A Trip Down the Memory Lane
A lot of attention has been given to the court case where two bloggers have been charged with sedition for posting racist comments online. Through the passing of time, the 1964 racial riots are starting to fade into history. Most Singaporean bloggers — I myself included — weren’t even born back then. Perhaps it’s time to take a trip down the memory lane and relive some of the horrible events that happened during the riots.
My grandfather used to have a neighbour in Chinatown. Once this neighbour got news that the racial riots have broken out, he immediately set off in his car to pick up his workers from the worksite so as to prevent them from being harmed. He was forced to stop along the way due to a barricade set up by rioters on the road. Thinking that the rioters would leave him alone since he had not offended them, he came out of his car and tried to remove the barricade. Next thing he knew, a rioter slashed his neck with a parang. He was pronounced dead before he could be rushed to the hospital.
His daughter was working as a nurse at the hospital he was sent to. She saw a huge commotion along the corridor and found out that a Chinese man was killed by the Malay rioters. Only later when she saw the body that she realised it was her father, whose head was hanging limply off his neck by just shreds of flesh and skin.
Another unfortunate victim was a Malay policeman. Since he patrolled the area routinely, he was a familiar figure along the street where my grandfather and family lived and was well-liked by the local residents. One night while walking home after duty, he was hacked to death by a group of Chinese rioters. It didn’t matter if anyone in the group knew him or not — he was Malay, and that itself was enough reason to kill him.
The streets were ruled by rioters, and everyone was cowering in fear at home with shutters drawn and doors locked. Any children who sneaked out during curfew to have fun were given heavy beatings by their parents when they came home. And it would have been wise for any dark-skinned Chinese or fair-skinned Malay not to wander around. Friendship and kinship didn’t matter during those dark moments, only skin colour mattered.
The political consequence was as severe as the conditions on the streets. The sight of MM Lee Kuan Yew crying as he announced the separation of Singapore from the rest of Malaysia was one of the most powerful images in our political history, a stark representation of the difficult decision our founding fathers had to make and the uncertain future ahead for our young nation.
It’s easy for youngsters to look back in perfect hindsight and comment that we made the right decision and are now better off as a sovereign nation. Singapore is a small island with no natural resources; it was only due to the perseverance of our forefathers — with no small amount of luck — that we have one of the highest living standards in the world.
When our grandparents and parents say that our generation doesn’t know what hardship is, they really do mean it.