I really don't want to leave her
In Singapore, where more than a quarter million migrant domestic workers quietly sustain the caregiving needs of an aging population, a quiet reckoning is underway. Over 370 helpers have completed specialized training in dementia care, elderly support, and emergency response through pilot programmes run by NTUC's Centre for Domestic Employees — a formal acknowledgment that caregiving is a craft, not an instinct. The initiative, celebrated at a decade-anniversary gathering in June 2026, reflects a broader human question: what do we owe to those who care for our most vulnerable, and how do we prepare them for the weight of that calling?
- Migrant domestic workers have long been expected to manage complex medical and emotional caregiving needs with little more than goodwill and improvisation as their tools.
- Stories like Priyanti's — watching a beloved employer's mind slip away without any framework to understand or respond — reveal the quiet crisis unfolding inside Singapore's households.
- More than 370 helpers have now completed four pilot caregiving programmes, with low registration fees, bite-sized lessons, and instruction in native languages designed to eliminate barriers rather than create them.
- Workers who finished one course returned for more, employers reported measurable improvements at home, and helpers described a transformation from fear to competence — and from employment to something closer to kinship.
- Singapore's Minister of State for Manpower has committed to expanding the programmes beyond pilot status, signaling a potential shift toward making specialized caregiving training a standard expectation rather than an exception.
Priyanti had worked for the same family for fourteen years when the forgetting began. Her 84-year-old employer would return from the market wanting to buy things she had just purchased. Her moods shifted without warning. Then came a stroke, and with it, Priyanti's deepening fear that she was failing someone she had come to love — without knowing how to help.
When she discovered a dementia care course offered through the Centre for Domestic Employees, a body run by Singapore's National Trades Union Congress, she enrolled. By July 2025, she had learned to listen differently — to calm rather than correct, to meet her employer in the place confusion had taken her. The training gave her not just techniques, but a language for what she was witnessing.
Priyanti is one of more than 370 domestic helpers who have completed four pilot caregiving programmes over the past year, covering dementia care, elderly support, infant and child care, and first aid. The courses were built around practical realities: a ten-dollar registration fee, manageable content, and instruction delivered in workers' native languages. The aim was to close a long-standing gap in Singapore's caregiving model — the assumption that love and good intentions are sufficient preparation for complex medical and emotional demands.
Another helper, Pacardo Lolie Ann Latap from the Philippines, was caring for a stroke survivor when she sensed cognitive decline approaching. After completing the dementia course in November 2025, she described her central lesson simply: her own composure was the first and most essential tool she had.
Those running the programmes were surprised by what unfolded. Workers who completed one course returned for others. Employers noticed real differences in their households. And the helpers themselves were changed — Priyanti's bond with her employer grew deeper once she understood what was happening. Though the woman's memory of family members had begun to fade, she still recognized her helper. "I really don't want to leave her," Priyanti said at CDE's tenth anniversary celebration in June 2026.
At that gathering — attended by more than 600 workers, employers, and partners at Resorts World Sentosa — Minister of State for Manpower Dinesh Vasu Dash acknowledged what often goes unspoken: the sacrifice of caring for another family while separated from one's own. He committed to expanding the programmes so that all migrant domestic workers in Singapore could access relevant caregiving education.
What the pilots have demonstrated, quietly but clearly, is that caregiving is a skill deserving of investment — and that the workers who provide it deserve the tools to do so with confidence rather than fear. Whether Singapore will make this standard practice, rather than a well-intentioned experiment, is the question that now follows.
Priyanti had been with her employer for fourteen years when she first noticed the forgetting. The 84-year-old woman would return from the market and want to buy the same items again. Her moods would shift without reason. Then came the stroke, the loss of mobility, and Priyanti's growing fear that she was failing someone she had come to love.
"I was really scared because I didn't know what to do," the 38-year-old Indonesian helper said. She had no framework for understanding what was happening, no language for the changes she was witnessing. When she heard about a dementia care course through social media—offered by the Centre for Domestic Employees, an organization run by the National Trades Union Congress—she enrolled. By July 2025, she had completed the training and learned how to listen differently, how to calm rather than correct, how to meet her employer where confusion had taken her.
Priyanti is one of more than 370 domestic helpers who have moved through four pilot caregiving programmes over the past year. The courses cover dementia care, support for the elderly, infant and child care, and first aid and emergency response. They represent a deliberate attempt to bridge a gap that has long existed in Singapore's reliance on migrant domestic workers: the assumption that caregiving comes naturally, that love and good intentions are enough.
Another helper, Pacardo Lolie Ann Latap, a 44-year-old from the Philippines, was caring for a 77-year-old man who had suffered a stroke when she noticed him forgetting where he placed things, becoming frustrated about his confinement. She completed the dementia care course in November 2025, preparing herself for what she sensed was coming. "We must calm down ourselves, until ahgong becomes calm also," she said, describing what she had learned—that her own composure was the first tool she possessed.
Michael Lim, director of NTUC's Migrant Workers Segment, explained that the pilot emerged from feedback gathered during mandatory interviews with first-time domestic helpers. Workers had surfaced real challenges: the emotional weight of caring for people with cognitive decline, the physical demands of supporting stroke survivors, the isolation of managing crises alone in a household far from home. The programmes were designed with practical constraints in mind—a ten-dollar registration fee, bite-sized content, native language speakers to ensure understanding. The goal was not to create barriers but to remove them.
What emerged surprised even those running the programmes. Workers who completed one course often enrolled in another. Employers reported that the training made a tangible difference in their households. But perhaps most significantly, the helpers themselves changed. Priyanti's bond with her employer deepened once she understood what was happening to her. The woman's memory of family members had begun to fade, but she still recognized her helper. "I really don't want to leave her," Priyanti said at CDE's tenth anniversary celebration in June 2026, her voice carrying the weight of a relationship that had moved beyond employment into something closer to kinship.
On June 21, more than 600 migrant domestic workers, their employers, and industry partners gathered at Resorts World Sentosa to mark the organization's decade of work. Dinesh Vasu Dash, Minister of State for Manpower, was guest of honour. He acknowledged what is often left unsaid in conversations about domestic work: the sacrifice of being far from home, away from one's own children and parents, while caring for someone else's family "as if they were your own." He committed to expanding these programmes, to ensuring that all migrant domestic workers in Singapore could access training relevant to their caregiving roles.
The pilot programmes represent something modest but significant: a recognition that caregiving is a skill, not merely an inclination, and that workers deserve the tools to do it well. For Priyanti and Pacardo and the 368 others who have moved through these courses, it has meant the difference between fear and competence, between isolation and understanding. What comes next is whether Singapore will make this standard practice rather than pilot exception.
Citações Notáveis
I was really scared because I didn't know what to do— Priyanti, domestic helper, describing her fear when her employer showed signs of dementia
We must calm down ourselves, until ahgong becomes calm also— Pacardo Lolie Ann Latap, domestic helper, on what she learned in dementia care training
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did it take a stroke and visible decline for Priyanti to seek training? Wasn't she already caring for this woman?
She was caring, yes—but caregiving and understanding are different things. She could cook, clean, help with daily tasks. But dementia doesn't respond to those skills. It requires a different kind of knowledge, and she had no way to access it until someone told her it existed.
The course cost ten dollars. That's remarkably cheap. Does that price point matter?
It removes one barrier, but it's not the whole story. The real barrier was knowing the course existed at all. Priyanti found it through social media. How many helpers never see that post? How many work in households where they can't take time away to attend?
You mention that employers found the training helpful. What does that mean in practice?
It means fewer conflicts, fewer moments where a helper doesn't understand why an elderly person is behaving a certain way and responds with frustration instead of patience. It means the household functions better because everyone understands what's actually happening.
Priyanti said she doesn't want to leave her employer. Is that a success story or a cautionary one?
Both. It's beautiful that she's chosen to stay, that her understanding deepened her commitment. But it also reveals how much of Singapore's elderly care depends on the emotional bonds individual helpers form. What happens when that helper eventually leaves?
The government wants to scale this up to all migrant domestic workers. Is that realistic?
It depends on whether they're willing to make it mandatory and funded, not optional and cheap. A ten-dollar pilot is one thing. Universal training requires real investment and enforcement.
What's the thing nobody's saying out loud here?
That Singapore's entire system of elder care rests on the shoulders of women far from home, and we've only just started asking them if they know what they're doing.