as a kampong boy

i grew up in a kampong and moved to the hdb flat in the mid 70s.

life in the kampong was very simple and carefree. the games i played revolved around catching houseflies, catching fishes from the drains/ streams, catching butterflies (tiger butterflies was a common sight in my kampong), etc. otherwise, my opportunities to interact and play with other kids in my kampong was minimal. my mum would forbid me from playing with michael (my neighbour) for fear of getting bad influence from him. at the same time, i was not allowed to play layang (kites) for she was afraid that i would be knocked down by cars. i was also not allowed to play goli (marbles) as we were poor and did not have the money to buy them...

so in the end, the main `games' i could engage in was playing with wooden pieces that was cut into different shapes and piecing them as far as my creativity allowed me into different animals, etc. a couple of other activities that i found fun include drawing and using my pencil to shade those pieces of paper that had blank tv screens printed on it; and as we shade, scenes of tv shows would appear in the screens. also, i enjoyed drawing dresses and tuxedos and cutting them out to tagged onto pictures of boys and girls. dressing them up in these paper-make-believe fashion wear allowed me to imagine all sort of creative clothing. it was so fun. i guess these activities provided me the foundation for my creativity in the years to come. i would also play traditional games such as kuti kuti, congkat & five stones.

my family was poor. my dad's monthly salary as a driver in sats catering was about S$150 a month. he would work shifts and on weekends he would double up as a taxi driver to supplement his meagre salary. as such i hardly see my dad. to make up for the lack of time together, he would bring me along when he drives the taxi and would hide me below the taxi seats so that potential taxi passengers do not mistake his taxi for being taken. it was through these trips that i get to travel around singapore (altho i could hardly recall much of what i saw) :-) anyway, taxi fares were cheap those days. the boarding fare was 60cents only and illegal taxis were so rampant too.

despite being poor, my mum made sure we were not hungry. she would make sure that we are well nourished. fruits to us were discarded apples and oranges being sold at the paya lebar market for 10cents a basket. those days the market was nothing more than vegetable farmers and errand hawkers who would hawk their stuff in small rattan baskets by the side of the road. as part of my growing up years, my mum would make sure that i receive all the training possible so that i can be independent when i grow up. it was with this intent that she would wake me up at 6am to accompany her to the market, teach me how to select fish, pick good fruits and vegetables. after marketing, she would teach me how dice, cut, etc the grocery before cooking them. as such by the time i was in pri 5, i was already cooking daily meals for my family.

as a boy, my mum was very strict with me. she was impartial. all my siblings had the same treatment. she would cane us for every little mistakes. and to top it off, she would cane us and at the same time demand that we stop crying... not easy.