“Houses on stilts?” Goldie says as though it was an incredulous thing. “Singapore had houses on stilts? And you lived in one, grandma?”
“Aiyoh! Our Singapore history also you don’t know! What do you all learn in your expensive school?” Anthony says in a slightly exasperated voice. “I lived in it too. Until… until we left for England. It was lovely. Mum, do you remember when we used to lie on the floorboards and watch the waves coming in under the house and counting them? It was so mesmerising that I always ended up falling asleep…”
“I’m bored to death with all this talk of kampong days…” Emily groans.
“Wow! Cool!” the children say in unison.
“Oh, do you still remember that? You were eleven when… when we left…”
“Maybe, it’s better not to go back,” Anthony says, after a thought. “You won’t recognise the place. Everything you knew has been destroyed. The government let the land rest and stabilise for seven years after reclamation, before they started building on it. There is now a smart housing estate with three-storey houses where the kampongs used to be, plus a golf course and the ECP Highway and of course the East Coast Park. Even the rivers there have been diverted…”
“Yes, I remember the rivers, Sungei Bedok and Sungei Ketapang, right? The kampong kids used to fish and catch eels from them. I just want to go back there to recapture old memories. I need to see if Rama and Sita are still there…”
“Does ‘sungei’ refer to a river?” Andie asks.
“Who?” Anthony asks.
“I mean I want to see if some of the banyan trees I knew are still there…”
“Yes, the one at Bedok Corner is still there. Do you remember how I used to swing like Tarzan from the vines, with the rest of the kampong kids? But the fields that were around it have been stripped. The tree now stands in the paved car park of the Bedok Food Centre. It has been classified as a heritage tree because it marks the crossroads, at the spot where the old beach and coast used to be.”
“What? You, a Tarzan, daddy?” says Andie, giggling.
“Oh, don’t you laugh. I was a real boy, not like kids nowadays who are bubble-wrapped and are not allowed to do so-called dangerous things. The most dangerous thing kids do these days is play a Formula One racing game on their iPads. If they get a bit of dirt on their hands, their mothers scream ‘germs, germs, germs,’ and get hysterical! As a boy, I used to climb trees, scraping my knees regularly. We made up our own entertainment and had adventures in the wild lallang and forests, pretended to be Cowboys and Indians, Robin Hood, or Hang Tuah. We made arrows from coconut leaf spines and bullets from creepers’ vines, catapults from twigs. We played vigorous games like hantam bola and battled with our homemade kites, the strings fortified with glass powder which we pounded ourselves from broken bottles. I was really fit from the outdoors. You might be surprised but I did have a six-pack when I was in NS. I didn’t have all this flab,” Anthony says in a self-mocking way, pinching the roll of fat on his midriff. “It’s all due to this type of fast foods you kids make me eat.”
“I would have liked to live in a house on stilts right by the sea,” Goldie sighs. “I’ve stayed in them—in resorts in Indonesia and Thailand—and felt so at home. Now I understand why you lived by the sea in Bracklesham Bay, grandma. I thought I was the only one in this family to love the sea. Dad never talked much about his childhood before. I love everything about the sea, its sound, the waves, the smell of salt. Can I come with you to look around your old village, grandma? I would like to know what the East Coast used to be like…”
“It will be my pleasure. Only, as your mother says, there is no village now. Also, I don’t want you to be bored by stories of the old days…”
“But I like learning about our heritage. Singapore is changing so rapidly that we young people need something to cling to. In fact, I was wondering if you could tell me more about our Peranakan culture. We don’t practise anything Peranakan…”
“Aiyah, what’s so important about that kind of thing?” Emily says.
“Great idea!” says Anthony. “You two can go together. I’ve got so much to do on this new project. Goldie, you can take the Merc and drive grandma there. The area is easy to find. Just stay on East Coast Road, and after Bayshore, it will become Upper East Coast Road. When you pass Bedok Camp on your right and Jalan Haji Salam on your left, you’ll see the Bedok Food Centre. Right after Bagnall Court Condo. Here the road curves sharply round to the left and becomes Bedok Road. Then you turn left immediately into the car park in front of Eastwood Centre’s Cold Storage supermarket, and you’ll see the heritage tree. There’s an information board underneath the tree so you won’t miss it.”
“It’s okay, dad. I’m sure the GPS will take me there…”
“Bedok Camp? What camp?”
“I told you it has changed, mum,” says Anthony. “Near where the Bedok Resthouse used to be is now an army camp. There is no more beach in that area. The old food stalls on Long Beach have been moved across the road to what is now called Bedok Food Centre. The food stalls are not the old rickety attap lean-tos you used to know. They’re more posh now, with proper electricity and running water, housed in a Minangkabau design food centre. But the good cheng teng and ju her eng chye are still there, and some of the Malay food, like the famous nasi rawan and lontong. I suppose they’re run by the descendants of the original hawkers, or the names have been taken over.
