Leaving a Legacy

Leaving a Legacy A Project of National Senior Volunteer Month 2015 CONTENTS SN Chapter Page 1 Acknowledgment 5 2 The Leaving a Legacy Project 9 3 Active And Graceful Ageing 61 4 Ah Mei and Ah Lan 109 5 All About Me 55 6 Caregiver Fatigue 25 7 Caring for Miss Norris 19 8 Childhood Innocence 87 9 Chinese New Year Dress-Up 47 10 Following in the Footsteps of Basho 11 11 Johari 103 12 Kampong Life 99 13 Keep Our Environment Clean 79 14 Life at Sago Lane in the 1940s and 83 50s 15 Life of a Teacher in 1967 Singapore 37 16 Simple Parenting 51 17 The Boy from China 95 18 The Burnt Pot 15 19 The Ice-Ball Seller 43 20 The Mansion in Killiney Road 31 21 The Village Girl from India 89 22 Thirtieth May 75 23 Toilet Call 71 Acknowledgment The Leaving a Legacy Project was greeted with much enthusiasm. Contributors came from many walks of life. Many came with the intention of contributing one piece, but ended up giving more. At the end of the project, twenty-one books went into print, of which this book of short stories made up the last. But, contributions need not necessarily be printed words. One contributor made a film instead. We would like to thank the contributors for their courage in putting their life stories and thoughts in a form accessible by others. We believe by doing so the future generation, be it their descendants or others’ offspring will benefit tremendously from this exercise. Last but not least, we will also like to thank other individuals who contributed much valuable time helping to edit and proof-read the contributions. The Contributors in Alphabetical Order 1 Chang Swee Wah 2 Christine Leow 3 Claire Wong 4 Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian 5 Hamidah Bte Johari 6 Hirsha Bhatt 7 Ismail Kassim 8 Janet Siah Gek Quee 9 Lee Lily 10 Lesley Ong Cheng Hoon 11 Margaret Chan 12 Marjorie Wee 13 R M Gerald 14 Rita AuYong Pereira 15 Ronald Mervin Pereira 16 Rosie Wee 17 Sundaram Iyer Seethalakshmi 18 Sylvia Sim Lee Kiang 19 Tan Seow Heang 20 Viji Torai 21 Yeo Chai Tun The Editors and Proof-Readers in Alphabetical Order: 1 Colin Pereira 2 Diane Chai 3 Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian 4 Janet Siah Gek Quee 5 Lee Lily 6 Mehbuba Q Syed (Mainu) 7 Nancy Tan Cheng Choo 8 Ngiam Tong Yuen 9 Ruby Ng 10 S. Ramesh 11 Yap Sew King The Leaving a Legacy Project by Lee Lily The Leaving a Legacy Project was one of RSVP Singapore’s items for the National Senior Volunteers’ Month and to celebrate SG50. The idea was to get seniors to pen down experiences, thoughts, lessons learnt to share with their descendants--hopefully many years hence on. We believe many seniors have the urge to do something like this. But maybe without an impetus, it is hard to get started. So, this idea of a project with volunteers to guide the process was mooted. The offer was assistance in the form of transcribing, editing, proof-reading, and even standard templates with thought-provoking questions. Volunteers came forth with their stories, pictures, offers to edit, proof-read and even transcribe hand-written pieces into digital forms. It became a big project involving enormous amount of volunteering hours. Some stories were lengthy enough to fill a book. Others were short and did not warrant a book on their own. This particular book is a collection of those short stories. The act of looking back into ones’ own history, examining the past and making sense of the present is by itself a therapeutic process. The person will reflect invariably on his/her own actions or another’s act and maybe take a kinder perspective of the distant past. Let bygones be. Accept and move on! That is the spirit of ageing gracefully. Ultimately some self-discoveries will take place and the project achieves more than it set out to do. Following in the footsteps of Basho by Ismail Kassim As a boy, I think nothing of walking a few hundred yards just to pluck some ripe juicy rambutans from low-hanging branches that stretch over the fence. In my youth, I will not hesitate to march 1000 metres just for a packet of Lucky Strike. In my later years I have hiked several thousands of metres in search of Qi, gods and gurus in holy and sacred places. Last Spring in Japan, I climbed up 1000 steps exactly from the bottom to the peak to pay my respects to a big laughing Buddha at Risshaku Temple, Yamadera, reputedly founded in 860. It was a wet, drizzling day but I persevered, stepping gingerly on one slippery step after another, passing through several lesser shrines and smaller Buddhas, until finally almost on the point of giving up I reached the top and saw what hundreds of thousands of visitors before me had seen earlier. I was just following in the footsteps of Basho, probably the most famous of Japanese Haiku masters, who was lured by locals while on a tour of North Japan in 1689, to take a look at their famous mountain top temple. Basho obliged and made the temple more endearingly famous. He was so inspired by the rocky landscape and the stillness that he penned a haiku on the spot. It has become a part of his travel journal, Oku No Hosomichi, known in English as Narrow Road to the Deep North. He wrote: ‘’this complete stillness....….sinking into the very rocks, voice of cicadas’’ A statue of Basho is at the foot of the mountain. In a fortnight’s time I will go back to Japan to catch the early spring, and the awakening of the cherry blossoms and sakuras, and like the Japanese, to marvel at the transient nature of life. But this time, no more heroics, no more climbing up 1000 steps in inclement weather. I have vowed to exchange Qi greetings only with low-hanging Buddhas. The Burnt Pot by Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian I usually go off for swimming in the morning taking only an hour in all. On this particular day I took two hours for reasons immaterial to this story. I came home and found out that I had left the stove on to boil two eggs for the whole time I was gone. Placing my keys on the table, I took in my laundry which had been put out to dry overnight. Being on the eighth floor I immediately noticed a few people across the block were curious about the goings-on down on the road with the presence of a police car and a few Singapore Civil Defence Force (SCDF) personnel who were looking up at the block where I was. I thought someone might be trying to commit suicide or whatever. I poked my head out of the window a number of times to find out what on earth had been going on! There was a knock on my door. Then I realised they may be checking on the smell of burning. True enough 4 or 5 people in SCDF uniform came in, all very smart looking and sharp with helmets and thick rubber boots on certainly geared up to tackle any dangerous situation. I quickly admitted to an over-burned pot. Apparently neighbours had been concerned and called the police. By this time two Red Rhinos (fire engines) had arrived on the other side of the block with inquisitive on-lookers. I was embarrassed and apologised profusely and wanted to know whether I would be fined or penalised. No. They were very kind and relieved. They took pictures of the terribly burnt pot neatly tugged away in one corner of the kitchen sink. More came, this time, the police. I was asked a few questions and filled in a form by way of an official report. What happened did not warrant any action on their part. Thank God no one was hurt. The police said that had I come back later, they would have broken down the main door just to check........ After they left very politely giving gentle advice, I had time to examine my favourite pot which by now was perfectly ruined but only on the inside. I had no recourse but to discard it. It is time to shop for another like it!! Upon reflection I needed to be alert to care for myself as I am able to. This time I was very fortunate and could count on the timely call of concerned albeit alarmed neighbours, the prompt and efficient police and ever-ready fire-fighters. I was indeed protected and practically helped by the effectual neighbourhood watch, responsible police and prompt SCDF personnel. It took more than a couple of days for the residual burning odour to disappear from my flat. How the smell must have penetrated and travelled to the other adjacent units to cause a great unease. This member of the pioneer generation despite being committed to active aging has learnt the lesson to be extra careful and never assume to look down on over-cautiousness for moments of forgetfulness begin to pop up more often. Caring for Miss Norris by Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian Before I started caring for her she was often on the lookout for me. I was a student in her school. When I was a newly trained teacher, Miss Norris the principal made a simple telephone call and before I knew it she had successfully got me transferred to her school. I was delightfully surprised that she had also arranged for another teacher to give me regular lifts to school as the two of us lived in the same neighbourhood. Moreover decades later when I travelled frequently she would follow me through my updates and keep up with schedules of my trips. She even wrote me a postcard that one time when I was ten weeks in Dallas since she had not migrated to emailing. We were not in contact for a long while after I moved away from teaching at her school. Nevertheless a few decades later I got in touch with Miss Norris who by then had retired for quite some time. I was glad that I had the opportunity to resume our connection and we became better friends than ever. We had meals with common acquaintances and contacts. For a senior well into her eighties her calendar was full. We ate out if there was a new restaurant she would like to try or go to again; and when we ate in, we would continue to play board games with another mutual friend. And almost without fail we would be helping her make minced pies and puddings as Christmas approached. I enjoyed having her over to my place and serving her a meal. She had stopped driving so I welcomed on occasions accompanying her on her errands and then later to ferry her maid when Miss Norris prefers to stay at home. Yes, we went grocery shopping, and at first assisting her when negotiating with a walker and eventually when she was on a wheel-chair. We even attended a concert together, made our appearances at senior NUS alumni tea sessions and went to flower shows. To be sure she was present at every important school function despite her age. Someone would usually and readily be on hand to provide the much needed transport. And even when she could not move out on her own it did not stop her from contributing generously to ongoing campus development fund. She had wanted so much that if she could not go, her maid could represent her. She was quite a religious person and could be involved in a quiet spiritual discussion. When it comes to praying she would let me do the praying. After a fall, she was more open for me to pray for her at the end of each visit and even more so during the later period after her hospitalisation when she was confined to her bed. Subsequently, for more than a year and a half she was on tube feeding but I continued with my visits to her house especially when I returned from my frequent overseas activities. It would be my usual reporting for she was fond of travelling herself and so it would appear that she would be making vicarious trips with me. We used to carry on conversations about some sports item in the effort to keep her engaged. She would be glued to the television set during major sporting events like the Olympics and regional games. But these had to cease when her speech became less comprehensible and reduced to monosyllables. I would only spend token minutes to watch with her some exciting sporting event especially when I suspected that she was going to fall asleep. She needed further assistance as her hand movements became more restrictive and her mind was not as alert. So the games we played with her maids were switched from tiles to cards requiring simpler responses. I noticed she was pleased that though she was not able to taste my home-baked cookies, her maids could have a go at them. She passed away peacefully. Many dropped by to bid their final farewell. She was popular in life and so in death. She might not have many relatives about her but former school teachers and students of the many cohorts pitched in to help with the receiving of many persons attending the wake. I was able to join with the few who organised to throw the ashes into the sea as a final act of parting. Goodbye Miss Norris. Till we meet again! Caregiver Fatigue by Lee Lily It was a quiet afternoon. The rain had just stopped. The receptionist phoned me, “Kelly is here to meet you.” “Who is Kelly?” I asked. “She said she has an appointment to see you.” Feeling puzzled, I made my way to the front desk. The receptionist motioned me to a middle-aged woman sitting beside a much older woman. “I am Lily.” I introduced myself. “Are you Kelly?” “Take her away from me!” Kelly burst out pointing to the old woman. “I have had enough of her!” I tried to calm Kelly down. But she got up, slammed her umbrella on the ground, walked rapidly to the entrance, down the driveway and through the main gate. The old woman got up from her seat and feebly tried to follow. The welfare officer, upon hearing the commotion, came to my aid and attended to her. I watched Kelly walk out of the premises. Then she turned back. I went forward and coaxed her to go the meeting room. In between tears and shouting, her story became clear. Kelly was the youngest of all her siblings. All were married, except her. Some siblings had even passed on. She was left all alone to care for her mother, now in her mid-nineties and suffering from dementia. None of her siblings helped. The nieces and nephews would not. She had to work as well as care for her mother. Often, the old woman could not control herself and messed up the house with her faeces and urine. At one stage, Kelly even lost her job as sales assistant. She had applied to place her mother in a home. But the waiting was endless. She had waited for more than a year, and was at the end of her tether. Kelly said, sometimes, she was so frustrated that she even hit her mother. If nothing was done soon, she could kill her. As the conversation progressed it became clear that Kelly was referred to St Luke’s Eldercare by a CDC staff. So she had brought her mother to meet the administrator, Vivi. But my agency was not St Luke’s Eldercare. She had walked into the wrong agency and met the wrong person! Nevertheless, my colleagues helped me to contact the staff at St Lukes’ Eldercare which was two blocks away. Two staff came straight away. St Luke’s had no immediate nursing home to accommodate Kelly’s mother. Kelly was insistent on leaving her mother with them. Eventually after much coaxing and promises to help look into the matter, Kelly finally agreed to go home with her mother. As it was getting late, I arranged for the office’s transport to fetch them home. The case manager from St Luke’s and myself accompanied them. In the van, Kelly hugged her mother and asked what she wanted for dinner, promising to buy her roast pork, the old woman’s favourite food. Kelly’s home was a small two-storey terrace house with no bathroom or toilet on the top level. A potty was placed beside her mother’s bed. Elsewhere, the place was cluttered with plastic bags and things untidily placed—a sign that Kelly had little time to attend to household chores. I have often heard of caregiver fatigue, but this was my first encounter with one. I could see how draining it was for the caregiver. Kelly alternated between feelings of anger and guilt. She really needed support both physically and emotionally, and immediate relief from her charge. This accidental encounter leads me to believe strongly that agencies dealing with applications of this nature need to be more sensitive to cries for help. Yes, given the bed crunch in nursing homes, we have a high demand to meet. Yet, are we to wait until the lone caregiver breaks down completely before something is done? Surely some flexibility is called for. A Mansion in Killiney Road by Rosie Wee The name Killiney Road brings back memories of a period in my childhood (around 1957) in which my family lived in one bedroom of a huge mansion situated in Killiney Road. The house had seen better days when it was a stately home of a wealthy Peranakan family. Part of the house was damaged during World War Two when the Japanese dropped bombs into Singapore. The landlady leased out the rooms which come with a small living area to various families. The motely inhabitants included two sisters who were orphaned and brought up by an old servant, a couple with one daughter (the wife was a devout Buddhist who would spend most of her time chanting the sutra and dressed in a black gown), as well as a family of five – parents, two daughters and a mother-in-law. The man was a filial son to his mother, good husband and devoted father to the children – an exemplary person to emulate. In contrast to this family there was another family in which the husband, a coolie, turned out to be a wife basher. Occasionally we would hear his wife screaming because of the beating which could have been generated from daughter mother-in-law dispute and the son listening to the whisperings of his mother. Our immediate neighbour was a family in which the wife would give birth every other year. The child birth would take place in her bedroom with a mid- wife in attendance. As a child I could hear the groaning from the lady as she went into labour. The rental that each family paid included the use of a communal kitchen and toilet. Each family would be given a space to place a kerosene stove and some house hold paraphernalia. The occasional fire caused by someone’s carelessness was not unusual. Someone would shout “fire!” and whoever was around would scurry to douse the flame. If sharing a common kitchen is bad, sharing a common toilet is worse. For that matter, each family would have a spittoon in their room to be emptied each morning. People would rather use the toilet in the day, so it was common to have a queue of three to four waiting to enter one cubicle. When it got too urgent one of us would plead to be let in ahead of others. Electricity was available but the supply was often erratic. Because of the overloading of power supply a short circuit would occur plunging the whole mansion into darkness. As this happened so often families would be equipped with kerosene lamps or oil lamps. Candles were also used. Once it happened during our examination period and my sister and I ended up studying into the night using candle light. The flickering of the flame and dripping of wax never failed to fascinate me as a child. It ignited my imagination and gave rise to my proliferation of another realm – a world of make-believe. Family quarrels within and among the families were frequent. The bickering was usually triggered by snide remarks from a jealous neighbour. Sometimes quarrels would escalate into fights and the police had to be called. As the mansion continued to age, roofs would leak during heavy thunder storms. To encounter this, residents would arm themselves with buckets and pails to collect the rain water and spread rags around to absorb the water. During those thunder and lightning filled nights my imagination would go wild. Stories of ‘Pontianaks’ (female ghosts that ply banana trees) and ‘Orang Minyak’ or Oily man (a man who rapes young ladies and would smear himself with oil to evade being caught) would resurface causing me to cower under the blanket. After paying their monthly rental many families could hardly make ends meet. For that, the landlady was kind enough not to raise their rental. However there is a price to be paid. It was at the expense of living in a dilapidated mansion as she refused to pay for repairs. Today, the mansion and its surrounding area have been replaced by sprawling condominiums and commercial buildings. Living in Killiney Road today is beyond the means of the average wage earner. Life of a Teacher in 1967 Singapore By Rosie Wee At the age of 16, I was appointed a Trainee Teacher and posted to Jalan Teck Whye Primary School, my first school. To date I still harbour fond memories of the school. My mother actually accompanied me to school on my first day much to the amusement of my fellow colleagues. That was Mother’s way of showing the world how happy she was to have a daughter who made it to the teaching profession. That same year, she passed on. Prior to handling a class alone, we trainee teachers had to understudy experienced teachers, who were also our seniors. Yet, despite the preliminaries, it was still a daunting experience to witness forty pairs of eyes watching and sizing me up. My fondness for my pupils developed over the years. They were mesmerised by the tales I had to tell and soon I was nicknamed the Ali Baba teacher. Those were the days when the teacher was king in the classroom! Jalan Teck Whye is situated in a rural part of Singapore so it is not surprising that pupils came from families who worked in farms. Occasionally teachers would receive rambutans and chikus from their pupils. I was also brought to their farms. Besides their parents I would be greeted by a cacophony of sorts – squawking chickens, grunting pigs and barking dogs. Unlike children of today, my pupils’ pastimes were spent helping their parents in the farms, catching spiders and playing with improvised toys. They were easily contented, believed every word their teachers sa id, and tried hard to please their teachers. Just as an omelette cannot revert to an egg, those days of childhood simplicity and wonder cannot be revived because Singapore has progressed significantly and with it comes sophistication, cynicism and a sense of tedium among some of our pupils. When lessons do not meet their expectations, “boring” becomes a catch-word. The late Mr Woon Eng Chwee was my first principal. A congenial man, he epitomised a caring and well respected head of the school. I recall an occasion when I was ill and requested to be allowed to go home before dismissal time. He happened to be leaving the school and offered to give me a lift to the taxi stand. What I did not expect was that he actually sent me home! Except for a few senior teachers, most of my colleagues were relatively young. As trainee teachers, we had to attend training at the Teachers Training College in Patterson Road in the morning and teach in the afternoon (vice versa for those who teach in the morning). Despite having to attend lectures and teach within the same day, life during those days was carefree and fun. On weekends the single male teachers – for the purpose of getting to know th eir female counterparts better – would organise excursions to the neighbouring islands such as Pulau Hantu (Devil Island), Pulau Blakang Mati (now known as Sentosa) and the Sisters’ Islands. It was also a time of bonding and camaraderie. Happiness meant going to the bank to collect our pay cheque of $210, a substantial sum in those days. It was often that we would wait for pay day to give ourselves treats like a $1.20 set-lunch at the Silver Spoon Coffee House. Our past time included eating durians by the roadside, and savouring satay at the satay club, which was actually an open vicinity in the then Queen Elizabeth Walk. We would be sitting on four-legged stools around the seller’s improvised barbecue pit while he grilled his satay sticks of assorted meat – chicken, beef or mutton. It was fascinating watching him baste the raw meat causing the flame to flare intermittently. We would be presented with a bowl of spicy gravy from which we would dip our satay sticks repeatedly. Whatever that was left would be reheated, topped up and given to the next batch of customers. It is amazing that we were none the worse for consuming recycled satay gravy! In those days, not many of us owned cars. We would engage a driver who owned a pirate taxi to ferry us to and from school. He would plan his itinerary such that we could all reach school before the school gate closes on us. Once, we were late and instead of waiting at the gate for the morning assembly to be over we actually popped over to a nearby coffee shop to have a cuppa! Over time we bonded with our amiable driver who would go the extra mile by fetching us to our regular satay club or other recreational places. Life then, was simple and peaceful. There was no pressure to enter competitions and win gold medals for the school. The Ice-Ball Seller For ten cents, it was a treat worth the wait. by Rosie Wee A member of the baby boom generation, I grew up in Singapore in the 1950s and 60s before the invasion of the digital age, food courts and Integrated Resorts. As I recall my youth, flickering thoughts like a shifting montage of life’s vignettes filter through. I remember…… a sultry afternoon at Singapore Chinese Girls’ School in April 1962. My friends and I had just finished a game of netball and we looked forward to the taste of a cold, dripping ice-ball to satiate our thirst. We didn’t need to look far for we knew that our friendly Indian ice-ball seller would be at Emerald Hill Road, a short distance from the school. With flushed faces, damp hair and beads of sweat glistening on our foreheads, we scurried toward the ice-ball stall. It was a mobile cart with a counter that served as a worktable. A canopy covered the counter and under the canopy hung a huge kerosene lamp. On the counter stood jars of concentrated syrups, red beans, tiny cubes of gelatinous green and pink ‘agar agar’, and crystal-like ‘atap chee’ from the seeds of the mangrove plant. Next to these was a big plastic tub that contained a mixture of pink syrup and tiny fruit seeds that look like frogs’ eggs. In the centre of the counter stood an improvised ice-ball scraper -- a wooden stool with the centre spliced to hold the blade. Above the scraper the vendor placed a rectangular block of ice, and above the ice, a folded towel to protect his hand. Between the canopy and the worktable were several wooden tiers which held rows of bottled aerated water, tins of evaporated milk and glasses for the cold drinks he sold in addition to ice-balls. At the side of the counter, suspended by a hook, hung a pail of water used for washing up. The cart was a miniature mobile restaurant. Upon seeing us approaching, his face beamed with pleasure, revealing a set of milky white teeth, which stood out starkly against his gaunt and weather-beaten face. He was clad in the emblems of his trade: a worn-out singlet and a checked sarong reaching a little above his knees. He wore flip-flops and the veins of his legs protruded like ropes on a homemade swing. “Ah miss, you want ice-balls yah?” was his usual way of greeting us. Occasionally the flies would hover around the stall. Undaunted, we waited eagerly for the ice-balls, finding it fascinating to watch how dexterously he moulded soft fluffy slush into concrete-like ice-balls. With one hand on the towel that held the ice and the other below the blade, he rhythmically scraped the ice backward and forward, the slush falling like simulated snow into the seasoned red palm that was numbed and calloused by years of toil. When his hand was about half filled he shaped the slush into a semi- circular ball and filled the centre with teaspoons of red beans, ‘agar agar’ pieces and ‘atap chee’. He then continued scraping until once again there was a mountain of slush in his palm. He skilfully shaped this into a compact ice-ball. Next, he topped it with red, brown, and green concentrated syrups and creamy evaporated milk. Intoxicated by the scent of evaporated milk mingled with bean paste, my friends and I waited in turn for him to mould each ice-ball. When at long last, he placed a colourful, cold, dripping ice-ball into my eager hands, I relished the luscious ice and savoured the oozing syrup. For 10 cents it was certainly a treat worth waiting for! Chinese New Year Dress-Up by Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian Our peranakan family celebrated Chinese New Year in a way that fascinated our foreign friends especially in those early years when my parents were alive. For our relatives and friends, an American family in particular, it was a time to savour the culture in more ways than one. It was an opportunity to pay a friendly visit by one family to another, enhancing good relationships. It is not only a matter of knowing one person but getting to know his family unit especially the parents. Socially it was a time to greet and pay respect to elders in welcoming the new year according to the lunar calendar. Culturally it was to participate in a unique way of entering into the festivities of eating a range of Chinese New Year (CNY) goodies, with kids looking forward to what was inside the ang pows or red packets! Everyone celebrating CNY especially the young would put on new clothes on the first day having put on new pyjamas on the eve. Red was usually the reigning hue to remind and emphasise good fortune and all things auspicious. It could turn out to be quite a fashion parade in some households. Our American friends would not be outdone. Being creative they came in many cultural versions of clothes to add to the colourful occasion: the wife in not quite the Aneke Gronloh outfit, son with batik-printed shirt and daughter in China doll suit. Now would be the best time too for everyone to show off new coiffure hairstyles or at least recently trimmed, waved or permed ones. If the clothes were to be new so the house also went through spring cleaning to impress visitors how spick and span the home was so as to brighten the place in opening the new year. The traditional red curtain would adorn the main doorway for two full weeks and more. The Christmas lights from a few weeks before could add to the décor along with new curtains or freshly cleaned ones and recently bought cushion covers. The main dining table would definitely boast a new table cloth or be covered by one recycled from the previous CNY. It would be fairly unique or ornate in design and/or material. Several different nonya cookies and sweets many of which would be home-made or given by relatives and well-wishers are presented and consumed by relatives and friends walking in, first come first served. In our home the table would be spread with more than ten varieties with a few savouries included, served on elaborately arranged crockery and cutlery used only but once a year during this period of one to two weeks. This would be the time also to display the peranakan heritage of delicately painted specially pottered drinking tea cups and finely produced chinaware proudly testifying to the ancestral collection when serving certain important guests. After usage they were gingerly washed and carefully packed till the next year. Four decades later our American couple friends returned to Singapore. Among many reminiscences they did not fail to make fond mention of their oft-looked-forward-to experience of Chinese New Year celebration peranakan style. Simple Parenting by Dr Florence Tan Poh Lian My parents had little education; When young, we never went on vacation. All that we did when we were small: Few trips to the beach, that was all. Father earned a meagre clerk’s pay, I did not hear him complain his work -day. Mother did all the household chores and more, She poured her energies on to us four. They argued but surely made peace; Due respect for each other did not cease. They got angry but seldom used the cane, Children felt secure, come trouble or rain. Daddy served well in the community: Donated his blood regularly; Became a volunteer in the army and on occasions came home tipsy. Mummy can be counted on all the time saving all the pennies and every dime; Always caring, she showed no stresses: She clothed us with home-made dresses. Dad was often more relaxed and playful; He smoked and ate, his plate always full. “Mosquito-weight” Mum marketed, cooked, cleared, Quietly calm, confident, cleaned and cheered. Daddy-O took me on his bike to school, The two-wheeler beats the rickshaw to pull. On normal days, just walk home with no shade, On days of flood, mumsie was there to wade. One parent is nonchalant and care -free, Another would consider carefully; He’d let things be, she’d be more proactive; He was easy, she was more positive. Pregnant mom pushing baby in pram after steaming family’s favourite yam; went to the pond with her hubby, first daughter whom slipped but pop pulled out of water! Homeward bound on foot all in a hurry. Little girl very wet was the worry. Scurried, arrived home to get changed quickly; Now all grown-up and many years later Have fully overcome fear of water. Pre-Chinese New Year was time for baking Mumsie was the main star in the making. Wond'ring kids around the charcoal burner, Waiting and watching mother the churner. Siblings simply standing with arms folded like fools salivating Squatting like frogs with eyes agog, sitting on stools savouring Burnt, imperfect petite nonya pieces Sharing with cousins, nephews and nieces Cakes that did not come off well from the mould; Good ones given to many but not sold Satisfying… She took initiative for kids’ schooling, Quickly attending to needful healing. He was satisfied and agreeable, Obeying his wife who was capable. Once child went to her mother to confide; Though diminutive, she was by her side Holding, running and letting go to guide, to coach firstborn the bicycle to ride! No pain, no gain, head straight into the drain: Bruised on the body, no hurt on the brain; Short spell to learn lifelong bike balancing As healthy as frequently line dancing. As a teen I was free to do, to be Those were the days when I could roam safely: I could have stayed out late or overnight Parents would certainly not be in fright. My parents deemed their young as trustworthy, We were glad they gave us security. There were no reasons for us to go wild And with all our sins, we were rather mild. Their humility and simplicity Honed in us contentment and honesty, Allowed us on our own to discovering The parenthood of God and His covering. All About Me by R M Gerald With benefit of hindsight, I have gained much wisdom that helped me handle life’s difficult situations differently from the ways teenagers and young adults do. This short article details some intrinsic values or traits that portray a true picture of me. Self-reliance – embracing this trait requires independent thinking and the courage to go it alone when necessary. These habits have produced effective results and honed my leadership skills in the workplace. But, excessive self-reliance can undo relationships and wreak havoc in bonds. For example, I married at age thirty-two because I waited too long for a mate of similar nature to come along. The woman in my life had neither always understood me nor meet life’s challenges the way I did. So I learnt to rely on own knowledge, experience and judgment. And I can still live a meaningful and fulfilling life. Self-critical –introspection often comes easily to me, and I am not afraid to examine my flaws and shortcomings. Such reflections have produced insights that helped me and my job. However, I am neither overly critical of myself nor of others. Wild speculation is usually not in my nature. I take calculated risks to prevent disasters and minimise losses. The downside is a tendency that unwittingly stifles creativity and growth. For example, I have so many things on my life agenda that I had to limit the number of children to have to two. I am also careful with whom I share my most personal feelings, in particular spiritual beliefs. With age I have grown to be generous and supportive of others. I am beginning to realize that security includes family unity. This means making adjustments for family and relationships. Realistic – when I keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, I often filter out impractical ideas or bizarre suggestions. That helps to eliminate waste of effort. The ability to inspire others and move them to action is a quality found in effective leaders. To this end, I have mentored individuals. However, it is important that we stay truthful and accountable so that others are not misled. So I moved from thought to action, and become more practical and realistic. I want the love and warmth of my family around me, especially when I face my final transition from life. So I will be more involved with my spouse in my retirement years. For us, our life began at sixty, and we choose to embrace it. It’s really a mystery to be alive. I observe the longer we live, the better we are at handling life situations and the more daring we are to try new things -things that define ourselves. Self-effacing – somewhat reserved and low-key in my manner, I may sometimes employ wit to alleviate tension. In a working setting, this can mean giving time and energy without expecting returns. It’s an admirable trait, but sometimes we need to say “no” when there are multiple projects on. For example, I need to do my own research about life. I make changes for my own good as well as others. I will make wise choices - a steadfast and available parent and grandparent, putting love of family and family unity above all other priorities. I’m a natural teacher, but I also have needs and I am not afraid to make demands of my loved ones. During these late years of my life I am not about to waste time. I want to invest in projects that count for something. Sociable – not one to shy away from lively interaction with others, I am likely to be found in the center of activities with lot of ideas to share. This is welcomed by introverts who need people like me to make them comfortable in groups. For example, during the Japanese Occupation many young people had their studies interrupted. School places were limited when I enrolled for school in 1947. Many classmates were over-aged. They were mostly Chinese immigrants’ children who knew only the Chinese language, and found education in English difficult. Mixing and studying with them had influenced me a lot. I inherited my father’s sociable characteristic and I got along well with these people. I am grateful to my father for this. On the other hand, being sociable is not appropriate, when there is a deadline to meet. The above traits show my interaction with the environment and people. Each of us has a set of strengths that makes us unique and valuable, and we like to be acknowledged for our strengths, as well as feel effective in our environment. However, any strength, when used excessively or inappropriately, becomes a weakness. The adjectives, High, Medium and Low can be used to gauge our strengths and weaknesses so that we are aware of our tendencies, and able to seize opportunities to maximize our strengths and minimize our weaknesses. Only then can we lead a purposeful, healthy and happy life. Active and Graceful Ageing by Rita and Ron Pereira Their marriage took place some forty-nine years ago; bonding two persons from contrasting backgrounds and cultures: Rita, born of southern Chinese immigrants, who came to the tin mining district of Perak in Malaya during the 1920’s to seek a living, and Ron, a third generation Singaporean with mixed Asian and European heritage. Their meeting in London in January 1965 was brought about by Ron's two aunts: the originator, a nursing sister in the Singapore mental hospital where Rita was a student nurse; the matchmaker, a housewife in Buckinghamshire, whom Rita was asked to visit when she went to London in 1961, to take up postgraduate nursing. At the time of their meeting in London in January 1965, their personalities differed significantly: Rita was of gentle and patient disposition, whilst Ron was gregarious and ambitious and inclined to be impatient. However, over the many years of marriage, the two personalities gradually blended; as Rita somehow succeeded in smoothening the rough edges of Ron's personality. The first twenty years of marriage was spent bringing up a family; with Rita, the homemaker spending most of her time tending to their two sons, David and Colin, who were born in 1968 and 1970. She and Ron suffered much grief when David succumbed to leukaemia, when he was nine years old. During that time, Ron concentrated on his career as a marine engineer surveyor; in order to support the family and ensure that life was generally comfortable. The loss of David in 1977 was a bitter blow; but after the anguish and sorrow had eased, the job of putting Colin through school began. Active Ageing Up to 1985, Rita was kept continuously busy in homemaking and nurturing and guiding Colin through primary and secondary school. There was little time for anything else; except for playing squash and tennis with friends during weekday nights and outings during weekends. Ron, besides working in the Maritime industry, played field hockey, squash and tennis on weekday evenings and golf during weekends; occasionally going fishing, when the opportunity arose. That year, Ron was introduced to the game of lawn bowls and saw it as an opportunity for Rita to play a sport, to keep her healthy and active. Rita’s sporting ability soon manifested itself. With some coaching and regular practice, she was soon good enough to represent Singapore in the Asia Pacific lawn bowls championships in 1987; a tournament in which she continued to participate as part of the Singapore team in 1989, 1991, 1997 and 1999. She also represented Singapore at the Women's World Bowls tournaments in 1988, 1992 and 1996. She finally decided to retire from playing lawn bowls at international level after the South-East Asian Games in 1999; as the training routine was rather onerous. Ron, in the meantime, joined the Rotary Club of Raffles City in 1987; in order to get involved in doing some community work. After her retirement from international lawn bowls, in order to keep up a healthy and active lifestyle, Rita took up golf and besides regularly playing lawn bowls at the Singapore Cricket Club, she started playing golf with Ron at Seletar Country Club every week-end. As a homemaker, she found after 1985 that Colin was more independent and demanded less of her time; so, Ron appointed her as residential financial controller; in full charge of all financial matters in the Pereira household. This relieved Ron from the burdensome duty of checking and paying bills and ensuring that there were sufficient funds in the bank accounts - all very time-consuming and rather boring, as far as Ron was concerned. From 1987 onwards, Rita also assisted Ron in his Rotary club activities; attending various functions and being involved in community and youth projects. This level of activity increased from 1995 onwards, as Ron prepared to be president of the Rotary Club of Raffles City. After his year as president in 1998, Ron focused on forming Interact and Rotaract clubs; for the purpose of developing and nurturing young people. This kept them both of them fairly busy during the ensuing years. Having overseas holidays together was another important ingredient of active ageing. From about 1993 onwards, annual two weeks’ vacations with Rotarian couples and friends became a regular feature; with an extended six weeks’ holiday in 1996; when Ron was fifty-five years-old and Colin was graduating from the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. In 1996, Ron started his second career as a marine consultant. Both agreed that it was important to keep physically fit and mentally stimulated. Ron was therefore very happy at being able to continue in his full-time role as a marine consultant and marine surveyor, whilst Rita continued in her role as homemaker and playing lawn bowls and golf regularly. Rita also kept up a regular routine of light exercise before breakfast every morning and ensured that both took essential vitamins and their prescribed medication every day. This ensured that both stayed in reasonably good health and able to participate in and enjoy their social, sporting and travelling activities to the fullest. Becoming Grandparents For about ten years, between 1998 and 2008, Rita and Ron enjoyed their work, playing lawn bowls and golf regularly and going on annual overseas vacations. However, this changed for the better in mid-2008, when Colin and Susan adopted a nine months-old son, Sam. This brought a new dimension to the lives of Rita and Ron; as both had yearned for a grandchild ever since Colin and Susan got married in 1995. Colin and Susan decided not to have a maid to look after Sam; as they wanted to bring him up themselves. This gave Rita the opportunity to assist, as necessary and for Ron to participate, under supervision; as he was not too familiar with looking after young children. On Rita’s seventy-fifth birthday on 4th March 2010, Colin and Susan, brought home a three months-old baby girl, Chrissie and both Rita and Ron then busied themselves helping out as much as possible and greatly enjoying grand-parenting. This perhaps was one of the reasons which prompted Ron to finally retire from the maritime industry at the end of 2010. Another reason for retiring was that he was nearly seventy years-old and wanted a virtually stress-free life away from working as an expert witness in marine litigation and arbitration matters. However, about one month after retirement, Ron began feeling rather bored and fearing that idleness would affect his mental health, he started volunteering with RSVP Singapore, The Organisation of Senior Volunteers. His first assignment was to organise health talks for RSVP members and friends. For this, he called upon his Rotary contacts who were doctors, and was thus able to organise monthly health talks for the seniors. This subsequently led to him joining the Khoo Teck Puat Hospital Ageing-in-Place programme; which required RSVP volunteers to undergo a two-days training stint at the hospital; to prepare them to visit the elderly sick in the northern part of Singapore on a twice-weekly basis. Although he started on this programme with some apprehension, since mid-2013 he has enjoyed the benefits of helping the elderly and underprivileged, By visiting them regularly. The appreciation that he receives gives him much pleasure and keeps him vibrant. Doing everything together seems to be the key to success for active and graceful ageing. Similar interests go a long way towards ensuring that most of their waking time is spent doing meaningful things and enjoying a quality lifestyle. Continuing to do community work and working with the youth, playing lawn bowls and going for brisk walks along the East Coast beach during weekday evenings and generally keeping up with Rotary Club and Sports Club activities has kept both Rita and Ron in good physical and mental health. Graceful Ageing At the beginning of 2014, Rita and Ron decided to buy a smaller apartment in the Marine Parade neighbourhood; in order to create their retirement fund by converting their large freehold apartment into a smaller leasehold apartment. It took about nine months to find the apartment which Rita wanted and now they have moved from Ocean Park on East Coast Road (where they lived happily for twenty years) to Lagoon View; which is about one and a half kilometres away to the east and much closer to the East Coast beach. They feel that this move will give them a new lease on life; as they are now financially secure to live to a ripe old age and their grandchildren will come over more often to spend quality time with them; as they now live much closer to the East Coast beach. Having just celebrated Rita’s eightieth birthday on 4th March 2015, both Rita and Ron now look forward to celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary on 11th December 2015. Hooray to active and graceful ageing! Toilet Call by Lee Lily These past few weeks, I have been reading contributions for the Leaving a Legacy Project. And I kept coming across words like ‘bucket system’ and ‘night soil’. Those words inevitably conjure up images of black smelly buckets, holes through which when you look down and gasp to hold your breath, and truckloads of buckets sailing down the streets emitting … well, 夜來香…. That was not really good for me especially when immediately after my maid rang the intercom to announce “Meal time!” But those words bring back memories of old. I could hardly remember the toilet we used during the first few years of my life. Maybe it is because children in those days often used the enamel shapely pot that we rarely see in this modern age. But I remember ever peering down a hole to see the black shining bucket with gold ingots stuck to its bottom. I remember my family moved to live in accommodation provided by the government. In those days they were referred to as quarters. Families were each allotted a room. But the toilet had to be shared. Yes, it was a big place with a big bathroom and five waste cubicles (WCs). But several families shared this toilet. Queues formed to take bath. When the WCs were occupied, more queues formed. Yes, luckily it was a flush system, not night soil, and with bowls designed for squatting. But, the state of the WCs was often appalling. Some people seemed to be dropping into the wrong places, on the spots where you need to place your feet, on the way leading into the cubicles. Going to the toilet was often a nightmare! I often waited anxiously for Uncle to come daily and clean the toilet and wow, it was a relief to quickly do my piece. Life could be quite miserable when Uncle fell sick or had to take leave. We stayed in those quarters throughout my schooling days. Then my family was allotted a small flat that has a WC cum bathroom. So now we have a toilet exclusively for ourselves. Most time our family of six had no problem taking turns. Frustrations only happened when someone had a bad stomach and another was happily enjoying a good bath, of which I was often the main culprit. Over the years, I married and moved several times. I owned one WC separated from the bathroom in my four-room HDB flat. Those were the days, when Hubby and I could each do our things in the bathroom and WC. Then we moved on to a maisonette. Now we had three toilets. Hubby and I owned the master toilet, the children owned the toilet on the uppermost floor and the maid had her kingdom in the kitchen, dining and utility area. Life was quite blissful. I luxuriated in my long bath, once in a while Hubby would shout for me to get out. Fast forward, now we live in our terraced house with four toilets. But there are only Hubby, myself and the maid. The toilet in the upper floor is hardly used. I used the master toilet and Hubby used the toilet across the landing. Once in a while he comes into mine to do his things and I would be fidgeting—“Why can’t he just use the other toilet?” And so, life changes over the span of half a century. Our standard of living is way above the heydays. And on the way we become spoilt ‘brats’, me in particular. A few years back, a group of friends and I were queuing in a public toilet in Xian after pushing our way through the Museum of Terra Cotta Warriors and Horses. When our turn came, someone came out of a WC. My friend in front took a peep, shook her head. Another friend behind her likewise refused to get in. It was too dirty for us. A young local Chinese girl, very fashionably dressed, brushed her way in. “This is quite clean,” she said. Thirtieth May by Lee Lily Thirtieth May, huh thirtieth May? Oh, it is Heng’s fifty-sixth birthday if he is around. Heng passed on two years ago on twenty-third June 2013. He succumbed to cancer of the lungs, liver, spine, all over. Heng was my only brother. The only boy in the family and doted by all, he was born on Thirtieth May 1959, the day when all Singapore voted for self-government from the British. I have no impression at all of Mother in her pregnant state. But I do remember she went across the road to a primary school to cast her vote. Then, later in the day, all of us children were told to get out of our only room. We lingered along the corridor while neighbours came forward to keep us entertained. In the meantime, Father brought a strange woman, the mid-wife into the room. We waited for a long time. Father busied himself to the beck and call of the mid-wife. He was boiling kettles of water and pushing them into the room with the big metal bath tub we children used to bathe in. Then we heard a baby cry. The neighbours started asking, “Is it a boy?” It seemed Father had been disappointed many times. He had badly wanted a son. So the tension was quite high in the air when Father appeared beaming. “Yes, it is a boy this time!” For the sisters, this was another baby we had to help look after. Oh, but different, it was a brother. Yeah, our only brother as it dawned on us. And so we all loved him with all our hearts. There was to be a celebration. In the meantime, neighbours were rushing in and out of their rooms, exchanging the latest news from Rediffusion. “Lee Kuan Yew is voted in!” “He has won a landslide election!” “He will be our prime minster!” And so there was much rejoicing as the nation celebrated with the birth of my brother, Heng. Keep Our Environment Clean by R M Gerald In 1960s, Singapore was just like any other tropical city strewn with garbage, beggars and rundown shacks. Former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew noted that if Singaporeans wanted to keep their communities clean, they had to raise their personal and public standards of hygiene. He urged Singaporeans to be more conscious and thoughtful about their actions, but added that the government would not hesitate to impose penalties on litterbugs if necessary. Film clips and photographs of dirty premises or people caught in the act of littering were also shown in the mass media. ‘Fines’ were used seriously as a way to control social behaviour. Those who were caught littering were fined $500. Not only would the offenders be branded as litterbugs, but they would also have to bear public scrutiny and suffer embarrassment of being made to queue up for hours at City Hall to pay their fines. The big change is the result of a combined efficiency in garbage and sewage handling, as well as sustained public awareness campaigns on clean and healthy living. In the 1970s, there were campaigns such as: Tree planting Clean water Use your hands Keep your factory clean In the 1980s, there were others like: Keep the toilets clean Keep my park clean Keep our buses and interchanges clean In 1990, the Keep Singapore Clean campaign merged with the Garden City campaign. Hence the ‘Clean and Green’ new annual programme has a more holistic approach in generating greater community awareness and participation in the caring of the environment. To ensure that good habits were cultivated from a young age, children were a special target group of the campaign, and teachers were roped in to remind students not to litter. The teachers also held poster design and essay competitions and organised talks by health officers and inspectors to drive across the anti-litter message. Keeping our environment clean, neat and tidy is a joint effort to ensure we meet the quality target. Involving tenants and residents is essential in reaching our aim in monitoring and improving the quality of our estate environment: Keep landscapes in housing areas clean Maintain well and safe attractive places where people frequent Make sure shrubs and hedges do not cause safety problems along walkways First impressions last. Look around you. From Changi Airport to the residential estates to the city centre and industrial areas, even inside office buildings and shopping malls, colourful plants and shrubbery abound. It is said that cleaner communities would lead to a more pleasant life and keep morale high and sickness rate low, thus creating the much-needed social conditions for higher economic growth through industry and tourism. Moreover, easily available health services, modern sanitation and education have made Singapore a healthy nation. Life at Sago Lane in the 1940s and 50s by Chan Mui Thye After my eldest brother was born, my parents moved in with my mother’s grandmother. She was living at Sago Lane with her single son, my mother’s two sisters, and her brother and his young family. At that time, all the wooden houses there were subdivided into cubicles. Below this place was a sort of morgue. Across the street were funeral parlours with “dying houses” above them. The Cantonese name for Sago Lane was thus Say Yen Kai 1 . Old folks and the terminally-ill lived out their last days in these dying houses--pioneer hospices. Whenever there was a death, the body would be laid on a board and a wake held in a funeral parlour. 1 Dying People’s Street The Cantonese called the dead “hum yue” (salt fish) or “farn shee” (sweet potato). So it is rude to tell someone to go and grow “farn shee”. Brand new Chinese traditional coffins were stacked behind the houses. The most expensive and elaborate ones were called “Yin Zhi Mei”-- translated this means as “rouge tail”. According to my sister, she often stood on the wash basins and stoves at the edge of the huge kitchen window to peer over and watch cats fight on top of the coffins. Her favourite pastime was watching funeral rites, with its fire and pomp, from the windows. My sister often played in the back alley with the neighbours’ children. They retrieved denture molds from waste bins to draw lines for hopscotch. They played five stones game with hard stones. At other times they tried their luck at tikam2 stalls, rolling 2 Malay word for lottery. Marbles down mazes of rubber bands at one cent per try. They often played on the swings at Mana Shan 3 , where Peoples’ Theatre now stands. The place was busiest at night--with storytellers and children running around. My cousins and I loved to slide down the hill slopes with cardboard boxes. When dinner was ready, my great-grandmother would call for the children. The food stalls along the alleys sold heavenly stuff like grilled bugs and fried premature chicks. A bowl of cuttlefish porridge cost ten cents and fish porridge, twenty cents. Childhood Innocence by Sylvia Sim Lee Kiang When I was three years-old and my brother, William was five, a neighbour’s boy, named Willie tricked us. He told us when we plant a coin it would grow into a money tree. Then we could harvest the money later on just by shaking it. As our mother was having lots of money problems, William and I each buried a prized ten-cent coin into the soil. We watered the spot twice every day, in between games and going to smell our baby brother’s head. We both love smelling his head, because he smelt so good to us. Three weeks later, our landlord uncle saw us watering and asked what we were doing. We excitedly told him what we were growing. He laughed uproariously. Then he helped us dig out our soil to show us the coins were gone. I cried very hard. We never had a coin for a long time and Willie cheated us. To console, William told me to work with him a revenge plan. So we did. Sometime later, William lured Willie to a place next to the stream where children shit and urine there. When William had brought Willie to the right spot, I lifted a pole that caused Willie to fall flat on the dirty shitty water. The next day news went over the village that Willie fell into the dirty stream and was covered with shit. His mother had also beaten him. Revenge was sweet. The Village Girl from India by Seetha Subbaraman A seventeen year-old village girl left the home and hearth she was used to, to set up home with a man she had hardly knew in a far-away land where she knew no one and had no idea what the future held for her. It was two years after her marriage when she left by steamer from Chennai to join her husband in Singapore. She was the youngest child in a family of three boys and two girls. She was born in a village in Kerala, India. In those days, villages had very little educational facilities. So she had only up to Standard Six education which was the equivalent of today’s Primary Four. As the children had to travel a long distance to study further, girls usually had their education curtailed once they reached the highest level in the village school. Her family was very traditional. They observed a lot of rituals and customs. For example, the male members in the family were served their meals first. On festive days, even the children got their meals only after the men had eaten. Another custom was girls were not allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied by men. So after she completed her education in the village, she stayed home and learnt cooking from her mother besides helping with household chores and tending to the vegetable garden behind the house. At the same time, her father looked out for a suitable groom. He eventually found one. According to the tradition and custom, the wedding was a four-day affair. On the first day, the groom was taken in procession through the village on a palanquin for the villagers to see. If by chance someone knew something about the groom that might jeopardise the bride’s life, he would inform her parents. It was also the first time the bride saw the groom. On the second day, the formal engagement took place, followed by the wedding ceremony on the third day. On the fourth day, the bride and groom were taken in procession to thank the villagers for helping with the wedding. On that day, the groom’s family played host before leaving for their home. The bride went with the groom’s family if she was of age. Otherwise, she stayed with her parents till she came of age. That girl was still a child. It was almost two years before she could join her husband in Singapore. She arrived in Singapore in 1937 not knowing anyone. Her husband found a place that housed a few families within the same compound. The ladies of these families helped her to settle in and taught her the way of life in Singapore. She soon settled down. Then she conceived a child. Her early months of pregnancy were difficult but the kind and motherly neighbours took good care of her and made her feel less home-sick. In 1940, she was expecting another child. She returned to India for her delivery bringing the first child with her. But World War II broke out, so she was kept in India for four dark years, separated from her husband. The Japanese Occupation of Peninsula Malaya and Singapore meant all communication was cut off. She could not reach her husband. It was a traumatic time for her. It affected her father very badly. Her elder sister was widowed one year after marriage and was with the family. So he feared the worst for her. He fell ill worrying and died before the war was over. She suffered many unkind words from her siblings, not knowing the whereabouts of her husband and how she was going to bring up her children. Late in 1944, her husband managed to return to India. The third child was born in 1945, and the family returned to Singapore in 1946. The sufferings of the war years had toughened her. It had taught her the value of money. She was now determined to make the family financially stable. She kept meticulous account of all expenses. She ensured some money was put aside as savings every month from the household budget she got from her husband. Knowing him to be a spendthrift, she tried to get extra money from him at every opportunity. Because of her frugal ways, in 1965 she paid for the family home fully with cash from her savings. As her children got married, she made sure they knew and observed the family traditions. They had to celebrate each festival and know the value behind the festival. Despite resistance from her daughter, she went to lengths searching for a suitable match for her in India. She even brought the daughter along much against her will, but the daughter rejected all the proposals. Frustrated, she returned to Singapore after three months. Finally she was satisfied when her daughter agreed to marry a local member of the community. Her joy knew no bounds when she received her first grandson a year later. Over subsequent years, more children got married and the number of grandchildren grew. She was practical and wise in many ways. Despite having only Primary Four level education, she improved herself by reading many books. She would sit with her children while they studied. Slowly, she picked up enough English to understand simple conversations. Because there was a Malay household help, she also picked up Malay. She was also versatile. When the daughters-in-law came along, she changed her ways to avoid conflicts. Another wise thing she did was to distribute her jewellery to her children while she was around. She wanted to be as independent as possible to her last day. So she kept herself fit and her weight under control. She followed doctor’s instructions and had great faith in God. She was praying silently even when she was in hospital with breathing problems. She looked after herself throughout and was fully conscious till she passed on peacefully at eighty. Her strong personality withstood all the ups and downs in her life. She survived the war, brought up four kids who are all doing well, and lived to a ripe old age. Her last days were spent enjoying the company of her grandchildren. She had brought up a generation of Singaporeans who have done her proud. Amma – rest now! You can be proud of us! The Boy from China by Yeo Chai Tun He came to Singapore at the age of eight, alone and empty-handed all the way from southern China. He worked as an odd-job labourer along the banks of the Singapore River. Life was difficult and he had to join gangs to compete for a living. Years later, he embarked on a venture to start a transport company. At one stage he owned eleven lorries, his was one of the bigger transport companies in town. Unfortunately, the business failed. He suspected that the accounts clerk, who was a relative, misappropriated the company funds. After his business failed, he became a caretaker for a small cemetery behind the now defunct King’s Theatre along Kim Tian Road. He survived World War II, but not his wife. Taking on the role of a small village head, he was always busy attending to numerous matters on the cemetery land. He built a colony of about twenty families, all lived in attap huts. Entrepreneurship was very much in his blood. Besides being a caretaker of the small cemetery, he also collected rent from people staying in his attap dwellings. He reared pigs and ran a small provision shop to serve his tenants. He was illiterate, so he used symbols in his log book to record monies owed by his tenants for the items which they bought on credit from his provision shop. He always helped to those who required financial assistance and even borrowed money to help them. Living in the village was simple. The whole community survived with one tap and one well. Every morning, a representative from each family would queue at the water point. The tap was used for drinking water while water from the well for washing. The only telephone in the village was in the provision shop. Kerosene pressure lamps were used after sunset. Pyrethrum coils were lit up to keep the mosquitoes away at nights. There were no refrigerators. Cooking was done by burning wood pieces in stoves. Villagers depended on the bucket system to remove and dispose night soil. He worked every day from early morning till sunset. He also hired a small group of village boys to help him collect left-over food from the nearby Singapore Improvement Trust flats for his pigs. Then he supplemented the food with banana tree trunks. After a hard day’s work and dinner, he would enjoy his Anchor beer or Chinese wine at his provision shop. His companions were the elderly tenants and old friends from the days at the Singapore River. He died from cerebral haemorrhage at the time when the whole village was being resettled to one-room Emergency flats at Ganges Avenue. His family suspected the cause of his haemorrhage could be due to the excessive alcohol he consumed. He was depressed over the resettlement. He not only lost a village, he lost his home. Kampong Life by Tan Seow Heang In the 1960s, sanitation at my kampong4 was through the bucket and night soil system. The roofs of our wooden houses were thatched with attap leaves or zinc sheets. My father built the toilets in a bushy area, away from the main living compound that was shared by my grandparents, uncles, aunties and cousins. Interestingly, each time somebody married, a new house would be built. Likewise, my father would build an extension to the house whenever there was a new-born. My father also built cement containers to rear fish, and he used a motor pump to draw water from the well. The fish were sold for extra income. One day, the fish were poisoned by a little boy who mischievously threw poisonous roots into the containers. 4 Local term for villages or rural areas Away from the living compounds were pig stys and chicken coops. Once in a while, someone would bring a male pig from a nearby kampong to inseminate the female pigs. This was a method to assure supply of piglets. The piglets could be sold for a good price once they were big enough. Like most children who grew up in kampongs, my childhood days were carefree and memorable. There was hardly any school assignment, so we played most of the time. But out of school we learnt fantastic survival skills. We used wood pieces to fire up stoves. We collected and stored rainwater in barrels for cooking and washing pots and pans. And we brushed our teeth with ashes of burnt wood. Besides rainwater, we used buckets to draw water from a nearby well to bath and wash our clothes. My sisters and I went to some dressmaking classes. We did not even think about furthering our studies. In the 1970s, what mattered most was survival rather than looking for further educational opportunities. Kampong life was that simple but happy and memorable. Johari by Hamidah Bte Johari Johari was a toddler when his father passed away. His mother tried to eke a living with him out of the land left for him by his father. But an elder brother sold it away to use the money for his own wedding. Mother and son were forced to live on the edge of the brother’s land. Unfortunately the brother passed away not long after, and the sister-in-law showed her displeasure with them living off her husband's land. She refused to acknowledge the verbal agreement made between her late husband and his mother. Many times when Johari took some crops for his own use or to sell, he was scolded, harassed and accused of stealing. When he borrowed the family bicycle to go to school or the town nearby to run errands, he would be screamed at or beaten. Johari had to walk to school which was miles away. One day his only pair of school shoes was torn badly. He had been sewing the many tears together with fibres from pineapple plants but as the shoes were used daily, the seams just could not hold together any more. So he went around bare-footed until he had saved enough money to get a new pair of shoes. Johari was a bright student. He scored well in his final examinations and was the fourth best student. But he had neither support nor money to continue his education. As life was becoming intolerable, Johari decided to leave the village. He made a firm promise to return and take his mother away from life’s hardship once he was able to do so. As the next lorry carrying rubber was leaving for Singapore, Johari hopped on board. In those times there was no need for passports as Singapore was a part of Malaya. Although he had no money or belongings he had faith that his life’s circumstances would improve. Once in Singapore he looked for odd jobs. Johari managed to get work at a building site. But that was not good enough. He searched eagerly for better jobs. Eventually, with his Standard One Malay education, he managed to secure an office boy’s job. He wore the Khaki uniform daily and did his best to carry out whatever assignment given to him. His good performance caught the attention of his office manager. The manager noted Johari was a good worker and eager to learn. He registered Johari for an English Language night class. So for the next year Johari worked during the day and went to school at night. He was a diligent student and passed with flying colours. His boss was happy with him and recommended him for a position as a laboratory assistant at the Shell Refinery facility at Pulau Bukom. With a better pay, Johari was able to bring his mother to Singapore and provide well for her. In 1955 Johari married. Subsequently he had four children, and life was getting better. He encouraged his children to study hard and motivated them with rewards. One particular year he even bought a black and white television for the family when his eldest daughter topped her class. In 1968 Johari brought his whole family to visit his village in Batu Pahat. His children had a fine time there, bathing in a canal and tasting village fare. He renewed his kinship with his older brother, Mohamed Said who lived in a ramshackle attap shack with his family. Many relatives came to meet Johari. Compared to them, Johari had achieved much in life. Unfortunately not long after Johari suffered a sudden stroke and passed away in 1970. He was only forty-one years-old. Ah Mei and Ah Lan by Anonymous Ah Mei was the only daughter of a rich farmer who had seven sons. When asked why she came to Singapore alone, she said she was the moon that accompanied seven stars. According to Chinese beliefs, she would bring ill-fortune to her family had she stayed on. So despite being the pampered child in the family, she summoned her courage to leave her home and became a Samsui woman here. Actually she was married and widowed in China before she decided to come to Singapore. She kept this a secret from her children because during her time, widows were expected to remain chaste. While at work, she caught the attention of Ah Fook, the contractor at the worksite. He was attracted to her. So was Ah Mei, by Ah Fook’s chivalry and good looks. Knowing Ah Fook was already married, she still agreed to be his second wife. She had four children in succession after she married in her late thirties. She had three daughters and a son. Unfortunately the second daughter suffered brain damage as a result of high fever that led to frequent fits when she was three years-old. Ah Mei was agonized whenever Ah Fook abused this daughter, and always worried about who was to care for her when she passed on. Ah Lan was a typical subservient Chinese wife. Her marriage to Ah Fook was arranged in China. She became a dutiful daughter-in-law when Ah Fook came to Singapore leaving behind her and his mother. It was eight years later that she and her son was able to join Ah Fook in Singapore. By then he had married Ah Mei and there were children too. Living under the same roof with one’s husband and his second wife and children is an unthinkable and unacceptable arrangement in our present age. But for her then, it wasn’t even a matter of choice. Ah Lan was entrusted to manage the household while Ah Fook and Ah Mei worked at construction sites. Scenes broke out often when Ah Lan found herself short of money to pay for the household expenses. After Ah Fook and Ah Mei “retired”, they set up their laundry business, and Ah Lan was called upon to help out at their shop too. Ah Mei was always the rational and binding force in the family. There was much love between her and Ah Fook. They went for their frequent morning walks after Ah Fook sold his laundry shop in the mid-1980s. Ah Lan took care of the family well. She cooked for the family, and sewed new clothes and curtains for Chinese New Year. But Ah Lan was less than kind towards Ah Mei’s second daughter, she found fault with her frequently. It seemed her behaviour was in reaction to Ah Fook’s explicit show of favouritism. When Ah Mei passed on Ah Lan finally had Ah Fook’s attention. Unfortunately, not long after she suffered several serious strokes that eventually caused her to be wheelchair-bound for many years. On reflection Ah Mei was the courageous woman who broke social norms to seek her own happiness. She left the comfort of a pampered life in China for a hard one in Singapore. She then chose to marry the man she loved despite knowing he was already married. But she realised the importance of being independent and self-reliant, values that she instilled in her children. She always reminded them that women must be educated and not be dependent on their husbands for a living. On the other hand Ah Lan represents Ah Mei’s very fear, total dependence on a husband who was cold towards her. She was incapable of walking out of a loveless marriage and so suffered much humiliation. All these due to living up to society’s expectations of a compliant wife and to take what come may.