By KF Seetoh | Makansutra – 11 hours ago
The unusual
eerie quiet in Chinatown at 11.45pm just three nights before
Chinese New Year
It was really different then. The “sir” dropped off his maid at
8.30 in the morning and left her with some loose change for snacks
and drinks. He headed for work and she stood in line, and an
incredible one (at over 100 meters long) had already formed by
then. Lunch. He popped by with tapau lunch for her and she was
still nowhere near the top of the queue. Come evening, at around
6pm, “sir” came back over, replaced her in the queue (her number
was up by then) and finally bought a few packets of freshly
grilled-on-the spot Lim Chee Guan bak kwa. This, was the 80s in
Singapore.
The Chinatown streets were alive then. Photographers were
jostling for prime spots at the corner of the second floor hawker
centre with their 17mm wide angel lenses to capture the great
“cross road of Chinatown” picture (where Smith and Trengganu street
cross path). It showed a sea of sardine-packed folks in their
festive spirit jostling and worming their way about in a street lit
with bare tungsten bulbs and kerosene lamps from the street stalls.
The firecracker ban had long been implemented (in the 70s) but
stall keepers will slip you a contraband pack under that makeshift
table if you just grovelled, smiled and asked for it.
That packet of bak kwa would probably be pre-dinner snacks as
your family or parents cooked that all warming and significant
Reunion Dinner. The pork, chicken, fish, prawns, abalone, sea
cucumber, fresh greens, black moss fungus, mushrooms and dried
oysters – all stuff that is not only delicious but auspicious and
meaningful – was the spread of the evening. Fire crackers would
occasionally break the silence of the deserted streets. Having
family and relatives bond over a table of food and dressed in their
homely finery (ie shorts, singlets, tee shirts and some chaps would
go topless) added to the “homecoming spirit”. Truth be told, it
wasn’t really about the food, it was more a reason to thank the
Gods for another year of good health, family ties and luck that
came your way.
Today, that Lim Chee Guan queue is still there, but not worth a
mention nor stunningly long enough that you cannot capture it all
on your not so wide angled smartphone camera. A good bak kwa is
available all over the island and I know our folks actually avoid
Chinatown these days as it is so predictable and festive in a
touristy sort of way. A reunion dinner at some fancy outlet with a
fanciful menu at some luck induced prices (they mostly end and/or
start with the number 8 or 6), is the ritual these days. I know
there are still some families who will mess up their kitchens and
whip this meal on their own, but they are sadly, heading for
extinction. Practicality rules- you don’t have to shop, clean,
cook, wash, serve and clean up after, if you can part with $688 for
the convenience at a restaurant. I think affluence is killing
culture and the true meaning of the reunion dinner.
I was at Chinatown last night (just three nights before the
Lunar New Year kicks in) to buy some last minute goodies and
decorations. I admit, it was something I have not done in decades (
I usually buy them in the heartlands or off any busy street side
shop). I had anticipated the usual midnight human logjam there, but
no, it was deserted by 11.45pm. Half the night market pasar malam
stalls were closed and most of the others were cleaning up. I
breezed into a bak kwa shop, bought two packs and left. No queues,
no fuss. It felt like a post Chinese New Year apocalypse. I tried
calling some of my lizard buddies (the type that come alive at
night and hunt for food) for supper and to chat about it but, most
were already out of town. Chinese New Year at home with friends and
family in Singapore has lost its shine and meaning.
I also miss the impromptu card game of gin rummy or black jacks
when we go visiting friends and family. This was the last time I
recalled that gambling actually bonded people. Now, they simply
head to the casinos and gamble with strangers or if they are
underaged, they swipe on the jackpot app oblivious to all and don’t
even seem to appreciate your ang pow. They will yank it off you as
they bounce the monkey around on the super-amoled screen.
Perhaps my buddies know something good about leaving the country
this time of the year that I don’t. I’ll pry it off them next.
Meanwhile, we at Makanation would like to wish all our friends and
yet to be friends, a slithery smooth, healthy and wealthy year of
the Snake ahead. Gong xi fa cai.
