Old provision shop

Shopping is such a civilised activity. I mean, if you can stroll, look at goods and bargain a price, chances are that you were in a good place and time, not trying to evade an invading horde or being eaten by some wild animal in a jungle. Civilisation begets shopping, and shopping fuels civilisation. Back when I was a kid in Geylang, shopping complexes did not exist then. Even Yaohan at Plaza Singapura was not yet built. The nearest thing we got was the Sin Wah Chinese Emporium in Gay World with its gleaming glass shelves/cabinets casting a spell on us kids. And aircon. Aircon was a novel experience then. There were only two places where I lived that had aircon (besides the cinemas): (1) the Chinese emporium at Gay World and, (2) the OCBC branch at Lor 19. As a kid I was ambivalent about air conditioning; the reason being we spent a lot more time outdoors. Sweating was the norm. Another reason was each time me and my mom visited that OCBC bank branch, she worried about getting a headache going from hot weather to cold. "Yau yit yau dong," she would say. So we kept our bank visits short. Our trips to that Chinese emporium was more leisurely as it would be at night. Its aircon seemed a natural extension of the cool evening breeze. Going to the Chinese emporium was both a shopping trip as well as an outing. We would normally buy our clothes, towels and sporting goods there, including underwear. My dad liked wearing those 'ah pek' white shirts and we boys our singlets. My school-going sisters were also bought their singlet-like undergarments from there. My mom liked us to wear singlets because they kept our school shirts less soiled from sweat. These inner garments would absorb it all instead. So, instead of changing our shirts everyday, we did it once every midweek. We thus had to take care to keep our school uniforms clean from Monday to Wednesday. For us active boys, that was a tough thing to do, what with games like 'hantam bola', marbles and the lot. And to make matters worse, my shirts were also starched to make them look extra smart. Needless to say, they were highly uncomfortable to wear! As for towels, we would buy often those white 'Good Morning' ones that came with a blue trim. We bought our towels from Sin Wah as well as from the pasar malams (night markets). I remember these towels fraying often; they were better off as tea towels than facial ones. Of course we kids loved going to the pasar malams. They were noisy and colourful. Mostly, we liked the snacks and drinks. We would have potong ice cream, kacang puteh, steamed peanuts, sern pow (iced tubes) and roasted chestnuts. There were also the hot and cold desserts like cheng tern, red bean soup, kueh tutu, and fake Bird Nest drink. This drink was always very cold (it was kept in a metal tub) and so was very enjoyable. There were also snacks like banana and bean fritters, mua chee and mak ah tong. Pasar malams in those days were street affairs with goods and merchanise displayed on canvas sheets on the ground... like what Sungei Road Market is today. For light, the vendors would use a pump kerosene lamp. This lamp could get glaringly bright, its mesh bulb mesmerising. It reminded me of the sun and I often imagine it exploding into a million bits like in some sci-fi movie. For that reason, I would never stand too close to one! At the pasar malams, besides towels, my mom would pick out clothes for us kids as well. With the towels, she would complain that they colour run. Other things we bought were slippers and second-hand records. I remember clearly stalls selling men sarongs. Even Chinese men wore sarongs in those days. They were more airy than most pants! (Except perhaps 'Ah Pek' drawstring pants!) The night market stalls were also great for buying small items like sewing needles, shaving blades, nail clippers, and that particular thing called a tongue scraper. We have used tongue scrapers since young so it was quite amusing to see it being employed in toothbrushes only now. When it came to sundry goods, we didn't go to a supermart. Sure, there was Fitzpatricks and Cold Storage, but they were not exactly your neighbourhood NTUC. Besides, we had a provision shop downstairs from where we lived that we could buy almost anything from, except perhaps worship joss materials. For joss stuff, there were a couple of specialty shops along Geylang Road between Lor 17 and Lor 19. You can still find such shops near Lor 27. I don't know why but there are many temples in Geylang still. The provision shop below my home was run by a couple and their son. I don't recall their shop name now but it had a typical setup with goods to the side and a little aisle in-between. The proprietor's desk was at the back. The shelves were made of dark wood and very neat. Most visible were the sacks of rice, beans and flour; and the drink crates, sauce bottles and very large biscuits jars. A rack stuck with brooms and mops stood by the side. In those days, rice were packed in huge 160 kg gunny sacks. They were offloaded in this form from the tongkangs at Boat Quay into one of the many godowns there. Or they were ferried to the distributor shops on the backs of lorries. Labourers or coolies used hand-hooks to load and off-load them, often on their backs threading up and down a narrow plank. Parents used to point at them to reprimand their kids: "If you don't study hard, you'll end up a coolie just like them!" The coolies' work was back-breaking. Back then, these long rice sack lorries had wooden sideboards that were painted with the company's name in red and in Chinese. These sideboards had black iron hinges and could be let down during loading/unloading. At the provision shops, these rice sacks were displayed with the top open. A stake or cardboard would be stuck in to show price and type. A typical shop would have at least four sacks. You simply indicate how much you want to the provision shop proprietor and he would weigh and wrap it up for you. In those days, rice was packed in brown paper bags and tied with a plant cord, the very same string that was used when tapowing (packing) fried Hokkien Mee. This cord was later replaced by raffia string. Another thing that was quite unique shopping at a provision shop was that you could buy your preferred length of soap. General purpose soap used to come in a long bar. Simply indicate how much you need and the proprietor would hack it off for you. You could wash clothes with this soap or as my dad liked, wash your greasy hands with it after fixing the car. It was pretty effective. Yes, besides chopped-up soap, almost anything that can be weighed or packed in odd quantities could be bought from a provision shop. Biscuits, coffee, hei bi, mushrooms, red/green beans, etc. It's kind of nice to be able to buy stuff in that way. You need not overstock your kitchen pantry all the time. But importantly, you could have a conversation with the proprietor. These days, when we enter a mini-mart, we head straight for the shelves. When going to a provision shop, the first thing you approach is a person, the proprietor. You'd ask him if he had this and this or tell him you needed that and that. He would serve you with a smile and enquire about your day or what you planned to cook up. He would be pretty savvy with your routine too, like how often you bought your sanitary napkins, cotton wool roll or cooking oil. As errand boy, I would be tasked to buy sanitary napkins for my family. Womenfolk were secretive about having their periods back then. The proprietor was always discreet and would wrap the shy items in newspapers to preserve their anonymity. Other things we bought from that provision shop were pails, brooms and scrub brushes. I remember buying those black or brown bristled brushes often as we usually wore them out pretty quick. There was also that short broom made completely of plant stalks great for sweeping water off floors. Both of these were handy when we had to clean our bathroom and rear spiral staircase. Those staircase steps were pretty rough and if left unattended, algae would grow amok on them. Another thing we could buy was Ridsect insecticide. We didn't have them in spray cans then; we hand pumped. We could refill our handpumps at the provision shop where the liquid was kept in a 'kerosene' tin. The proprietor would use a small metal siphon pump to fill it up for you. Neat, isn't it? No worries about damaging the ozone layer with fluorocarbons! One mechanical thing I liked in our neighbourhood provision shop was the money 'tung' (bin). It's often a recycled Milo tin that hung from a pulley in the ceiling and worked as a cash container. You would pull it down to put money in and then release to let it go back up. It was a very convenient and secure way to keep monies collected from paying customers. Most times, the proprietor would have a tung near the front of his shop and another one near his desk. Many of our neighbours also patronised this provision shop below our home turning it into a kind of News Central. It wasn't so much gossip as who/how everyone was getting on. For me, every post-exam time, the proprietor would ask my mom how I fared. I would be shy but my mom was proud of my achievements. I often did well but was a reluctant student. It means I preferred to be doing something else most of the time! On school days, school kids who were home early but were latched out would sit outside the provision shop on a stool-bench to wait for their moms to return. The proprietor would help keep a safe eye on them. As a focal point for the community, and a place with a telephone, this provision shop also became an utility post. Neighbours who didn't have a phone line would use the shop's, usually in the event of an emergency. The proprietor didn't mind; it was simply the right thing to do in those days. Before we got our phone, our g cheong fun maker neighbour was our phone reference. Peopled called her to get us. She would shout out to us from the back, "Leong soh, din wah!" I had also used her phone a couple of times when uncertain about school excursion matters. My mom would at times make me leave 20 cents after some calls. She said we shouldn't take advantage of people's kindness. Phones back then were the rotary type; not many homes had them. At other times, this provision shop would help accept mail parcels on our behalf if we weren't home. An iconic item in this provision shop was its freezer-fridge, you know, the stainless steel double-door sort with see-through glass and a freezer compartment below. The proprietor kept soft drinks, stout and beer, ice and butter in it. The ice were not kept in cube trays but zinc boxes the size of a small shoe box. I would often be sent to buy ice when we needed it for guests. Or when my dad needed it for his beer. So you see, the old provision shop was more than just an old-style minimart. It was a social place, a friendly place, a place with ties to what went on in the neighbourhood. It was also a place of comfort and security. Provision shops also made deliveries, something we didn't need because we lived upstairs. Our shop below would make deliveries on a 'grandfather' bike or in a blue beat-up Datsun pick-up. This type of pick-up (Datsun model 520) remained popular in Singapore for over three decades, used by almost everyone in business. It was with these reflections in mind that I decided to drop by what could jolly well be the last Chinese provision shop in Geylang and Singapore, something I'd learnt from the folks at the Singapore Memory Project (a group run by our National Library). The proprietor of that shop was a Mr Teo. He cut a portly grandfather figure. And as expected, he was very friendly and hospitable. He was very happy that I showed an interested in his shop. Looking around, the shop was indeed old and original. It didn't look like the provision shop below my old home but it was a provision shop nonetheless. A few things in that shop were reminiscent: (1) An alcove: This was quite common. It served as additional storage space and also sleeping quarters for helpers. The idea of alcoves was quite common back then - even my home had one. We had a big family and the alcove came in handy. (2) A bamboo ladder. Mr Teo said this kind of ladder needed no nails to make. I believe him. I've studied furniture design before and nailless and glueless furniture was something the Chinese were very good at. An old neighbour of mine used a few of these ladders before. They ran a sweets and snacks distribution business and their shop was set up like a warehouse with walls lined to the ceiling with storage cubicles. So, having ladders was a necessity. I've climbed a few in my time and could still remember the straining 'ack-ack' sound it made when someone put weight on it. Bamboo is a smooth, hard, cool and flexible material that was commonly used back then. At home, we had a couple of dual-purpose bamboo chair-stools. When flipped on its side, the chair became a baby-feeding seat. Me and my siblings grew up being fed in those baby chairs. (3) A very large daching. Mr Teo showed me a very large daching his men had used to weigh huge sacks of rice in the past. He said the sacks of rice weighed some160 kg each - the maximum weight this daching could handle or indicate on its rod. It was about 3-4 feet in length and weighed some 3 kg itself. But he couldn't recall where his workers had left the weights. Back then, before compression-type weighing scales became common, people at wet markets used dachings all the time. So did the proprietors of Chinese medicine shops. But theirs was smaller and daintier. You don't need a big daching to weigh herbs! (4) A green door. Past Mr Teo's desk, we came upon a pair of green doors. They were old and crinkly from years of repainting, but it was the color that piqued my interest. The shade was a kind of green that was commonly found on shopfront boardings in those days. The other two but less popular colors were gun-grey and sky-blue. Quite a few shops in Tiong Bahru were painted gun-grey (especially the laundry shops). Red was mostly used on temples and joss material shops. (5) A wire mesh. This wire mesh I saw ran round the top part of Mr Teo's shop, right above the boardings as a kind of ventilation grating. Its design was old-school. I recognised it because shops used to hang stuff from it - bags, lanterns, brushes, hoses, etc. It doubled as a hanging storage space. (6) Liquor. In the glass cupboard behind Mr Teo's desk is lined with many types of liquor. Johnny Walker, Chivas Regal, Hennessy, etc. This is typical. Bars and restaurants used to buy them from the provision shops. Also, it came in handy when bringing a bottle to a wedding. The visit to Mr Teo's shop was indeed a trip down memory lane. It made me realise that shopping does fuel civilisation; well, at least shopping at a provision shop does. We were less 'shelf conscious' and more civil. It was what neighbourhood shops were all about then, especially provision shops such as Mr Teo's.