It’s About Time

Yesterday while driving, I was listening to the radio when there was talk about nicest nasi lemak stall in Singapore.  Listeners were urged to sms their recommendations to the radio station.

Nasi Lemak is a Malay staple food that is easy to eat and tasty too. Easy because it was mainly rice cooked with coconut milk and pandan leaves; the hot sauce (here we say chili sauce) is called sambal.  Traditionally it has small fish — ikan kuning (literally, yellow fish), deep fried with ginger spices. Not forgetting a thin slice of fried egg.   As time passes, the Chinese begins to sell it; often adding fried chicken wings, fried fish cake, plus other stuff.  Being a traditionalist (maybe hardnose), I don’t eat food cooked by those outside of the ethnic group. By that I meant, if it’s Malay food, I must eat from Malay stall; if it’s Chinese food, only from the Chinese.  Not a segregationalist, I just feel that those outside cannot cook as well. I suppose I’m just plain stubborn. And why waste time trying out a Chinese cooked nasi lemak? I just go straight to the Malay stall and order it. period.

Somehow, a series of words conjure up memories of my childhood. When my three neighbors (3 brothers – Ah Hui; Ah Lek; Ah Leng) plus my elder brother and I would take a 2.5 hrs bus ride from our house in C’wealth Cresecent, Queenstown, to Changi Point.  Every Sunday morning, the 5 of us would take bus no. 2, eagerly aniticpating the sight and smell of Changi.  I think bus no 2 still ply the same route after all these years.

Being poor– we would save up our money to have just enough to pay for our bus fare (10 cents each way) and nasi lemak (20 cents).  The Malay boys from the nearby kampong at Changi would ply their trade along the beaches.  The highlight of the trip (after swimming) would be to eat that precious packet of nasi lemak.  It’s a heavenly joy for us kids.  By the way, we were just about 8 to 13 years of age.  My brother being the oldest and Ah Leng and I were both 8 years old.

We’d guard our money otherwise, not only does it mean we don’t get to savor nasi lemak; it’d be a long road back to Queenstown from Changi Point.  For some it might be very dreadful thing but for us kids back then, it was part of life.  I recall walking to Capitol Theater from Queenstown. Almost everywhere we went we walked. Why? No money, that’s why. We developed endurance anyway. When I got enlisted into the army. Road march was never an issue with me.

I don’t know much about my dad.  Most of what I know came from remarks by my older sisters and occasionally by my mother.  According to them, Dad was a principal in a school in Malaysia (don’t know if it’s primary or secondary level).

Prior to that he was from China, fled with his mother to Taiwan and subsequently to Singapore when the Japanese overran the respective countries.  My paternal grandmother died the day I was born having fallen down several days prior. Back to my dad – he was a resistant fighter against the Japanese in Malaya/Singapore in the early 40s during Japanese occupation.  His story somehow became muddled after that. Nobody really talks about it in my family except that he was flamboyant and often changes cars and watches.

He subsequently converted to Islam and logically was allowed to marry a second wife (actually I doubt if there was consent by my mother).  In my mind, it was a conversion of convenience after all, it made bigamy legal in the Malaysian govt eyes; besides being a Muslim meant easier access to job opportunities in Malaysia – after the Malays had a go first, I believe.  At least that was my impression.

He comes back to Singapore about fortnightly albeit juggling between two families who are in essence at odds due to envy as well as anger for obvious reasons.  We’ve never met all of our half-brothers or sisters. I remembered only one, that’s all.  I must say that my mother was quiet about the whole thing. Never ever have I seen her upset or depressed over this (if she did it never showed).  The whole marriage thing must have hurt her badly since my mother prior to her settling back to the role of homemaker, was also a teacher along with my dad.  The second wife was also a colleague and good friend of my mother (imagine the sense of betrayal!).  Nonetheless mother stoically soldiered on in life.

Dad was hardly home long. Only overnighters when he does come back. He never spent time getting to know us kids (maybe the older siblings).  My older brother Fred and I didn’t for sure.

I have only two or three recollection of my personal moments with dad. One was when he stayed overnight and the following morning, gave me a ride to school.  I was so overjoyed because dad brought me to school. We never spoke but that ride made my day.  I was only primary 2 (second-grade) at age of 7 ½ yrs.

The other memory I had was when I was 11.  we were playing football outside the flat along the corridor with neighbors, Ariff, Asli, Tee Kia, Fred, Ah Lek.  It was a noisy but fun affair when my dad who was home then, came out without warning and whacked my right arm (cos I was nearest to our door). That effectively ceased all activities as our friends retreated to their own homes and Fred quieted. I didn’t cry nor protest. Only smile in defiance essentially.

Another experience I recalled was when we received word from my uncle (Dad’s younger brother) that Dad has passed away after suffering from lung cancer.  We visited him only once at TTSH when he was ill. I didn’t know he was already suffering from cancer but I remember that he cried.  Anyway, my uncle told us that my dad’s second wife didn’t want us to know and had wanted to carry on with the funeral without the other children of his around.  My uncle couldn’t bear to do that so he came to inform us. We all went to the funeral and the woman was furious and hostile.  An old neighbor who used to live in Waterloo Street asked if we wanted to smash up the funeral (he was a gangster) later since such inconsiderate behavior by the woman was manifested towards us -especially my mother whom I was surprised that she was so cool, calm and collected.  While my older siblings wailed, my elder brother Fred and I didn’t.  We tried to pretend that we did but ended up laughing because it was so silly and pretentious.  Thankfully it didn’t incur the wrath of anybody.

I suppose in some ways I was angry with my dad.  he was absent from our lives while we were growing up. I used to think how nice it would be if dad was around to provide for us financially – he didn’t.  How much a difference it would make if he took interest in our education. He didn’t.  He was parent-in-absentia.

I never know what it’s like to ask dad for advice. He was never around long enough to know if I had one.  I never know what it is like to disagree with him for the same reason. But I remmeber wishing he was there for us but he didn’t.

We went through hardships but I guess you can say that it fortify us in different ways that was good for us. We can’t help not having dad around.  It’s not our fault. Perhaps he has tried but he didn’t have the energy to do so. Would others have forgiven him?

I know I wouldn’t to be like dad. He was absent.

I’m glad to have learned the guitar albeit not an expert but sufficient to enjoy the sound and able to sing along with the songs while playing it.  One of my blog entry ‘chronicled’ my acquisition journey in greater detail.  I’m listing the guitars for my own recollection of the guitars I’ve owned over the years. . . .

Congress -steel strings. (My sis Kathy bought as a reward for passing PSLE That got me started).
Congress – dreadnought (Bought with own savings during sec 3). Sold to my cousin who brought it home to JB.
Yamaha CG – classical guitar but can’t recall model [paid over $300 in '80]. Nice rosewood color. More importantly it was loud and solid sounding.  Really enjoy it but it was damaged by fellow youth in ‘81 during Sr Teens Camp on St John’s Island. Thankfully it didn’t affect sound  but aesthetic.  The fellow was my childhood friend; he didn’t offer to pay for it and I didn’t pursue either.
Yamaha FG512-II - 12 strings dreadnought. A gift from a friend in ‘81; Sold it on Jan 24 ‘09. Enjoyed playing on in recent years. Left it with Teck Leong for about 10 years because of studies in US.
Ibanez – handcrafted classical guitar [no idea about model no.]. Mom paid for it as a gift of sort.   Finishing rather bare but lovely sound. Traveled farthest with me across the continents and States. Used it extensively in IA.  Didn’t know anything about humidity’s effect on guitar.  The top had one hairline cracked due to extreme dryness in Wisconsin winter in ‘96.  Brought it to WY for church planting trip.  In the US, it has gone to IA, WI, WY, MN and finally TX. It was sold by proxy to Dallas seminary student with Amy Lau’s help while stuck back in Singapore and unable to return to DTS.
Ovation AE128 – shortest ownership of 2 weeks. First online purchase. Didn’t like it; did a trade-in at shop in Minnetonka, MN.
Hofner H-12 (that’s the trade-in). Top with USD$100. Nice German made classical guitar. Satin finish; mahogany side and back with solid spruce top. Brought it home to Singapore along with rest of shipment in 2001. Left it with my brother Fred. Might take it back sometime later.
Ovation Legend 1117. Bought it over EBay. First nice Ovation ever had. Brought it back to Singapore in 2001. Sold it in Aug 9 2008.
Ovation 1124-4. Bought via craiglist. Nice looking though felt thin sounding when strum. Nylon strings but has 14 frets instead of regular 12. Sold it in 2008 about 3 months later. Got good price for it.
Ovation Concert Classic 1116. Also via Craiglist. Deep bowl, nylon strings and richer sounding than previous model. Previous owner is a vet and apparently owns tv show related to veterinary. Still owning it. Listed it yesterday on AdPost. Not really serious in selling it but might consider it if somebody willing to pay listed price.
Ovation 1997 Collectors Edition. Parlor sized acoustic-electric guitar. Actually made mistake. Didn’t know it was acoustic but thought it was nylon string because headstock with slotted. Blur!  Bought it off Craiglist again from student from Purdue Univ. Nice sound but neck tad too narrow for my liking. Didn’t have the boom sound I need for playing in Sun school singing or Children Day’s Camp. Sold it off Dec ‘08.
Yamaha LJ-16. First all solid guitar. Medium jumbo. Bought it Dec 20 ‘08. Enjoying the sound. Was deliberating between an LL-16 and this LJ-16. I like the headstock design and body-shape. It began to sound delightful as time goes on.

I’ll probably get one more dreadnought to put in Church for regular use. Didn’t want to lug the Yamaha LJ-16 along every Sunday. It gets tiring after awhile.

UPDATE (March 27 2009).  Since then, I went ahead to get the Yamaha LL-16 from Yamaha Tampines. The manager was nice to give me a good price I must say.  Suffice to say, I left it in the church for regular use.

Last week, I collected a used but excellent condition Larrivee D-03R. It was upgraded with bone saddle plus nice Gotoh tuners.

UPDATE (July 1st 2009).  Sold the Ovation ‘97 Collectors’ Edition & Concert Classic 1116 to an Australian working locally in May.  Few days ago, bought a Larrivee L-10 from EBay and a Goodall Rosewood Standard from a deadbeat in AGF. The Goodall hadn’t arrived yet.

UPDATE (August 17 2009).  Sold my Yamaha LJ-16 and Takamine EN-15 about 2 weeks ago.  Now I’m down to Hofner, H-12; Yamaha LL-16; Larrivee D03-R; Larrivee L-10; Goodall Standard.

UPDATE (End August ‘09). Sold my Larrivee L-10 through Malcolm’s recommendation.  Don’t know why, but as with the Yamaha LJ-16, this L-10 was parted with tinge of sadness. I suppose I really do like the shape a lot….

UPDATE (Sept 13 ‘09). Won an EBay bid for Taylor GSMC.  It’s on the way even as I typed this update.  Same body shape as the LJ-16 & L-10.  Since I’ve not had a mahogany back and sides guitar before, thought I should give it a try. Besides I finally joined the Taylor community. Don’t know if I’ll also leave it as I did the Ovation……

UPDATE (Oct 2 ‘09). The Avalon S200 arrived at the doorstep today.

I’m thinking of entering a series of blogs to recollect my childhood or things that trigger my memory to way back when.  Perhaps it’s nostalgia but it might be that I am middle age now so things start getting sentimental on me now!   

My mind harkens back to Holland Road HDB estates. It’s now quite a high priced area since its proximity is to Holland Village – a hip hangout for locals as well as foreigners.  When I was a kid, the whole area was just a huge cemetery primarily belonging to the Hakka clan.  I remember going with my elder brother Fred and 3 neighbors to that area when graves were being exhumed. We played hide-&-seek!   It didn’t occur to us kids as creepy to be playing there at all.  Of course our mothers didn’t know either!   

One day, the newspapers reported a coffin was unearthed and intact (referring to the coffin itself).  In the olden days, Chinese coffins were made of hard wood such as teak. They last for many years and afforded by the wealthy folks.  It would have been fun to see it person.   Later the place was being constructed into HDB blocks. Today, there is still a plot of cemetery in Holland area.  Much smaller no doubt.   

During the construction of these blocks, my brother, Fred, and neighbors Ah Lek; Ah Leng and Ah Hui, often go there to try to catch “longkang fish” and not very successful I must say.  One day, we walk along a big drain (actually canal) and being a rainy season that time, we wandered into the deeper end not being careful to note that the mud and slush had gone into that drain. As we tread further and deeper, the whole place began to feel like quicksand pit.  We panicked but nobody was around to help us out. Thankfully Fred maintained his calm and saw a wooden pole that was lying not too far away.  With this pole he helped all of us out of that situation; I still think that we could have died that day.  my neighbors blamed my brother for bringing them into danger. Amusingly they like to tag along and when things turn back, my brother always get the blame. Reminds me of the children of Israel blaming Moses at the first sign of trouble!   

Holland Village was not that fancy then.  A pet store selling birds and accessories was at one corner (now occupied by Cold Storage), Sandwin sports shop, and a whole host of shops that are long gone and now occupied by fast foods and upscale shops.  Like now, those shops catered more to expatriate (including British armies and families staying at nearby Chip Bee Gdn).  The shopping center wasn’t build yet. At the back was the open air cinema that showed older movies at 50 cents a ticket.  It was a treat to be able to afford entrance fee.  I think I only saw one or two movies there.  

There was an old bicycle shop that was running down – an old man that fixes bikes and only a handful of bicycles there. At least he owns his own business and property.  We frequented there when Fred found a discarded bike body and then saved money to buy wheels and other peripherals to make it into a full bike.  We had lots of fun and scary moments then.  Those were happy times for that was when Fred was around most of the time during his seconday days.  He had a fall and then was soon hospitalized for quite a while.  After that, we never did spent so much time anymore. I missed that. 

Chip Bee Garden.  That was where many of the British soldiers and the their families lived. I remember well that these folks had lots of big dogs that they probably brought over from UK when they were posted here.  All I could remember was every time we walk along that road, we have to be prepared to run for our lives because these dogs would dash out of its front gates.  I remembered being so scared as a 5-6 yr old boy that I wouldn’t walk even when my sister or brother tells me to do so.  It was too scary then. 

Speaking of dogs. Once my brother and our good ol neighbors walked along Holland Road and went into the driveway of one of those big houses. At that time, it appeared nobody was home since no car was seen at the porch. So we walk and chattered away when suddenly a dog came running out and barking.  Man alive!  It was running fast!  We all ran and I being the smallest and youngest of all was –also the slowest of all.  I yelled as I ran and then jumped over a drain like everybody else.  Didn’t really make it over totally; I just made it barely – and the dog stopped right next to me. Thankfully it didn’t bite me. Otherwise, I’d been a basket case that day.   

Holland Road area holds many fond memories of childhood for me.  I don’t live there, I just trek there ever so often in those days.  Even when I drive past it sometimes, I will recall those good’ ol days.  That place has changed so much over the years and now. It’s probably a hip and snobberish place where the snooty felooty folks hang out. Sigh . . .