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Do you remember the time before your NTUCs, Fairprices and Cold Storages? When you bought groceries (and things you did not need) from the bespectacled uncle clad in a singlet and the standard black pants. Remember when you could engage in easy banter with him and not be faced with a cold unfeeling cashier in today’s supermarkets? Does all that tug a little at your heartstrings? Maybe you are too young to remember all these. But that is okay, everyone enjoys a little discovery of sorts. Now just pop the party popper and take a blast into the past.

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WITHIN IS WHERE IT COUNTS

spinning fans, wrinkled hands

stun : nuts

old = gold the old man and his unpretentious shop

party’s over

06 18

26 34 42

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spinning fans,wrinkled hands.

我這樣就開心

spinning fans,wrinkled hands. Every morning at 0800 hours, he starts to unlock

the metallic blue panels that obscure his humble provision shop from the rest of the world. Everything is done slowly and steadily with his wrinkled hands that served him well for the past 54 years in his trade. Turns out that his dimly lit shop is proudly his own, he started it when he was just 20 years old. He volunteered that there were people asking to buy over his shop for 1.5 million but I sensed his attachment to the shop when he said he was hesitant to do so. That must really say something about the feelings he have for his shop, especially when the buyers have been consistently coming back and offering better prices. When I asked about the photos that adorned the counter top, he begins to ramble on with pride about his children and 9 grandchildren. I learn that his children are all in reputable professions. He apparently stays in the vicinity so convenience is a great bonus for him and his children and grandchildren would come over to his shop on special occasions, and the space just in front of his store transforms into a great venue for family gatherings. Steamboat is usually what we have, he adds on. Was that a hint of yearning that I sensed in his voice?

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He showed me a display of the photos of his family under a piece of glass on the counter and I saw that he had a photo with Edmund Chen, the local actor. He points it out when he saw my eyes settle on it for a while and told me that many local artistes have actually used his store as a filming location. He was practically beaming when he told me all that.

A Bangladeshi worker walks in apprehensively and I paused to allow him to attend to his customer. When the worker whips out a 100 dollar bill for a beverage, citing that it was his boss’ money, he exclaimed in astonishment “Wah, your boss so much money ah” He apparently speaks a little bit of English as well. His lack of knowledge for the language makes his words sound blunt and child-like but it makes him all the more endearing. He really felt like a grandpa to me even though I have only known him for less than an hour. It must be those vibes and that gentle eyes.

Speaking of his eyes that have been clouded with age, I caught the light in them that flickered when he spoke about travel escapades with his family when every one manages to find time for it. He rattles off a list of countries he has been to; places like Korea, Japan, Zhu Hai were the ones that I managed to catch. I felt a sense of admiration for him, his broad seemingly tired figure that can still travel around the world even at 74 years of age. I ask if he ever gets bored, spending day to day in his little shop. But he says no, it is just tiring after sticking to this for more than 50 years. While he mentioned thoughts about retiring I could not help but pick up on the tinge of regret in his voice, because he knows that it is not possible that any of his children would be willing to take it over from him. Traditional provision shops like these are a dying trade after all. The cement floors and spinning fans are forced to make way for glittering tiled floors and air-conditioning at full blast.

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I start to wonder if he ever gets lonely, when I see that he never spoke of his wife and there was obviously no sign of her anywhere. I hesitated for a while and decided that that it was better that I did not ask so I enquired about his customers and learned that they usually consisted of regulars and the occasional tourists from the boutique hotels that a popping up in the vicinity. The number of shops similar to his own amounted to almost 10 in the past but today it has been reduced to only about 4 due to the lack of business prospects.

So why is he still doing this? Why not just accept the offer of 1.5 million and live comfortably for the rest of his life? I think that after more than 50 years in the trade, you get this sense of attachment to the place where you grew and learn from for the better part of

The number of shops similar to his own amounted to almost 10 in the past but today it has been reduced to only about 4 due to the lack of business prospects.

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your life. The fading signboards, creaky cupboards and smell of gunnysacks becomes a part of you that you cling on to, something that represents everything that you have gone through. That is why even if business used to be brisk in the past and everything has since slowed to a crawl in comparison, you still do not just give it all up for any amount of cold hard cash. Besides, he mentioned that he liked the life he was living now, for there is simple beauty in the monotony days. He begins the day with his shop, tends to it and drinks outside from time to time. He cooks all 3 meals in the back kitchen and then ends the day with those metal gates.

As he steps out to the corridor and shows me his usual seat for drinking beer, a bespectacled man with a receding hairline just like him walked over. I must have looked like a fish out of water. What is girl doing in a place like this? While I remained guarded as he approached, his serious face fell apart when he saw the shop owner behind me. Both of them greeted each other in a way that could only suggest that they have been such old friends that formalities are put away and all facades are torn away, leaving only the very essence of his being. They settle down at his ‘beer table’ and he introduces me to his friend who stays all the way in the west, and has taken a trip down specially just to catch up with him over some drinks. He offered me a seat and a drink. I would really love to do so and just listen to the stories they would tell, stories that were woven with so much adventures and ripened over time. But I had an agenda to follow. After politely rejecting him I made my move.

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&TIONG BAHRU I mil

o fl

our

tun

a su

gar

sard

ines

&sa

rdin

es

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I could not get the image of them out of my head for a while after that. His charming crammed little shop reflected his exact personality and the treasured friendship with his long time friend exuded a sense of comfort that wrapped its hands around me. It was perfect for that chilly day. The last question I asked him before I left: What makes you happy? He told me in just 5 words; 这样就开心.(He is just happy like that, living day to day) Those 5 words spoke everything about how much his shop means to him. I just realised I do not even know his name.

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The last question I asked him before I left: What makes you happy? He told me in just 5 words.

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IF I DIDN’T DO THIS, I’D BE VERY BORED.“

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stun : nutsSemordnilaps are words that reads as another english word when read backwards. This was exactly how I felt when I entered the store.

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While the signboard says Icon minimart, one would think that this is one of those modern provision shops with air-conditioning. But its exterior could not have fooled anyone. Those traditional metal grille gates that were given a fresh coat of blue paint guarded the store, revealing something more about its age. I took a peek into the shop and knew immediately that the modern signboard was only a façade for what the shop truly is.

Ridiculously narrow aisles, shelves packed to the rim and in a completely random fashion, dusty plastic wrappers of less popular household items and posters of the past adorned the walls. It is not very hard to tell that this shop is full of history. The difference in humidity levels was apparent as the shop felt stuffier as I stepped in. The highest shelves were stacked with old items like wired fans, old stereos and the classic red dial phone. The items were stacked tall and felt almost intimidating. I spotted the old signboard at the end of the wall that reads Pin Pin Piau Kay & Co.

A plump little boy no more than 12 years of age was intrigued by my presence and eyed me as I walked around the shop. I smiled at him and he responded with a jolly

“Hello!” which stunned me for a bit. I turned around after surveying the store briefly and decided to speak to the lady manning the counter. I learned that their shop has been around for 70 over years (“and passed down through 3 generations!” the little boy interjected). However when I wanted to probe further, the lady claimed that she did not want to repeat herself again because she had been interviewed a few hours prior to my visit. The little boy seemed to oppose her feelings but did not voice it out. He just looked so adorably excited like he was almost bouncing on his toes. In the end I decided to do a little exploration on my own, of the well-lit but slightly stuffy and intimidating store.

i-econ

i-econ

i-econ

i-econ

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I used to be a beautiful alluring black board that drew everyone in. Maybe it was because they needed what I had to offer But it was nice to know that I was attractive in that aspect.

I hung above, quiet and unwavering. I watched drama unfold every single day. The collision of the trishaw and the car, The notorious couple arguing over the price of eggs.

I watched as buildings got torn down and tenants moved out. I watched as I was passed down from a parent to child, three times over. I watched the number of people who found me attractive dwindle over the years. I used to do all that and more.

Now that I have been moved to the back of the store, I find myself covered in a coat of dust. I feel degraded, lost and forgotten. LED lights have replaced me and I heard they are doing a better job.

But it is okay, I am still hung up high, Watching over everything that goes in and out of the store. I have the whole interior memorised. The mops stand awkwardly in a tiny corner, The hangers are clustered in colours along the skyline of canned sardines.

There is even the long forgotten pacifier that fell behind the shelves.

I told you so.

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THEIR STORY, MY WORDS

THEIR STORY, MY WORDS

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OLD=GOLD

=GOLD

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DA

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Upon exiting Dakota MRT Station, a sudden sense of calm descended over me and startled me a little because I was not used to the stark quiet that the estate offered.

If I never found out about this store, I would not have known that there were still such beautifully constructed flats in Singapore. I found the shop in a corner of the old style 2-storey apartment, I found myself smiling at how comfortably the huge traditional signboard fits nicely into the old apartments, specifically built in the 50s and 60s.

Tucked into a small corner, Tian Kee & Co. provision shop doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. It feels almost as if being transported a few decades backwards. I felt odd and a little out of place again, too big for the cramped store without any lights on. I assumed it was because it was during the day. When I stepped in a scrawny wrinkled man in white singlet typical of their default style back in their

=golden days greeted me. He sits unreservedly on his worn cushioned chair with a high back support and his friend of a similar built sits across him, disregarding my presence. They were caught up with their conversation and I wondered if I should interrupt their banter randomly like this.

Quite thankfully my presence was imposing enough (is that a good thing?) and they stopped and turned their eyes on me. I asked the questions I needed and felt a guard came up in front of the owner’s mouth. He speaks with a bit of apprehension and suspicion. I wondered to myself what was it that made me appear so intimidating. He had some troubles comprehending my questions sometimes and I attributed it to the fact that he was hard of hearing. His friend cut in several times, offering answers that he knew and a bit of insights, like how the store was started in 1959 all on his own. The shop owner had dreams of being his own boss and that was eventually fulfilled when this store was opened.

=His opening hours reflected his laidback style, while other shops usually open at 0800 hours, he only does so at 1000 hours. He offered me a seat after he realised I was standing around asking questions and I felt his guard dissolve every so slightly. I probably hit an emotional nerve when I asked if he would ever stop doing this trade or sell his shop to someone if a good price was offered. He replied with a firm and decisive NO. He had obviously thought long and hard about this before and there was no room for negotiation should anyone wants to offer to buy over his property. Subsequent questions about the possibility of his shop being owned by someone else were all faced with a string of consecutive NOs. I was told that it was inevitably tiring but he had made a choice to continue with it and I could tell that he would not regret it.

At this point in time a slightly plump lady whom I assumed to be his wife interjected and started

speaking to the two men without acknowledging my presence. I actually think she does not like what I am doing, because she asked with a frown why am I asking all that questions. She didn’t actually seem to buy it when I told her I am doing a little investigation on what actually goes on behind the metal grilles of traditional provision shops. I think that can’t be blamed, for they have been around longer than all of us and have definitely seen more in their lives. No one can fault them for finding out the cold realities of the world beyond their modest little shop. Being guarded about what they hold dear is only the most natural thing to do. For at the end of the day you will only fight for what means the most to you.

But I was still curious how do they actually survive from day to day, much less a year. The estate is impossibly quiet and while it is great for peaceful living, it is not so much a prime business location. The man was quick to fill me in: all his customers are regulars who have been patronising his store

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=DA

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no, you cannot take photos inside.

he told me:

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for years now and there are barely any new customers. It sounds good to know that the people who support you in your trade have gone beyond just purely being your customers but have now become a friend, sometimes even a confidant. I think that always gives you more push to carry on with what you are doing. This has to be the power of support in your physical network. Something about them returning to buy things from you regularly even when you shelves are barely stocked up and products are not arranged in any logical order but instead merely put together to fill up space speaks about how much values the shop has beyond the tangible aspects.

However when he speaks of the future his voice wavers ever so slightly and grows uncharacteristically uncertain. He brushes off the question about how long does he think this trade will last with “I don’t know”s, almost as if wanting to avoid the topic altogether. He lamented that he “did not have any feelings” about the future of his shop but I think that is not the truth. It is probably one of his coping mechanisms to digress from the depressing topic. I think that when you are of a certain age, you stop thinking about the inevitable and how you can avoid it but instead learn to cast it to the back of your consciousness and take things one day at a time. After all, who knows what tomorrow will bring?

=

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THE SHY MAN& HISUNPRE-TENTIOUSSHOP.

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JOO

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THE SHY MAN& HISUNPRE-TENTIOUSSHOP.

This 53-year-old store stood out from the rest because of how it was designed. Unlike many of its counterparts, it is more longitudinal than geometric. Because of that, it is not crammed with aisles of products but instead have products lined up neatly on both sides with those metal framed shelves instead of wooden ones.

The central walkway was clear of products, which was a refreshing change. This time I did not have to navigate through the maze of shelves and barricades of detergent. Right at the end of the store was a little corner with a simple plastic desk and black cushioned chair. A round man with a potbelly sat there but stood up once he saw that I seemed to be looking for something. It turns out that he continued on with the trade from his father and is still using the pulley system to collect payment from the consumers.

When asked about how long he is going to continue doing this for, he remains uncertain, just like how he answers the rest of the questions. I felt almost as if I was intruding into his personal space. The only answer he elaborated on was the fact that more and more convenience stores and supermarkets are dominating the market, leaving barely anything for people in his trade. When asked if he would be willing to sell it at a good price, he is still undecided but something about his mannerism and tone tells me that he would not give it up so easily when it is something that was passed down from his father.

Like most of the shops, this was dimly lit and the main source of light came from the scorching sun

that hung up high in the sky that day. If you stood at the back of the shop and looked outside, it feels almost as if seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Looking across the shelves I am impressed by the effort that he takes to line every product neatly and categorised and much as possible. The tin biscuits hoard one row and carton biscuits took another. Contrary to the typical provision shop layout, the shelves were not filled to the edges but quite nicely placed. It was quite unexpected to see that the bespectacled man took care of the very little details like these. I found that to be pretty respectable.

When I was about to leave I realised that the shop layout reflected the nature of the owner itself. Everything was not flamboyant, nor showy, displaying just enough products to let customers know what they are selling. No rich colours were used as everything was doused in a neutral and dark palette. I really think it suits the shop owner to a T. Definitely what they would call a perfect fit.

THE SHY MAN& HISUNPRE-TENTIOUSSHOP.

THE SHY MAN& HISUNPRE-TENTIOUSSHOP.

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JOO

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IAT HIS ORGANISED MESS

MESS MESS MESS MESS

THE SHY MAN& HISUNPRE-TENTIOUSSHOP.

HIS ORGANISED MESS

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TH

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PARTY’S OVER. whether or not they close for good is all up to you now.

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