Living in Peng Ghee Road

Our Lives in Peng Ghee Road My chapter on Chai Chee described the market place, the businessmen and customers and their moods and challenges they faced in their everyday life. This chapter on Peng Ghee Road described the mood, customs and practices of the daily lives of the purely Chinese villagers in the early sixties right up to the land development in the 70s. Just like those in the Chai Chee market, only dialects were used. The slang, the heavy stress and intonation were very much the same as the villagers from where their ancestors had come from. A keen ear from a dialect expert would tell him where one came from in China. Our family who lived with the different races in Tanah Merah Kechil as well as having been to English schools, had been exposed to different dialects and languages that our dialect became diluted to become sort of plain kind of Hokkien minus the slang and accent. In 1962, when the court order to vacate 598-29 Tanah Merah Kechil was finalized, my worried parents cried their hearts out nearly every night. Almost every day we had to go in search of a new place to farm. Whenever a recommendation was made we followed up. We went to Mata Ikan, Somapah Road, Tanah Merah Besar, Tampines etc but failed to get a deal. Either the rent was too exorbitant or the soil was not suitable for cultivation of vegetables. Finally at the recommendation of uncle Lau Cheo a well-known figure in Kampong Chai Chee, we got to know of the landowner Ang Ah Kiat. One afternoon, my father, uncle as well as uncle Lau Cheo, went to see the piece of land that was supposed to rend to us. The landowner had died. It was under the control of several brothers. One of the grandsons was appointed to collect the rental of the land from the settlers. We remembered that Ang Kei Lim, one of the several brothers, was a better person to talk to. Should there were problems we always consulted him, It was a virgin piece of land all covered with bushes, a stream ran through the bush and it led to a tributary of Sungei Bedok. The soil looked alluvial – being in the valley, it was presumed to be fertile but of course later it proved to be otherwise. It looked like we had no other options and the deadline to clear Tanah Merah Kechil was quite near. Nevertheless, we accepted it, tea money was paid to the person who recommended, the landlord gave the agreement, a vacant house from the neighbouring land was acquired, demolished and then using most of the material to build at the lot that we just rented. Application from the Land Office was applied and approved. All these work was done by my uncle Yeo Koon Seng. He was a very resourceful man who had many contacts with landowners and land office officers. We got to do many things at the same time. The work at Tanah Merah Kechil was wound down. In the morning, my father had as usual sent vegetables to the Chai Chee Market for my mother to sell. Then my father would cycle to the new site which was at Peng Ghee Road – a road red laterite road which branched to the left of Pin Ghee High School and then sloped down to the valley where a tributary of the Sungei Bedok was. Our new site was about 200m away from the wooden bridge which lay across the tributary. My aunt (father’s sister), Yeo Bong Chee, was staying at the periphery of Kaki Bukit and Chai Chee – about 1 ½ km away from the site. At that time, I was preparing to re-take the ‘O’ level in 1964. In enrolled myself at the Lembaga Gerakan Pelajaran Dewasa or the Adult Education Board at the recommendation of Mr Bose. One evening in March, 1963 I went to Tanjong Katong Girls’ School to register. I was surprised that Mr Sia Kah Hui, the principal of Presbyterian Boys’ School was there. I was led to my class. I was surprised that almost all of them were big men and women. I thought I was the youngest there. The pupils there came from mixed background – from Malay and Chinese schools, a few like me who wished to re-take the ‘O’ level. Everyone was dead serious during lesson time. Almost everyone was working during the day and pursued their education at night. But sometimes one or two may disrupt the lesson whispering to each other. All the teachers needed to do was to say – ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if there is anything serious you need to discuss, please do it outside the class’. And the whole class was quiet again. The feeling was so different from the devilish class of Presbyterian Boys’. During inter-change of periods, while waiting for teachers we had brief discussions with each others in friendly and respectful manner. I could remember some of the names of the group – Goh Joon Peng, Jufri, Bashir, Goh Beng Looi, Tan Ah Sei etc. The one and a half years studying at LGPD was most enjoyable. After the work in the farm, I cycled to reach there at 7.30 p.m. Class was dismissed at 10.00 p.m. As the site for building the house was quite low, soil had got be bought with the recommendation Chew Eng Teng, son of Aunti Bong Chee - my father’s sister. Kway Choon transported the soil to the site. Raw materials were ordered from a building supply from Chai Chee. Together with some of the materials salvaged from the old house we purchased, we built up 262 B, Peng Ghee Road. Uncle Koon Seng was the contractor. He, together with a carpenter, a mason as well as Hong Ho, our cousin set to work. My father, brothers and I helped whatever we could. On weekends, our cousins from my father’s brother and sister came to lend a hand too. When the house was completed, we were all so excited. It was a big transformation from an attap hut into a zinc-roofed house. The abestos ceiling prevented the heat from the zinc roof from radiating onto the hall and rooms. There were four huge bedrooms and hall and a huge adjoining kitchen at the rear. My parents occupied one room, my sisters occupied one, the boys one and one for my grandmother. It was a new beginning and a new life for every one of us. We had to readjust our daily routine work. My sisters took up new skills by enrolling themselves in dressing making, my brothers were all the secondary schools and I was in the Teachers’ Training College. As soon as we moved there, acquaintances were forged. There was the fishmonger Mr Lee Tng from Chai Chee market whom my parents had known. His well constantly supplied the neighbours with cool refreshing water. He invited us to use his well water which we did until we got the portable pipe water. His sons were studying in Pin Ghee High School, one of whom (Lee Kay Tee) was taught by me in Primary Six. His eldest son was studying in the Secondary class. He liked to joke with my father that we the ‘Yeo’ and the ‘Lee’ were half relations. We shared the same radicals in our surnames in the Chinese characters. Well, we were really to fight for our survival in our new surroundings. Very fortunate enough we had a neighbour named Goh Bak Seok. He was a heavily-accented Teochew coolie who worked at the Singapore River. Everyday he went to Singapore River early to wait for jobs. The Indonesian konfrontasi was in full force. Goods from Indonesia slowed down to a trickle. His job was to unload goods from the twakows and loaded either onto a lorry or other vehicles. While waiting for work, he and his fellow coolies would sit by the River and had small talks. Their conversations centred mainly on the politics of those days – the Indonesian konfrontasi, the war of words between Syed Ja’afar Albar and Lee Kuan Yew, the Cold War between the United States, Russia and China – the Vietnam War etc. Knowing that my brothers and I went to English schools and he presumed that we had sided with the United States and England, he always engaged us in conversations on those topics. He came home every evening. Upon reaching home, before having dinner, he would come to our farm and discussed with my father on how best to manage our farms. As we were new there, we were faced with numerous problems – the quality of water, the clayey soil, the flood etc. He would discuss and gave input on how those problems could be effectively solved. Next, he ventured into international and local politics. Although he was a coolie he was very knowledgeable in many aspects of life. All his family members were very close to us. His children went to the same school as where I was teaching. Just before our house was the Ang Moh family – not because he was English but his hair might be red. We did not actually know why it was called by that name. Every afternoon there was a mahjong session and at weekend the children would be rehearsing songs accompanied by a band to play in the night club. The wife at one time was working as a school servant at St Patrick’s School. Sometimes I gave her a lift there using my Ford Cortina on my way to Tanjong Rhu Boys’ School. Giving lifts to one another in the village was very common as almost anybody knew everybody. At times, during an emergency mutual help was common. Once I was requested to transport a sick lady to the General Hospital although ambulance service was quite efficient. Rural folks felt more comfortable to be with a known people rather than an unknown one. Furthermore they were very self-conscious when communicating to the hospital authority. I knew English and they trusted me to register the patient and communicate with the doctor regarding her ailment. During a period of bereavement, a bereaved family would easily spend from $10 000 to $20 000 depending on the number of days the hearse was put at home for friends, relatives, employees, colleagues, etc to pay respect to the dead and to comfort the family. Those who came to pay respect they donated some money known to them as ‘pai jin’ (white gold in literal translation). To the Chinese, birthday celebrations, marriages, giving births and other events that are positive in nature, they were termed red occasions, whereas, deaths, divorces, or other negative incidences, they were termed white occasions. Concerning the giving of pai jin, the timing was very important. If given at the wrong timing, the family would be very unhappy and would not receive it. One should give pai jin only during the period of bereavement before the body was sent off either for burial or for cremation. Many groups were formed to help one another to tide over the financial difficulties during the period of bereavement. It worked like this. In a group of thirty, every member would submit two names (usually the parents) to a responsible person in charge. Should a named person passed away, every member (except the bereaved member) would contribute $30 to the person-in-charge making a total of $870. The leader would then hand the money over to the bereaved member. During the period of bereavement, it was voluntary whether members wished to attend or not. (usually most would attend as they had known each other already). The whole cycle ended when all the 60 named members passed away. Through our interactions we realized that that place where Ang Moh’s house was, in the early days (1930s onwards) it was a bullock cart station where bulls were reared and bullock carts were made. In Hokkien it was called ‘chia keng’ . It was known that in other villages, similar stations were also called by that name. To us, we did not actually knew how to direct friends to our place. But when we told them it was ‘Chia Keng’, they immediately responded, ‘I know’. Directly opposite us was a fenced up area. It belonged to an old couple. The man was Poh Lim. They reared chicken and pigs. It was the only house with a fence around the perimeter. In front of the fenced up house was a provision shop belonged to Ng Ah Hey. It was not particularly well-stocked with goods – just a little of everyday needs. Almost every afternoon, a group of villagers would gather at his spacious verandah either to play Chinese chess or talking about politics or other daily affairs. My cousin, Chew Eng Teng, was one of those regular visitors. On the left of the house lived a childless couple. Everyday one could hear them quarelling over trivial matters. Every morning, my father would pedal the load of vegetables from our farm while my mother would walk to the market. On the way, they often met people whom they acquainted at the market. My brother Hong Bian also met his ex-schoolmate, Teck Chye, since Primary school days. He had an uncle. I thought he had suffered a stroke. His mouth was slanted to one side and he shuffled as he walked. Everyday, he would dress in his long sleeve, long pants and leather shoes. As he walked he would preach to anyone about the glory of God. But none bothered. They thought he might have his brain screwed up. Hong Bian was interested in bird rearing and fish breeding. Thus he attracted and befriended many kampong folks. My sister who took up dressmaking at the dressmaking class in Chai Chee market had made friends with those fellow classmates. Very soon we almost knew everybody as we walked along Chai Chee street.