Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
joining the dots
The stories about the Singapore River never seem to end.
Last Saturday, J and I went on a tour of the Singapore River organised by The Tangent and led by Mr Han San Yuan, the journalist featured in this film.
Mr Han had an endless stream of stories about Singapore's past against the backdrop of the river. There was the story about a drawbridge that refused to draw; the story about that white statue of Sir Stamford Raffles; the story of Indian convicts shipped by the British Indian Company to build their post on this island (the prison quarters supposedly where the Singapore Management University now stands); the story of Chinese reformist Kang Youwei's supposed temporary abode where the UOB bank now is (and a poem Kang had written from the 3rd storey room overlooking the Singapore River); the story of the Yuan dynasty porcelain found by the river and the foot of Fort Canning which was, more importantly, the location of the keramat of the last Malay king in Singapore...
"Singapore's history", Mr Han thundered, "did not just begin in 1819. [Or if one may add, 1965] Who is it who keeps saying that this country is young?"
the white man
My favourite story was Mr Han's description of the Teochew storytellers. Perhaps because he had personally experienced and enjoyed their stories, his own telling of 說書 (literal trans: speak book. What a great term!) was simple, direct yet animated. He spoke of how the story tellers would intersperse their stories with "news breaks", reporting snippets from the newspapers, and how the length of each episode or segment was measured by the time it took for one stick of incense to burn. The story teller would, in between lighting each incense, collect a fee from his listeners. Like television, someone observed, minus the ads.
Of course, Mr Han with his running commentary of the river, was not unlike these story tellers. We had nothing to hold on to except his voice, his description, his expressions. Occasionally he would hold up an old photograph or a photocopied newspaper clipping to illustrate his point - but it was not the sight of the river and rows of gaudily conserved shophouses and godowns, certainly not the smell of the still-jungle green water (the campaign in the 80s to clean up the river made sure of this) that held my attention. It was Mr Han's voice - his storytelling.
all images by J
I will always remember one evening, in the Substation's Garden (now the bistro Timbre) under a tree, a fairly elderly actor - I can only remember his surname was Bai - sat and told 2 completely entrancing stories. No visual aids, no sound effects, no dramatic movements, no supporting cast. Not even a mic. It was just his voice. I remember only 1 of the 2 stories. About aglutton gourmand who lived and ate through reformist China, the Japanese war and Communist China. That experience I would never forget.
under a tree at the speakers' corner where no one really speaks anymore
That Saturday, it was also food which concluded our tour. Mr Han led us to the Ee Hoe Hean Club (aka the "Millionaire's Club"), the birthplace of the Singapore Chinese's support towards the revolutionary movement led by Sun Yat Sen and, later, anti-Japanese movement. It counts among its founders famous folks like Gan Eng Seng, Lim Boon Keng and Tan Kah Kee.
At the club, the members were gathered for their usual Saturday lunch - and for some, a post-lunch game of three-person mahjong. The club Chairman had very kindly offered to host the Tangent members over for lunch, so us tag-alongs also enjoyed the free food and company.
no post-lunch mahjong for this bunch!
Over some introductory pleasantries, one of the club's committee members expressed his joy at being able to interact with the today's young "bilingual intellectuals" (he said this in mandarin 雙語知識份子). "Ah", someone at our table quickly corrected, "you mean the Tangent folks at the other table." On our table of tag-alongs were 2 filmmakers, 2 historians/teachers, 1 bureaucrat and 1 designer ﹣half of whom were not effectively bilingual and only the filmmakers/historians/teachers could conceivably be termed "intellectuals".
But that remark sent me to look for my copy of the latest Tangent journal. It's been a surprisingly enjoyable read with not much of the angst I had expected, but many questions asked (you can find the journal at the Ngee Ann City Kinokuniya bookstore). Among the questions is "Singaporean, you scared what?", the topic of a forum held at the Tangent's 5th anniversary.
The journal lists 60 replies given by listeners of radio station UFM100.3 via SMS: [I've just pulled out the first 24, but there are some real interesting ones in the next 36]:
1. I am afraid of the government's ever changing policies
2. I am scared of the government
3, I am scared of death
4. I am afraid of being penniless
5. I am afraid of being jobless, hungry, having no money to pay for my children's school fees and of being lonely in my old age.
6. Frighten 2 pay n pay. Job security. Medical n education expense.
7. I am afraid that I am not capable and intelligent enough and will lose out in my old age. The need to constantly learn soft and hard skills is very, very exhausting.
8. The Singapore government is afraid that Singapore will lag behind one day.
9. I fear that I will be abandoned when I am old.
10. I am afraid that my children unable to cope with our education system.
11. I am scared of trouble, death, having no money, being unemployed, ghosts...there are too many!
12. I'm a Singaporean. I think I'm scare of having no money n sick. Medical fee n medicine very high.[sic]
13. Worry jobless, no income all other problems would raise. [sic]
14. I am afraid of inflation.
15. Afraid old and frail but can't have a quick exit from this world.
16. I am scared of snakes.
17. I am scared the government will not take care of us.
18. I fear being out of job.
19. I am scared of fines.
20. I fear being penniless and bald. Unfortunately, both apply to me.
21. I fear riots.
22. Kiasu.
23. I am afraid of falling ill.
24. I fear costly educational costs and job insecurity which will lead to late marriage and low birth rate.
Friends, what are you afraid of on our small island?
Last Saturday, J and I went on a tour of the Singapore River organised by The Tangent and led by Mr Han San Yuan, the journalist featured in this film.
Mr Han had an endless stream of stories about Singapore's past against the backdrop of the river. There was the story about a drawbridge that refused to draw; the story about that white statue of Sir Stamford Raffles; the story of Indian convicts shipped by the British Indian Company to build their post on this island (the prison quarters supposedly where the Singapore Management University now stands); the story of Chinese reformist Kang Youwei's supposed temporary abode where the UOB bank now is (and a poem Kang had written from the 3rd storey room overlooking the Singapore River); the story of the Yuan dynasty porcelain found by the river and the foot of Fort Canning which was, more importantly, the location of the keramat of the last Malay king in Singapore...
"Singapore's history", Mr Han thundered, "did not just begin in 1819. [Or if one may add, 1965] Who is it who keeps saying that this country is young?"
the white man
My favourite story was Mr Han's description of the Teochew storytellers. Perhaps because he had personally experienced and enjoyed their stories, his own telling of 說書 (literal trans: speak book. What a great term!) was simple, direct yet animated. He spoke of how the story tellers would intersperse their stories with "news breaks", reporting snippets from the newspapers, and how the length of each episode or segment was measured by the time it took for one stick of incense to burn. The story teller would, in between lighting each incense, collect a fee from his listeners. Like television, someone observed, minus the ads.
Of course, Mr Han with his running commentary of the river, was not unlike these story tellers. We had nothing to hold on to except his voice, his description, his expressions. Occasionally he would hold up an old photograph or a photocopied newspaper clipping to illustrate his point - but it was not the sight of the river and rows of gaudily conserved shophouses and godowns, certainly not the smell of the still-jungle green water (the campaign in the 80s to clean up the river made sure of this) that held my attention. It was Mr Han's voice - his storytelling.
all images by J
I will always remember one evening, in the Substation's Garden (now the bistro Timbre) under a tree, a fairly elderly actor - I can only remember his surname was Bai - sat and told 2 completely entrancing stories. No visual aids, no sound effects, no dramatic movements, no supporting cast. Not even a mic. It was just his voice. I remember only 1 of the 2 stories. About a
under a tree at the speakers' corner where no one really speaks anymore
That Saturday, it was also food which concluded our tour. Mr Han led us to the Ee Hoe Hean Club (aka the "Millionaire's Club"), the birthplace of the Singapore Chinese's support towards the revolutionary movement led by Sun Yat Sen and, later, anti-Japanese movement. It counts among its founders famous folks like Gan Eng Seng, Lim Boon Keng and Tan Kah Kee.
At the club, the members were gathered for their usual Saturday lunch - and for some, a post-lunch game of three-person mahjong. The club Chairman had very kindly offered to host the Tangent members over for lunch, so us tag-alongs also enjoyed the free food and company.
no post-lunch mahjong for this bunch!
Over some introductory pleasantries, one of the club's committee members expressed his joy at being able to interact with the today's young "bilingual intellectuals" (he said this in mandarin 雙語知識份子). "Ah", someone at our table quickly corrected, "you mean the Tangent folks at the other table." On our table of tag-alongs were 2 filmmakers, 2 historians/teachers, 1 bureaucrat and 1 designer ﹣half of whom were not effectively bilingual and only the filmmakers/historians/teachers could conceivably be termed "intellectuals".
But that remark sent me to look for my copy of the latest Tangent journal. It's been a surprisingly enjoyable read with not much of the angst I had expected, but many questions asked (you can find the journal at the Ngee Ann City Kinokuniya bookstore). Among the questions is "Singaporean, you scared what?", the topic of a forum held at the Tangent's 5th anniversary.
The journal lists 60 replies given by listeners of radio station UFM100.3 via SMS: [I've just pulled out the first 24, but there are some real interesting ones in the next 36]:
1. I am afraid of the government's ever changing policies
2. I am scared of the government
3, I am scared of death
4. I am afraid of being penniless
5. I am afraid of being jobless, hungry, having no money to pay for my children's school fees and of being lonely in my old age.
6. Frighten 2 pay n pay. Job security. Medical n education expense.
7. I am afraid that I am not capable and intelligent enough and will lose out in my old age. The need to constantly learn soft and hard skills is very, very exhausting.
8. The Singapore government is afraid that Singapore will lag behind one day.
9. I fear that I will be abandoned when I am old.
10. I am afraid that my children unable to cope with our education system.
11. I am scared of trouble, death, having no money, being unemployed, ghosts...there are too many!
12. I'm a Singaporean. I think I'm scare of having no money n sick. Medical fee n medicine very high.[sic]
13. Worry jobless, no income all other problems would raise. [sic]
14. I am afraid of inflation.
15. Afraid old and frail but can't have a quick exit from this world.
16. I am scared of snakes.
17. I am scared the government will not take care of us.
18. I fear being out of job.
19. I am scared of fines.
20. I fear being penniless and bald. Unfortunately, both apply to me.
21. I fear riots.
22. Kiasu.
23. I am afraid of falling ill.
24. I fear costly educational costs and job insecurity which will lead to late marriage and low birth rate.
Friends, what are you afraid of on our small island?
Friday, January 18, 2008
sim city
the new city hall all decked out
Nay Pyi Taw
Myanmar's new capital is built on the flattened hills north of Mandalay. The land is stripped bare, a highway cuts across the city, and the semblance of a city is systematically planted - a mega parliamentary complex echoing the ambition of pharoahs, a gaudily lit city hall, a hotel zone of resorts, a city golf course and various housing types for government officials pegged to rank (walk up apartments for the rank and file, semi-detached houses for senior managers, bungalows for directors and palaces for the ministers). These developments sit in isolation. Immediately around them is usually an expanse of naked earth or stretches of scanty vegetation, while beyond, small dusty huts with woven walls sometimes dot the fields. Against this background, Nay Pyi Taw the capital was an unreal flaunting of concrete and ambition.
small talk
On my way to Myanmar, I was seated beside a Singaporean businessman. After asking what business it was that brought me to Myanmar, he added that he could speak endlessly about that country - a mystery and an administration that defied reason. I shan't attempt to repeat his explanation of the foreign currency exchange and import-export systems. Even though I had "ah-ed and hmm-ed" at his description, I must confess my tidy Singaporean mind cannot quite grasp how there could concurrently exist some 3-4 exchange rates offering values 20 times apart for 1USD. Internet and mobile networks in Yangon, he said to add to my sense of amazement, could be shut down for days or weeks under the instructions of 1 man. Petrol prices (and hence bus fares) have gone up 5 fold, so some folks in the city opt to walk to work instead. The average income is 30USD even though this is a country with an abundance of natural gas, precious stones and fertile land.
At Nay Pyi Taw, I had a brief conversation with some ladies from Thailand. Non-controversial remarks about the difficulty of government - democratic or otherwise - in a region where the third, second and first worlds often co-exist in each country. But one word I remember had stood out in the conversation: injustice. Not a word that would appear in most day to day breakfast-table small talk! How archaic the word seem now , as if lifted from some ancient pledge. But that morning, it did not allow itself to be taken for granted. The governmentspeak on our island is often dictated by management-book language and other forms of technocrat-ese that it is easy to forget how important is justice, fairness and a perennial watch against corruption to the liberties of a city.
horizons and such
Dust, concrete and goverments aside, my only other recollection of Nay Pyi Taw is the abundance of nature - its stars, skies and fields. The urbanite that I am, I have never comprehended why folks paint trees, mountains and lakes. Is it not too trite, to represent nature, its beauty too contrived? But there is something undeniably beautiful and enduring, and it is the smallness of our city visions if we should deny this.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
quiet
click for flickr view
J getting all pensive at the start of the new year wrote this: "I have been thinking if it is wrong to not really think about new year resolutions at all. I guess, broadly, there are a couple of things I really want to do - more design work, take better portraits, invest/spend money wisely, make more friends, spend more great quality time with the wifey and my dad... Actually, if I did not pen all this down, or even thought much about it, would the year be still very much the same?"
Me? I started out more gungho about this whole resolution business. Right after Christmas, I decided on painting a kind of visual resolution. It ended up being a painting (photo above) of J sitting on a gold step with giant peace lilies. But once the new year at work started, I've not had a stretch of quiet to paint, so my painting-resolution remains unfinished until now (so much for resolve!).
Well, stretches of quiet are what I am sure my evenings will be over the next 4 days in a country where - I've been told - there is no auto-roaming for mobile phones ("you can rent a satellite phone for USD50"), possibly no or restricted internet access, and entertainment is... hmm, I probably should not be making any jokes about entertainment and men in uniforms. In a strange way, if not for the fact that I will be away from J, I am looking forward to the quiet.
Friends, amps wish you a quiet new year.
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