Pineapple Narratives

The pineapple was the campaign symbol for Tharman. (pic courtesy of mustsharenews.) Lee’s iconic pineapple juice, from the fruit harvest in Malaysia, is among the best globally.

In September, Singapore held elections for the country’s President post. There were three candidates, and one of them, Mr Tharman Shanmugaratnam, a former Senior Minister, won with a resounding victory.

His campaign symbol as a candidate was the pineapple. And after he won, the fruit became popular. People were snapping up pineapple cakes, tarts, all kinds of pineapple sweets.

It was kind of pleasing and fun to see the pineapple in the limelight. The reason was because the fruit has been a part of my life’s journey for the past few years when I was writing my first novel The Pineapple Trail. During this time, I became excited, even subconsciously compelled I would say, to be drawn to anything pineapple. I also couldn’t resist collecting decorative and vintage items connected to or bearing the pineapple motif.

On another note, there was a report that the iconic Lee Pineapple Factory in Johor would cease production by the end of this year.

As a child, hearing stories of my relatives working at the factory fascinated me. And stayed with me, till many years later, my mind retrieved this memory, and it became the impetus of the story that I wanted to tell.

The factory, which produces both canned pineapple and pineapple juice, also helped me in my research for The Pineapple Trail.

I’ve always loved pineapple juice. I have sampled many brands globally, and I feel that Lee’s pineapple juice, made from the pineapple harvest of Malaysia, is the best with its refreshing clear taste.

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East and West

 

Christmas tree seen at the Jewel Mall, Singapore International Airport. The centerpieces of the mall are the huge man-made waterfall and the rooftop canopy garden.

Christmas tree in Southern California surrounded by the iconic palm trees.

 

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Breeze

A view of a small island in Singapore across from another small island.

I was sitting behind this bush, enjoying the breeze. There is something distinctive about tropical sea breeze: its “fullness”, lulling with relaxation. And I feel that this image somewhat captures it.

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Zest

Saw these zesty, bright flowers in a park in Singapore.

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Motif and Mural

The motif, and the mural of people planting rice are details from the Tanjong Pagar Railway Station in Singapore. The station was completed in 1932, and for a long time it was the main transportation for people travelling between Singapore and Malaysia.

My father and I were frequent passengers on the Singapore-Kuala Lumpur route, thus the station held lots of memories for me.

The building ceased operating as a train station in 2011, and was gazetted as a national monument.

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A True World Icon

(Pic: rollingstone.com)

Muhammad Ali was a global figure, even before the word was widely used.

He was loved by people of almost every nation. Remember, he came onto the scene at a time when there was hardly any larger than life non-Caucasian or Muslim role model on the word stage. With his skills, confidence, fine looks and, and most of all, his insistence that he was accepted for who he was, Ali ignited and inspired the imagination of millions.

I would also argue that many countries at that time were still in the post-colonial, newly independent years, and Ali’s unvarnished bravery and success subconsciously represented the possibilities that black and brown people could aspire to.

The name Muhammad Ali become the most well-known name in the world.

Like everywhere else, he was very well-loved in Singapore and Malaysia. Because of the time difference between the region and the United States, Ali’s boxing matches would be telecast live in this part of the world during the day.

People skipped school and work whenever his matches would be telecast live. Members of our family too skipped school so that we could huddle in front of the TV to see Ali defeat his opponent.

I remember this episode clearly. At that time, our neighborhood had a provision shop/small grocery shop that made home deliveries. We would telephone the owner with our order. The shop assistant would then cycle to our house with the groceries.

About a week or so before one of Ali’s matches, the shop assistant came to our house to make a delivery. He lingered, made small talk, then he whispered to us that he needed a favour. He wanted us, on the day of the match, to call the shop about 10 minutes before the live telecast would start, and to make an order for a delivery. In that way, he could come and watch the match with us.

After he left, we laughed at his cunning. But we did it. We called the shop at the requested time, and he joined our family as we all sat enthralled watching and cheering Muhammad Ali with the rest of the world.

Exceptional; with a charisma that would be hard to duplicate. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

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The Sounds of Childhood

Royston Tan directing actress J.Rosmini in his film which was inspired by the sounds of his childhood.

Sound is a one of our most powerful senses. A small tinkle, a laugh can bring forth memories, associations and expectations.

Recently, Singapore’s filmmaker Royston Tan was in California to talk about his films and his career. One of the projects that he was involved in was 7 letters, an anthology of short films by Singaporean fimmakers. He shared with the audience his film in the anthology titled “Bunga Sayang”.

“Bunga Sayang” means “Flower of Love, or Flower of the Heart” in Malay. It refers to the title of a song that has a central role in the film.

Royston explained that the film was inspired by the sounds of his childhood.

One of them was the sounds of the traditional Chinese opera. The opera was often staged in a public area where everyone could come and see. (It was also a part of my childhood. Like most children, I was drawn to it when it was staged in my neighborhood. For me, what was most fascinating were the shiny, colorful costumes, especially those with the long, flowing sleeves.)

Another inspiration for the film was the sounds of a song.

The main protagonist in Royston’s film is a young boy, around 10 or so. A normal day, after school, brought a small crisis. The tap in his flat suddenly stopped when he was taking a shower.

The boy called his mother, who was away working, who then instructed him to go to his neighbour’s house and to request if he could finish his bath there. The neighbor, an older Malay woman, couldn’t speak English, and the boy spoke broken Malay, but somehow they communicated.

After the shower, he found himself drawn to the kitchen where the woman was preparing food, while her radio filled the flat with the song “Bunga Sayang”. The sounds and notes of that song formed a strong memory of that day for him. And soon a friendship developed between the two of them.

“Bunga Sayang” is a heartfelt film because, I believe, it was made from the heart. Watching it made me think of the sounds of my childhood. And what comes to my mind, without hesitation, is the sound of fish frying in my childhood home.

Our big extended family was run by my grandmother and grandaunt. They would start cooking around 10 or 11 am in the morning. I would often hang around in the kitchen, being in their company, or enjoying doing some coloring.

One dish that was often served in our home was deep-fried chunks of tongkol fish, which is a type of tuna fish. Oil was heated in the kuali, a deep frying pan. And when the first chunk of fish hit the hot oil, it created a pristine sizzle and hiss. So clear that one could visualize the hiss rising up, winding up, from the pan.

That sound, together with the fragrance of the turmeric spice coating the fish, leads me back to my young days, in our sunny, warm kitchen in the tropics.

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My Father’s Book

My father’s passion was reading. Our favorite weekend activity as a family was to visit the newsstand to buy magazines.

 

My father’s short stories will be republished soon by Fixi Retro.

I’m lucky to come from a family that loved books and writing.

My grandfather loved poetry and owned a small second hand bookshop in Singapore. My late father Hamzah Hussin, helped him in the shop as a young boy, and he grew up to become a figure in the Malay literary world.

My father became a journalist and writer, penning and publishing short stories and novels.  He then joined Cathay Keris Organisation, one of the pioneer studios that produced Malay films, as a scriptwriter/ public relations officer. He later went to live in Malaysia to continue to contribute to the film industry and also to teach at FINAS Film Academy.

He was always generous with his knowledge, and I knew that he cherished the opportunity to teach, and the interaction with the students and their ideas.

Most of the Malay films of his era are still widely viewed, and thus my father’s screenplays are still intact. However, some of his literary works are not so readily available.

The good news is that Amir Muhammad, Malaysia’s well-known author, filmmaker and publisher, has located three of my father’s published short stories and has compiled them into a book. Amir and his company Fixi Retro will launch the book on November 21 at Ilham’s Gallery in Kuala Lumpur.

I feel very grateful and pleased to share my father’s work with more people, and I’m sure he would be too.

If you’re in Malaysia or Singapore, I would like to invite you to the launch. Amir will also talk about Malay movies in the 60s at the event. More details on the event and the venue are at this page.

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Bazaar Stroll

Carpets galore…for every room in the house.

Dressed up….a stall selling baju kurung, the traditional Malay costume for women.

The Ramadan bazaar in Geylang Serai, the Malay district in Singapore, has made its yearly appearance again. In time for shoppers preparing for the coming Eid festival, or Hari Raya as it is known in Malay.

One can find a variety of goods including traditional Malay costumes and festive cookies. Malays are said to be houseproud, and household goods such as carpets and silk flowers take centrestage, ready to spruce up the house and to welcome the visitors.

Selamat Hari Raya; Eid Greetings.

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Songs and Time Tunnel

The month of May began with a unique musical note.

Sheila Majid, Malaysia’s jazz diva was in Los Angeles last weekend to give a concert celebrating her 30-year mark in the music scene. Sheila is very popular in many countries in South East Asia, and some of her hits are considered modern classics of Malay music.

I’ve always liked her songs, especially her hits in the 1990s. So I made it a point to be at her performance. She gave a great show, singing her greatest numbers that the audience came to hear, plus segments paying tribute to musicians who have inspired her including Michael Jackson.

Sitting in the theater, listening to her belting out her hits, while the chandelier lights on the stage threw prisms of pink and purple rays, at times I felt that I was in an emotional-dreamy space or some kind of a time tunnel.

You see, In the 1990s, I was living and working in Kuala Lumpur, the capital city of Malaysia. And her songs brought me back there.

I was very fortunate to get a career as a feature writer for a daily newspaper in Kuala Lumpur, and those years were among the best working years of my life. To me, there’s nothing like the energy and atmosphere of a newsroom. We always get the news first. I met people from all walks of life, seen many places, while on assignments.

I was in charge of a number of columns including art and women’s issues, and I had great bosses who gave me the independence and trust to manage the columns with minimal interference. I worked with a group of interesting colleagues, and out of this, several life-long friendships have developed.

At that time, my father was still alive and living in Kuala Lumpur as well. He was also a journalist, (he preferred the word ‘newspaperman’) in his younger days. Now that we shared the same profession, we had a lot more to share, discuss, even argue. And I learnt a lot from him.

One of her songs that Sheila sang that night was Aku Cinta Padamu which means “I love you”. It’s a beautiful ballad about a woman who wonders how many times or ways she has to convince a man that she loves him while he remains unsure. It brought a crystal clear memory of a morning ride on the bus, on my way to the newspaper office.

(At the time when I was riding the Metro buses in the city, the driver often had piped in music throughout the bus. Usually it would be from a radio station, the medley of songs entertaining him as well as the passengers on the commute.)

That morning, Aku Cinta Padamu was played by the radio DJ. I was going through the break-up of a long term relationship. And hearing that song, the tears just flowed down. I was both sad and embarassed, quickly trying to wipe the tears, hoping that the passengers who were standing in the bus would not see my meltdown.

But on the whole, the 90s were good years. I actually had seen Sheila performed in Malaysia when she had been invited to sing at a product launch event that I had to cover. In that time between her performance in Kuala Lumpur and this one in Los Angeles, some threads of my life have changed, and some have not. I guess that’s life.

Ah,….songs. They do have their special way of transporting you back to the past.

And so, to everyone who have been a part of the journey, of my years in Kuala Lumpur, thank you for the life experiences and the memories.

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