Life and other weird things

Wandered off to the Buangkok area near Hougang on Sunday.

Reading Neil Humphrey's book 'Final Notes from a Great Island' made me aware of the existence of a village in Singapore which had escaped the HDB bulldozers all these years.

Make no mistake, I am a great admirer of the island state's public housing scheme. Arguably it's the most successful public housing venture in the world today. I make funny faces at Singaporeans who call the HDB apartments 'chicken coops'. I wonder if they have ever seen living conditions of middle class people elsewhere in Asia.

Just 40 years ago, the whole of Singapore was filled with Malay style villages or 'kampongs'. Malaysia still has them in abundance. But with the Singapore government's super efficient HDB policy, the kampongs were all removed all through the late 60's and 70's to make way for dense housing apartments. The last major kampong in Geylang Serai was removed in the 1980's.

Yet, all this progress inevitably has had a side effect. The country has no natural feel to it. Everything is manicured. I hear about old timers lamenting in coffee shops about the dissapearence of the 'kampong spirit'. People live for years in HDB apartments without speaking to their neighbours. And most importantly, there is a complete loss of a sense of history. Most youngsters here know nothing except HDB's, condos and bungalows as places to stay. A real village could be a million miles away for all they cared. Which is actually stunning, as their parents' generation all grew up in kampongs. It speaks of Singapore's lightning progress.

True, the government has preserved colonial architecture in areas like Joo Chiat and Geylang. But they are not REAL. They are manicured to hide the past, rather than showcase it.

Again, I hate to make it sound like I WANT there to be poor people. There should not. Poverty is ugly, and this government above any has taken all the right steps to eradicate it. But eradicating history is also unspeakably ugly. It creates a complete loss in value systems among younger generations. What I would love to have happen is for the people of Kampong Buangkok to get some grants from the government and renovate their houses. And for the government to declare the place a national hertiage. Something like what the Goa Government has done in Fontainhas.

I had considerable difficulty finding the place. The village is completely hidden from view in the middle of a small forest in Buangkok behind Lorong Buangkok. Walking past some of the snazziest new HDB blocks, I could not believe that there was anything close to a kampong nearby. Neil's book said there was, and I trusted him.

The kampong was there, just as he had described it. The man at the entrance to the small village of about 15 houses gave me the biggest grin I ever had flashed at me since I came to Singapore. I was a bit taken aback, and asked him if I had come to the right place. He welcomed me into his cycle shop, and have me a cup of Milo. I was speechless. Being a city guy, I was absolutely unprepared for this kind of behaviour. Our genes are wired to be wary of strangers, and if I was him, I would be quite alarmed at the sight of a dodgy looking unshaven Indian bloke walking up with a camera near my house. I would certainly not invite him home and give him Milo. This was my introduction to the much talked about 'kampong spirit'. The three people I met in the kampong were more than willing to talk about themselves. They told me that the place had been around for the last 80 years. Unchanged. I was walking into history.

The people had houses opening into dirt tracks, worse than what I have seen in slums in India. Each rain damages their houses. But the smiles on these people were to be seen to be believed. They were not poor at all. Each one of them had a business which definitely put them in the lower middle class category. They just wanted to cling to their past. Which is not nessecarily a bad thing. It was clear to me that if the government helped them by cleaning up their village, they would never leave. But in Singapore, each square inch of land has to be tapped to give maximum value. And these people live in Hougang - one of the most upmarket areas in town. A HDB apartment block here would be immensely profitable. It would also make these families very rich. And they know it. But, as one middle aged guy explained to me - this house was his fathers'. He grew up there. And could not bear the thought of losing it.

A decent lunch lacher with the locals, I was back out in upmarket Buangkok. Just a walk of three minutes had taken me forward 60 years. Still, it made me happy to have seen the place. And the fact that the people who lived there were so happy. I had seen what was in all probability the last remaining natural inhabitations in the whole of the island.

Just when I thought I had finished with my experiences for the day, one young chap from the Kampong came forward and offered to give me a lift in his car to the nearest bus stand. I would be less surprised in Singapore if anyone walked up on the road and asked me to marry his daughter.

That was the kampong spirit.