the Public Assistance Scheme, together with other financial aid schemes to help the poor meet their housing, education and employment needs. They also provide job-matching services.


Central Singapore CDC:
Set up in 1997, Central Singapore CDC is the country's largest in terms of resident population, being home to more than 860,000.

Geographically, it covers the heart of Singapore - stretching from Tanjong Pagar and Jalan Besar which are areas rich in history and culture, to largely middle-class Bishan-Toa Payoh and Ang Mo Kio, and finally to the leafy suburbs of Yio Chu Kang.

Nearly one in five of its residents is above 60 years old. It also has a sizeable population of elderly poor.