I returned to Singapore in September 2004 for a brief three day visit. I had left in August 1971 as an eleven year old child of an RAF Father. Like countless others I swore that I would one day return and re-visit old haunts.
Top of my list to visit was Changi village, I spent many happy and carefree days playing in and around the environs of RAF Changi and the village. After school and at weekends I would go fishing in Changi creek and behind the, then, golf club. There was a path which led down a steep bank to a beach and the rocks shown in the photograph I've included.
On one of my fishing trips I met a group of Malay boys who were also fishing, we became firm friends over several weeks. Chief among them was a boy called Ali, he lived with his family in a row of single storey houses overlooking the harbour. His father was a Customs official and his mother would occasionally run a makan stall in Changi village. We remained friends until I returned back to the UK in 1971.
On visiting Changi in 2004 I was surprised by the many changes that had taken place, the old shophouses being replaced by newer brick buildings, the once bustling wet market had gone and the noisy harbour was now quiet and peaceful. Changi point had been turned into a park with landscaping and new trees, the old wrecked junk in the creek was long gone as were the children jumping off the foot bridge into the creek.
To my surprise the houses where my friend Ali lived were still there but sadly now derelict. I was able to locate the rocks we would fish off and stood quietly alone remembering some of the happiest days of my life. Much and nothing had changed over those intervening years, and it would be good to discover what became of Ali and his family.
