Читать книгу My Father's Kampung - Shawn Seah - Страница 16

What does the Teochew identity in Singapore have to do with my father’s kampung?

My father Simon Seah Seow Kee was born in 1946, at Lorong Low Koon in Aukang, in the north-east part of Singapore. He, my uncles and aunties, and their friends and neighbours grew up in the area. My father also lived at Jalan Payoh Lai, Jalan Lye Kwee, and Lorong Buangkok for about thirty years, before he moved out of Aukang in 1975.

This part of Singapore is intriguing because Teochews are not the dominant Chinese dialect group in Singapore; Hokkiens are. In the same way, Catholicism is not the dominant religion in Singapore; Buddhism and Taoism are.

Yet, Aukang used to be a Teochew-dominated area, with many Catholic Teochews.

Several reports confirm that at various points in north-eastern Singapore’s history, Teochews at Aukang were either the majority of the Chinese in the area or disproportionate to their overall size in Singapore. For example, in 1986, The Straits Times reported that more than 90 percent of the villagers were Teochews in areas like Kangkar in historical Aukang, with the Teochew dialect the lingua franca of the area.¹

According to the 1957 census, more than 56,000 Teochews lived in the administrative area of Serangoon district (this was a much larger area covering not only Serangoon and Punggol, but also areas like Paya Lebar and Seletar), making it the location with the largest concentration of Teochews outside the City of Singapore, where more than 140,000 Teochews resided.²

When the figures are compared to the size of the total Chinese population residing in the area, Serangoon had the highest proportion of Teochews in the whole of Singapore, with more than one-third of the Chinese residents Teochew.³

And even earlier in 1891, when the rural population was much smaller, more than 55 percent of the 900 Chinese in Div 1 (covering north-eastern Singapore, which included areas like Aukang, Kangkar, and Punggol) were Teochews.⁴

And among the Teochews in Aukang, there were many Catholics. Academic and Hougang resident Bryan Goh used a 1973 parish census and calculated that around 70 percent of the area’s residents had a distinct Catholic-Teochew communal identity.⁵ My father is one of these Catholic Teochews.

While the main rural church at the heart of Aukang was the Church of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary (which started as a much smaller chapel in 1853), there was also the Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (which started as a chapel in 1953) between the fifth and sixth milestones of Upper Serangoon, and St Anne’s Church in Punggol (since 1963).

My father once told me about his heritage: “I am Teochew and proud of it. Without my Teochew heritage, I would be culturally lost as I speak no Mandarin. Besides, almost all the neighbours at that time were Teochew.”

But what is even more unique is that Singapore Teochew is a localised one, different from the one in China.

I spoke to long-time resident Mr Ng Yew Kang, President of the Genealogy Society Singapore, who is Teochew. I asked him, “What do you think of the Teochew dialect in Singapore?”

He replied, “Singapore’s Teochew dialect is a localised one, a little different from those spoken in Swatow and Teochew cities.

“There are words adapted from Malay such as sarbun (soap) and pasar (market). English words and Hokkien dialect are also used in the local Teochew dialect.

“What was unique about Hougang was that even non-Teochews, including Indians, could speak Teochew. I had an Indian colleague in the PA (People’s Association) who could speak beautiful Teochew. In fact, poet and lecturer Professor Edwin Thumboo, whose mum was Teochew, could also speak Teochew and sing excerpts from Teochew opera.”

The view that Aukang was largely populated by Teochews with a strong sense of pride in their culture and heritage was also shared by non-Teochews who lived there.

My father’s Hainanese friend Tong Juan lived in Aukang for many years. He was born at North Bridge Road on 18 October 1937 to a Hainanese family from China. However, his family moved away from town when war started brewing, as his maternal grandfather said that it would be safer in the countryside. In 1941, they moved to Lorong Ah Soo. In 1942, they moved to a relative’s attap house at Poh Huat Road nearby. From 1943 to 1958, his family lived at 737 Florence Road, and from 1959 to 1972, his family moved to 189P Florence Road.

One day, over tea, I asked Tong Juan, “As a Hainanese living in Aukang looking into the community, what did you think of the Teochews?”

He replied without hesitation, “In Aukang, the majority of the Teochews are friendly, approachable, and helpful. My good friends and school buddies are all Teochews. I have never been treated like a minority by the Teochews, and everyone spoke the same dialect.”

He also said that he knew a lot more about the Teochew dialect and its proverbs than the Hainanese dialect. He said, “I have imbued a lot of Teochew culture, and know more Teochew proverbs than Hainanese proverbs.

“This was because all my neighbours were Teochew, and Holy Innocents’ English School, where I studied, was also full of Teochews; the lingua franca at the time was Teochew, and even the teachers spoke Teochew to the students.

“Indian and Malay boys coming from Punggol to Holy Innocents’ English School could all speak Teochew, including your father’s neighbours Ahmad and Ali.”

Tong Juan continued, “My wife and all my younger brothers’ wives were Teochew. My wife can understand Hainanese but cannot speak it, but I can speak fluent Teochew.”

I also spoke to a Peranakan who lived in Aukang. Over lunch at The Peranakan (of course!) at Orchard Road with local poet, writer, and playwright Baba Robert Yeo Cheng Chuan, I learnt about his childhood home.

Born 27 January 1940, Robert lived at 5 Valley Road, off Upper Serangoon Road, in a wooden bungalow house. It belonged to his paternal grandfather, Yeo Teck Hock. In Valley Road, the Yeo family was the only Hokkien Peranakan family; the Pakeri family was the only Indian family. The rest were Teochews. As Robert wrote in his memoir, Routes:

I was part of a Baba family, one of the very few, living in a predominantly Teochew community six miles from the city. But six miles from the city was a psychological distance from both a recognisable location where matters of national interest were transacted, and a major city road, which for me was Bras Basah Road. A Singapore Traction Company bus boarded just atop Valley Road would take us to the city on a relatively straight road from Upper Serangoon Road, through Serangoon Road, Selegie Road and into Bras Basah Road. Returning home from Bras Basah Road on a bus or a taxi, we would say Owkang [sic] or Lak Kor [author’s note: referring to Lak Kor Chiok or the sixth milestone] and pay the appropriate fare.6

Robert could speak a smattering of Teochew, and spoke chiefly Baba Malay and English. ⁷ Actually, reading Routes convinced me that his idea of “smattering” was a level of Teochew higher than what the younger generation can command today.

However, he once unfortunately faced a rude rebuke in Teochew from a towkay neo (lady boss) of a provision shop who was fierce and unsmiling, and spoke no English: “Turng nang buay heow tar turng nang whay”.

Having faced this comment myself a few times before, which means “A Chinese man who cannot speak Chinese”, I definitely empathised with Robert. I have been at the receiving end of a similar comment in Malay: Orang Cina Bukan Cina, or OCBC (nothing to do with the name of the local bank)! But Robert’s experience did demonstrate how strongly some people felt about Teochew culture in Aukang.

Over the years, I have discovered what the past was like from speaking with my father and relatives, and their friends, and other people who have lived in Aukang. As a result, I have come to learn more about Teochew culture and heritage. And this has been a good chance to connect with my father and uncles, as family has become increasingly important to me.

If we do not document my father’s personal stories and memories of his former kampung, as well as the stories of others who lived there, we would eventually lose something intangible but valuable.

Beyond looking at the experiences of the 1940s to 1970s when my father lived in Aukang, my father and I have also examined where we can position Aukang’s history. This book covers the history of Aukang and Punggol from its early days, such as its founding as a Malay kampung which preceded Singapore’s founding by Raffles in 1819. It focuses mainly on the Teochew community, who dominated the Chinese in the area, and highlights the unique history and identity of the Catholic Teochews.

It also tells stories of many Teochews who came from this rural, north-eastern part of Singapore, for example, educator and poet Benedict Teo Kah Leng and pioneer poet Paul Teo Poh Leng; politicians Goh Chew Chua, Ng Kah Ting, and Lim Choon Mong; former Chief Investment Officer Ng Kok Song; former senior civil servant Ng Yew Kang; former principal Lee Boon Kee; and many others.

However, due to the limitations of space, it is unfortunately impossible to cover all the prominent Teochews who came from north-eastern Singapore. Take for example some successful businessmen from humble rural beginnings: businessman Chua Kee Teang once lived at 225 Punggol Road, in a vegetable and poultry farming family, and studied at Xinmin Secondary School from 1961 to 1964, a village school set up by Yap Fun Fong in 1945;⁸ the successful founder of Leco Motor, Ng Hoy Keng, was born in a Punggol kampung in 1945, the sixth of eight siblings;⁹ and Koh Yang Kee, who lived in Punggol during his childhood years and whose father was a fisherman, rose from humble beginnings, from driving container trucks for 15 years to becoming a logistics leader in 12 countries, with 1,250 employees, and around four million square feet in warehouse space.¹⁰ No one book could do justice to the many successful Teochews and their stories.

This book also examines other groups of people who resided in the area, such as the other Chinese dialect groups, Malays, Indians, Eurasians, and Catholic missionaries like the Gabrielite Brothers. The stories of prominent non-Teochew personalities who lived in Aukang, like Robert Yeo, EW Barker, and Percival Aroozoo, are also covered in this book. And the book even covers Japanese sex workers, spies, and soldiers… well, at least, their remains in Aukang.

While it is as comprehensive as I can make it, the book will not cover everything and does not aim to do so, because north-east Singapore has such a long, complex, and rich history.

Moreover, the history of any place or community in Singapore is not a complete canvas hiding in the dark waiting for light to be shone upon it, but in a constant process of being uncovered, discovered, and rediscovered.

I hope that the history and stories which I have uncovered, discovered, and rediscovered can help to give a sketch of what my father’s kampung was like before, and after, he was born.

If this book inspires more people to find out about the history of places and spaces in Singapore, and the stories of those who have come before us, all the better. And if it can provoke broader reflection, dialogue, or discussion, I would be delighted.