<TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR>Jalan Kukoh's nostalgic tug
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<!-- START OF : div id="storytext"--><!-- more than 4 paragraphs -->I WAS pleasantly surprised to read the report on Block 2, Jalan Kukoh, "Old block, new faces", on Saturday.
My family of seven - my parents and five children - moved there in 1971 when I was three. Looking at the pictures inundated my mind with fond, nostalgic memories of the place where I grew up. Life in the place formerly known as Kong Jio in Hokkien during those days was in stark contrast to the current life that was described in the report.
Those days, there was a strong kampung feel to the place. All the neighbours knew one another. Some of our neighbours kept their doors open most of the time. We had names for our neighbours like Mai Fun Sow, for the auntie who sold fried bee hoon; Buay Po Sim for the auntie who sold textiles; Sway Sa Sim, who did laundry to supplement her income; and the not-too-flattering Tee Ko Heong, for the guy who lived in the middle of the corridor and who exhibited certain behaviour.
When one family on the second storey bought a black and white TV set, children from other floors, like us who lived on the fourth storey, went there to watch Ultraman. When our neighbour, who lived a few doors away from us, installed a telephone, we even had the audacity to give our neighbour's telephone number to our friends. Our neighbour would come to our house to inform us that there was a phone call for us. Maybe it helped that the phone fee was a flat rate then.
Even the shop owners knew practically every household above their shops. We were allowed to owe them money if we did not have enough cash to pay for our purchases.
The common corridor was a natural playground for the children. We would play football there and at the staircase landing. Games stopped when the ball smashed against any of the ubiquitous oil tins placed outside each house for burning of prayer offerings. We would hide to see if any head popped out to shout at us.
Of course we had some negative influences as well. My adjacent neighbour was an opium addict and I was used to the opium smell from young. That could partly explain why I was often sleepy in class. There were also gangsters around the area and there were occasional fights. Illegal betting on horse racing and gambling with cards and the "aeroplane game" were also common at the hawker centre.
My family members still return regularly to the hawker centre below Block 3 to patronise the satay stall and celebrate our birthdays. We still think that the satay there is the best in town. The stall may not be there for long as the owner is already more than 70 years old.
My wife just got pregnant recently and I hope one day I can take my child to see the humble environment that I grew up in.
Chua Beng Cheng (Mr)
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<!-- START OF : div id="storytext"--><!-- more than 4 paragraphs -->I WAS pleasantly surprised to read the report on Block 2, Jalan Kukoh, "Old block, new faces", on Saturday.
My family of seven - my parents and five children - moved there in 1971 when I was three. Looking at the pictures inundated my mind with fond, nostalgic memories of the place where I grew up. Life in the place formerly known as Kong Jio in Hokkien during those days was in stark contrast to the current life that was described in the report.
Those days, there was a strong kampung feel to the place. All the neighbours knew one another. Some of our neighbours kept their doors open most of the time. We had names for our neighbours like Mai Fun Sow, for the auntie who sold fried bee hoon; Buay Po Sim for the auntie who sold textiles; Sway Sa Sim, who did laundry to supplement her income; and the not-too-flattering Tee Ko Heong, for the guy who lived in the middle of the corridor and who exhibited certain behaviour.
When one family on the second storey bought a black and white TV set, children from other floors, like us who lived on the fourth storey, went there to watch Ultraman. When our neighbour, who lived a few doors away from us, installed a telephone, we even had the audacity to give our neighbour's telephone number to our friends. Our neighbour would come to our house to inform us that there was a phone call for us. Maybe it helped that the phone fee was a flat rate then.
Even the shop owners knew practically every household above their shops. We were allowed to owe them money if we did not have enough cash to pay for our purchases.
The common corridor was a natural playground for the children. We would play football there and at the staircase landing. Games stopped when the ball smashed against any of the ubiquitous oil tins placed outside each house for burning of prayer offerings. We would hide to see if any head popped out to shout at us.
Of course we had some negative influences as well. My adjacent neighbour was an opium addict and I was used to the opium smell from young. That could partly explain why I was often sleepy in class. There were also gangsters around the area and there were occasional fights. Illegal betting on horse racing and gambling with cards and the "aeroplane game" were also common at the hawker centre.
My family members still return regularly to the hawker centre below Block 3 to patronise the satay stall and celebrate our birthdays. We still think that the satay there is the best in town. The stall may not be there for long as the owner is already more than 70 years old.
My wife just got pregnant recently and I hope one day I can take my child to see the humble environment that I grew up in.
Chua Beng Cheng (Mr)
