My Longkang

After doing yoga where I clumsily almost made a head stand I rushed off to town to photocopy some stuff. I did manage not to fall like a sack of potatoes..which isnt too bad although I heard some of the ladies giggling as I left the yoga room.

There was no parking space so I had to wait in the car while waiting for my stuff to be photocopied.

Suddenly I noticed this young Chinese girl trying to make eye contact with me I looked at myself in the mirror. Was there something wrong with my appearance? Could she be actually be interested in me? I looked behind the car and there was nobody.

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(Illustration borrowed from http://www.sendai-shi.com/don_hammel/a_peddler.htm)

Ah San remembered walking together with a group of men and women along Jalan Datuk Keramat. He remembered crying, begging, pleading to be released. Many men and women were openly crying and wailing too. It all seemed so hopeless. Many people saw this curious procession as they walked to what is today called Jalan Batu Gantung.

He told me he was once at a friend’s flat at F Block Rifle Range Flats and looked down from the balcony and became choked with emotion. From this , I presume the site is visible from F Block Rifle Range Flats or in its immediate vicinity.

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At The Japanese School

It was lessons the whole morning. The language of instruction was Japanese. The teachers were soldiers or so it seemed to Ah San. I cannot verify the truth. I only have Ah San’s tale. They were good. They enforced discipline. No one dared to steal.

The Japanese expected the boys to live a very regimented life. The Japanese expected the same of themselves. Ah San said the Japanese soldiers were very particular about ‘face’. Each time the students saw them they had to bow or be given a blow or kicked.

He recalled an incident where a soldier who had committed an infraction was asked to kill himself With a sword.

The soldiers were not happy to be in the school as it was a humiliation to be there and not on the battle fields. As time went on, the soldiers started to trust the boys more.

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I first met this old uncle when he was selling second hand books and bric-bracs An interesting enough character. Well dressed in a pressed long sleeved shirt, he did not seem the type to be sitting along the roadside selling nothing.

After watching him for a while, I went over to talk to him. On some days, he sold nothing, he said. At least 70 years old, he still bore glimpses of being a handsome man. He was charming and spoke a smattering of English words, which led me to believe he was an educated man.

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Looking in Through Lighted Windows at Night

I am one who has never been in the ‘in’ crowd. You can see me on the outer fringes of…. gatherings My father always used to say, “Kids are meant to be seen and not heard.”

I am seeking that which seems an illusion….a chance to speak. A throw back to the old days during family dinners: being the most junior and I have to say , ” Please eat 3rd sister, second sister etc etc up the hierarchy second auntie…..up till the relative of so and so who is a relative of so and so.” It will be a full 5 minutes before I finish with my list.

By the time I finish speaking everyone will be so relieved and tuck into the nyonya fare my mother always cooks….gado-gado, jiu hu cha, medan chicken curry, kiam chai boi, stuffed chicken …and the compulsory steamboat Never mind that the old steam boat was never really anything like a steamboat :).

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Hello everybody. I am Bengbeng. Thank you for dropping by. This is my very first post and through this blog I hope to share with all of you out there my life and share my views on current issues and on issues which are dear to my heart.

Think of my blog as a kopi tiam where everybody has a say, to comment and give their views in the form of comments and feedback

The waters of my longkang is dark and murky enough to make any kopi-o you may wish to order