People in my generation, born during or after World War 2, remember vividly a childhood so deprived of the amenities which the younger generation now take for granted, that even a random inventory would throw up the most amazing contrast.

‘Food?’ exclaimed Mrs Q who is in her sixties, and grandmother of four. ‘We ate rice porridge every day with just some salt fish and vegetables; chicken was a a luxury reserved only for the Chinese New Year Eve dinner. Now just look at my five-year-old Lyndon rejecting the lovely steaks the maid cooks for him, and my little Lynn asking to go only to the best sushi restaurant!’ She laughed, patting her beautifully coifed hair with a be-ringed hand.

On my part, I remember that my frugal mother, each time she boiled rice in the earthen pot over a stove fire, made sure that the layer left at the bottom of the pot, even if burnt, would not be scraped out and thrown away, but soaked in water and retrieved to make into rice porridge

Clothes? Everyone of us enjoying lunch at her home that afternoon, had a story to tell. Mrs T said that she and her sisters wore hand-me-downs; new clothes, all sewn by her mother on her old-fashioned Singer sewing machine, were given out only once a year, for the Chinese New Year visits to relatives. Madam L said her mother never threw away old clothes; if they could not be patched any more, she kept them as kitchen rags, after removing all the buttons for future use. She once gave a bundle of these rags, properly washed, to a very poor relative to use instead of the old newspapers that she regularly made into a soft pad for each new-born baby to be laid on.

Toys? ‘There was no money for toys, we made our own’. Entertainment? ‘Going to the local cinema was a treat that we earned if we helped Father in his carpentry shop or Mother with the kueh she sold in the market every morning’. Pocket money? ‘What was that? Never heard of it!’ Maidservants? ‘What? We did everything on our own. Every morning, before going to school, I had to help mother with the housework. I was only seven, but I swept the floor, ironed my Dad’s shirts, shelled the prawns and cut the vegetables for the afternoon meal.’

The conversation veered giddily from one topic to another, provoking, in turns, laughter, amazement, shock, nostalgia, pure gratitude. But it was the subject of maidservants that elicited the most animated sharing.

Mrs Q said her daughter had three Indonesian maids, one exclusively for her two young children, to feed them properly, clean up their rooms, pick up their toys, etc. ‘Let me tell you,’ she said in a gush of friendly confiding. ‘Sumati spoils Lynn so much that our little princess commands her about, using adult language that she must have picked up from TV. It’s just so funny!’ She added, still laughing, ‘When I was a little girl, I was so terrified of the adults that I always behaved well in their presence. My mother had three canes in the house, for immediate reach when a child talked back! Whack! Whack!’

Mrs T also had a Cane Story to share. ‘Once my brother, at the dinner table, forgot about the usual courteous acknowledgment of adult presence. He started eating. Whack! Mother’s cane came down sharply on his knuckles. That made him remember. He said sheepishly, turning to each adult in turn, in order of seniority, ‘Grandfather, please eat’, ‘Father, please eat’, ‘ First Uncle…’ She added, shaking her head, ‘Today, my grandson prefers to eat in front of the TV in his room, rather than with his parents!’

The conversation soon covered the subject of holidays, ultimate testimony to the new affluence. All Mrs Q’s grandchildren had been on vacations to Europe, US, Australia and New Zealand with their parents. ‘They’re no longer interested in going to Malaysia or Thailand or Hong Kong. They turn up their noses, I tell you! When I told them that my first trip out of Singapore was when I was eighteen, and it was to nearby Johor, they didn’t believe me!’

We all echoed the concluding sentiment of self-congratulatory astonishment: ‘Just think of how far we have come!’ There was just this sobering addendum of a passing thought: And also of how much we have lost. But of course that could not have been allowed to spoil the lively enjoyment of the afternoon’s gathering of old friends.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...