“Okay Pansy,” the children shouted in unison.
Kalau ada jarum patah…
(If there’s a broken needle...)
Pansy’s voice was clear and melodious. George felt a lump in his throat.
Everyone went, “Rat-A-Tat-Tat…”
Jangan di-simpan dalam peti…
(Don’t keep it in a box...)
“Rat-A-Tat-Tat…”
Kalau ada kata yang salah, jangan di-simpan dalam hati…
(If a word is spoken wrongly, don’t keep it in your heart...)
“Rat-A-Tat-Tat…”
Everyone applauded, George the loudest and the longest. Then Pansy said, “Now, children! It’s your turn to sing the lines and the rest of us will all sing, Rat-A-Tat-Tat…”
The children gathered in a group, some shyly at first. Pansy conducted with her hands and arms and the children sang in one voice. The villagers applauded and asked for an encore, but this time it was to be in English. Pansy had a short discussion with the children and she drew two of Khatijah’s youngsters, Nurul and Ahmed, out into the open and gave them a small pail.
“Ready? Okay kids!” Pansy said, after she explained the sketch to the villagers in Malay, then to Nurul and Ahmed, “Action!”
“Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water…” The children lisped in highly-accented English.
Nurul and Ahmed walked hand in hand as if up a hill.
“Jack fell down and broke his crown...” At this juncture, Ahmed dropped the pail and fell to the ground in a mock fall. The villagers laughed.
“And Jill came tumbling after,” Nurul tumbled.
The villagers gave them a standing ovation, clapping uproariously.
When George saw Pansy surrounded by the children and the way she was talking to them, George knew that he wanted her to be the mother of his children.
It was the day of the coronation celebration. Saturday, 6 June 1953. The whole country was in a celebratory mood. The coronation had already taken place on Wednesday, 3 June. This would give time for the large film reels, which recorded the filming of the coronation, to be flown out of England to the many countries still under British rule, so that the British abroad and their subjects could view the ceremonies. The elite would watch the coronation in private sumptuous rooms, but the majority of people in Singapore would see the film as part of the British Pathe News, a feature that preceded a movie that was screened in the cinema.
Generally, the villagers often watched films outdoors, brought by the film-man, in their courtyard, seated on makeshift benches fashioned out of a plank placed on top of two empty kerosene tins, one on each end. The trouble with an outdoor screening was that when it rained, the umbrellas went up and the screen came down; only when the rain stopped, the screen went up and the umbrellas came down. Some evenings this yo-yoing could go on throughout the duration of the movie or until the film-man got fed up and gave up. Pathe News was always followed by a cartoon feature like Bugs Bunny or Sylvester, all this before the main feature came on. The Straits Times newspaper had already published photos of the coronation—Queen Elizabeth in her fairy-tale coach, Queen Elizabeth walking up the aisle of Westminster with her long train sweeping the floor behind her, Queen Elizabeth receiving the crown from the Archbishop of Canterbury, and photos of her with her young family.
George was so happy to walk side by side with Pansy up the muddy Koh Sek Lim Road towards Changi Road. Not holding hands, of course, though he would have liked to. Pansy had let her hair loose and as she moved, it swung about her shoulders like a rustle of black silk threads. It took all of his strength not to stop and clasp her to him and run his fingers through her hair. She was wearing a pretty kebaya, made of turquoise blue voile held together by a set of kerosang, beautiful, intricate brooches, which teasingly showed glimpses of her camisole underneath. Every time she placed a foot forward, her bare leg stepped through the flap in her sarong and his mind turned cartwheels.
But they were not on their own. Tradition still ruled.
Trailing close behind them were Kim Guek and three Malay women, Khatijah, Mak Siti and Mak Boyan. Kim Guek was in a bright turquoise kebaya and matching sarong. The Malay women, normally without any headdress at home, were wearing their selendang, a light pretty veil over their head and the end-piece was slung across one shoulder. Abang Hamsur, not surprisingly, had decided to join them, though he walked with the men, occasionally stealing glances at Khatijah.
“I think we can look forward to a wedding soon,” Mak Boyan said, making Khatijah blush.
Pak Abdul also came along with Pak Wan and Che Tokoh. The men were in their going-out baju and brocade sarongs, with smart songkoks on their heads. The eldest of Khatijah’s children, who was eight, and four others from different families ran around them in great excitement. Everyone had heard how much George knew about the arrangements regarding the parade, and they were following him to get the best access to the parade to celebrate the coronation.
“Thank you for persuading me to come out,” Khatijah said to Kim Guek softly. “We cannot stay anchored to the past forever, can we? I might have to marry again. My five children need a father…”
“I understand,” Kim Guek said. “Yes. It’s easier said than done though, about letting go. Moving forward is not easy. But I wish you all the best…”
“You’re still young,” Khatijah said. “I wish you can find someone too.”
“Is he your future son-in-law?” Mak Boyan broke into their private conversation in a not-so-discreet voice, to Kim Guek, referring to George. “Very good looking. Such a gentleman too.”
“He’s training to be a doctor,” Kim Guek said proudly. “No time to think about such things yet.”
George looked at Pansy. She looked back. They both smiled.
“Last Saturday, on 30 May,” George told everyone, “there was a ceremony at the waterfront when they opened the Queen Elizabeth Walk and Esplanade Gardens.”
“Wow! When can we go to the
