First Time Ch. 01 – Uncle Jake
Sago Lane, in the heart of Singapore’s Chinatown, was snuggled in the midst of the oriental enchantment of a thriving British colony. Endowed with the mysticism of the East, it was a famous local landmark in the 1950s. To the clinical observing eyes of a Westerner, Sago Lane then had a uniqueness of its own as a street of flowers, paper and wood. The narrow straight lanes were home to a certain kind of human being. Those human being without life, that is. For Sago Lane then hustled and bustled with funeral parlours and shops selling products to accompany the dead in their long sojourn to the underworld.
As I walked that late afternoon along Sago Lane, my mind was not focused on or distracted by the unusual business activities of the shops along this colourful street. After all, I had walked down this same route for many years since my early childhood. And even after my own parents decided to move the family away from our last home in the same first floor flat which we shared with the Lee family, I had always been making that weekly pilgrimage to visit my god parents Jait Hoe and his wife Li-Lian. On that Monday afternoon, I knew that my godfather would be at home as it was a rest day for him.
Jait Hoe or Uncle Jake as I would normally address him opened the door. He stood immodestly bare chest in his white hand sewn brief. He was smiling and was expecting me. He had seen me growing up before his eyes and had accepted me as his own son. A short and stubby man of five feet and worn out by years of toil as a hawker in Singapore’s Chinatown, he looked much older than his fifty years with his fading hair line crowned by a thatch of white hair. Yet despite his serious looking face, he had a heart of gold and a good sense of humour that made him always a joy to anyone who had the fortune to beget his acquaintance.
“Come in. Hung and Li-lian are out shopping this afternoon.”
“It’s alright. I will come back later.” As I turned to retrace my steps down the dark clammy staircase, which was the standard architecture of the row of pre-war buildings in the heart of busy Sago Lane, Uncle Jake spoke again.
“Robert, why don’t you come in and wait for her. They should be back very soon. I am not feeling too well today and have come back early from the stall. Perhaps we can have a chat till the ladies come home.”
I responded to his kind invitation and made my way into the front section of the building, which was occupied by the Hoe family. The Hoes had been family friends and I had grown up with Hung, their youngest daughter who had become my childhood paramour. At eighteen years, Hung was one year my junior, but she was one of the sweetest creature in the neighbourhood. I had seen her blossomed from a cheeky and talkative child into a fine specimen of the female sex. To say that I was infatuated by her giggling and smiling disposition was an understatement. I was totally engrossed by her charm and harboured the deepest wish to make her to be my life time partner one day. Uncle Jake and Aunt Li-lian knew of my fascination for their daughter. They spared no efforts to make me comfortable at home during my daily visits to their home to see Hung. My parents who were on good terms with the Hoes were also very supportive of my efforts to win the heart of this young lady. She had all the elegance of a female member of the Chinese race.
I sat with Uncle Jake in front of the windows, surveying the street not batting much of an eyelid at the occasional funeral possession that passed below. Sago Lane, in 1969, after all had its unique local fame as the street of death where locals patronised the row of funeral parlours and casket makers. With few alternate facilities to mourn their loved ones who had left this mundane world for the after world of the Chinese race, Sago Lane had never been busier with those locals who could not afford the more lavish expenses of a proper Chinese funeral send off.
With cheap local beer flowing from our glasses, we were soon the best of friends talking without the generation gap that existed between him and me. Uncle Jake was very much unlike my own parents who were ever so strict about the need for propriety. He was so down to earth. Alcohol was out for me at home until I could make my own dole to pay for it. But in his simple life making a living selling fried noodles, Hung’s father found beer to be the drink it was designed for, a drink for pleasure and for relaxation. I was introduced to this yellow liquid during one of my regular visits to his home at the tender age of fourteen when Hung was my neighbour. Time had passed so fast and she was able to sustain my interest in her with her simple honesty and faithfulness that our respective families had accepts us as two young underage sweethearts.
As the smell of burning sandalwood incense permeated the atmosphere, my future father-in-law and I were lured into a somewhat intoxicated stupor by the flagrancy and the wonderful effects of alcohol. Or perhaps it was the total familiarity of Hung’s father and me for he suddenly burst out with a delightful grin and talked to his prospective son-in law like one adult to another.
“Robert, I know that you are only coming to nineteen. At your age, Li-lian and I were already married and she was bearing Hung’s elder brother. I supposed it may be a bit too early for you to think about tying the knot with Hung since you are so ambitious and would like to go into the university after your higher school certificate.”