Young Generation of Singaporeans Who Grew Up Without Firecrackers

February 22, 2019, 1:09 am

Usually on the first day of Chinese New Year, most streets were carpet with thick red layers of burnt out crackers. And on the 15th day of the Chinese New Year, cracker wars are staged in streets so tycoons from rival groups can display their wealth and reputation by letting off strings of crackers just to see who can outlast the other.

I have written on this topic as a guest blogger in the blog "Good Morning Yesterday" with courtesy of my blogger friend Mr Lam Chun See.

I was born in Bukit Ho Swee kampong in 1948 when Singapore was a colony under the British rules. A pioneer generation before the independence of the Republic of Singapore and have grown up with the sound, sight and smoke of firecrackers during the Chinese New Year.

My mind was tickled with a question: "How did a younger generation of Singaporeans who never had the chance to celebrate Chinese New Year to hear the sound, the sight, the smoke of firing crackers decades ago before firing of crackers was banned in Singapore.

When asked by the young generation of Singaporean after 1971, they said that Singapore is known for its strict regulations and laws in place to maintain peace and order.

Lighting firecrackers may be an auspicious activity for Chinese Singaporeans as part of their culture, but the loud, cracking act has been banned in Singapore. Today, Singaporeans are only able to set off firecrackers during festive seasons. If we are hoping not to miss a pyrotechnic display, be sure to travel to Singapore closer to its National Day celebrations and witness its majestic firework display as part of the celebrations.

In 1957 when I was 9-years-old on Chinese New Year day, I had the first experience of playing with fire ..... playing with firecrackers. Early that morning when the family were still sleeping, I sneaked out of the house in Bukit Ho Swee, I brought a few firecrackers and a joss-stick.

I have seen older neighbourhood boys firing the crackers and thought that it wouldn't be difficult to do it. There was nobody to guide me how to use the firecrackers with a loud bang and the fun to play this game. With one hand holding a lighted joss-stick and another hand holding a firecracker (the bigger one in red), I lighted it and held it for too long that the firecracker just blew it. Blood ooze out from the finger and I had a shock. Quickly ran home and my mother used a cloth to stop the bleeding. She did not scold or beat me. She knew I was in shock and told me the danger of the firecrackers and don't play with it.

This is my personal experience and childhood memories to play with fire without telling anybody this kind of game to play as a child. Was I foolish or just curious?

In 1971, the Year of the Pig and synonymous to prosperity for businessmen, did not go off with much of a bag.

Reason: 16 big importers of crackers and fireworks did not import any that year because of the government's ban on 30 different brands from Hong Kong, Macao and China.

The only firecracker manufacturer in Singapore, Forwin Fireworks (S) Pte. Ltd., was producing mainly for export.

The government's firecracker restrictions were applied because of the tragedy in 1970 when 6 people died after being burnt in traditional cracker wars.

Chinese business tycoons, who usually take part in massive cracker wars in the Chinatown areas, were viewing last year's celebrations with a tinge of sadness.

"Don't forget reasons why firecrackers were banned"

I would like to point out the fallacy in Mr Andy Tan's argument, "Bring back those noisy, wonderful crackers" (ST, Feb 3, 2000) to bring back firecrackers.

He believed that firecrackers will "strengthen emotional bonds", and will induce Singaporeans not to go on overseas vacations.

I think these reasons are without foundation.

Surely, it is too simplistic to think that a noisy and dangerous ritual will have a profound emotional impact on Singaporean culture.

As for keeping Singaporeans at home, I think he is wrong again.

I am old enough to remember the time when the sound of firecrackers went on all day and all night.

My young children were kept awake all night, crying from fear and exhaustion.

Firecrackers were bursting right next to their window, having been thrown down from the upper floors of our apartment.

In addition to the serious noise pollution, it caused injury to people as well.

I was working at the Singapore General Hospital in those days.

The casualty department was filled with burn patients every Chinese New Year.

The Fire Department was also kept busy when Chinese New Year came along.

As for Singaporeans going abroad for holidays, firecrackers had the opposite effect.

At that time, firecrackers made Singaporeans go abroad to escape the noise pollution and the danger.

When the Government banned firecrackers, Singaporeans heaved a great sigh of relief.

The majority of rational Singaporeans were behind the Government in its enlightened move to do away with a superstitious and dangerous ritual.

Please don't repeat past mistakes by re-inventing the wheel.

If you play with fire you will get burned.

We have experienced what it was like.

I will not recommend it nor wish it on the future generation.

GEORGE WONG SEOW CHOON

[Quoted this letter in the Forum Page, The Straits Times, 4 February 2000]

Why Singapore banned firecrackers in 1972

I refer to the letter "Bring back those noisy, wonderful firecrackers!" (ST, Feb 3, 2000). During the Chinese New Year (CNY) festivals in February 1970, firecrackers killed six people, injured 68 and caused over $350,000 worth of damage to property through explosions and fires.

Because of this, the Government, in March 1970, imposed a partial ban on the firing of crackers.

During festive occasions like CNY eve and Chap Goh Meh, the firing of crackers was permitted for adults in certain refined areas and within specified hours.

However, sections of the public did not cooperate or observe the conditions under which firecrackers and fireworks could be discharged. The result was more tragedies. In 1971, nine persons were injured during the CNY festival.

In 1972, during CNY, members of the public became even bolder. There were 376 incidents reported about crackers being fired indiscriminately outside stipulated places and times.

Despite vigorous police action, the firing of crackers still resulted in 26 being injured. In addition, two unarmed policemen were attacked brutally when they tried to prevent a group from letting off firecrackers.unlawfully.

The loss of life, limb and property as a result of firing crackers was senseless. It led to much grief and unhappiness for those who loved ones were killed or injured. There was a public outcry for the ban on firecrackers.

Alternative way to create the sound of firecrackers

Although the young generation today did not play with firecrackers, please see how they have invented an alternative way to create the sound of firecrackers in this video . This is a safe and innovative way which is not illegal. The loud sound of the "balloon crackers" would also bring prosperity for every festive occasions.

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Son of Singapore

March 10, 2019, 12:44 am

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Son of Singapore by Tan Kok Seng is an autobiography covering the early years of a Singaporean's life in our country's early years.

Set against Singapore's push towards self-governance, it tells the story of a Teochew farm boy who becomes a coolie at the Orchard Road market. He also befriends a group of Chinese dialect-speaking Caucasians who frequently beyond his humble roots.

Excerpt with courtesy of Mothership.sg on this blog to share.

Working as a coolie

In my first two weeks I began to be familiar with Singapore street names. At the end of the second week, I had to go to a house in Goodwood Park to collect the usual order form. In that house, the amah was Cantonese.

Each day, it was she who gave me the order, and she usually had it ready, written by her employer's wife. Today, however, the amah wanted something in addition, but because she was speaking (or so I thought) in Cantonese, I couldn't understand her properly. All I could hear was, "Yat ko towkay." (One whole boss).

This didn't make sense, but evidently she wanted to see my boss. So I cycled quickly back to the stall.

"Towkay! Towkay!" I cried. "That house in Goodwood Park with the very big and dangerous dog. The amah's calling for you to go there. She says she wants one whole boss."

The towkay, fearing something was wrong and that he might lose a customer, went off to the place at once. There, having mustered his courage to face the dog (it was a ferocious Alsatian), he asked the amah what she wanted.

"My coolie told me you wanted me," he said.

The amah looked mystified. "No, I didn't ask for you," she replied. "I only asked your coolie to add to the order 10 cents' worth of bean sprouts. Your coolie said, 'All right', and I thought he would bring them. I didn't want you to come."

Bean sprouts in Hokkien are called tow gay, and though I didn't realise it she had been trying to speak to me in Hokkien. But no knowing how to say '10 cents' in that dialect, she had said it in Cantonese - yat kok - which sounded to me like yat ko (one whole). But how was I to know that in that short sentence she was using two completely different dialects?

When the boss came back to the market, however, he was seething with rage. He turned on his wife. "That stupid boy of yours!" - this was me - "he's worse than useless!" And he explained to his wife what the amah really wanted.

"She wants 10 cents of tow gay," he said angrily, "not 10 cents of towkay!" (10 cents of the boss! It was getting worse and worse.)

To his increased fury, the fat Madam was convulsed with laughter, and I, standing behind her husband, nearly laughed too, only he suddenly switched round at me.

"You've caused me one hell of a lot of work and trouble!" he shouted in a bid to assert his authority. "With one foot I could kick you out. D'you know that?"

But the fat Madam was the deciding factor in such matters, and she said to me, "Next time listen carefully and don't make mistakes again. Anything you don't understand, ask the amah to say it again till you're sure what it is."

"All right," I murmured quietly, and went back to brushing carrots. I was glad she had not scolded me this time. And of course it had to happen at that house with the frightful dog.

The end of the month came, and I proudly received my salary of 30 dollars.

Worked 6.5 days a week, for S$30 a month

Sunday afternoon was my only free time each week, and on the Sunday after getting my pay, I went back home, and even more proudly handed my mother 20 dollars.

Because I slept and had my meals in the boss's house, which was in a side street close to the market, I needed only 10 dollars for myself for pocket money.

I worked six-and-a-half days a week, and the hours were long, 6am to 10 or 11pm each day except Sunday, when I finished around 1.30pm.

In those days, I was young, but even so I found the work very tiring. By the end of each day, I was all out. I would have a wash and go straight to bed, where I slept like a pig till someone shook me awake the next morning.

But I felt it was a happy and lucky time for me, to have such a job as this, to train me to be strong and tough.

I doubt if many boys of 15 today would think in the same way as I did then.

Today, they would think I was being driven like an ox or a horse, worked all day and knowing nothing.

But youngsters in Singapore at that time were not so clever as they are today; their thinking was slower and simpler. Nor did they demand, or expect, so much.

Part of a lion dance troupe

On the first day of the New Year, we students set out early in the morning in two trucks to visit the homes of the monastery's benefactors.

There were about 60 of us, all dressed similarly in white vests and baggy black trousers of very light material (excellent for dynamic movement) tied at the ankle with puttees.

Eight of us were experts at manipulating the lion in the lion dance, taking it in turns, two at a time, one the head, the others held the monastery flags and banners, and engaged in demonstrations of the monastery's martial arts.

Our first stop was in Katong, at the home of the chairman of the White Flower Oil Company, who was one of the monastery's staunches supporters.

There we spent three-quarters of an hour in the hugh forecourt of his house, while he and his family watched from the upper balcony.

Books by Tan Kok Seng

Tan Kok Seng had only a primary education but that did not stop him from writing. Kok Seng, whose books have been selling well, wrote about his life as a farmer, labourer, grocery delivery boy and a chauffeur. Besides enjoying a wide readership in Singapore, the Japanese version of his first book, Son of Singapore, is reported to be selling well in Japan, too.

Kok Seng wrote about the lack of local writers in New Nation on 28 October, 1972:

"One of the reasons so few of our people read books is that very few books are written for us, except school textbooks. Reading books for pleasure begins with reading about people who might be ourselves, written by one of us.

In all the countries with big readerships. Britain, US, Japan, France etc., nine-tenth of the time the people are reading books written about themselves, by their own nationals.

This is something we lack and which I believe we need.

One of the reasons why I, a former market coolie, wrote Son of Singapore was in the hope that it would encourage others, regardless of their social position, to write about themselves.

The wonderful send-off which New Nation gave to my book has done more than anything else to stimulate this possibility.

To date, every letter I have received from members of the public in Singapore and Malaysia has asked for a sequel. This of course is personally satisfying.

But much more important, in my view, is the need it reflects for books about ourselves.

Labourer Made Good

This is the Times Arts profile in The Straits Times on 28 February, 1982.

Tan Kok Seng is now 45, his boyish good look just faintly lined around the eyes.

His only literary endeavour at the moment, he tells me, is the refinement of his original Chinese-language text for his autobiographical trilogy, so that it can at last be published in Chinese, the language it was really written in - after that, he would like to try a children's story, he says.

When he does write again, he may find himself in a bit of a creative quandary: Much of his charm so far has resided in his wide-eyed simplicity, the wonder of a poor little country boy moving into the big city and the even wide-world, for the first time.

Although writing in English remains a problem for him, he is no longer that country boy. He is mature and well-travelled. It will be interesting to see how he writes in future.

For the time being, however, most of his energy is channelled into a new business. He represents Ming Fung Co of Hongkong in Singapore, marketing Chinese glazed tile products imported from China.

Those sinuous dragons chasing the celestial pearl, which grace temple roofs, and the snaring lion-dogs guarding towkays' homes, are among the wares he sells.

Yet Kok Seng's work remains very much a quiet force in the world of Singapore writing.

For one thing, he himself is understandably proud of the fact that some of his books figure on the Ministry of Education's recommended textbooks list for lower secondary pupils here.

Kok Seng has risen from the grassroots of Singapore society.

He has not been unduly influenced by the outside world. As he himself stoutly declares, "I am not easily influenced by anyone."

Here is a rarity for someone emerging from so traditional a Chinese background - a true individualist.

There really have not been many to match Kok Seng since his debut, in terms of his humble origins.

One might have expected that his delivery boy-to-author story would inspire countless others of his kind - coolies, clerks and peons - to put pen to paper too. But, alas, it seems this is not to be.

Perhaps one reason is that Kok Seng has moved away from his original environment, to cross the "culture barrier" and move completely from his natural language-stream, Chinese, into English.

Introduction by Don Bosco

As you read Son of Singapore, at one point you'll find Kok Seng reassuring himself that "Heaven will never impede anyone on the upward path".

One might also observe that "Heaven will never impede anyone with a worthy story to tell".

In Kok Seng's case, he had only studied up to Primary Six in a Chinese school. Throughout his growing-up years, he could barely mumble a few words of English. And his early work experience could be summarised in two words: coolie, driver. So then, with all the odds seemingly against him, how did this acclaimed book, this literary legend, come to be?

Kok Seng told Don Bosco this story:

He was working in Hong Kong as a driver for the British diplomat Austin Coates (also sometimes more affectionately called "Kai Tze" in this book). Coates had regular assignments all over Europe, and it was part of Kok Seng's duties to go along. All that he saw stirred him to spend his evenings writing down anecdotes about his life and recording his philosophical musings, thinking he would share these with his son and daughter when they were older.

Kok Seng started out writing in Chinese, scribbling away in the evenings, and his diligence caught the attention of his employer. To summarise things: Coates decided to lend his young friend a hand and together they translated Kok Seng's journal into English, working in the evenings to shape the material into the compelling narrative that would eventually be published as Son of Singapore.

In his preface to the original edition of Son of Singapore, Kok Seng mentions: "It is somehow difficult for an Asian to expose himself and his inner workings in public."

In this case, he had originally intended to write only for his own children. But heaven - and Austin Coates - decided otherwise. And with the success that came swiftly, Kok Seng's inner workings indeed ended up being exposed in public, studied in schools and lauded in the media.

Son of Singapore tells a coming-of-age story about a youngster who in hindsight seemed almost destined to be a writer or poet.

Kok Seng's earliest memories were of the Japanese Occupation during World War II, a time filled with dread and fear. He vividly describes how a desperate young boy brought shame to his family by sneaking into another neighbour's house to eat a bowl of rice. Kok Seng recognised this as a big lesson in the human condition: "When someone becomes crazed with hunger, he dares to do mad things."

From here on, Kok Seng developed a quiet pride in being able to think for himself. He started valuing wisdom and pithy communication; he was suspicious of misguided aphorisms:

The older generation used to say more children meant more prosperity. In fact, it was not so. Fewer children were easier to finance. There was more likely to be enough to go round. Yet, somehow, the older generation, despite having themselves experienced the hardships of being born into large families, could never grasp this idea.

And when Kok Seng left school at a young age to help his father as a farmer, he became determined to ask even more difficult questions about life and its secret workings:

In the world there were, I knew, many things I did not understand. I hoped one day to be able to learn more.

But books I had left behind me forever. Now my only hope was to learn from human society itself. The only university I would ever go to was the university of the world.

Like many other writers, Kok Seng learnt to live as a stranger in a strange land, surrounded by confusing customs and conflicting loyalties. As a child in his own home, growing up on a farm, he had problems with the superstitions and expectations of his other family members. In his early working as a coolie, he learnt to observe with detachment the differences between the rich and poor, the politics at work, and the gulf between appearance and reality.

In his personal life, too, he came to socialise with a surprising candid group of Europeans who defied his assumptions about race and language and friendship. These "Red Hairs", as he called them, mixed freely with people from all walks of life. They spoke English as well as Cantonese, Hokkien and Shanghainese, all fluently. Kok Seng felt challenged. These foreigners had mastered his language. He had to learn theirs too! But how?

Slowly, through courage and determination, Kok Seng came to realise: when a man is on an upward path, heaven will not impede.

It's good that Kok Seng's upward path was lined with many comic moments. Or this book would not be half as entertaining. If you don't mind a short preview, here's one of his anecdotes about the life of a Chinese farmer in those days:

My father was carrying two baskets of ducks to the Sixth Mile market when he was arrested and taken to the police station, ducks and all. He had no idea why.

His only language being Teochew, he had to wait a long time in custody until a Teochew interpreter could be found. He was then told that the reason for his arrest was that the ducks were tied by their legs. It seems this was a case of cruelty to animals. Ducks, he was informed, must be carried with their legs free, like human beings.

"How would you like to be tied up that way?" the non-Teochew speaking inspector asked. "You deserve to be fined by being tied up the same way yourself."

My father replied, "How can ducks and human beings be treated the same? Ducks are sold for human beings to eat."

The inspector turned to the interpreter, "Remind him he's in the police station. He can't talk like that here. Tell him his ducks are confiscated. Any more trouble from him, next time he'll go to prison."

So my father's ducks were confiscated by the police and were never seen again.

As Kok Seng tells it, those were indeed strange time to be a son of Singapore.

.......

Although at a disadvantage because of his problem with the English language, Kok Seng easily wins over the people he meets, and doubtless his readers too, with his boyish charm, exuberance and frankness. "I really enjoy writing," he confessed.

Born in 1939 into a large family which subsisted on farming, Kok Seng received only the minimum of formal education. English lessons in school held for him a decided horror.

"How I hated English lessons," he recalls, chuckling. His favourite recourse was to plead a stomach-ache and make off to the loo, there to remain, rueful but unbudging, until the lesson was mercifully over.

He started work as a labourer at a vegetable stall in Orchard Road Market when he turned 14.

His inability to speak or understand English landed him in many amusing scrapes; but for a time the resolutions Kok Seng made to better himself remained resolutions.

Kok Seng reached a turning-point in his young life when he was befriended by three Europeans who spoke the Chinese dialects with a fluency that impressed him.

He began to ask himself: "How is it there are all these foreigners speaking our language, yet I cannot speak one of theirs?"

When he became driver to diplomat Austin Coates in Kuala Lumpur, Kok Seng doggedly set to work on his feeble command of English. Winking mischieveously, Kok Seng relates: "I got myself two beautiful teachers of English. I took them along with me wherever I went." He still has them today - an English-Chinese dictionary and a Chinese-English one.

It is not difficult to figure out the appeal of Kok Seng's works thus far. His candid, sometimes shrewd observations coupled with a lively and unpretentious narrative style make for a refreshing detour from the beaten path.

Tan's advice for young writer is: "Never to put off by bad criticism."

Young writers might perhaps draw a deeper and more lasting inspiration from the life and spirit of the man himself.

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A Fish-Bowl of Childhood Memories

March 23, 2019, 2:20 am

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First Aquarium in Singapore

The $470,000 Van Kleef Aquarium at King George V Memorial Park (now known as Fort Canning Park) was planned by the Colony of Singapore City Council of the British colonial administration in 1954.

For 24 years, Singapore has planned a magnificient aquarium by Mr K.W.B Van Kleef , a former Singapore resident for the embellishment of the city. It was stocked with fish from Malayan, African and South American waters.

The naming of the aquarium, after Van Kleef who left $370,000 for the "embellishment" of the City to express the gratitude of the citizens for this generous gift. The Singapore Municipal Commissioners have agreed to name the aquarium located off Tank Road.

Fish watching at the Van Kleef Aquarium was part of many a family's weekend outing for over 3 decades. The aquarium opened in September 1955.

Located at the foot of Fort Canning Hill along River Valley Road, Singapore's first aquarium was home to more than 6,000 aquatic creatures and was a favorite stop on school excursions or family outings during the school holidays.

Entrance fees were 30 cents for adults and 20 cents for children when it first opened. These went up to $1 and 50 cents respectively by the 1990s.

It was maintained by the Primary Production Department, the predecessor of the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority of Singapore.

The aquarium saw close to 400,000 visitors annually in the 70s. British author Somerset Maugham was so impressed with it on a visit to Singapore in 1960 that he called Van Kleef "easily one of the best in this part of the world".

After a $750,000 facelift in 1986, the popular tourist spot reopened 18 months later to greet visitors with 50 new rare species such as a baby freshwater shark, fire eels and hairy turtles.

But the revamped Van Kleef met with mixed reactions. Visitors complained about the lack of information on the creatures on display, and asked for leaflets - which the management said it could not afford.

Van Kleef eventually closed in May 1991, two weeks after the $20-million Underwater World Singapore opened at Sentosa.

The Van Kleef Aquarium reopened its doors to visitors under a new name - World of Aquarium and managed by a private company with the same name. World of Aquarium was officially handed over to the new local company on 1 October, 1991. The company, "World of Aquarium" was an import and export business and a breeding centre for tropical fishes. Visitors bought fishes for their own aquarium at home.

The aquarium did not expect many local visitors but special entrance fees and free educational kits were offered to attract more students.

Bright, bold aquatic murals at the 35-year-old building's entrance (photo above) was about the only changes to this landmark.

The old-world charm of the aquarium with its dimly lit narrow corridors was retained, as was the original marine residents.

The company did not undertake any major renovation to the building, apart from giving its façade a colourful facelift with fish murals and better lighting for the aquarium's 75 tanks. The aquarium is an old and historic building.

World of Aquarium was not worried about the competition from the Sentosa's Underwater World.

It was quite a different concept. Unlike Underwater World, 50 per cent of World of Aquarium's exhibits were fresh water. The smaller tanks allowed visitors to have a close-up view of the fishes. At Sentosa, the fishes have more space to swim away from view.

Please watch a special unique video of the Van Kleef Aquarium posted on YouTube by the National Archive of Singapore here .

VIPs visit the Van Kleef Aquarium

The photo below of Princess Norodom Monineath of Cambodia and Puan Noor Aishah walking towards the Van Kleef Aquarium. In the background was the former buildings which were demolished and rebuilt by the present Daimaru shopping centre.

Princess Norodom Monineath of Cambodia and Puan Noor Aishah watching the fishes in the tanks at Van Kleef Aquarium on 19 December, 1962.

Visit to Singapore - Princess Norodom Monineath of Cambodia leaving Van Kleef Aquarium, accompanied by Puan Noor Aishah on 19 December, 1962.

The closure of Van Kleef Aquarium

The 35-year-old Van Kleef Aquarium was closed in Jun 1991 - a victim of Singapore's new aquatic attraction, the Underwater World at Sentosa.

With the concept and design of public aquariums changing tremendously over the years, Van Kleef became outmoded.

Modern aquariums like Underwater World was better equipped and offer the visitors more in terms of variety as well as experience and information on aquatic life.

The Van Kleef Aquarium building and its grounds was leased out to a successful tender in the private sector for commercial use as a centre for the promotion, sale and display of ornamental fish.

The archived photos shared on this blog with acknowledgement of the National Archives of Singapore, National Library Board, National Heritage Board and unidentified contributors with thanks.

The photos with captions and descriptions for information included on the blog with thanks of The Straits Times, courtesy of The Singapore Press Holdings.

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Fast to Cook, Good to Eat

April 6, 2019, 11:53 pm

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The commentary in Channel News Asia on "How instant noodles became symbol of workaholics", published on 6 April, 2019 here inspired me to post on this blog to share.

Seventy years ago when I was born in Bukit Ho Swee kampong, there was no instant food, no instant milk powder or fast food to make me grow up fast.

Mothers during that era would have to patiently take time to prepare the condensed milk to feed the babies. Because my mother did not breast-feed me as a baby, I grew up on "Lifeguard" condensed milk whenever I was hungry.

Children would be fed porridge, not instant noodles to save time.

More Mee for Me

I found an article in the Straits Times on 5 March 1997 with the headline "S'poreans slurping instant noodles by the millions" to share on this blog:

Student Chin Shou King, 17, loves it.

"I know eating too much to it is not very good for my health and the soup base can be salty," he said. Still, he slurps at least a packet of instant noodles a week. He is not the only one.

Singaporeans are fans of instant mee, gobbling up almost 6 million kg of this three-minute meal a year, worth more than $30 million, according to Mr Gareth Ellis, director of retail services of Survey Research Singapore (SRS).

Countries elsewhere consume more. Manufacturer Nissin has estimated that China consumed 12 billion packages of instant noodle in 1995, Indonesia 6 billion, Japan 5.2 billion, South Korea 3.55 billion, the United States 2 billion and Thailand 1.5 billion packages.

In the past, the noodles were available with only one flavour, chicken, but today there are many varieties such as abalone, sesame, tom yam, Sichuan, mee poh sambal and even Xiamen chicken.
Instant noodles today come in packets and Styrofoam cups or bowls. The market for cup noodles appears to be growing at a faster rate than that of the packet version, no doubt because of its convenience - just peel the cover, add the freeze-dried ingredients and pour boiling water.

With the advent of cup noodles, people have been seen buying a few cartons to store in their office drawers. "If they do not go out for lunch, they can easily eat them in the office by adding hot water."

Students are big eaters of instant mee. Said Aw Shiao Yin, 19 "When I'm busy, instant noodles comes in handy as a quick meal."

But some parents feel that with so much flavouring in the soup base, children should steer clear of them. Said housewife Liu Ah Siew, 39, who has three daughters: "I wouldn't want my children to eat too much."

Top 10 best instant noodles, courtesy of Food King Singapore on YouTube here .

Instant noodles for astronauts

In an AFP article in 2002, Japanese snack noodles hope to dump their junk food status and soar to the higher gastronomical rank of space cuisine.

Nissin Food Products Company said it would work with the National Space Development Agency of Japan (Nasda) to develop instant ramen noodles for astronauts participate at the International Space Station project.

"It has been the wish of the founder of our company, who invented instant ramen noodles some 44 years ago, to develop space food instant ramen," said Mr Shinichi Kuwata, a spokesman for Nissin, best known for its cup noodles.

Nasda needed nutritious, tasty and familiar food for Japanese astronauts as the space station project would require them to stay in space for several months at a time.

"Japanese astronauts who have already been to space have told us they wanted to eat ramen noodles. With Nissin proposing to develop space food ramen, we decided to conduct a feasibility study for noodle eating in space."
Astronauts must be able to consume the noodles without slopping strands or spilling drops of soup on their clothes or equipment.

People eat noodles by picking up strands with chopsticks and sucking them into the mouth from the cups of soup. "But we cannot do that in space because the soup might spill and damage the equipment. We have a prototype for the space instant noodles, but we still have a lot to do to develop appropriate packages. The proposed space noodles must also pass taste tests by astronauts from other participating countries, such as the United States and Russia.

Space Ram, a special instant noodle product developed for Japanese Astronaut Soichi Noguchi. The noodle broth is thicker than normal to stop the noodles floating off in zero gravity.The Instant Ramen Museum in Ikeda, near the Japanese city of Osaka, has welcomed some 2 million visitors over the years. .

Cup Noodles Museum in Yokohama

Cup Noodles Museum in Yokohama to capture story behind one of the world's greatest inventions.

Although it has been more than half a century since instant noodles were first created in Japan, the Japanese are still getting their chopsticks out for what is arguably one of the world's greatest inventions.

New varieties hit store shelves every month.

And in the ultimate show of the importance of instant noodles to Japanese culture, the Cup Noodle Museum opened in Yokohama, south-west of Tokyo, paying tribute to the man behind it all.

In 1958, the late Mr Momofuku Ando, a Taiwanese-Japanese businessman, invented instant noodles amid a campaign by the government to get the Japanese to consume more wheat sent by the United States, to alleviate the post-war food shortage.

In 1971, Mr Ando came up with yet another idea - the packaging of instant noodles in disposable polystyrene containers, which have become a particular favorite with people looking for a convenient meal.

The inspiration came during a trip to the US, where he watched a supermarket worker break up a packet of instant noodles into a cup and pour hot water over it.

The result was Cup Noodles, now a registered trademark of Nissin Foods, the company he founded. By making instant noodles even more instant, its popularity has been boosted further - beyond the Earth, even.

In 2005, Mr Ando developed a space-friendly version that allowed astronauts to tuck into a bowl of noodles with a fork instead of sucking them through a tube , as they do with other types of space foods.

All the milestones are captured in the Cup Noodle Museum, which not only features the history of the ubiquitous product, but also invite visitors to get a literal taste of Mr Ando's invention.

Here, children and their parents can have a go at making their own instant noodles from flour, customising them with their choices of toppings and even designs for the disposable polystyrene cups. Visitors can also dine on noodle dishes from around the world, from Vietnamese Pho to Malaysian Laksa.

Too much attention on a simple cup of noodles? Hardly.

Mr Ando's creation has not only been described as the most important Japanese food development of the century, but it has also conquered the entire planet.

Every year, some 95 billion servings are produced round the world - 13 for every person - and the number is still growing.

The average Japanese eats 41 packets a year, or one every nine days. Put together, that's a 5.25 billion servings eaten annually in this country.

Company worker Jun Kaneko is one of those people who cannot go without it for long. "In the summer, I often eat instant fried noodles. But in the winter, I want to warm up my body, so I eat instant kitsune (fried beancurd skin) udon in soup," he says.

The range of instant noodles that Mr Kaneko can choose from reflects how far the product has come.

In 1958, Mr Ando started out with one flavour - Chicken Ramen - which is still a perennial favorite.

The Cup Noodle Museum showcases the more than 3,000 varieties produced over the years in Japan alone.

In 1976, Nissin came up with instant versions of traditional noodles, such as the Donbei series of instant soba and udon, with slight variations catering to the local taste buds of different regions.

That means instant noodle fans can turn trips across Japan into a culinary exercise.

Musician M. Tomikawa says: "Whenever I go on tour around the country, I always look forward to eating the local instant noodles to see what's different.

"On my last trip to Kyushu, the local Donbei noodles turned out to be a great surprise."

Meanwhile, hot on the heels of the huge ramen boom in recent years, there has been a rush to create new varieties of instant noodles that faithfully mimic popular regional ramen flavors.

Now, ramen fans can choose from the soya sauce and miso (bean paste) flavors common in northern Japan to pork booth varieties preferred in the south.

And for those who still think instant noodles is just snack, think again.

A restaurant in Tokyo's Nakano ward serves nothing but instant noodles, and offers a menu that includes foreign varieties. Here, you can choose from no fewer that 200 varieties of instant noodles, from the well-known Kitakata of north-eastern Japan to even fiery hot noodles from South Korea.

And, of course, you won't have to wait long for your meal, which comes with toppings such as vegetables, meat and a soft-boiled egg.

↧

Changi Airport Jewel: Not just another mall

April 15, 2019, 11:07 pm

≫ Next: Ushering Singapore into the Jet Age

≪ Previous: Fast to Cook, Good to Eat

Construction of Changi Airport Terminal 1 passenger terminal building in 1978.

Source: National Archives of Singapore

The open-air carpark at Changi Airport Terminal 1 in 1980s.

Changi Airport Jewel: Not just another mall

Complex is meant to be the iconic centrepiece for Singapore air hub.

Article by Karamjit Kaur in The Straits Times on 6 December, 2014,

What started as an urgent but mundane need to expand Terminal 1 will now end in a Jewel - Changi Airport's hoped-for iconic centrepiece to wow travellers and enhance the air hub's attractiveness when completed by 2018.

Merely to expand the terminal would have been a wasted opportunity, said the Chief Executive Officer of Changi Airport Group, Mr Lee Seow Hiang, at the ground-breaking for the retail cum airport complex.

"To address the capacity bottle-neck, we could have just pushed out T1 and built a multi-storey carpark over it. But we felt we could do so much more. We had a chance, for the first time, to hub the three terminals together."

And so the decision was made to raze T1's open-air carpark and construct in it's place a five-storey high complex with five basement levels which would link all three passenger terminals.

T1 would also be upgraded and expanded in the $1.7 billion project.

Explaining at length, for the first time, the rationale and thinking behind the project, Mr Lee, who is also chairman of Jewel Changi Airport Development, a joint venture beween Changi Airport Group and CapitaMalls Asia, admitted questions had been asked about the project.

Was this a vanity showpiece? In the light of manpower constraints in Singapore, why build another retail mall? Was the airport getting distracted from its core business of aviation?

"This question of purpose is not a trivial one," he said, stressing that the first driving force behind the project was the growing capacity constraints at T1.

Having decided that the terminal must expand and more should be done with the piece of land, the decision was made to build a complex with close to 70 percent of the total gross floor area of about 134,000 sq m set aside for retail with about 300 shops.

Yes, Singapore has about 150 malls but many serve local communities with only a handful that are strong enough to capture the attention of tourists, Mr Lee said.

Jewel, which will be funded and operated by the new joint venture firm with CapitaMalls Asia, plans to be different, he said, thought the retail mix has not been finalised.

Throwing his weight behind the project, Transport Minister Lui Tuck Yew, who was the chief guest at yesterday's event, said: "We are operating in a dynamic and increasingly competitive environment.

Passengers today are spoilt for choice as air hubs around the world actively pursue new ways to boost their appeal as destinations and as transit points."

Jetstar Asia's Chief Executive Officer Bara Pasupathi agreed, noting the development of Jewel would "better serve the sophisticated taste of travellers in the region".

Renowned architect Moshe Safdie, 76, the man behind Marina Bay Sands who is leading the design team for Jewel, has big dreams for the project.

Mr Safdie, who also attended the ground-breaking, said: "I would like to think that in four years, people outside Singapore will say to their friends, 'When you go to Singapore and land at Changi, don't dare to leave the airport before you visit Jewel'. Or better still, perhaps say 'You must fly to Singapore or travel to Singapore because you've got to see that Jewel."

Changi Airport’s new T1 carpark, situated within Jewel Changi Airport (Jewel), will open on 20 November 2018. The carpark is part of the ongoing T1 expansion works, which commenced in March 2015 in conjunction with the Jewel development.

The latest attraction at the Jewel Changi Airport to watch the videos here and here .

At 135,700 sqm in size, Jewel offers a range of offerings including airport facilities, indoor gardens and leisure attractions, retail and dining offerings as well as a hotel, all under one roof.

Please watch The Making of Jewel Changi Airport here .

Creating a mythical garden was the inspiration of the world famous architect Moshe Safdie.

Memories of Changi Airport Terminal 1

Kids love to watch real aeroplanes (not toy ones) at the waving gallery of Singapore's Changi Airport in 1986 as the aeroplanes take-off and landing at the airport runways.

It was fun and exciting to watch these aeroplanes so small from a distance in the sky and how they become bigger when landed at the airport.

Our airport is among the busiest in the world with every few minutes for aeroplanes to arrive and depart to serve the international passengers. It has consistently been rated the world's preferred airport by frequent travellers and readers of influential and popular publications.

The airport was my kids' favorite place for weekend outings ..... to watch the aeroplanes, roving around the spacious places in airconditioned comfort, funstuff like riding on a trishaw, foodies for kids and of course, ice-cream at Swensons :)

Travelling in a trishaw is fun for children to remember their childhood memories.

The 2 photos taken at Changi Airport Terminal 1 in the 1980s of a trishaw, displayed by the Singapore Promotion Board which was a favorite among kids for taking the photos.

A&W All American Food in Singapore

The 'Great Root Bear' is the popular mascot for A & W Root Beer. It was first used in 1974 Canadian A & W, and was adopted by the American chain, the Great Root Bear's role as mascot. In the above photos, my 2-year-old daughter was nervous when carried by the Great Root Bear in 1982.

The taste of nostalgia lures snaking queues of A&W fans to Jewel Changi Airport.

A&W - which stands for Allen and Wright - made its debut in Singapore in 1966 at Dunearn Road, and the first A&W drive-through opened in 1970 at Bukit Timah Road.

The fast-food joint's hamburgers, hot dogs and root beer soon became popular among Singaporeans and it is believed its success helped pave the way for other fast-food establishments to set up shop in Singapore, including McDonald's (1979), Kentucky Fried Chicken (1977) and Burger King (1982)/

However, by 2003, A&W faced stiff competition from its competitors and shuttered its remaining outlets.

With the opening of Jewel Changi Airport, however, the well-loved chain is back with an 80-seater outlet, which will be open 24-hours a day.

↧

Ushering Singapore into the Jet Age

April 21, 2019, 12:15 am

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Construction of airport buildings began in mid-1936 when reclamation and consolidation of land were completed. The new airport was officially declared open by the Governor of Singapore, Sir Shenton Tomas, on 12 June, 1937. The air corridor to Kallang brought planes over the waterfront.

In October, 1951, the BOAC Comet I became the first jetliner to land at Kallang, ushering Singapore into the jet age in the process.

Kallang Airport with decorations to celebrate the Queen's coronation in 1953. It was built by the British colonial government. In the 1930s as Singapore's first commercial international airport building. Officially opened on 12 June, 1937 by Governor of the Straits Settlements Sir Shenton Thomas, the airport was replaced by Paya Lebar Airport in 1955.

More related blog about the former Kallang Airport here .

The air hostesses add glamour to the Kallang Airport

Four of the six new hostesses who began learning their jobs at Kallang Airport on 4 July, 1955 took time off to pose for this Singapore Standard picture.

They have been selected to augment the staff at the new international airport which was opened on 26 August, 1955.

From left: Misses Maggie Seow, Lina Chin, Katherine Tan, Eunice Lecomber.

According to Singapore Standard's report on 20 July, 1950, the Singapore Finance Committee has voted $115,000 for investigations into the suitability of developing Kallang Airport.

This follows the abandonment of the use of Tengah by civil aircraft jointly with the RAF which makes it necessary to provide a civil airport for Malaya capable of accepting modern commercial aircraft.

A prediction of a bright future for Kallang Airport as an important world-feeder airport for aircraft not exceeding 60,000 lbs. bearing weight was made by RAF. The Kallang Airport is excellent, a first-class aerodrome for planes of the Dakota type, and played an important role in the city's progress and prominence in the air-world.

PWD experts have reported that the Kallang runway is generally stronger than was previously thought possible and will be safe for fully-loaded Constellations.

The QANTAS ground organisation's new home in the terminal building at Kallang would become the colony's only airport and much busier than has ever been.

The move follows exhaustive tests of the runway at Kallang. Experts of the Public Works Department have reported that the strengthened runway is safe for the heaviest tyopes of Constellations such as those operated on BOAC-QANTAS-Kangaroo route.

Paya Lebar Airport

The Door to Singapore

Source: The Straits Times, 21 August 1955.

A fanfare of trumpets and the hoisting of 16 flags signalled the opening of Singapore's multi-million dollar Paya Lebar airport on 20 August 1955 by the Colonial Secretary, Mr Alan Lennox-Boyd.

The historic event, watched by more than 10,000 people was preceded by: a world record short flight by a Super-Constellation - two minutes from Kallang to Paya Lebar.

Hundred of people skipped going to the races and went to Paya Lebar hours before the $37 million airport was actually opened.

For them there was a full and interesting programme, which included a display of an RAF helicopter and Canberra bomber. There was also an exhibition of heavy machinery used in the building at the airport site. The Royal Singapore Flying Club put on an aeronautical display.

But the most interested and surprised spectators were 60 squatters. For them, a miracle had happened. Many of them born at Paya Lebar had had their farms on the airport site. They were displaced when work on the site began.

Mr Lennox-Boyd spoke of the rapid manner in which Singapore had advanced in air travel.

He said: "When Sir Stamford Raffles first came here, it took three months to come from Britain. Now ministers in the United Kingdom and Singapore can descend on one another with alarming rapidity.

Founding Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew's decision to relocate Paya Lebar Airport

Economic development is often linked with infrastructure development, which means that airports are expected to further the development of the economies of the surrounding regions. Transportation in general affects the development of cities, with air travel having a large stake in both short- and long-distance transportation. But the economic value created by the industry is more than that. The principal benefits are created for the customer, the passenger or shipper using the air transport service.

In addition, the connections created between cities and markets represent an important infrastructure asset that generates benefits through enabling foreign direct investment, business clusters, specialisation and other spill-over impacts on an economy’s productive capacity. As a whole, the air transport industry has a substantial economic impact, both through its own activities and as an enabler of other industries.

By facilitating tourism and trade, airports and air travel generate economic growth, provide jobs, increase revenues from taxes, and foster the conservation of protected areas. The air transport network facilitates the delivery of emergency and humanitarian aid relief anywhere in the world, and ensures the swift delivery of medical supplies and organs for transplantation.

With the rapid increase of air travellers to Singapore in the 1970s, the runways for Paya Lebar airport was not appropriate for expansion to cater to the arrival of more passengers and cargo in the future.

With the courtesy of the following newspaper articles of Newspapers.sg below:

A $2b decision that paid off (The Straits Times, 20 August 1965)

Moving the airport from Paya Lebar to Changi took some guts.

It was a bold decision which turned out to be right, said Mr Lee Kuan Yew.

Because Singapore Airlines was doing well and the tourists were coming in, the government decided in 1975 to take a gamble.

It scrapped Paya Lebar Airport. That meant writing off $600 million worth of investment.

The choice was either to build a second runway in Paya Lebar over Sungei Serangoon or move to Changi.

There was no guarantee that the clay under Sungei Serangoon would not sink. Expansion at Paya Lebar Airport also meant that aircraft would be flying over the city areas.

"We wrote off that $600 million and decided on a $2 billion investment in Changi. A bold decision, right, of course ..."

MM: Changi Airport must keep growing (The Straits Times, 2 July 2006)

By Ann Chia, Karamjit Kaur

External consultants wanted Paya Lebar expanded. The Cabinet reluctantly agreed. Yet Changi Airport was built and went on to garner 250 awards and accolades over its 25-year history.

The man who green-lighted the proposal to relocate the airport from Paya Lebar to Changi revealed last night how this Singapore icon came to be built.

But more important than its history, he said, is the need for it to keep growing.

Said Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew: "The competition for Changi's hub position has grown keener with newer, bigger airports around."

Cost pressures in the form of new aircraft technology and low-cost carriers add to competitive stresses, he warned.

Changi has never been just an airport, but an international gateway introducing visitors to the way Singapore works.

"Changi international recognition is a valuable and visible extension of Singapore's reputation for excellence, for reliability and for dependability," he said.

The Government, for its part, will continue to liberalise its air-service agreements with China, India and Asean nations to boost the growth of local and foreign carriers at Changi.

He applauded the Civil Aviation Authority of Singapore for responding to challenges in the aviation sector, noting that it had taken steps last year to keep costs competitive while improving efficiency and service levels.

With him at a dinner last night to celebrate the airport's 25th anniversary at Swissotel The Stamford were some of the 3,500 people who have been at the airport since day one. They heard him tell the story of the airport's birth.

The initial plan was to expand Paya Lebar. But Mr Lee disagreed. Its expansion would be limited by its proximity to the city centre, he said, and the Serangoon River would have to be filled in to accommodate a second runway. In addition, planes flying over the populated area would add to the noise and air pollution.

Moving to the former British airbase at Changi would mean aircraft approaching the island over the water, he argued.

But external advisers said moving the airport would be costly, especially since $800 million had already been poured into Paya Lebar.

The Cabinet reluctantly agreed to expand Paya Lebar.

But the plan was complicated by the 1973 oil crisis, which led to fewer planes landing at Paya Lebar and made the need for a second runway less pressing.

Taking the opportunity to reconsider the decision, Mr Lee asked then-chairman of the Port of Singapore Authority Howe Yoon Chong to head a team to look into the implication of a move to Changi instead.

The anwer? Changi could be ready by 1981, at a cost of some $1.5 billion.

"I believed that in the long term, this would be the better option," said Mr Lee.

In 1975, war broke out in Vietnam and he had to decide quickly whether the airport should stick to the 1981 deadline. He cabled acting prime minister Goh Keng Swee from Washington and told him to proceed as planned.

Changi Airport was ready in July 1981. In its first year, it handled eight million passengers and 200,000 tonnes of cargo. Today, it handles four times as many passengers and nine times as much cargo.

Please watch the Changi Airport Terminal 1 video debut 38 years ago.

↧

A village goes up in smoke

April 26, 2019, 10:44 pm

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With the courtesy of Newspapers.sg to share an aged newspaper article in The Straits Times published on 14 January 2014.

In the second of a series about events that shock Singapore, Debra Ann Francisco looks at the 1961 Bukit Ho Swee fire which left four people dead and 15,000 homeless.

Debra Ann Francisco

WHEN

May 15, 1961

WHERE

The area of Bukit Ho Swee included the area bound by Kampong Tiong Bahru (known as Jalan Bukit Ho Swee today), Delta Road and Havelock Road.

WHAT HAPPENED

The fire of Bukit Ho Swee was the biggest fire in the history of Singapore since World War II.

Also known as the Hari Raya Haji fire, the initial flames reportedly broke out at about 3.30pm among some squatter huts.

Strong winds quickly spread the fire across Tiong Bahru Road. The flames were described by eyewitnesses as terrifying and fast-moving. The flimsy attap and wooden huts were easily set ablaze and soon, even the five blocks of flats and shophouses close by were consumed by the fire.

Smoke filled the wooden homes, squatter huts and shops. Kampung residents worked together, using hoses, buckets and any container that could hold water to douse the flames but, before long, they had to evacuate the area.

The residents tried to salvage whatever they could physically carry as they frantically evacuated the area.

The scene was one of utter chaos as screaming children and weeping women searched for their family members.

Workers returning home at 4.30pm were met by horrific clouds of smoke. Stunned, they tried to find their loved ones in the fleeing horde.

Twenty-two fire engines raced to the scene to fight the flames. Even the troops from the British Army and the Singapore Military Forces came to help the firefighters contain the blaze at Delta Circus.

DESTRUCTION AND TRAGEDY

The blaze across the 150-acre site left four people dead, more than 45 injured and 15,000 homeless.

Two oil mills, three timber yards and three motor workshops were among the countless businesses destroyed.

The flames were finally extinguished more than seven hours later.

Many people returned to the area in the next few days to discover that their homes were completely razed to the ground and precious belongings reduced to cinders and ash.

THE AFTERMATH

The public and the Government acted swiftly and provided relief to the victims of the fire. Donations in cash and kind poured into the relief centres that the homeless were housed at. These relief centres included four schools in the Kim Seng area.

By February 1962, 12,000 low-cost flats were constructed for the victims on the very same piece of land ravaged by the Bukit Ho Swee fire.

The fire prompted a shift of people into public housing built by the Housing Board.

Sources: ST, NLB Infopedia

Bukit Ho Swee fire victims queuing for breakfast at the Kim Seng relief centre.

Survivors putting up at the Kim Seng (West) School.

A massive salvage operation being conducted at the 150-acre Bukit Ho Swee fire site. Under strict police and army supervision, groups of people were allowed into the ravaged area to dig for their belongings.

↧

No Place Like Home in Singapore

May 10, 2019, 4:33 am

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What do the Singapore Botanic Gardens, Marina Bay and Tiong Bahru Market have in common? They are some of the favourite spots of 12 well-known Singaporeans as shared with BT. This National Day, let's celebrate the special corners that we hold dear.

[Source: Business Times, 9 August 2013, Page 32/33]

FASCINATING SYMMETRY

This photo of the only diamond shaped flat in Singapore (Block 63 to 66 Yung Kuang Road) is featured in Soh's new book on disappearing landscapes. PHOTO: DARREN SOH

Darren Soh, 37

Award-winning photographer whose new photography book looks at Singapore's disappearing landscapes.

"In the past 10 years, I've been taking thousands of photos of old places and spaces that are deemed too banal or insignificant to be conserved by the government. They include ageing flats, old playgrounds, Big Splash, and the currently demolished Queenstown cinema.

Many of these places were built in the 1960s and 1970s. And because they have no so-called 'colonial' or 'historical' characteristics, they are deemed not worthy of being conserved. But the truth is that, for a lot of Singaporeans, they are reminders of who we are and where we come from - not just potential locations for new condos or malls.

One of the places that strike me as strange and wonderful is this diamond-shaped block of flats. Block 63 to 66, on Yung Kuang Road. Built in the 1960s and 1970s, it looks like a quirk of urban planning because it consists of four blocks, each a massive 21-storeys high, facing each other to form a diamond shape.

It is the only one of its kind in Singapore and it has a kind of fascinating symmetry you won't find anywhere else.

I know it will be torn down to make way for a development someday - which is why I've captured it and included it in my new photography book.

I titled the book For My Son because it documents the places and spaces my young son will never get to see or play it."

'For My Son' is the first of 20 books by famous emerging Singapore photographers. Visit twentyfifteen.myshopify.com

Eric Khoo, 45

Filmmaker

"I love the wanton mee at Guangzhou Wanton Mee at Tanglin Halt Market and Food Centre. I have been coming here for over 10 years already. In the old days they would operate through the night, and I would come here at five in the morning for breakfast. This is my soul food - I have my bowl with two spoonfuls of chilli, I will mix it up and add a bit of soup and stir it all together.

Ever since my first film, Mee Pok Man, food is a constant theme. When it comes to Singapore, what can we really call our own? Our food! We have all these different races that came here, and while we can hit one end of the island to the other in 50 minutes, what fascinates me is the diversity of food.

Food is about memories; I am currently working on my latest project, Recipe, with the Health Promotion Board about Alzheimer's disease, and it stars Zoe Tay.

I am reminded of how flavours and taste can bring you back. To be honest, a lot of local hawker fare does not look all that titillating - but the minute it goes into your mouth, for $2.50 or $3, my gosh, I don't need any three-starred Michelin restaurant."

PHOTO: JOHN HENG

Lim Choon Hong, 54

Founder and managing director of Xtra Designs

One time on a weekend, together with my wife and two kids, we had a picnic there. It was fun, but not as pleasant as being in the Gardens on a weekday, when there are fewer people.

I did visit the Gardens in my younger days and also when my now grown-up kids were toddlers, but now I feel I can better appreciate the space and greenery. The Gardens is a lovely oasis, a real haven, especially in the city.

In the last few months, I have gone there about four times. I want to go more often, but since returning to work, the phone calls start coming in and it becomes difficult to find time to go.

I have a group of old school mates who often go there to exercise. I hope to join them soon."

I've come to the stage of my life where I long for nature, peace, and open spaces. The Singapore Botanic Gardens is my favourite place.

I only started going there about three months ago, when I was recuperating from an operation. It is across the road from Gleneagles Hospital where I was at. I've discovered that the Gardens is a place I really like. My wife, Sara, and I would take a walk through the Gardens, and then have a coffee, before we would head to the hospital for my check-ups. Being in the Gardens you can feel that life slows down, and things are unhurried.

PHOTO: YEN MENG JIIN

Zizi Azah, 32

Playwright and artistic director of Teater Ekamatra

"I'm leaving for New Haven on Aug 20, and will be there for three years with my husband and daughter. I am a little nervous about the move - I feel I'm leaving behind my youth and the protected life I have in Singapore.

My identity is tied to my memories - the physical memory of the past may not exist anymore, but who I am stems from my experiences. And these give me a sense of belonging: a sense of being home.

Bedok has always given me that sense of belonging. I grew up in Block 90 at Bedok North Street 4 and moved out when I was eight.

But I spent most of my life there because my baby-sitter lived in my old block; my parents worked shifts so she looked after me every day. I used to hang out and play with my friends in the neighbourhood.

Now, I visit the area only once or twice a week. My husband and I enjoy going on drives through the streets; sometimes I like to annoy him by singing Madonna's This Used To Be My Playground.

What I like about Bedok is that it has not changed as much as the rest of Singapore has. Some of the old buildings have been replaced by new developments, but Block 90 is still there.

Change is good, but I think sometimes we quantify the monetary value of a place too much, to the point where we don't realise how much heritage is lost when the place is gone. It doesn't feel like anything is sacred anymore.

PHOTO: YEN MENG JIIN

Ti Lian Seng, 59

Director at DP Architects

"My favourite place in Singapore is the Marina Bay area. The place has evolved and is still evolving into one of the most complete and integrated urban waterfront environments on the planet. This is the consummate cosmic centre of Singapore which is why I love it.

The mixture of historical and urban modern buildings alludes to Singapore's past and present as a global city; the developments around the Bay give it so much vibrancy, diversity, texture and depth. For me it is an irresistible and ever-changing place that one can go back to again and again.

I count myself very fortunate in the sense I go past and get to enjoy the view of the Bay every day on my way to and back from my office at Marina Square; but when it comes to actually going into the Bay area, I do that about twice a month.

I have been going to the Marina Bay area over the last 10 years. Of course, way back then, there were not that many developments and there was not a Bay as we know it today where a person could walk around. But you could already get a sense of its amazing potential.

When I am there, I walk around the Bay as part of my exercise regime.

But sometimes I simply sit at a park bench or lean against the rail looking across the water and I feel very humbled and inspired.

PHOTO: JOSEPH NAIR

Jeremy Monteiro, 53

Composer and pianist

"I cycle to Bishan Park two to three times a week, normally at one in the morning. I will be working on my music, or I may be working on a proposal for a show, and wind down by coming here. I guess almost all my whole life I have been performing and finishing at 12 in the morning.

I love to be still - as a musician, there is always a whole lot of movement. To me the hallmark of a successful life is being able to balance motion and stillness; I'm always playing, I'm often talking and interacting with people, so that's why the stillness of Bishan Park, and being able to ride and to be still and calm my mind, appeals to me.

Music, melodies and inspiration come when I'm most quiet and not thinking and worrying. The Botanic Gardens is great, Gardens by the Bay and even East Coast Park as well, and I have cycled all the way from East Coast Park to Changi Village - a 20-kilometre ride, I would cycle all the way, burn off all my calories, have supper and take a cab home."

BY JOHN HENG

Chris Lee, 43

Founder and creative director of design agency Asylum

"There are many new places in Singapore these days, but I don't have any emotional attachment towards them the way I do to Queensway Shopping Centre.

I grew up in the Queensway area and lived there for 20 years before moving away. I now live I Balestier, but I still occasionally visit the shopping centre to buy sports equipment.

It has a unique, old-school layout and retro feel with all its nooks and crannies; walking through the place always gives me a sense of nostalgia.

I remember how during my schooling years, I would run away from school and head for the shopping centre, to play games, such as Galaga, Rally X and Pacman at the arcade. Strangely enough, I never got into much trouble or doing that, other than the one time when my father caught me. I was so engrossed in playing a game that it took me some time to notice his reflection on the screen. He was really angry and I got a big scolding.

The arcade has long since been torn down and most of the shops from my childhood are no longer there, but Queensway Shopping Centre still has a place in my heart as it holds so many good memories for me."

PHOTO: YEN MENG JIIN

Royston Tan, 36

Filmmaker

"Dakota Crescent 'Doves' playground is very old school and it reminds me of my childhood. During the Mid-Autumn Festival my friends and I would burn lanterns here, and hid things like pocket money in some secret compartments. You will find secrets if you dig around the playground.'

We played and got injured here, then learnt how to protect ourselves - it is not only a playground but also a learning ground.

There is a sudden emphasis recently on heritage projects, and many are initiated from the ground up. People feel that the landscape is changing too quickly and a crisis is coming up.

When I started working on the film installation Old Romances about two years ago, there were people from all walks of life calling in to a hotline, and they spoke about old places like playgrounds and hair salons, which formed a very interesting narrative thread of 45 places in Singapore. But by the time the film premiered in January this year, half the places were gone.

I think the youths of today can start by asking their family members what personal stories they have, and start documenting them. Everything starts from the family - we all have interesting stories about parents, and we have to get to know our dialect."

PHOTO: JOHN HENG

Genevieve Chua, 29

Full-time multidisciplinary artist

"In Singapore, where every plot of land has to be accounted for, and things are quickly torn down and rebuilt, it is becoming rare to find areas that have prevailed despite all the changes around them.

So it came as a pleasant surprise three years ago, when I was walking along the KTM railway and stumbled upon a piece of farmland that was flourishing amidst the resilient weeds surrounding it.

Located behind Block 305 at Clementi Avenue 4, that stretch of vegetation was clearly well-maintained, with plants like okra and chili padi growing in separate plots. It seemed to have escaptede the changes and development that the areas around it had undergone.

I later found out that residents in the area had been tending to the crops there for the past 30 years, simply for their love of gardening.

I visited that place a few more times after discovering it, the most recent being last month. I usually seek quiet places where I can contemplate my thoughts, but none have left on me an impression as strong as that plot of land. To me, it is a comforting place, a respite away from the rest of Singapore's changing landscape."

PHOTO: YEN MENG JIIN

Lee Meng Joo, 54

Owner, Zhong Yu Yuan Wei Wanton Noodles, Tiong Bahru Market

"I started out as a hawker's assistant in Tiong Bahru in 1983. The market's current structure was only built in 2006, when I opened my own stall. Before that, the market was really made up of three separate stretches: one along Seng Poh Road, one at Lim Liak Street and an open-air space at the back. Hawkers had fierce loyalties to the section they were in; there were even debates over which one had the best food. All that was lost when the hawkers were dispersed throughout the new market.

The old market was very dimly lit, the floors were paved with uneven, broken tilesd and you might have a tree trunk growing out from behind your table. But people came because the food was good, and comfort was less of an issue.

The camaraderie between hawkers then was much stronger. With no physical walls between stalls, we would borrow salt and plastic bags from each other, and share extra food with our neighbours at the end of the day. Many famous artists and writers who lived in the neighbourhood would come regularly; this market has also bred many doctors and leading businessmen out of hawkers' sons. Many of the first-generation hawkers have since retired, and newer hawkers have come in, but the food quality is not as good anymore. Food cost was cheaper then and fish came fresh from the sea, not farms, and kampong chicken were allowed to grow in natural conditions for a longer time, not just 50 days.

Thankfully, rents in the market are still affordable today - they haven't risen as quickly as those in the private buildings outside, which have led many around here to shut down. But the government doesn't set any quotas on how many wanton mee stalls you can have in a market, so you still have to up your game. You can't get byt just making mediocre food.

PHOTO: DEBBIE YONG

Malcolm Lee, 29

Chef/co-owner of Candlenut Kitchen

"I grew up at Ang Mo Kio Street 62, attending nursery, kindergarten and primary school there. In fact, they were literally beside Ang Mo Kio 628 market - one of Singapore's hidden treasures. I can still remember the taste of the chicken rice, braised duck rice, fried carrot cake, bak chor mee, wanton noodles, barbecue chicken wings and barbecue seafood. And even thoughI have moved out from the area, I still go back when I can to have my favourite food.

I would take a walk around the block where I used to live and reminisce back on the days when we played soccer, and broke some lamps in the process; catching at the void deck; marbles and other games like Red Indian and Blind Cat at the playground, which still had sand then. I used to ride my BMX almost every day around the area, and I can still remember where I crashed and injured myself.

Just looking at my old neighbourhood, it has changed quite a bit - the playground is no longer there and as everything is new and upgraded; it just isn't the same anymore.

It has only been a little over 10 years and things have changed so much. But that really defines Singapore and who we are; we move quickly with the times and adapt to changes just as quickly.

But there is not much we can do about it - Singapore is small and we need to change quickly in order to survive. I would say, just treasure the memories we have and not lose them in the midst of the many changes happening around us."

Lee Guo Sun, 32

Lawyer/Supperclub owner/cookbook writer

"Every other Saturday back in the 80s and the early 90s (when people used to work half-days on Saturdays), my mum used to bring me to her workplace at Exeter Road, also known as ComCentre, where I would just hang around, read books or run around the fountain outside.

When my parents finished work, we would rush over to the Killiney Road Kopitiam, which was across the road, in a attempt to beat the lunch queue, and order their famous kaya toast and Hainanese coffee.

I remember seating inside a cramped old shophouse, with light streaming down from the airwell, me perched on a stool playing with my toys on the cold marble coffee table, the open top charcoal fires grilling the kaya toasts, and large pot of kaya simmering gently on the charcoal stove.

We knew Killiney Kopitiam as Bulldog back then, thanks to this one grumpy and squat uncle with a furrowed brow, a stubby nose and sagging cheeks, barking out orders in Hainanese as the order rolled in.

I hope that the old stalls and the traditions that come along with them would learn to modernise and evolve with the times and remain relevant - like the National Museum, the MITA building or the Fullerton Hotel. I don't think you can recreate the feel of a place, but we can preserve things like recipes and stories.

What I am worried about is the techniques and flavours which may be lost in the effluxion of time. And that my own kids may never know the taste of toast grilled on charcoal slathered with handmade kaya."

The Value of Old Newspapers

I missed the National Day 2013 edition of Business Times and found this interesting feature through the archives of NewspaperSG.

I reproduce this articles because newspapers in print form are unlike books, cannot be reprinted to replenish the books' stocks are sold out. The daily newspapers are published once, not reprinted.

The old newspaperws are not just rubbish or garbage, for the 'karung guni man' to sell at a few cents a kati. The printed words in all languages of the newspapers and other publicationsa are the gems: valuable for knowledge, research and resources which everyone could learn and share for education.

'No Place Like Home' is a topic for everyone in every country where a person is born and share our fond childhood memories to share. Writing about personal memories of an individual in a place to grow up anywhere in the world is not about patriotism or to treat this topic as propaganda of the government. Every citizen in the world are proud of every place like home.

Tiong Bahru Market - Then and Now

↧

The Queen's Coronation Day

May 17, 2019, 2:02 pm

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Queen Elizabeth II of United Kingdom

On 6 February 1952, Princess Elizabeth succeeded to the throne on the untimely death of her father, King George VI.

Her Coronation in Westminster Abbey on 2 June 1953 represented a day of historic pomp and ritual for the dignitaries at the ceremony, and the excitement of colourful pageantry and national rejoicing for the crowds who lined the streets of London in the rain to see their new sovereign, Her Majesty Queen Elizabet II.

[Source: Pitkin Pictorial record of this historic event, a poignant and personal account seen through the eyes of the late Beverley Nichols.]

The start of the great day

They don't care if it rains, how chill the wind blows - or even if it snows! They've been there all night. More than 130,000 camped out on the pavements along the route of the procession for the whole night before Coronation Day. A scene in Northumberland Avenue.

You can't move an inch, even seven or eight hours before the procession arrives. An early morning picture in Trafalgar Square (photo above).

The Queen's Progress to the ancient Abbey is under way. Her Majesty's guardsmen, airmen and sailors line the route.

A coronation day smile from the Queen

"How happy the Queen looks!" That was what her people were saying throughout this historic day as they cheered her on her triumphal Coronation drive. Beside her the Duke of Edinburgh wears the full dress uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet.

H.M. Queen Elizabeth II is crowned

"O God ... bless this Crown, and so sanctify thy servant Elizabeth ... that she may be filled by thine abundant grace with all princely virtue. "

The Archbishop takes up St. Edward's Crown and places it upon the Queen's head. Queen Elizabeth II is crowned. In her right hand is the Sceptre with the Cross, ensign of power and justuce, and in her left the Rod with the Dove, symbol of equity and mercy.

The Balcony Scene

The spectacle witnessed by the vast crowds that massed in front of the Palace after the Queen's return. Between the Queen and her husband stand their children, the Duke of Cornwall and Princess Anne. Prince Charles wears his first medal - the Silver Coronation medal. There too, are the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret.

Prince Charles points excitedly while the Queen and the whole of the balcony party look up.

Here comes the RAF! The airman-Duke was the first to detect the whine of the jet engine. This was the RAF's Coronation salute to the Queen. 168 aircraft took part but they had to use open formation since bad weather made it too risky to fly wing-tip to wing-tip.

Her Majesty's Coronation Speech

Below is the text of the Queen's speech, which was broadcast at 9 p.m. on her Coronation Day, 2nd June, 1953.

When I spoke to you last, at Christmas, I asked you all whatever your religion, to pray for me on the Day of my Coronation. To pray that God would give me wisdom and strength to carry out the promises that I should then be making. Throughout this memorable day I have been uplifted and sustained by the knowledge that your thoughts and prayers were with me.

I have been aware all the time that my peoples spread far and wide throughout every Continent and Ocean in the world were united to support me in the task to which I have now been dedicated with such solemnity.

Many thousands of you came to London from all parts of the Commonwealth and Empire to join in the Ceremony, but I have been conscious, too, of the millions of others who have shared in it by means of wireless or television in their homes. All of you, near, or far, have been united in one purpose. It is hard for me to find words in which to tell you of the strength which this knowledge has given me.

The Ceremonies you have seen today are ancient and some of their origins are veiled in the mysteries of the past, but their spirit and their meaning shine through the Ages, never, perhaps, more brightly than now. I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine. Throughout all my life and with all my heart I shall strive to be worthy of your trust.

In this resolve, I have my husband to support me. He shares all my ideals and all my affection for you. Then, although my experience is so short and my task so new, I have in my parents and grand-parents an example which I can follow with certainty, and with confidence. There is also this. I have behind me not only the splendid traditions and the annals of more than a thousand years, but the living strength and majesty of the Commonwealth and Empire. Of societies old and new, of lands and races different in history and origins, but all by God's Will united in spirit and in aim.

Therefore, I am sure that this, my Coronation, is not the symbol of a power and a splendour that are gone, but a declaration of our hopes for the future and for the years I may, by God's grace and mercy be given to reign and serve you as your Queen.

I have been speaking of the vast regions and varied peoples to whom I owe my duty, but there has also sprung from our island home a theme of social and political thought which constitutes our message to the world and through the changing generations has found acceptance both within and far beyond my realms. Parliamentary institutions, with their free speech and respect for the rights of minorities, and the inspiration of a broad tolerance in thought and its expression. All this we conceive to be a precious part of our way of life and outlook.

During recent centuries this message has been sustained and invigorated by the immense contribution in language, literature and action of the nations of our Commonwealth overseas. It gives expression as I pray it always will, to living principles as sacred to the Crown and monarchy as to its many Parliaments and Peoples.

I ask you now to cherish them and practise them too, then we can go forward together in peace, seeking justice and freedom for all men.

As this day draws to its close, I know that my abiding memory of it will be not only the solemnity and beauty of the Ceremony but the inspiration of your loyalty and affection.

I thank you all from a full heart.

God bless you all.

↧

Tiong Bahru - 'Hollywood of Singapore'

May 25, 2019, 1:44 am

≫ Next: Growing up in a Boon Lay farm

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The building at the junction of Kim Pong Road and Tiong Bahru Road, same location at different times (photos above & below).

Till the mid-1950s the streets were still lit by pre-war gaslights, most of which failed frequently because the pipes had been damaged by bombing.

How much do I know about Tiong Bahru on this blog .

There are many historical information and nostalgic stuff to learn from Tiong Bahru where I used to roam during my childhood in the 1950s. I was then staying at Jalan Bukit Ho Swee after the Bukit Ho Swee fire in 1961.

With the help of the resources and research at NewspaperSG, I discovered an old newspaper published 35 years ago, I learnt that Tiong Bahru was once known as the "Hollywood of Singapore".

"Tiong Bahru - From slum to fashion hub of the 50s" by Jackie Sam, staff writer of Singapore Monitor on 9 September, 1984.

To young Singaporeans the pig farms off Ponggol are out of sight, even if the smell is not. To an older generation, pig farms used to be right in town.

In Tiong Bahru which is one of these rare Chinese-Malay names meaning "New Centre."

The older Singaporeans say tiong was originally the Hokkien Huay Kuan cemetery in the neighbourhood. The homonym tiong meaning "centre" was adopted after the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) estate was built in the late 1930s. It wasn't nice to call the new estate "New Cemetery."

Tiong for cemetery was in common usage amongst the peranakans (Straits-born Chinese) who settled on the fringe of the General Hospital towards the end of the 19th century. A big chunk of land was owned by the merchant brothers, Sit Wah and Sit Pai: Chinese sources say part of the district was named after Sit Pai which the colonials corrupted to Sepoy. English sources say it is derived from the Sepoy Lines where the Indian sepoys lived in quarters.

It was Sit Wah who built the row of two-storey terraced houses on Eng Hoon Street which leads to the hospital. The houses still looking in good shape, were the only brick houses there until 1937.

It was then alongside the track running through villages, the cemetery and vegetable gardens into the interior. Along this track which is now Outram Road-Tiong Bahru Road, farmers carried their produce in the pre-dawn hours for sale in town.

Sit Wah had Eng Hoon Street covered with granite chips. As a result the rickshaw pullers refused to take passengers across this stretch of road. Lee Boon Eng, 67, a retired clerk, gleefully recalls:

"Those babas were rich. They would have nothing to do with the poor farmers. Very proud people. So some people found satisfaction in watching them try to bully the rickshaw pullers into going up Eng Hoon Street and not succeeding. Big arguments all the time. Very funny to watch.

"But sometimes a particularly timid rickshaw puller would give way and then he would have to bend his legs and waddle slowly over the sharp rocks, barefooted. Poor fellow."

The rickshaw pullers didn't go into what is now Tiong Bahru, either. It was a small hill then and no rickshaw could be pulled up Or Chye Hng the old Hokkien name for Tiong Bahru.

The name means "yam garden" from the tuber grown there in large quantities to feed pigs here. And bean curd manufacturing. The two always went together because the jacket of the soya bean boiled with chopped yam leaves made good pig feed. Those days that was all the pigs had," Mr Lee says.

Huts dotted the undulating land. All the farmers were Hokkien, living in relative peace save for the occasional secret society battles they had to take part in. But these battles were fought elsewhere.'

"It was only after the war that young gangsters fought all over the place. In those days secret society people were rather like gentlemen. Whenever there was friction, reports would be made to solve them. If it couldn't be settled, one side would say: "Right, we meet at such and such a place, at such and such a time." That was all. And the battle ground would always be neutral territory away from each other's home ground. Of course, also as far away as possible from the authorities.

"Each side would not know how many men his opponent would muster. Or what weapons they would bring along. Too bad if one side miscalculates, So, before the war, it was very peaceful in Or Chye Heng" Mr Lee said.

The population of Tiong Bahru grew rapidly with the great influx of Chinese in the early years of the century. With many women now coming in, a lot of them began to settle in Singapore permanently. The town was so overcrowded the colonial government decided new housing would have to be provided.

In 1927 the SIT, forerunner of the Housing and Development Board, was established. But housing was only one of several functions and not the most important. Its resources were also limited and spent mainly on creating backlanes and reconstructing old shophouses.

It only started building single storey artisan's quarters at Balestier in 1932. But in 1936 it cleared Tiong Bahru for Singapore's first public housing estate. The SIT opted for flats completing 748 units in four storey blocks with 33 shops and upper-floor living quarters.

The first blocks were bounded by the extended Eng Hoon Street, Seng Poh Road, Eu Chin Street and Tiong Poh Road. This was, and remains, Tiong Bahru's centre. There used to be a high pillar, surmounted by a clock, on Guan Chuan Street where the road divider now ends. It was pulled down after the war.

All the new residents were wealthy men from elsewhere, moving in just before war broke out.

Like all other public buildings, these flats and shophouses were given camouflage colours in 1940. Underneath the staircases the SIT also built bomb shelters for the residents, each capable of accommodating six or seven people, seated.

Along some of the five-foot ways double-plank walls, filled with sand, were raised to provide additional shelters. In the open grounds (now car parks), U-shaped concrete structures without roofs provided extra shelters.

But when the Japanese began their drive down the Malayan peninsula, thousands of refugees went ahead of them, streaming across the causeway into Singapore - and many made straight for the much-publicised flats of Tiong Bahru.

The bombs of World War Two did little damage and flats could withstand quite a bit of bombing. Several felon these flats, most making large holes in the roof and two floors down. These were the first flats for local people.

So many refugees crowded in here that the flats looked like a huge, permanent air-raid shelter. It was described then as an "open city." And when the Japanese bombers were overhead, more people crammed into the shelters than expected.

The estate's garages, now occupied by a restaurant and the community centre, were chock-a-block with people and their meagre belongs. Even the pillboxes in Chay Yan Street and Moh Guan Terrace were crammed with refugees.

When the bombs were not falling women worked in make-shift kitchens which were 1.5m in height, in the streets and playgrounds.

With the occupation, the refugees returned to Malaya, but some stayed, swelling the squatter colonies around the estate.

Then came the sook ching. Purification through purge. All the residents were ordered to a large piece of vacant land on which the Tiong Bahru Market now stands. Unlike other concentration areas, it was not properly blocked off and there were not many Japanese guards around.

"The Japanese just roped off a large square. At the time I thought it looked exactly like Sports Day at school. I think Tiong Bahru was very lucky, very few people taken away to be shot.

"When I got there a few hundred people were already inside. But no guards. So we could leave at any time. That evening I went home. Next morning I went back. Most of us didn't wnt to offend the new conquerers. There were all the stories of atrocities from China.

"We were told the Japanese needed labour to clear away all the rubble in the city. If that was all right. Nobody knew what was happening elsewhere on the island, but everybody was looking forward to resuming normal life.

"Next morning a captain came along, accompanied by a few local detective. He gave us a lecture. Singapore is now 'Shonan,' he said. All Singapore and all private properties now belonged to Japan. You people have now to listen to the Japanese. That's his lecture.

"Then we were all categorised. Businessmen one side, students another side, labourers another group, and so on. Some groups, like the businessmen went into lorries. Most of us thought: Ah, now the Japanese want to make them labourers, make the eat humble pie. Nobody thought they would disappear for good.

"I said I was a labourer. Then we had to file past a table where the detectives were seated. Got stamped on the arm and went home quickly.

"Next morning, the detectives were around again, telling everybody to report to Tanjong Pagar Police Station. Everybody in Tiong Bahru went. We got there by about 4.30 p.m., gathering on the vacant land beside the station. Used to be know as Trafalgar Street.

"Another captain gave us a very long lecture. All about Dai Nippon, great country, blah, blah, blah. Everything in Singapore now belonged to them. We must now be loyal to the emperor. Lots of threats. We would be executed if we didn't obey. Went on till 8 pm. Then we were told to go home. Nobody taken away. In all these years here, from childhood till now, I think that was the biggest event in Tiong Bahru.

"I refused to do any work. Many people didn't work. But later the Japanese ordered everyone to get a job or else be conscripted for labour, so I went to a godown around the corner to work as a payroll clerk for a Japanese factory making raincoats out or latex and old newspapers," Lee says.

By then all the open spaces of Tiong Bahru were overgrown with tapioca. The Japanese started a "grow more food" campaign. Most people took the easy way out and grew tapioca.

British prisoners-of-war were made to clear the nightsoil and refuse of Tiong Bahru. "People came out to outwit the Japanese whenever the PoWs came by. The guard always walked ahead. Behind him the residents would push bread, yue cha kway and cigarettes into the hands or pockets of these PoWs. Anyone who got caught would be beaten up. Still, every day residents did it," Lee recalls.

The flats came under the jurisdiction of the Custodian of Enemy Properties and looked after by the old staff of the SIT.

"The problems during the Occupation were the same as pre-war and immediately after the war: illegal brothels and gambling dens," says one of the men who had to look after the place.

It took a few years after the war before the SIT refurbished them, removing the camouflage colours and repairing the bomb damage. Then it quickly acquired what one writer called "its most striking feature: smugness." Behind this description was a touch of envy. There were so many homeless, so many others crammed into dilapidated shophouses that many were jealous of those living in these flats.

By 1954 there were 2,000 units and more shophouses. This completed the Tiong Bahru "district" bounded by Tiong Bahru Road, Kim Tian Road, Jalan Bukit Merah and the Singapore General Hospital.

"Looking at it now it is hard to believe that Tiong Bahru was known as the Hollywood of Singapore and a fashionable corner of the island," says Monitor journalist Sit Yin Fong for whom Tiong Bahru was an important part of his newspaper "beat." High-rise living was then regarded as an American lifestyle and that was half the explanation for calling it "Hollywood."

The other part of the explanantion was the "avant garde" lifestyle of many residents. They were mainly cabaret girls and mistresses of rich towkays. The women went about in the latest western styles and cheongsams with daring thigh-high slits.

Mahjong

"Mahjong day and night. The cabaret girls had nothing to do in the day so mahjong was very popular," says Sit.

Tiong Bahru acquired its reputation soon after its completion. Its proximity to the Great World Cabaret and the red-light district of Keong Siak Road had to do with this as well.

But these flats were meant for the poor. "A lot of these tenants just rented out rooms or even the whole flat to professional men or rich towkays who kept their mistresses there.

"For these prominent people it was an ideal hideaway. You could go there by taxi and slip quickly into the dark staircases. Some of them had as many as three or four mistresses tucked away in the estate.

"Every night there were many taxis coming in, dropping off people. And there was a big coffee shop opposite the market that was a meeting place for young Romes. Teddy boys, they were called.<

"The gangsters also met met at this coffee shop for talks and negotiations. No fighting.

"The terrors of the place were really the housing inspectors. They were real kings. In those days the SIT employed inspectors to see that residents were bona fide ones. Lots of bribery. Many people who rented rooms there passed themselves off as visiting relatives or friends," Sit recalls.

In the 1960s, as low-cost housing was carried out on a colossal scale, the problem began to ease. The squatters moved out; the surrounding areas developed. A no-nonsense application of the anti-secret society Temporary Law Provisions put a lot of the gangster leaders behind bars; crimes dwindled. The outdoor hawkers moved into new centres elsewhere.

In 1968 the flats were sold to residents. By that time Tiong Bahru had acquired a middle-class sobriety. But it continues to stand out architecturally and socially. The surrounding housing estates are built much higher and their occupants less sophisticated.

The market now serves mainly residents. But its foodstalls draw large numbers of nurses every morning, and office workers at lunchtime.

Photo of Gan Family outside Sit Wah Road on 1945

Archived photos of Tiong Bahru from National Archives of Singapore

<Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew visit to Sepoy Line & Tiong Bahru

PM Lee Kuan Yew viewing exhibits after opeing $800,000 Tiong Bahru People's Auditorium at Seng Poh Road. Looking on are Member of Parliament for Tiong Bahru Chng Jit Koon (second from right) and other officials on 25 August 1979.

Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew Visit to Ananda Metyarama Temple at Jalan Bukit Merah

↧

Growing up in a Boon Lay farm

June 1, 2019, 2:07 am

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Mr Winston Chai, a kampong boy at heart, cherishes his childhood memories of open spaces and communal living in Jurong.

[Source: The Straits Times on 17 February 2013. By Teh Joo Lin]

When his science teacher taught the class about shrimps, water stick insects, and other aquatic creatures in Primary 4, Mr Winston Chai was the only student in his class of 40 who didn't bat an eyelid.

These were daily sightings at the fish and vegetable farm where he spent the first 14 years of his life in the late 1970s and 1980s.

Mr Chai, 38, says: "Until that lesson, I didn't realise how different my childhood was. Even my form teacher was very intrigued when he realised that I knew all this first-hand, because he himself never had such an experience."

He started supplying bags of water plants and animals to stock up the school's eco-garden.

Mr Chai was born in 1975 to a family that reared tropical fish and grew vegetables in Jalan Bahar, near Boon Lay.

Plenty of room

His house - built from wooden planks and topped with a zinc roof - sat on a knoll on the plot of land, which was about the size of three to four football fields.

His neighbours had also cleared the forest to rear pigs and chickens, and plant fruit trees and vegetables.

The environment was a world away from the high-rise housing estates that they would move to in the late 1980s, when the Government took back the land.

Mr Chai, a civil servant, says: "I miss the wide, open spaces. Back then, I had no concept of what space constraints were. When I visited my relatives who lived in a three-room flat, I couldn't understand how three or four cousins could share a room. In our house, if we were short of rooms, my grandfather just built a new wing."

The farmhouse had 11 rooms for the family of seven.

There were two garages and even a warehouse.

Growing up, Mr Chai spent most of his time outdoors. He caught everything from fish to frogs, climbed guava trees, sped down dirt slopes in a bicycle and darted around the graves of the nearby Choa Chu Kang cemetery - but only in the day.

Badminton games

"It was spooky at night. At that time, especially in the 1980s, vampire and ghost movies from Hong Kong were popular. They fed my imagination," he says.

In the evenings, the grown-ups had their fun too, when they put down their tools, picked up badminton racquets, and made a beeline for Mr Chai's home.

The nightly "badminton tournaments" took place there because the house had a courtyard that was laid with concrete and spotlights.

Somehow, the wide tracts of land that separated one home from another brought everyone closer together.

He says: "There were a lot of communal activities where the concept of sharing was instinctive. Today, we get privacy and we exchange pleasantries with neighbours, but things don't really go much further than that."

Python party

Neighbours often came knocking to share their harvests, such as papayas and mangoes.

Even pythons, which slithered onto the farmland to prey on the poultry, were shared.

He says: "When people see pythons now, they don't know what to do. For us, the natural instinct was to take control of the threat on our own. We didn't call the police. We just grabbed a pole and a gunny sack."

Snakes up to 2m long ended up in the cooking pot.

He says: "The snake was used to make herbal soup. All the neighbours would be invited to dinner and there would be a huge 'python feast'.

"But I wasn't a fan of the soup. I haven't had it since."

Shortcut for soldiers

Other types of "intruders" were treated more civilly - soldiers who strayed onto the land when they got lost during night exercises.

One night, after the family was roused by "banging on the door", Mr Chai's grandfather flung it open to real dozens of uniformed men wearing helmets, field packs and rifles. They needed directions.

He says: "My grandfather let them walk through our property and take a shortcut. Otherwise, they would have had to make a huge detour. It was quite funny sight to see them troop past one by one."

Several years later, it was Mr Chai's turn to enlist for national service and undergo training near the farmland.

He says: "That brought back a lot of memories of childhood."

By then, lost soldiers no longer had anyone to turn to for directions. The farms had already been torn down. The land was overrun with overgrown grass.

The family moved to a five-room Housing Board flat in Teck Whye, and his father earned his keep as a taxi driver.

He says: "From being woken up by the crow of roosters and birds chirping, it became the noise of traffic. But the move wasn't traumatic for me. It was more so for my grandparents."

From Boon Lay to Bukit Batok

More than two decades have since passed. Mr Chai went on to graduate from university, tie the knot with his former schoolmate and move to an apartment off Bukit Batok, which he chose for the surrounding nature and greenery.

Other preferences from the past have stayed with him.

Recalling how he dreamt up his own games and fashioned his own catapults and fishing poles, he says: "We were pretty much self-sufficient, and made the most of what we had. Until today, I don't like to depend on others. People also say I am not a conventional thinker in the way I approach my problems. That has really stuck with me through adulthood."

"At the end of the day, I am still a kampong boy at heart."

↧

Playing with the past

June 8, 2019, 1:37 am

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≪ Previous: Growing up in a Boon Lay farm

Exhibition of playsets invokes sense of nostalgia at bustling Raffles Place.

Report by Law Zhi Tian (Source: The New Paper, 19 March 2013)

The fondest memory of Singapore's parks for Mr Teo Hong Mong was the time he took his cousin, who once lived here but had moved back to China for more than 50 years, to revisit their childhood playground, the Singapore Botanical Gardens.

He said: "Back then, it was one of the biggest parks in Singapore and we used to play by one of the trees.

"Fifty years later when we came back, the tree was still there! Now in Singapore, usually after 50 years, there is nothing left to remember."

Tree Planting Campaign

On June 16, 1963, former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew launched the first Tree Planting Campaign by planting a Mempat tree at Farrer Circus.

Half a century on, NParks, with help of many companies, schools and communities over the years, has planted about 1.4 million trees throughout the island.

Director of Parks Chia Seng Jiang, 52, explained the rationale of bringing the playsets of yesteryears into the city.

He said: "Once upon a time, we were all young, and parks and playgrounds gave us moments and momories that will last a liftetime.

"We want to bring them back into the city and evoke some nostalgia in a place like the Central Business District, which is why we chose Raffles Place."

Aside from the playsets, traditional games such as pick-up sticks and yo-yos were also placed around the display area for people to play with.

In addition, there were two huge blown-up photographs providing people with a glimpse of Raffles Place in the 1920s - a commercial square lined by grey buildings and rickshaws with scarcely any trees then.

Alongside "Playsets of Yesteryear", NParks also launched an iOS application, sParks, to allow people to navigate through park trails and park connectors, as well as learn more about the flora and fauna there.

Nparks plans to plant 1,963 trees by the end of the year, of which 40 per cent have alreadybeen planted by various corporate organisations, non-governmental organisations and primary schools.

For livening up Raffles Place, a place he visits once a month for recreation, Mr Teo gives NParks a thumbs-up for their efforts.

He said: "I feel like writing a sign saying 'Don't remove this park from Raffles Place!' I've never seen it being so beautiful before."

A group of schoolchildren playing a game of 'chapteh'.

The 72-year-old retired engineer received a pleasant surprise when he walked past Raffles Place Park.

The usual patch of grass in front of Raffles Place MRT station was jazzed up with flora and something unusual - set of park benches, swings, see-saws and merry-go-rounds.

Brought in from parks all over Singapore such as Fort Canning Park, the swings and park benches were an instant hit with the busy office crowd.

Many people slowed to snap a photo, chat with friends on benches under the shade of trees or even try out the swings - all in their office attire.

The sight of young and old on playground equipment in the middle of the business district injected a sense of lightheartedness during the bustling lunch hour.

↧

Merlion Musings

June 15, 2019, 2:07 am

≫ Next: Outram and 30 years after

≪ Previous: Playing with the past

The Merlion may be dinky, but it carries Ong Sor Fern's childhood memories. She wrote in The Straits Times on 12 March 2000.

When does a tourist trinket become a national icon?

She was musing over that mysterious transformational process recently after the Merlion's unfortunate encounter with nature.

A friend had sent her a text message the evening the Merlion was struck by lightning. The brief SMS, to the point and short on details, prompted apocalyptic visions of destruction and wreckage. She envisioned a statue shattered beyond repair and her gut reaction was dismay.'

Now, the Merlion is not something she have regarded with reverence thoughout her life, although it has been a constant presence.

She remember as a child being taken on outings to the Esplanade and seeing the statue.

One particularly vivid memory centres on the inevitable kids' drawing competition where her sister and her dutifully sketched the Merlion, spitting water as per countless postcard images even though the tap was turned off on the day.

In fact, as she grew older, the Merlion became something of a cliché as she learnt more about its provenance. After all, it is hard to respect something created by a tourist board as a logo and marketing gimmick.

She was not the only one to have doubts about this "national icon". As a young reporter, she interviewed one of Singapore's premier poets, Dr Lee Tzu Pheng, who had then just published a new collection of poetry, Lambada By Galilee.

In it was a poem The Merlion To Ulysses, a tart response to Professor Edwin Thumboo's landmark 1977 poem, Ulysses By The Merlion.

Dr Lee had said: "I'm very uneasy about seeing the Merlion as a national icon. We need something that has really evolved rather than something that's chosen by the Singapore Tourist Promotion Board."

And yet, over the years, the Merlion has insinuated itself into Singapore's consciousness. Just look at the recent uproar over the lightning strike as Singaporeans speculated about the fengshui implication of the incident and whether to repair the statue of leave it standing proudly with its newfound scar.

It has become, thanks to the Singapore Tourism Board's relentless efforts, what it was supposed to be - a tourist icon. Even in other countries, the Merlion is instantly recognised as a symbol of Singapore.

She remember gaping at a television advertisement in Japan's last year: An airline was advertising its flight to Singapore by portraying a Japanese salaryman getting drenched by a man-sized Merlion installed in his living room.

In a way, the creature's unnatural birth mirrors Singapore's own origin as a territory thrust traumatically and unexpectedly into nationhood. As a country, the Republic was created out of sheer willpower and deliberate design. So it seems somehow apt that this island state is represented by a creature stitched together by a combination of pragmatism (marketing), plagiarism (of world myths) and perspiration (it took three months for craftsman Lim Nang Seng to build the statue).

(Photo above: Lim Nang Seng at his worksite with one of the Merlion statues (background) sculpted by him in 1972.

Unlike other national icons which tend to start life celebrated then deteriorate into neglected cliché, the Merlion has travelled a reverse trajectory.

As the years have gone by, it has become the centrepiece of a vibrant literary subculture, thanks to Prof Thumboo's inaugural poem, etched onto a plague which still accompanies the statue of the Merlion Park.

After Dr Lee's first published riposte, succeeding generations of young poets have written about the Merlion. In fact, it is something of an in-joke in literary circles that every aspiring poet must write a "Merlion".

But not all the poems are as salutary as Prof Thumboo's celebratory description of "this lion of the sea/Salt-maned, scaly, wondrous of tail/Touched with power, insistent".

In the poems of younger poets such as Daren Shiau, Alfian Sa'at, Alvin Pang and Gwee Li Sui, the Merlion has become a prism with which to examine national identity, to satirise Singapore's insecurities, to critique the country's head-long rush into the future.'

Ironically, by virtue of its own superficiality, the Merlion has inspired thoughtful literary reveries that have invested this awkward half-lion, half-fish creation with meaning and depth.

Perhaps she was getting sentimental as she get older and the familiar geographical landmarks of her childhood vanish in name of progress and urban redevelopment.

But nowadays, when she see the Merlion, she no longer see just a tourist icon. It has become a carrier of her childhood memories. Her perception is also coloured by the poems she have read, which provoked her into thinking about the statue in new ways.

Where once she was mightily irked by the decision to move the Merlion from its old location to its current spot, now she see the move as an embodiment of Singapore's supremely pragmatic approach to all problems.

This latter approach might seem callously efficient, but it is this clear-eyed attitude that has helped Singapore survive all manner of storms and could be the one thing to pull us through the current economic doldrums.

After the lightning strike, she now see the Merlion in a new light, no pun intended. It may be dinky. It certainly is fake. But heck, it is our creation and she have learnt to embrace it, warts and all.

Ulysses by The Merlion by Prof Edwin Thumboo
For Maurice Baker

I have sailed many waters,
Skirted islands of fire,
Contended with Circe
Who loved the squeal of pigs;
Passed Scylla and Charybdis
To seven years with Calypso,
Heaved in battle against the gods.
Beneath it all
I kept faith with Ithaca, travelled,
Travelled and travelled,
Suffering much, enjoying a little;
Met strange people singing
New myths; made myths myself.

But this lion of the sea
Salt-maned, scaly, wondrous of tail,
Touched with power, insistent
On this brief promontory...
Puzzles.

Nothing, nothing in my days
Foreshadowed this
Half-beast, half-fish,
This powerful creature of land and sea.

Peoples settled here,
Brought to this island
The bounty of these seas,
Built towers topless as Ilium's.

They make, they serve,
They buy, they sell.

Despite unequal ways,
Together they mutate,
Explore the edges of harmony,
Search for a centre;
Have changed their gods,
Kept some memory of their race
In prayer, laughter, the way
Their women dress and greet.
They hold the bright, the beautiful,
Good ancestral dreams
Within new visions,
So shining, urgent,
Full of what is now.

Perhaps having dealt in things,
Surfeited on them,
Their spirits yearn again for images,
Adding to the Dragon, Phoenix,
Garuda, Naga those Horses of the Sun,
This lion of the sea,
This image of themselves.

Group photograph of Miss Universe 1987 contestants at the Merlion Park

Construction of Singapore's tourism symbol, The Merlion in 1972

The schoolchildren have fun at the Merlion Park

Above: This is a photograph of Teng Hwee Tiang's two daughters standing in front of the Merlion cub at Merlion Park, dressed in identical red tops and brown shorts. The Merlion Cub measures two metres high and is located 28 metres behind the Merlion, standing guard at the mouth of the Singapore River at Merlion Park. Photograph donated by Teng Hwee Tiang and displayed at the Heritage Roadshow 2008.

Below: Merlion Park is a Singapore landmark and major tourist attraction, located near One Fullerton, Singapore, near the Central Business District. The Merlion is a mythical creature with a lion's head and the body of a fish that is widely used as a mascot and national personification of Singapore. (Source: Wikipedia).

With the courtesy of the Singapore Memory Project to post my personal fond nostalgic memories of the Merlion Park here .

The photo below of my son and daughter taken in 1986 at the Merlion Park, Singapore.

↧

Outram and 30 years after

June 20, 2019, 9:34 pm

≫ Next: The spirit lives on

≪ Previous: Merlion Musings

Outram Secondary School's class of '62 had its first reunion. YEO TOON JOO, member of that class, looks back on its peculiar situation then.

[Source: The Straits Times, 10 September 1992]

'The students were caught in the transition from one government to another, when new education policies were still in gestation, and no provision had been made for their continuing education'
- Mr Boon Oon San, a former Outram teacher

One became a fighter pilot, another a World Bank consultant; others became a top civil servant, a newspaper editor, school principals, financial controllers, bankers and successful entrepreneurs. Two did very well in their GCE A levels and became President's Scholars.

But all were not deemed qualified to enrol for pre-university studies - including those with seven or eight distinctions in their final examinations in Secondary 4.

"I suppose it was because we were guinea pigs in a new education concept," said one of them, now a communications consultant.

The 1962 batch of Outramians had opted to join Outram Secondary School, the Ministry of Education's first commercial secondary school which prepared students for the London Chamber of Commerce Intermediate School Certificate, in 1959.

While their LCCI school certificate was considered good enough for them to teach commercial subjects in the ministry's secondary schools, they were not allowed to sign up for the Senior Cambridge School Certificate (O Level now) without first passing a qualifying test, or repeating Secondary 4 in a grammar school or in the Adult Education Board's night classes.

Said Mr Boon Oon San, an ex-Outram School senior teacher, who later become a sports officer in the Ministry of Social Affairs: "From our understanding, Outram was set up as a commercial school in the mid-50s to feed the business world with people trained in bookkeeping, typewriting, shorthand, commerce and other commercial skills.

"Unfortunately for those students then, the concept was launched by a previous administration during its short term. Singapore received self-government and a new administration in 1959.

"The students were caught in the transition from one government to another, when new education policies were still in gestation, and no provision had been made for their continuing education. Many students who had wanted a higher education were left in the lurch."

That was 30 years ago, when those students found themselves at the end of their school career with a school certificate that opened many doors to the commercial world, but proved worthless for higher studies.

The 1962 batch of Outramians will meet for their first reunion next Saturday (12 September 1992) to catch up on the lost years, some spent in the wilderness of finding their true calling, including going back to school to unlearn their commercial studies and find a new tack in the academic field.

One alumnus, Mr Tan Ah Ung, after securing his LCCI school certificate, decided to be a pilot. He was rejected despite obtaining good passes in the Cambridge and Higher School Certificate examinations, and holding a private pilot licence.

"I was told I had to have at least one science subject, even if it was just General Science," said Mr Tan.

So he went back to night classes again and ended up with a second HSC, in Science.

And he joined the Singapore Air Force as a fighter pilot, a long way from a commercial career envisaged by Outram. Mr Tan now flies for Singapore Airlines.

Two others - Mr Frankie Tan Leng Cheo, a financial consultant, and Mr Koh Cher Siang, Permanent Secretary in the Ministry of Community Development - excelled in their Cambridge and A levels, and went on to become President's Scholars.

They pursued tertiary education in totally unrelated fields. But Mr Tan switched to accountancy after his BA (humanities).

Mr Tan, who obtained his post-graduate diploma in business law at the age of 45, said: "We were the underdogs. But though we were not given a foundation in academic subjects, many of us were resilient enough to handle all sorts of subjects - and do well."

Outram is Singapore's second oldest school. Set up as a primary school in 1906, it was the feeder school for Raffles Institution, Singapore's oldest school.

In the mid-'50s, it introduced Secondary 1 classes, initially in the academic stream and then in commercial studies.

Mr P.T. Hong, principal in an international accounting firm who specialises in corporate restructuring and insolvency, said: "Like many of my classmates, I signed up for Outram even though I had no clue as to what bookkeeping was. We had three streams to choose from: technical, grammer or commercial.

"I had no interest in the first two. Commerce seemed the best bet as it offered the promise of finding employment more easily with an LCC, and that was important in Singapore then as jobs were scarce."

Human resource consultant and headhunter Lee Siong Kee, who was head prefect, said: "Because of the training at Outram, we were able to fit into clerical and accounting jobs on day one of employment.

"Outram students established such a good reputation and were so much oin demand that emloyers were contacting the school to 'reserve' its graduates."

School principal A. Rahman Ibrahim, who started working life as a secretary and advance in education through private study and a scholarship, said: "I have no regrets over having been one of the pioneers. At that time, there was scope in the commercial sector."

The commercial background came in useful for another alumnus, Mr Safdar A. Husein, when he was studying business administration in London.

"Because I could type, I was paid double the rate of other temping students in summer holiday jobs. Knowledge of bookkeeping, commerce and typing is very useful in my vocation as a businessman. But, on hindsight, I would really have liked to be a doctor."

Outram produced a number of other interesting graduates, including former banker Fock Siew Wah, the Mass Rapid Transit Corporation chairman, who belonged to one of the earlier batches of commercially-trained Outramians; Mr Wong Kan Seng, the Minister for Foreign Affairs (1963 batch), and the former MP for Paya Lebar, Mr Philip Tan Tee Yong (1963).

Those who went into accountancy were able to pursue tertiary education abroiad, soe going to Australia where they needed only a year to matriculate. Most had to repeat Secondary 4 in order to go on to A levels and the then University of Singapore.

At the turn of the '60s, the experiment with LCC was dropped, and the school offered O and A levels, while maintaining its commercial bias.

Today, Outram offers science, arts and commerce for O levels but commerce for A levels.

Fellow Outramian friends to remember

Any fellow Outramians who remember Peter Yeo Toon Joo in this photo taken during his youth? I sought his consent to post his schooldays photo to our Facebook group and I wrote: "Hi Peter, your grandkids in the latest FB profile photo show them taking after good-looking grandfather. Grandchildren resemble grandfather, the best blessing. Peter replied: "Hi James. By all means. Pity though I had lost most of my photos of my youth. This one was actually sent to me my niece." Thank you for sharing your fond memories, Peter. God Bless.

Tan Ah Ung was 2 years my senior in the Junior Red Cross Cadet Unit No. 10. He is a friendly guy with a witty sense of humour ... fond, unforgettable schooldays memories of our friends of Outram Secondary School at the old school building at Outram Road.

↧

The spirit lives on

June 30, 2019, 1:00 am

≫ Next: Singapore - A Melting Pot

≪ Previous: Outram and 30 years after

[Source: The Straits Times, 10 November 1982]

By Irene Pates

'Learning, the principal of St Nicholas reminded her students, constitutes only a part of the personal quality, and in life she would have them remember the spirit of St Nicholas: "A spirit ... of strong convictions, high ideals, devotion and simplicity"'

Ten years ago, a six-year-old girl started her first day at St Nicholas Girls' School.

For more than a week she sat somewhere in the back row, and during Chinese and civics lessons she sulked.

She knew no one in class, but what made her feel so morose was that while all the other girls responded to the teacher's questions with an enthusiastic "yes" or "no", she had no idea what was being said because she did not understand a single word of Mandarin.

She did not know how to say "yes" and "no" in Mandarin, although she was soon to recognise these words by her classmates' enthusiasm or lack of it.

Her parents had decided to send her to St Nicholas Girls' School for several reasons.

Both of them had been brought up in the tradition of mission schools. Both had been educated in English. While her father could read and write elementary Chinese, her Straits-born Chinese mother was not even able to write her surname in Chinese.

Both had had fairly traditional Chinese upbringing. Her paternal grandparents had come from Shanghai in 1939. Her mother is Peranakan, whose ancestors had settled in Malacca centuries ago.

Her parents realised that there are many universal values taught in all schools and that traditional Chinese teachings or Confucianism has no monopoly on what is good and worthwhile in enduring values.

However, they wanted their first child to be at home with both English and Chinese. They realised also that in an age when children were given more freedom because of Westernisation, a Chinese education could help to temper in their daughter the possible adverse effects of so much exposure to a Western way of life.

Their little girl came from a home where English and Cantonese were spoken.

She recovered from that initial culture shock, or rather, language shock, of her first few days at school.

She soon learned enough Mandarin to understand her teachers in class. But during recess she was more friendly with those girls who spoke English or Cantonese.

This proved to be short-lived because she found out soon that the principal wanted the girls to speak only English to each other on certain days, and Mandarin on other days.

The St Nicholas girls love their principal and they obeyed.

Thus her exposure to Mandarin was increased.

The first few Chinese dictation exercises that she brought home for her parents to initial were merely a series of triangles, topped by the teacher's nought. She found learning to write Chinese characters very difficult. She did not know where to start.

Her mother, a teacher, made an arrangement with one of her pre-university students who had attended the Catholic High School. She would give him and a group of students extra help in the General Paper after school hours.

He in turn would help his teacher's daughter with Chinese.

Being helped in Mandarin by a gege (big brother) whom she liked did the Primary One pupil a lot of good.

He made sure that she learned to write Chinese characters with the correct strokes and in the proper order.

She began to show some improvement in class.

Soon her father was left behind by his daughter in Chinese. As her Chinese outpaced his, he could no longer give her very much help.

Then followed a short period when she had the help of a home tutor, but her parents felt that she had to learn to work on her own. Her teacher in school was always available when she needed help. So private tuition was discontinued.

So the years went by and then it was time to decide on the school that she should attend after Primary School Leaving Examination.

Initially, her parents had thought that she should attend an English secondary school. She had the advantage of an English-speaking home environment. The six years' education in the Chinese medium would give her a head start with Chinese as a second language.

However, so pleased were her parents with the care that she had been given by her teachers in her six years at St Nicholas, that they hoped she would qualify to be able to continue her secondary education in the same school, which she did.

This 16-year-old schoolgirl and her classmates attended the Graduation Ceremony 1982 of the school. Graduating with them were the pupils of the Primary Six classes.

The principal, Mrs Hwang nee Lee Poh See, describing hereself as "a mother reluctant to see her children go", spoke of the St Nicholas spirit that had infused all of the girls in her care. It was this spirit which helped them through their school days.
She recalled the times when, putting the welfare of the group as a whole above individual excellence, the girls would stay in school after class in order to help one another.

In Chinese, for example, those who were more fluent would help the less confident ones.

Learning, she reminded them, constitutes only a part of the personal quality and in life she would have them remember the spirit of St Nicholas : "A spirit ... of strong convictions, high ideals, devotion and simplicity."

Half the hall was filled with parents which as Sister Celine, the guest of honour, said, was testimony to the care and concern that these parents had for their daughters.

The parents sat in the school hall and watched each girl go on stage to collect her certificate. To Mrs Hwang and her teachers, these girls had been their children - some for a period of six years and some for 10 years.

As the parents looked out, they saw, through the arched doorways, the school field and the grass that struggles to grow despite the weight of more than a thousand white canvas-clad feet at morning assembly.

Beyond the field is the old chapel and the playground.

In the school hall the old ceiling fans stirred the air. Some lights were on. Not many schools have such old ceiling lights.

All these would be changed when the new school at Ang Mo Kio is ready and St Nicholas Girls' School, so long at Bras Basah, will be resited.

How many more graduation ceremonies will there be in the old school hall?

Meanwhile at this ceremony for the pupils who would leave at the end of 1982, pupils parents and teachers together sang:

My friends and my teachers,
These old crumbling walls,
Creaky floor boards,
Echoing rooms,
Everything old and familiar ...
I'll take with me memories,
Memories to treasure
Memories to dream by
To staunch the tears.
And when these girls leave, they will also take with them the strength of the St Nicholas spirit, acquired during their school days.

I know it because that little girl who was so unhappy 10 years ago is my daughter.

↧

Singapore - A Melting Pot

July 2, 2019, 12:23 am

≫ Next: Sweet family bonds

≪ Previous: The spirit lives on

Racial harmony does not just exist among friends; at times, it extends to the family as well.

Here, correspondent Leremy Lee offers a glimpse into his mixed-race family. In this photo, some members are dressed in different ethnic costumes while attending their Indian relative's wedding.
From left: Miss Lynn Lee, Mr Lee's sister, who is Chinese-Indian; Ms Lina Siew, Mr Lee's Chinese-Indian cousin; and Madam Vina Kalwani, Ms Siew's mother and Mr Lee's aunt, who is an Indian.

With courtesy of The Straits Times, 14 July 2014, through a gallery of visuals, IN Crowders and staff writers show what racial harmony means to them.

ACTIVITY

Take a photograph of a typical scene in Singapore which depicts a harmonious multiracial society.

Write a caption for the photo after you have printed it. Devote a board in your classroom for this activity.

Then, as a class, reflect on these two questions:

What impressions do you think Singaporeans will have of the photographs you have taken in 30 years' time?

What impressions would you like them to have

NOTE FOR TEACHERS

Encourage students to write their own captions to the photographs they have taken.

Teachers can also discuss other daily occurrences surrounding youth that they may not have noticed or have taken for granted. You can use photographs or stories that are published daily in The Straits Times to aid your discussion.

These anecdotes or photographs can be compiled for the class noticeboard.

Race and religion in Singapore are, more often than not, intertwined - Chinese, Malays, Indians and other races co-exist cordially with Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, Hinduism and Christianity among some of the major religion in the country.

Singaporeans are both respectful and open enough to welcome one another or be welcomed by others into different worlds.

Here, journalist Ang Yiying captures two Chinese women offering prayers at the Sri Krishnan Temple, a Hindu place of worship at Waterloo Street, while an Indian man sits at the side.

On a little street in Singapore for worship at this blog .

SIDE BY SIDE

Correspondent Laremy Lee catches two Youth Corps Singapore projects that benefit their community.

CHILDHOOD GAMES

IN Crowder Wong Yang, 15, spotted enlarged models of a layang-layang (kite) gasing (spinning top) and capteh all races played these games in their childhood with friends from different races.

ON AN EVEN KEEL

IN Crowder Eloise Lim, 15, a Year 3 student from Temasek Junior College saw Nike and Neil cycling happily at Bedok Jetty, East Coast Park. They obliged when she asked to snap a picture of them for this paper.

When she asked for their races, however, they declined saying: "We are from different races. However, we won't give our races, as racial harmony means everyone should be equal."

THE NS SPIRIT

Basic Military Training graduating recruit Abu Bakar As-Siddiq Azmi, 23, of Kestrel Company doing a back somersault in elation as his fellow recruit Muhammad Zulkifli Masod looks on, after

ground, or religion.

UP IN THE AIR

Former national player R. Suriamoorthy still possesses the skills from his days as a midfielder in the 1980s, as he juggles the ball on the new pitch of the National Stadium during an event last month, which brought together past and present Singapore footballers.

Football is a common sport played by boys - and girls - of different races in Singapore.

Chinese Singaporeans confident of culture and aware they differ from Chinese elsewhere.

[Source: The Straits Times, 20 May 2017]

Singapore is not a melting pot, but a society where each race is encouraged to preserve its unique culture and traditions, and appreciate and those of others, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong said.

No race or culture is coerced into conforming with other identities, let alone that of the majority.

In fostering such an approach for a multiracial, multi-religious society rooted in its Asian cultures, Singaporeans need the arts and cultures "to nourish our souls".

"We don't wish Singapore to be a First World economy but a third-rate society, with a people who are well off but uncouth. We want to be a society rich in spirit, a gracious society where people are considerate and kind to one another, and as Menvius said, where we treat all elders as we treat our own parents, and other children ad our own.'

PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW

SIAair stewardesses at Singapore Turf Club for this year's Singapore Airlines international Cup and KrisFlyer International Sprint in May.

The flight attendants, who are of different races, are wearing their uniform - the iconic sarong kebaya, a traditional South-east Asian costume.

↧

Sweet family bonds

July 5, 2019, 11:28 pm

≫ Next: Kopitiam - Great Hangout for Retirees

≪ Previous: Singapore - A Melting Pot

Phyllis Phua (seated left, in pink blouse) with her grandfather, Mr Lao Song Khong, 78, and three generations of their family. Mr Lao sold desserts like tau suan (whose ingredients of split mung beans, sugar, potato flour and pandan leaves) when he was a teen to survive the hungry years of the 1940s.

By Phyllis Phua

[Source: The Straits Times, 29 October 2011]

Phyllis Phua, 16, is a Secondary 4 student of Pasir Ris Secondary. She wins $100 in shopping vouchers and an iPod Touch 8GB.

My grandfather Lao Song Khong came from China to Singapore with his mother in 1938, when he was five. In 1946, his mother managed to get a pushcart and became a street hawker near Read Bridge at Boat Quay, selling four varieties of desserts all boiled into a sugary soup.

They woke at about 6am for breakfast before buying ingredients for the desserts. Once home, they would prepare Teochew fried yam in sugary paste, which is rarely sold now. They also made red bean soup, cheng tng and tau suan.

After a simple lunch, they would load the desserts onto charcoal stoves in the pushcart and trundle it down the street.

Grandpa, who was in his teens then, helped his mother serve customers and was utensils. They sold desserts till about 10pm, before packing and folding their cart and calling it a day.

By the time they reached home, it was already nearing midnight.

Although life was difficult, they made a decent living of about $7 a day, which was enough for Grandpa, an only child, and his mother. His father had died during World War II, so mother and son depended on each other.

He was about my age when he sold desserts but his life was clearly harder than mine. It was tougher to earn a living in the past, when manual labour was common.

Still, Ah Gong cherishes the bedrock values and kampung spirit of those days.

People were friendlier and warmer, he says. Neighbours were like family, helping one another and celebrating Chinese New Year together. Food was tastier, and furniture was more durable.

Thinking about the lessons from his simple life, he says in Teocher: "We cannot steal, rob, bully, trick or cause harm to others for personal gain.

"We have to depend on ourselves and the morally upright. If we see others in need, we do our best to help them."

Grandpa folded up his dessert cart at 20, when his mother died of tuberculosis. After that, he took up odd jobs and worked in an ice cream factory, before driving taxi for 30 years.

Grandpa is now 78 and widowed. Although he was an only child, he has raised his own loving family.

With his expert cooking skills, his family of four children and eight grandchildren have the sweet pleasure of eating his delicious desserts, which also include barley with gingko nuts and water chestnut soup.

Indeed, our family bonds are strengthened because of the times we share while enjoying the desserts of old Singapore.

Read Bridge, originally known as Merchant Bridge, was renamed in honour of prominent businessman William H Read. The bridge crosses the Singapore River at the uppermost limit of Boat Quay. [Source: National Archives of Singapore].

↧

Kopitiam - Great Hangout for Retirees

July 19, 2019, 7:03 am

≫ Next: Singapore's last street barbers

≪ Previous: Sweet family bonds

Nostalgia is revisited in this photograph. Remember these traditional biscuits which used to sell them for 5 to 10 cents each. And the old-styled cup and saucer evokes a feeling of nostalgia.

[Source: National Library Board]

In The Straits Times, 21 January 1998, Lee Kip Lee wrote Kopi Tiam memories:

I refer to the report "East Coast goes Upper with hip businesses" (Sunday Plus, Jan 4) which had a photograph of Jin Wee kopi tiam.

It is the place to go for elderly readers who wish to make new friends of their age.

Unlike the noisy, open coffeeshops in HDB estates, Jin Wee is on the ground floor of a terrace house. It is run by two brothers, whose wives cook the meals it serves.

One of the highlights of my two years' sojourn in Siglap was to be able to frequent it in the mornings, between 9.30 and 10.30, to have coffee and natter with other retirees at our own special round table.

Visiting Jin Wee was like walking into the privacy of one's own clubhouse where, besides the regulars, I could meet a long-lost classmates who had cycled to Jin Wee (yes, lots of old fellows cycle with impunity in Katong and Siglap) after a walk at the East Coast Park, or recognise another childhood friend, despite his stoop and grey hair.

We were a diverse group who developed a bond of friendship and tolerance which permitted one of our "members" to insist on paying for everyone's drinks every day, on the ground that they were paid for out of his four-digit lottery winnings.

There were anecdotes recalled of groups of youths in the 1930s, living in the Makepeace and Hooper roads government quarters and raring for a fight with "invaders" from Katong; and of groups of adventurous Singapore Harbour Board shipyard apprentices spending their Sundays hiking from Pasir Panjang over a ridge up to St Joseph's Church in Bukit Timah, with tins of sardines, corned beef and bread for their meal.

New look, same food at kopi-tiam near you

The Straits Times kopi-tiam check article by Mathew Pereira and Stephanie Tham on 20 June 1992.

Muslin vs machine

The neighbourhood kopi-tiam is alive and well. But it has a new look.

Far from disappearing, it has kept up with the times by renovating its premises and offering more hawker fare.

Most coffeeshops have said good-bye to bentwood chairs and marble-top tables with spittoons under each table though some old-time shops remain, especially in the Chinatown area.

Coffeeshop along North Boat Quay c1986

The Straits Times check 25 coffeeshops in Toa Payoh, Ang Mo Kio, Chinatown, Whampoa, Commonwealth Crescent, Bukit Gombak, Bishan and Tampines.

Most still serve kopitiam fare. But on bright plastic tables and chairs and with better lighting and more fans. In place of mosaic flooring, the shops have ceramic tiles.

Their operators said they keep pace with customers' tastes. Younger people are more fussy about cleanliness, said Mr Goh Eng Soon, 38, who runs Hoi Yin Pow Dim Eating House in Ghim Moh.

Said Mr Goh: "The old kopitiam does not work anymore." Nobody wants to eat at a table with a spittoon underneath and where the floors are brown with age, he said.

After he spent about $40,000 on renovations, many long-time Ghim Moh residents who had never dropped in before became regular customers.

To Mr Don Foo, 36, who owns Ming Ju Restaurant at Ghim Moh and a Clementi West coffeeshop, change was a matter of dollars and sense.

"Customers will only walk into the shop if it is clean," said Mr Foo.

The old toilets were "frightening" before the $100,000 renovation, he said.

Now the shop draws more customers. He also collects more from sublets. The 10 vendors to whom it is sublet used to pay $400 to $700 per stall. Now they pay $1,000 to $3,000, he said.

Mr K. Chandra, 32, runs his father's coffeeshop, Sri Karumanan Villas Restaurant, in Hillview Avenue. He said many operators were told that the Ministry of Environment (ENV) had given them till 1993 to renovate.

Not so, said ENV. It said owners had been encouraged to renovate and upgrade but there had been no talk about any regulation.

Customers confirmed that cleanliness was important. Miss Angeline Chan, a secretary in her thirties, said: "These renovated shops do not feel greasy or slimy."

Teacher Derek Chew, 37, said: "The traditional kopitiam is different from the romanticised ones you see on TV or along Orchard Road. They were dark, dirty and even smelly. No one will miss that."

But unhygienic or not, some swear by breakfast at the old-style kopitiam. It is these old faithfuls who keep the originals alive in older estates such as Balestier Road, Whampoa and Chinatown.

These continue to be informal meeting places, especially for retirees. But even their operators say it is a matter of time before they die out too.

Mr Thiang Swee Ping, 44, is a helper at Sin Wah Coffeeshop in Chinatown. "People now want variety. They want an air-conditioned place. They want a cleaner place," he said.

"This place is clean. It is only that it is old," he noted. Sin Wah opened in 1941.

Business was definitely down, he said, adding: "The old customers are gone and there are not that many passers-by these days. Soon people will be calling these new eating places kopitiam.

For kopitiam regulars, the upgrading will be sad.

Retiree Ong Beng Chooi, 84, has been a customer of Hock Seng Coffee Shop at Commonwealth Crescent for the past 20 years.

"Not only is this place familiar, the coffee is still good too. The atmosphere here is informal, relaxed and friendly. It would be a shame if the place was upgraded and renovated," he said.

Mr Chew Wee Jim, a 72-year-old retiree, also has fond memories.

"It's a place where the old people can just sit around and chit-chat. We feel uncomfortable in the newer establishments," he said.

It is not only elderly retirees who will mourn the passing of the old-style kopitiam.

Technician Anthony Yip, 28, said: "The kopitiam atmosphere is different. While I do not go to a kopitiam often, it will still be sad to think that I will not be able to visit one at all."

Kopi tiam keeps up with the times

The pride of Nam Chuan coffeeshop in Block 186, Toa Payoh Central, is the $20,000 Cantilever machine that dispenses 10 types of soft drinks.

Each glass is filled within three seconds, about twice as fast as conventional machines.

Its operator, Mr Ng Chiow Tong, 52, made the switch to save labour and compete with the brighter, brasher fast-food newcomers in the HDB block.

His coffeeshop gleams with Italian ceramic floor and wall tiles, more fans, lamps, lighted colour bill-boards and pennants advertising fizzy drinks.

And a new lighted sign-board replaces the old wooden one.

"My business increased by 30 per cent after I renovated the shop to attract the young and catch the MRT commuters," Mr Ng said.

His shop used to be dark, with tables and chairs arranged haphazardly and stalls crowding the front. And the damp gunny sacks he used to absorb water seeping from his old refrigerator gave it a malodorous air.

He has gotten rid of the 300 stacked cases of bottled drinks which used to take up one fifth of his coffeeshop's space. The cannisters for his drink-dispensing machines now only take up 1 per cent of the space, and he now uses the Public Utilities Board's piped gas.

A manager of Fraser & Neave, a major supplier of soft drinks to coffeeshops, said more ageing shops, such as those in Toa Payoh and Ang Mo Kio, were renovated last year.

At the 18-year-old Kian Seng Coffeeshop in Block 17, Toa Payoh Lorong 7, 62-year-old Ah Or has also thrown out his charcoal bread griller, scratched marble tables, rickety chairs and wooden crates.

In their place are drinks and ice-dispensing machines and a smokeless Japanese gas grill for toasting bread.

Ah Or - less well-known as Msr Chua Kian Seng - dug deep into his savings and borrowed for the $200,000 renovations.

Said Ah Or: "When your customers are wearing new clothers, your shop must also look new. Before the renovation, at the end of 1986, my place looked dirty, the mosaic tiles were chipped and the furniture was old."

New tables and chairs

The kopi tiam owner, who started from a small shop in Jalan Sultan in the early 50s, said his drinks business has improved by 40 per cent since the beginning of last year.

The new tables and plastic red chairs in neat rows add cafeteria slickness. "We broke down the store-room, so it's brighter and more spacious," said Ah Or. "I put in extra furniture and two more stalls. We can now seat 110, where before we could seat only 70."

The food stalls which used to line the shop front have been pushed to the back, where a new ventilation system sucks smoke out of the shop.

Customers seem to like the change, but some stallholders find the modernisation hard to stomach.

Their coffeeshop operators have raised their rents to recover renovation costs, and bring it in line with rates charged by operators in newer towns.

Stallholders complain that the new rents eat into their profits. Some also cry foul because they say, the operators still pay lower rent for the whole renovated coffeeshop than the newer coffeeshops.

When one coffeeshoop raised its rent for a noodles stall from $500 to over $800, most of its old stallholders left. But then there was a scramble by new applicants for the vacated stalls.

The coffeeshop operators feel the raise is justified, as a renovated shop attracts more customers. They also say they have to pay higher bills due to more fans, lamps and machines.

But one thing still has not changed for the evolving kopi tiam - the aroma of coffee and the chatter.

Mr Ng still serves his brew for takeaways in empty milk cans, as well as in styrofoam cups.

Cigarette butts and footprints still dirty the floor which is washed before closing time, but Mr Ng said laughingly: "If my shop is clean the whole day, I'll be worried."

The evolution of the kopitiam in Singapore

MUM's the word for coffeeshop

Modernise. Upgrade. Mechanise. (MUM).

Be more hygienic. Be more efficient. Be better managers.

Pity the coffeeshop owners whose cup runneth over with exhortation.

He had more of the same served at an exhibition on modernisation of coffeeshops.

Dishing it out to the Foochow Coffee Restaurant and Bar Merchants Association and the Kheng Keow Coffee Shop Owners' Association was Mr Teo Chong Tee, Parliamentary Secretary (Environment and Social Affairs).

Mr Teo began in reflective mood. The coffeeshop, he said, used to be a forum where people discussed social and political issues. It was also a meeting place where people exchanged information.

Now, he said, most people go to a coffeeshop just to eat and drink. And coffeeshops face stiff competition from fast-food shops and hawker centres.

Then he pitched them the MUM formula: modernise, upgrade, mechanise ...

Whether they will depends on many factors, the main one being uncertainty.

As many as seven in 10 coffeeshops will be affected by urban renewal, according to an official of Kheng Keow Coffee Shop Owners' Association.

"Modernise? What for?" said the owner of a coffeeshop in North Bridge Road asked whether he planned to apply the MUM formula.

The shophouse was a pre-war building which he paid nominal rent, he said. He had no idea whether the government would acquire it.

He had once thought of renovating the place and widening the passageway to the back so he could put in more tables. "But if I want to knock down anything, I have to pay tea money to the owner."

Besides, it might not pay as people were moving out to housing estates and nany of the new buildings that had come up in the area had their own food and drink outlets to serve office workers.

His regular customers might object to machine-brewed coffee, he said. They wanted their coffee the way it had always been made - by hand.

And he might also have to raise prices - which could put regular customers off. Or extend opening hours - which would worsen the problem of finding workers.

Who wants to work in a coffeeshop for $200 when they can work in an airconditioned factory for $400 or more?

None of his sons wanted to take over the business. And his daughters were all married and working elsewhere.

What he might do, he said, was transfer the shop to someone else, and help him run it. Or, as both his sons lived in Ang Mo Kio, he could live with either of them and work in one of the coffeeshops there.

Mr Teo would have told him that he need not fear customers shunning his shop if it went self-service or served machine-brewed coffee because some owners who have done so report better business.

[Source: The Straits Times, 30 October 1983]

Traditional Kopitiam fare with nostalgic memories

The old-styled cup and saucer evokes a feeling of nostalgia. [Courtesy of the National Library Board].

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Singapore's last street barbers

July 26, 2019, 10:15 pm

≫ Next: A Village Remembered - Radin Mas 1800s - 1973

≪ Previous: Kopitiam - Great Hangout for Retirees

Once a common sight in back alleys, they will soon enter pages of history.

By Janice Tand and Goh Shi Ting

[Source: The Straits Times, 19 October 2012]

They were once a common sight in Singapore's back alleys.

With these makeshift awnings and distinctive reclining chairs, street barbers did brisk business offering fuss-free trims.

These days, however, they are a dying breed, soon to be relegated to the dusty pages of history.

Four street barbers believed to be the last in Singapore will soon hang up their scissors, clippers and razor blades - and call it a day.

Mr Lee Yoon Tong, 74, has been cutting hair for 50 years and earned enough to pay for an overseas university education for his two daughters, who are now in their 40s and working as a teacher and a banker. "One studied in Melbourne, the other one in A-da-le," he said.

While he struggled to pronounce the name of the Australian city Adelaide, Mr Lee is articulate when it comes to his trade, which has seen its fair share of ups and downs.

He moved to the streets around 13 years ago when he could not afford the escalating cost of renting a shophouse. Soon, like the three other ramaining street barbers, he will pack away the time-worn tools of his trade once and for all.

All four have been in the business for most of their lives and had seen the end coming.

Even if they found others interested in succeeding them, they would not be able to hand over to the next generation as the trade is technically illegal. They are not allowed to operate due to hygiene reasons.

"I'm allowed to stay here only because I know the boss of the shop in front which used to be a medical hall and I buy herbs from him," said Mr Goh, 73, another of the street barbers, who did not want to give his full name for fear of being identified.

"If the authorities find me an eyesore, they will chase me away."

Most of the barbers ply their trade in the back alleys of Tanjong Pagar and Chinatown.

The sunset industry is still enjoying brisk business, mainly due to the loyal following of elderly men or migrant workers seeking cheap, hassle-free trims.

The barbers charge between $4 and $8 for a haircut and shave. Most of them get an average of 10 customers a day, with more coming on weekends and festive seasons like Chinese New Year.

As there is no way of making appointments, customers can wait up to an hour for their turn. Each cut takes about 20 minutes.

Mr Koh Kow Yee, 82, has a unique queue system.

When customers come in, he shouts out their numbers in the line and they head out for coffee nearby before returning a while later to reclaim their places.

For the last 60 years, Mr Koh has slugged it out as a street barber in the back lanes of Sembawang, Chinatown and Little India.

After decades of being at the mercy of the sun and the rain, he traded his makeshift awning and wooden roof for a proper storefront at the back of a shophouse in Kelantan Lane two years ago.

"My friend offered the space to me for free," he said.

"Now, it's more cooling with the fan and I got access to water."

While he still has most of his tools from yesteryear, he now uses an electric razor instead of a manual clipper because there is electricity in the shop.

But others still stick to the manual clipper, including Mr Tan Boon Kee.

"The electric ones are too heavy and may get stolen if I leave them around over-night," said the 67-year-old street barber.

The four street barbers picked up their skills by working as apprentices in the early days, although they said others were self-taught.

As well as operating from fixed locations, some were also called to homes in the past.

Following the mass development of public flats by the Housing Board in the 1960s, they were often seen and heard along the corridors of HDB blocks, crying out "cut hair" in various dialects.

Mr Loh Yong Han, 19, has fond memories of the days in the 1990s when a street barber would drop by his four-room flat in Bukit Panjang every month to cut his hair, as well as that of his father and grandfather.

The barber would come ready with his tools, hairdressing cloth and shaving cream while the family provided the stools.

When the Straits Times visited a street barber in Chinatown on 8 Ocobter, 2012, Mr Loh was also there.

He stood transfixed at the scene of the barber tending to his customer.

"I happened to pass by, and when I saw the street barber, all my childhood memories came back, I didn't know they still exist," he said.

"It's a pity that soon the handful will stop work, they are so much a part of our history."

Archived photos of barbers in backlanes with courtesy of National Archives of Singapore

Childhood memories of visiting the barbers

I was not born bald. Since a child, my haircut was done by my mother. Then she would bring me to a Chinese barber shop in the kampong whenever my hair grown longer. I did not have choice for the hair style I wanted. Usually short hair like a China man. Even during schooldays, I did not follow the fashion like the Beatle's hairstyle which was popular at that time.

Once, my classmate recommended me to have haircut at an Indian barber which have "extra service" to massage my head.

I had the first experience at the Indian barber and it was unforgettable. After cutting my hair, he slapped on my back to massage. He then used both hands to twist my head to the left and right and I could hear the cracking sound of my neck to break it. I really had a fright because my head could drop if he used too much strength to twist my head.

For many years now, I kept my head bald for my reasons here .
I was curious to find out why monks do not keep hair on their heads.

The answer: "Monks with hair would make them compare and how what better fashionable hairstyle to have. Such thoughts would not help them to practice emptiness in thoughts".

No worries. Keep your crowning glory to enjoy your hairstyle and preferred fashion to make you beautiful and admired. Else barbers will not have business to make a living.

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A Village Remembered - Radin Mas 1800s - 1973

July 31, 2019, 10:42 pm

≫ Next: Bound for posterity: Portraits of neighbourhoods

≪ Previous: Singapore's last street barbers

On 1 September 2013, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong launched the book "A Village Remembered: Kampong Radin Mas 1800s - 1973" which specially for former residents of Kampong Radin Mas.

The birthplace of many Malay-Muslim institutions, Mr Lee said Radin Mas also produced leaders who made important contributions in politics, as well as in arts and culture.

"How did Radin Mas produce so many talented people? Some people said it's because of the 'air pancur', the spring water, which flowed from Mount Faber to the kampung. Others said maybe it was the ice ball kaching or the kuti kuti and the kana," he said.

"But everybody agrees that the 'gotong royong' spirit had a lot to do with it, where people help one another, where everybody knew everyonbe else and each spurred the others to go on and do their best."<

Former Minister Haji Othman Wok was born in Radin Mas (photo above).

With his wife Lin in 2012 (photo below).

He added: "Even today, when we are in Housing and Development Board flats - much bigger towns, not a few hundred thousand people, but hundred thousand people perhaps - it's still necessary for us to maintain that strong community spirit for us to do well."

Kampong Radin Mas is believed to be among the oldest villages in Singapore.

The book documents life in the Radin Mas village before it was demolished in 1973 to make way for a satellite town.

The Lim Brothers

Lim Soon Heng (above) and his brother Soon Leng grew up in their grandfather's house in Kampong Radin Mas from the time they were little. Their grandfather Lim Keng Cheow had come to Singapore from Amoy, China in the early 20th century looking for work and found his niche supplying coolies for the Singapore Harbour Board (now Port of Singapore Authority or PSA). The elder Lim's house was one of the few Chinese homes in the kampong, where he lived with his wife Tan Swee Lian. The couple adopted six children, including the mother and the father of the two Lim brothers. Soon Heng, the older of the two brothers by six years, was born in 1944. There are five other siblings: Ah Swee, Kim Swee, Gek, Soon Hock and Soon Huat.

Soon Heng's earliest and most enduring memory of life is the kampong is that of his father Lim Seng Chiang working very hard. A serang (junior supervisor) at the Singapore Harbour Board, he worked three shifts a day on most days including Sundays. Said Soon Heng, "At daybreak my father would already be riding on his trusty bicycle to Gate 5 for the first shift at 6.30am. At 11.30am he would head home with a food container of food rice provided free by his employer, this helped to supplement the family's meals. After his meal and a short break, he would be off again to work at 1pm for the second shift. His day did not end with the setting sun, as he often worked the third shift loading and unloading cargo."

The many trips out of the kampong and back could not have been easy. Their house was farther up the hill slope of Moung Faber, deep within the kampong. Said Soon Leng: "There were only about six Chinese house making up a sor of mini Chinese kampong within Kampong Radin Mas. We were about one kilometre from the main road where the school was, and the walk out took twenty minutes. For a young boy like me, the journey seemed to last forever. What made the walk even more difficult was that towards our side of the kampong, the mud road was very uneven and surrounded by tall lallang and bamboo; snakes were quite common."

The upside of these natural surroundings was that their part of the kampong was filled with fruit trees, more noticeably durian, papaya, pomelo, jackfruit, rambutan and cempedak as well as the pink variety of guava and mata kucing, which is now a rarity. "In our younger days, we did not have much food to eat but we were never short of fruits. We had about ten durian trees in our compound, all yielding some of the best variety of the fruit I have tasted," added Soon Leng.

Another brother Lim Soon Hock (left) with his cousin William Lim in front of 77-T Kampong Radin Mas, a sub-division of their grandfather's house at 97-3.

Soon Heng at his favourite spot in the kampong

Lim Soon Heng in front of the black-and-white house at the foot of Mount Faber, a short distance from where Kampong Radin Mas used to be. By a strange twist of fate, his house became his living quarters when he was a management trainee at Keppel Shipyard in 1969. He said: "For a kampong boy, this was dizzying luxury." Above, Soon Heng at his favourite spot in the kampong.

Being towards the tail end of the kampong also meant that the standpipe was a good 200 metres from their house. They would connect a rubber hose to the pipe to collect enough water for a day's supply in their cement tank. From this large cement tank, they used a hose to drain the water into a smaller tank in their bathrooms for washing clothes and for bathing. They lived without the convenience of piped water for years until and kindly teacher stepped in to help.

"Mr Khoo Boo Eng taught me English and Music at Radin Mas School," said Soon Heng. "Whe he hard how the family went to such great pains to collect water, he wrote a letter to the Public Works Department (now Public Utilities Board or PUB) and requested for a standpipe to be erected nearer our home. I will always be grateful for Mr Khoo's concern."

The brothers' fond memories of kampong life are marred by two incidents. While the family was living in the kampong during World War II, the Japanese rounded up Chinese men, including their grandfather and uncle. Their grandfather was shot dead but the uncle was released. More than twenty years later, their father was accosted by Malay youths in teh kampong during the 1964 race riots. He was pushed from his bicycle and took a bad tumbler, breaking his jaw and losing all his teeth in the process. He was hospitalised for a few days.

The Lim family. Front row from left: Soon Heng, matriarch Ng Guek Eng, patriarch Lim Seng Chiang and Soon Leng. Back row from left: Soon Huat, Kim Swee, Ah Swee, Gek and Soon Hock<

Soon Heng with his mother Madam Ng at his graduation in 1968.

"The whole family was traumatised," said Soon Leng. "Fearing for our safety, we moved to a relative's house in Silat Road. Looking back, we are sure that those Malay youths who pushed our father were not from our kampong but some troublemakers who had been seen loitering there, I am confident our kampong friends would never do such a thing. They were all very nice and helpful, almost like family." Soon Heng and Soon Leng moved out of the kampong when they were in secondary school and today lead different lives.

Soon Heng lives in Singapore but travels around the region as a shipyard consultant. He is married to Gaye and has two children, Joyce and Max. Soon Heng has retired to New Zealand, after having worked in cities like New Delhi, San Francisco and Sydney. He is married to Siew Hoon and has three children, Herman, Heidi and Simon.

Having found success in their careers, the brothers are grateful for the sacrifices their parents made, including putting them through university. Said Soon Heng: "Those were simple days and parents had just one simple, unyielding ambition - to see to it that their progeny had better days ahead of them than they did. In that our parents did admirably well, despite having so many mouths to feed.

"Before my brothers and sisters came along and on the rare days when my father was not working, I would be given the occasional treat of a film show and makan. As the number of my siblings grew - at the average rate of one every two years - the little 'luxuries' became a strain on my father's pcket. The growth of his family simply outpaced his wages. In site of he hardship, mu parents raided seven children who have turned out well. It is quite sad that a few years before my mother's dealth at ninety-five years of age, dementia had gradually robbed the memories of her achiements."

Visit of Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew to Radin Mas in 1964

Archived related photos of Radin Mas with courtesy of the book, National Archives of Singapore and generous contributers of other sources:

Mr Ong Kim Seng, hailed as Singapore's foremost watercolourist, attended Radin Mas School from 1954 to 1958. The school, which was a stickler for rules and believed in corporal punishment, was a big influence on him, he said, and he credited it for nurturing his talent for painting. He remembered in particular a Eurasian man he knew only as Mr Edmund, his class teacher in Primary One and Primary Two. He said: "Mr Edmund was a very nice, encouraging teacher. He was one of those teachers who did not need a cane to instil discipline in us. We loved and respected him. He was the first one who recognised my talent for painting. I won a picture colouring book as school prize for having the best piece for Art & Handwork in Primary One. Now and then he would give me special art papers to draw on; they were hard to come by in those days. This was a big encouragement for me.

Besides attending Radin Mas School, Kim Seng has ties with Kampong Radin Mas through his maternal grandparents, Mdm Bay Eng and Mr Goh Siang, who were among the few Chinese residents living in this predominantly Malay enclave. The kampong had been their home since the early 1910s until they were resettled to Silat Road in 1973. All their children, including Kim Seng's mother, Mdm Goh Choon Hoon, were born in Kampong Radin Mas. Later, she and her husband Ong Teng Kee moved to Silat Road and this is where the young Kim Seng grew up. He continued: "My grandparents were simple kampong folk. My grandfather was a sailor and wo0uld be away from home for long stretches at a time. Yet I'd never known them to lock their doors. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone helped everyone. My grandparents spoke Malay and got along very well with their Malay neighbours. At Hari Raya, their Muslim friends would invite them over for lunch and give them all sorts of kuih to take home and at Chinese New Year, my grandparents would offer them oranges and soft drinks. I remember a favourite with the young kids was F&N Sarsaparilla, which we called Sarsi.

"I would say kampong life was full of activity, and there was never a dull moment. Kampong residents were always ready to help one another. For instance, whenever the kampong got flooded and left a hugh mess, we would all clean it up. If we didn't. wjp wpi;d? We never thought about gain or loss, as we were all equally poor! We looked out for each otheer, we knew who was sick and needed help. This system of sharing drew us together and made ours a cohesive community.

"But change has to come. Kampong people may have fond memories of what life was like back then, but they would not want to go back to those days. Now we live in nice, comfortable homes; there's modern sanitation, piped water and reliable power supply. Everything works. We like to observe the kampong but we would not want to live in one anymore. That's probably why so many of us like to visit kampongs in other regions. But to live under those conditions again ... that's something most of us would find hard to accept."

Memories of Bukit Purmei before the kampong was resettled by HDB

In the 1970s when I was working as a part-time enumerator for the Census of Population. It was the household survey undertaken in Singapore, collecting information on key characteristics of the

population and households. I was assigned to conduct the census once at Bukit Purmei where I have never been there before.

I found that the Bukit Purmei kampong was similar to where I grew up in Bukit Ho Swee kampong.

The road was pitted with pools of muddy water. There was no signboard or house numbers and both sides were attap houses, some of which had lavatories near the road. Residents said mosquitoes were disturbing their sleep. Bukit Purmei was originally a track for bullock carts which used to bring goods. It was interesting to note that the church and a temple were located side by side.

With courtesy of NewspaperSG excerpted article of Berita Harian, 4 December 1980 to learn about the resettlement of Bukit Purmei to be developed and built as a new HDB estate in Malay.

Bukit Purmei jadi estet perumahan baru, 2,300 unit flat siap dlm 1981/82

Pemohon-pemohon flat Lembaga Perumahan dan Pembangunan (HDB) di estet perumahan Telok Blangah akan berpeluang mendapatikan flat di kawasan yang berhampiran.

Sebuah estet baru di Bukit Purmei (gambar atas), sedang dalam pembinaan. Terletak di pinggir bandar, estet baru ini dibina di sebelah Bandar Baru Telok Blangah dan hanya lima hingga tujuh kilometer dari pusat bandar. Ia akan mempunyai 2,300 unit flat bila siap seluruh pembinaannya. Buat masa ini, 878 flat tiga bilik, 1,284 flat empat bilik dan 135 flat lima bilik sedang dalam pembinaan. Flat-flat ini dijangka siap pada akhir 1981 atau awal 1982.

Estet seluas 20 hektar ini akan mempunyai kawasan seluas 14 hektar untuk bangunan dan 6 hektar untuk kemudahan-kemudahan yang biasa terdapat di estet-estet perumahan HDB.

Estet ini termasuk dalam Zon Jurong yang mempunyai empat bandar baru dan empet estet perumahan iaitu Bandar Baru Telok Blangah Clementi, Jurong Timur, dan Jurong Barat.

Purpose to share old books on the blog

The book, "A Village Remembered, Kampong Radin Mas 1800s - 1973", was published in 2013 and the readers may buy it at the bookshop if still available. However, if the book is already sold out and not out of stock and not reprinted, please loan it from the National Library [Call No: 959.57 VIL].

This is not a book review and not the whole book is reproduced on the blog.

The purpose is to share related topics which nostalgic memories which are note-worthy and meaningful to the readers. The photo entitled 'Where the kampong people gathered' with courtesy of the the book supported by the National Heritage Board.

Present-day Bt Purmei Rd

Where the Radin Mas community gathered and still active

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Ulysses by The Merlion by Prof Edwin ThumbooFor Maurice Baker

Ulysses by The Merlion by Prof Edwin Thumboo
For Maurice Baker