Local scenes
Hougang mall sbs buses mrt ntuc
My Singapore trait swirls like a finger turning in a finished dish of hot chilli crabs
Trying to savour the last traces and bits of it.
This is probably the first time im writing something from a local perspective. Never having always envied the way Singapore writer, Catherine Lim, has written, I never saw the point of my writing being etched and glossed with a Singaporean accent. But then again, ive never fully completed one of her books, ever. Not that I despised this heritage of a culture that I was born into, (no way, im proud to be Singaporean.) but more so I never thought about it before. It never occurred to me, nor did I ever have an invested interest in Singaporean flavoured novels or the likes that my elder sister and some of my friends had.
I grew up on books such as the babysitters club, sweetvalley jr, books written by enid blyton, roald Dahl, published by nickelodeon, apple paperbacks and lots of other random books of which their names I cant remember now. Perhaps, it was this immersion that forged my school composition writings to always point toward the western direction (culture/influence). The international commonwealth essay writing competition, of which a few of us had been selected to enter, was a first eye opener. I had asked earnestly, “do u think I stand a good chance winning this thing?” to which my teacher and a fellow classmate/friend replied on my essay, and essays in general, were too “americanised”. To my puzzlement, I never fully understood what it meant by that. As well as the probing question of, “yah. But, what’s so wrong with that?”
I must admit, five years down the road, I still haven’t given much thought to reflect on local writings and its beauty. Having gained some exposure in the recent years to such writings, have certainly caused me to have a more open perspective and blossomed a much cultivated interest in me. It comes alive to me (and im sure to most Singaporeans), not only because of the sophistication of the piece but particularly because I can identify with the familiarity and the experiences embedded within those (very) words.
It’s been nearly two years now since ive done up a fictional essay and I can still remember the time my sec4 english teacher asked us to write an essay on “my neighbourhood”. Clearly the imagination line was cut within distinct boundaries and was not entirely allowed to grow out of context from which she insisted we take notes of the neighbourhood we live in. (i hated essays like that, where imagination was stifled and not allowed to roam free and creative juices condemned to remain stagnant.)
We were meant to divide an A4 page of our exercise book into sections under headings such as ‘sights I see’, ‘sounds I hear’, then take a tour with her, almost like ‘follow the leader’, yay shes giving us a mini excursion how exciting, will u be my partner, lets hold hands!- much like primary school kids. At least it was better than having to sit in class and listen to her drone one about our last essay’s unnecessary mistakes or doing some o’levels practice comprehension questions. (I hated that. It wasn’t as easy as the chinese ones whereby ‘cut and paste’ techniques were highly appraised and given good scores. For the English ones, you had to actually raid your brain and think before giving a proper answer, plus inferring from the text was a must.)
Well, I believe I just got carried away from what I initially intended to say. Not to say that was a bad thing cos I actually put to practice some never used before anecdotes that make this uniquely Singaporean. To get back to the point, I meant to say I did badly on that essay, ‘24/26 out of 40, if I remember correctly. I told you I never did well writing from a local perspective, (not that I ever tried until I was forced to) plus the fact ‘my neighbourhood’ really was pretty much a crap topic anyway.
For starters, the fourth book I read written by a Singaporean writer, was it mammon corp. or mammon inc.? cant recall the exact title. But that book was darn good. It was so authentic in its composition(flavour), I almost relished every single page. (okay, maybe im exaggerating, but u get the idea). The play was just as awesome. I left the theatre gushing about it. So that was my first local read that opened up my sights and a newborn quivering excitement was found for local writes. Still, I did not give this much thought. Then came the introduction of the seventeen magazine which dedicates its last two to three pages to a short story or extract from the locals. All the issues ive collected so far are intricately Singaporean in flavour. Eight days also has a single page dedicated to a short read from some editor every issue.(which I don’t know why ive been oblivious to those articles until my last few months of my stay in sg. Probably becos I hardly ever bought the eightdays anyway.) Some bloggers are damn good, others are plain shit. (excuse me for being harsh. P.s. no offence) Now I imagine writing about life in Singapore. I have a raw idea, starkly defined in my mind.
‘as I stare, straight ahead, looking in on the other block of flat, I hear the sound of the passing cars, buses, taxis, lorries, just fourteen storeys below. The yiochukang primary school kids have just been released from another endearing long day at school. And the waft of mom’s dinner comes to my nose from the kitchen. I take a deep breath in, as the humidity lowers to give way to the cool of the evening air. think im going back to channel surfing with scv, maybe some mtv asia. Hope Utt’s on veejaying now.’
So what do I think about people who can do local writes now? I think they’re simply fantastic and I wish I could do something like that too. Kudos to all those trusty Singaporean writers and their un-presuming, non pretentious flow of thought.
My Singaporean mark churns like a pair of chopsticks fidgeting with a bowl of dry meepok (too oily)
Maybe ill swap for some of my favourite rojak instead.
Savouring choice bowls over none
And widens one’s scope, (almost) timelessly.
my raves . my rants. my noodle strings of many words and thoughts that make up poetry. anything to add? simply post. yor say? my gain.
-the official empty parchment slowly fills-
11:22pm aug 18.wednesday
