The rest of this sad story.
Filial 'Beggar Boy' was everyone's
DREAM SON
Autistic 14-year-old begs at coffee shops to feed jobless mum
After he falls to death, AMK stallowners and residents rally to raise money for funeral
By Chong Shin Yen
December 30, 2008
THIS is a tale from the street, with a difference. It's about how an autistic boy brought a community together.
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When news that Sebestian Yeo Wei Xiong, 14, had died, scores of neighbours and coffee shop stallholders rallied to raise money for his funeral.
Residents of Ang Mo Kio Avenue 4 were moved by the teen who loved his mother unconditionally.
When she was jobless, he roamed the coffee shops in his neighbourhood for two years, begging customers for money to buy food.
At that time, not many people gave him a second glance, and even fewer knew his name.
But his gestures ultimately left a lasting impression.
When people learnt of his death from a fall in July, they huddled around coffee shop tables. They traded stories of what they knew about him, and how he was the kind of son they wished they had.
Like how he was a filial boy, never failing to set aside a portion of the food he had bought, so he could take it home later to give his unemployed mother.
She suffered from depression, and would sometimes lock the door on him.
[SIZE=-2]MUM FAINTS: (Above, with sunglasses) Sebestian's mother leaving her flat for the mortuary, accompanied by social workers. (Below) Distraught, she faints after identifying his body. -- PICTURES: LIANHE WANBAO, SHIN MIN DAILY NEWS [/SIZE]
When that happened, he would hang the packet of food outside the door before going off to spend the night at a void deck, or at a nearby bus stop.
He would never complain, neighbours said, or raise his voice. He was always soft-spoken and polite, with a shy smile.
The stallholders called him Ah Boy. Others referred to him as Beggar Boy.
He died in a fall off the 12th floor of a block on Ang Mo Kio Street 61. The state coroner on 18 Dec recorded a verdict of misadventure. (See report on facing page.)
The details of Ah Boy's family background are murky.
He had two younger siblings, according to court documents.
But neighbours said that he and his mother were the only ones living in the rented two-room flat at Block 626, Ang Mo Kio Avenue 4.
His mother, who is in her 30s, had told neighbours that she was divorced.
Stopped attending school
Ah Boy used to attend a special school but stopped more than a year before his death.
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The burden of caring for his mother and providing for their needs fell on his frail shoulders.
Madam Tam Gek Thoe, 60, a housewife who lives two doors away, said she used to keep an eye out for the boy.
'Every day after 8pm, I would see him walking past my flat, carrying packed food home for his mother,' said Madam Tam.
'Occasionally, he would buy toilet paper and other necessities from the nearby provision shop.'
Ah Boy spoke simple English to neighbours. But he became withdrawn after he stopped schooling.
His mother had told Madam Tam that she could not afford to pay for his school fees and bus fares.
Madam Tam remembered his big eyes, and how he was a lovable child with a mischievous side.
She said: 'Whenever my 5-year-old granddaughter refused to call him 'gor gor' (big brother in Cantonese), he would jokingly say to me, 'mei mei (little sister in Mandarin) not good'.'
And when she asked him where his mother was, Ah Boy's answer would always be the same - at home.
The only time his mother left the flat was when she wanted to seek the use of a telephone from neighbours.
Nobody knew where mother and son lived before they moved to Ang Mo Kio about two years ago. But Ah Boy soon became a familiar face in the neighbourhood.
Although he was in his teens, he was small for his age and looked like a primary school boy.
'He was always in the same few sets of clothes. It was like he never grew in the past few years,' said Madam Tam.
A dim sum stall owner in her 60s, who wished to be known only as Madam Lim, said that Ah Boy often hung out at the coffee shop where she works.
'He wouldn't ask us (stallholders) for food. Instead, I would see him begging money from the customers to buy food,' said Madam Lim.
'Sometimes, they would buy him food instead of giving him the money. He would break into a smile as he left the coffee shop, clutching the packed food tightly.'
Neighbour Madam Shen, 35, said that at times, Ah Boy returned home to find that his mother had locked him out.
He would knock and knock but she would not open the door.
'He was very obedient and would not create a ruckus outside. Instead, he would go to the void deck to sleep,' said Madam Shen.
She and other neighbours would ask Ah Boy if he wanted to wait in their flat, but he would always decline.
'He was so pitiful. His mother couldn't look after herself and he was left to fend for himself,' added Madam Shen.
When the police went to Ah Boy's flat to inform his mother of his death, she refused to open the door.
And so, Ah Boy's body remained at the mortuary, waiting to be identified.
When she went to a neighbour's flat three days later to use the phone, Madam Tam called the police, who took her to the mortuary. They were accompanied by two social workers.
The sight of his body was too much for her to bear. She fainted and had to be taken to hospital.
By then, news of Ah Boy's death had spread.
His neighbours and those working at the market and nearby coffee shops banded together to raise money for his funeral.
More than 100 people donated sums ranging from $10 to $600. Within a day, $3,300 was collected.
Noodle stall owner Madam Lai, 46, initiated the drive and helped with the funeral arrangements.
'I just felt so much for this young boy and wanted to do something for him,' she said.
Madam Tam helped to engage a monk to conduct prayers and rites for Ah Boy. His ashes were later placed in a temple in Ang Mo Kio.
Madam Tam said that the funeral expenses came up to about $2,000. The remaining money was later given to Ah Boy's mother.
'I hope,' said Madam Tam, 'he has gone to a better place.'
On the day of the coroner's inquiry into his death, Madam Tam asked his mother if she had visited Ah Boy's niche. The woman replied in Hokkien: 'I don't know how to go there (to the temple).'
It would be easy to conclude that Ah Boy would be alone in death, as he was in life.
But talk to the residents of this neighbourhood and you're likely to get a different picture.
Ah Boy might be gone but he's not forgotten.
