Though the Chinese sympathised with the tragedy that had occurred, and understood the government’s caution, many did not take kindly to the prohibition of a cultural tradition that had been practiced for hundreds of years. Moving the location of the firing of fireworks away from homes and business premises defeated the purpose of firing them in the first place. There began some murmurs of rebellion from disgruntled citizens. The majority of us were simply sad. We had loved and relished all the pomp and glory of firecrackers and fireworks. From then on, Chinese New Year celebrations in Singapore would never be the same again.
It was timely that in July, Prime Minister Lee helped change the mood, and made the nation proud. Britain had conferred on him an honorary Order of the Companions of Honour, United Kingdom, for his role in diplomacy and outstanding achievement within the Commonwealth. He had helped set up the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) in 1967. This year, he had hosted the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting, where he acted as a peacemaker between various African states and Britain. UK’s plan to sell arms to South Africa had created a furore with other African states. Founded in 1917 by King George V as a reward for outstanding achievements, the Order of the Companions of Honour was an order of the Commonwealth realms. Recipients of this one-class order were entitled to use the post-nominal letters "CH". Mr Lee and his wife travelled to Britain for his investiture by Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace. Prime Minister Lee said in his speech afterwards that Singapore valued its ties with Britain and he hoped that Britain would continue to preserve the association.
Sadly, on 23 November, our dear President Yusof Ishak died of heart failure, leaving his wife Puan Noor Aishah a widow. He was only 60. He had been appointed as our first Yang Di Pertuan Negara (Head of State) in 1959, when PAP won its first election.
Ignorant critics had proclaimed in a disgruntled manner that he had just been a token President as he was a Malay. Contrary to the baseless rumour, he was not appointed because of his race but because he was an extremely intelligent man. He was the only Malay to be in the Queen’s Scholarship Class in Raffles Institution (RI) in 1924. Only 13 students had made it to this class. He was also a keen sportsman, and had represented his school in hockey, cricket, swimming, water polo, basketball, boxing and weightlifting. In 1932, he won the Aw Boon Par Cup for boxing and weightlifting, and in 1933, became the national lightweight champion, inspiring other athletes like Tan Howe Liang, who in 1960 became the first Singaporean to win an Olympic Games medal in Rome, with a silver in the weightlifting lightweight category. Ah Tetia had admired both of them and they had inspired him to take up weightlifting as a hobby. He had his weightlifting equipment laid out in the sandy yard behind our house, and two of our kampong lads, Rajah and Salleh, had joined him in the exercise.
Encik Yusof had also come from a respected and distinguished Perak family when Singapore was still part of British Malaya. He was titled Tun Haji Yusof bin Ishak and was an eminent journalist and politician. It was he who went the extra mile to help Malays and Chinese develop trust in each other during the horrific 1964 Malay-Chinese riots. This had not been an easy task. Our villagers knew the situation first-hand. Despite the bad feeling between the two races, our villagers had focussed on the fact that we had lived as one before, and struggled not to allow the race issue to poison our friendships and neighbourliness.
“Kita mesti pergi, hormati Encik Ishak. We must go and show our respects to Encik Ishak,” Karim said.
The state funeral was held on 26 November. As usual, Karim organised the lorry to take us to Orchard Road, outside the Istana. But unlike our trip to the Padang for our first National Day Parade, he had to engage three lorries instead of one this time. Fatima took the day off as well to come with us. She wore her sarong kebaya. The Malay sarong kebaya differed from the Peranakan one in that their kebaya and sarong were in matching batik. As a child, Fatima had usually worn the loose baju kurong on special occasions. At other times, she was dressed like other kampong kids. Now her outfit showed off her shapely feminine figure. And it occurred to me that we had both become young adults. We had both passed the age of 17, when in the old days, we had been fearful of being forced to marry. Now we were 19. Times had changed. We were no longer obliged to marry. If Parvathi had lived, she wouldn’t have had to kill herself.
“You look like Saloma,” I whispered because of the solemn occasion. Saloma was P. Ramlee’s beautiful wife, who was also a screen actress. “I bet all the boys will be after you soon.”
She smiled and blushed, pulling her selendang coyly across her face.
I knew then that she had met someone. When was she going to tell me?
It was the first time that we were attending a State Funeral. We did not expect the scale of it. We were astonished to see every street filled with people, three or four deep, ordinary folks turning up to pay their respects. There were thousands snaking down the pavements of the town, more even than the crowds that
