Leaving Home, Mother By Robert Yeo |
Coming Home, Baby
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- I
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- I have come back / I have not returned.
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � MacArthur returns
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � The prodigal son returns
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � Alan Yeo returned
- But being just, me,
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � Well
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � I only come back.
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � Only the first son
- Of a middle-class insurance clerk
- Who depended on his salary:
- His only source of income.
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � In any case, I had to come back.
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � Bonded to the Govt. what. Also
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � I want to � come back, I mean.
- �
- London, yes 2-year scholarship
- The only way I could go.
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � English?
- No-o-o! Not this time
- Nor this Government. Education.
- Not exactly blue-collar, but
- More practical, don�t you think?
- Winter?
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � Cold �
- But there are ways of keeping summer,
- Especially an English summer.
- This is the rugged society, anyway,
- And I take it, I can be a member?
- � � � � � ���� � � � �� � I know it turned rugged
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � When I was away �
- � � � � � �� � � � � � � � � But I�m back now.
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- II
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- Back
- � � � �To mother, at fifty looking forty
- � � � �And to all at home.
- Back
- � � � �To my uncle�s eldest
- � � � �Boy who does not know
- � � � �Why his voice broke.
- �
- I soon met my aunts:
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � ��You have not changed�
- Said third aunt, surprised but pleased.
- � � � �� � � ��Just the same!�
- �Only your hair is longer � like Beatles!�
- Agreed first aunt.
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � ��White only!�
- Said second aunt. �But lucky
- You have not changed.
- I was afraid you would come back
- Speaking like a white man
- Coming out through the nose �
- Or else with a white wife.
- Your mother was scared only!�
- �
- They�re happy I�ve not changed
- My mum�s happy I�ve come back
- I�m happy
- � � � �� � � �� � � �knowing
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� �I have changed.
- �
- But otherwise
- � � � �� � � �� � things are very much
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � the same.
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- III
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- Five years ago
- � � � �� � � �� �Along Serangoon Road, Whampoa�s bungalow
- Used to peel.
- � �� � � �� � � �Ten years ago
- In the dining-room behind, probably,
- Where the towkay served Admiral Keppel
- Complete with chrysanthemum tea
- From his Cantonese garden
- � �� � � �� � � �My uncle had a dance studio.
- �
- When I was away
- The last tenants in the room next door
- Must have left.
- � �� � � �� � � �I wonder
- Were they his relatives?
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �They must have known for sure
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �When the engineers came
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �To assemble the bridge
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �And demolish the bungalow.
- �
- � �� � � �� � � �We lacked a cause then.
- � �� � � �� � � �Five years ago
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �We had no history
- � � � �� � � �� �And therefore no historical monument
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �To preserve.
- �
- After Whampoa died (according to Song Ong Siang)
- The property was sold to Mr Seah Liang Seah
- Who named it �Bendemeer�
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �and after that�
- Dust plastering rooms
- � � � � � � � �� � � �� � � �Sometimes shrill with crickets.
- � �� � � �� � � �Dust from lorries
- � �� � � �� � � �That dumped into a new estate.
- �
- On this miraculous island
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �No hill is lost
- That is not found elsewhere
- � � � �� � � �� � � �� � � �More useful
- �
- Than it was.
- � � �� � � �Ask Jurong
- � � �� � � �Ask Kallang
- � � � �� � �Most of all, ask the sea.
- �
- �Nothing is new except what is forgotten.�
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- IV
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- And this I was not allowed to forget.
- Married friends who (though younger than me)
- Look so obviously married. Matrimony
- Being the even in lives
- Of subsequent non-event �
- Until the first baby
- � � �� �� � �� �� � �� � � & the next.
- With baby in arms (her arms, not mine)
- And the usual cooing,
- � � �� � � �� ��� � � �� � � �Say hello, baby
- � � �� ��� �� � �� � � �� � Say hello to Uncle,'
- I�d rather not argue. But before I could
- Extricate myself from the inevitable,
- � � �� �� � �� �� � �� �� � �� �� � �� �� � �it came,
- �Are you married?�
- � � �� �� � �� �� � �� � � I looked at her squarely
- And simply said �Not yet�
- � � � � �� � �� �� � �� � �What?� she pretended,
- �Who are you waiting for? Miss Singapore, Rosalind Ong, Mavis Young?�
- �
- I signed one helleva sigh. This is Singapore, all right.
- And how much one year back home
- Can do to you. What could I say?
- Actually I felt like crying out,
- � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �Why should
- I be married?�
- �
- �� �� � �� � Ooh London was so different. Love
- �� �� � �� � Was understood, lust was understood.
- � � �� � �� � No pretence. Rationalise the need
- �� �� � �� � If one must. They move into a flat
- �� �� � �� � Together and the whole year was
- �� �� � �� � Summer summer summer summer.
- �
- �But at your age?� she insisted.
- I was quiet. Actually I wanted to say,
- ������� ������� �Sometimes I wish I was though. Married, I mean.
- ������� � �������This state of singleness is easily shaken
- ������� ������ ��And often is.
- � ��� ��� � ������ �� ����All the new nite-spots
- ������� ������� �Make it less easy & more expensive
- ������ ������ ���To cope with Saturday nite.
- ������� ������� �The Pub, Club Crescendo, Shindig�
- ������� ������� �Not to mention a refurbished Mount Faber.
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��Aah, rasa sayang indeed.
- �
- But when I see, one by one,
- Those bright young men of my time
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��mopped
- By Marriage
- �� ��� � �� ��for reasons they best don�t know
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��I hesitate.
- �
- Perhaps its best that I remain this way.
- I don�t want to be like David
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��who affirmed
- Graduates must marry graduates soon after graduating.
- So he said. But I suspect
- Those Saturday nite tv movies at Raffles Hall
- Plus the proximity of Eusoff College
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��proved too much for him.
- �
- I don�t want to be like Ram either
- Who married because his career needed a wife.
- Or like Chong who gave in
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��to please his ageing mother
- The dutiful first son that he was.
- Or like Latiff who�
- �
- ������� ������ �Marriage, you great mop
- ������� ������ �I may be 34 but I�m not yet ready!
- ������� ������ �But oh hell, ok, if you insist�
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� ����I�ll capitulate
- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � ��at 35.
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- V
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- � � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� ���1969
- �
- 150 years of our past have curved into this sweep.
- This year is our divide. We are on a crest
- And we celebrate accordingly.
- In the year 1969
- � � �� ��� � �� ��We realize
- We not only have a history like other nations
- ��� � �� But what�s more
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� It�s on our side.
- �
- In the year 1969
- ��� � �� ��� � �� We allowed a new road
- To pass beside, instead of over
- ��� � �� ��� � �� The tomb of Tan Tock Seng.
- �
- ��� � �� In the year 1969
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� When we discovered
- ��� � �� Our history, it is disappearing
- ��� � �� As rapidly as it is being made.
- ��� � �� Disappearing and developing
- ��� � �� Singapore and honoured Raffles
- ��� � �� Impassive in gaze as always.
- �
- ��� � �� I wonder, is he asking
- ��� � �� What is the stuff of our history?
- �
- Walk along Tiong Bahru Road
- On the way to what�s left of Chinatown.
- See on one side of the road
- Abandoned hovels, collapsing wood, attap and zinc
- For single Chinaman
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� with hearts elsewhere.
- On the other side of the road
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� geometrical steel and concrete
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� with modern amenities
- ��� � �� ��� � �� ��� � �� owner multi-storied flats
- For Singaporeans
- With no national alternatives like before.
- This is part of our history.
- �
- And there on the left of Outram Road
- Restored on the hillside
- The granite grave
- Of the man
- Who gave his name to a hospital.
- �
- First monuments/then people.
- Priorities begin to emerge
- As we decide our past.
- Allow people with their deeds
- To fall in. And then
- See who will stand out
- Deserving of more than
- The names they have left
- To road, bridges or buildings.
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| one side of the seventies |
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