2 The term “coloured” was internationally recognised and widely used in those days. The term would have been considered offensive to individuals today. >
Water, Water Everywhere
(1969)
IN the Chinese Lunar calendar, 1969 was the Year of The Earth Rooster. It should not have been a bad year, as the astrological sign was a Yin Metal and was usually not one that foretold major disasters. In Chinese Feng Shui, when there is the presence of the Star of Conflict or if the lunar year is in direct confrontation with the deity Tai Sui, some kind of disaster will happen in that year. I am unfamiliar with Feng Shui principles and did not know if there was any confrontation in 1969, but it was not a good year for us. Our country went through another round of conflict between the Malays and Chinese, in the worst Sino-Malay riots since 1964.
In May, 26-year-old Abu returned from a family visit to Kuala Lumpur (KL) with devastating news.
“Such trouble in Malaysia!” he said, his face ashen. “The Malaysian government had declared a state of emergency when riots began after the results of the General Election came out. There were clashes between Malays and Chinese. The Malays felt that the Chinese were holding too much power and wealth, whilst the Malays were in low-ranking jobs. The Chinese felt that United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) was over-asserting its Malay identity at their expense, and the Malays felt that the Chinese were becoming too dominant.”
“So, what happened?” Karim asked.
“They tried to slaughter each other, that’s what! Many were killed.”
“We must not let this distrust between Chinese and Malays infiltrate our village,” Uncle Krishnan, our civil servant Indian neighbour said. “The government here treats all races equally. There is no Bumiputra status here for Malays, or other special privileges for different races. We are all equal.”
But it was easier said than done. Rumours started spreading in our country about the ill-treatment of the Chinese in Malaysia by the Malays and Malaysian Armed Forces. Apparently 6,000 Chinese were made homeless and nearly 200 had been killed. It was insinuated that the Malays here were out to harm the Chinese. Tension grew in Singapore. Where we had once been one united nation, now the Chinese looked at the Malays with suspicion, and vice-versa. It was not healthy.
Another rumour arose about some invincible Malay warriors coming from Batu Pahat to protect their weaker Malay counterparts in Singapore. Some Chinese went around whispering to others that Malays were slaughtering the Chinese, using their parangs and even changkols. The Chinese started gathering their own weapons, sharpening bamboo clothes hanging poles into wooden spears. People locked their doors. The police set up road blocks in Bras Basah Road and places where the potential for clashes might exist. It turned out that they weren’t Malay warriors, but some Chinese Triad gang coming to meet other Triad leaders to take revenge on the Malays. The Triad converged on Kampong Kedah near Seletar and attacked the residents of a Malay kampong with swords and spears. It was a bloody affair with some villagers maimed or killed. Angered, the Malay community, instigated by a secret society, then retaliated by setting fire to shops owned by the Chinese in Geylang. And so, chaos began in the country, terrible clashes, where each took revenge on the other, were fuelled by rumour mongers. No one was safe.
There were Chinese Triad society members living in Lai Par in the far reaches of Kampong Potong Pasir, and they went around trying to stir up friction between our Malay and Chinese villagers. For a time, it was difficult for us to relate to our neighbours, and the different races kept avoiding each other. For the first time, I didn’t get to see Fatima on a daily basis and missed her. How people could pit us against each other! The government instituted a curfew to control people’s movements. Fortunately, it acted swiftly, purging the villages of the Triad Societies and hauling people into prison if they were deemed to be inciting one race against the other. The PA sent the likes of Mr Yap, Suhaimi and Ananda to every household, to explain that the fight was not between ordinary kampong folks but between secret societies and triad gangs. Every night, we had to shut our doors early and we cowered behind them when we heard running footsteps, as the gangsters ran past our houses to escape the police amongst the warren of lanes and lorongs.
Despite the horrors we faced, there was an event in 1969 which lifted our spirits. It was the moon landing. The American astronauts, Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin finally managed to land on the moon with Apollo 11 on 20 July, with the words, “The eagle has landed.”
The telecast re-united us with our estranged neighbours as they crowded round in the homes of families who owned TV sets. Fatima and her family came into our house and I was so pleased to see her, and our eyes spoke volumes to each other. We were all laughing and talking, patting each other’s backs like the old days. We debated if the whole idea of reaching the moon was some kind of a hoax put out by the Americans so that America could claim that they had beaten the Russians. We discussed and argued, some were more vocal than others; the non-educated were disbelieving. Could man really land on the moon? How could the rocket have carried enough fuel to last a journey of millions of miles? Would the astronauts be able to get back? But we still sat wide-eyed, listening to the commentator as he explained the process of the epic journey. There was a moment of silence as tribute was
