"Where is my ah girl?" In collaboration with Cedar Girls' Secondary School.Read More
Story For A Story
About the initiative
Everyone has a story. And stories are powerful things. They invoke feelings and thoughts in us, empowering us to take action for things we believe in. That’s why we want to hear from you.
Big or small, your story is special and that is why we want to hear from you. Tell us about the treasured memories you’ve created, be it with your grandparents or the friendly neighbourhood aunty.
Best of all, this time we have some truly exciting prizes to give out in addition to signed copies of “What Gives Us Our Names” by local author, Alvin Pang sponsored by @booksactually. Stay tuned to find out more about our prizes which would be released along with the theme this 28th January.
Theme This Week!
Shawn Seah is the author of My Father’s Kampung: A History of Aukang and Punggol (2020), Leader and Legislator: Seah Liang Seah (2019), and Seah Eu Chin: His Life & Times (2nd Ed. 2019, 1st Ed. 2017).
He is interested in Singapore’s history and heritage, as well as economic development in Southeast Asia. At the LSE, his area of research was private order institutions in early colonial Singapore, 1819-1867, where he studied the Peranakan middleman traders and the Chinese secret societies.
With his work experience in education, policy development, and communications and engagement, Shawn aims to make history appealing and relevant.
He lives and works in Singapore.
To learn more, head over to his website at shawnseah.com
Badminton During Kampung Days
Property during Kampung Days
Hawkers in the Kampung
Dr. Alvin Pang
my treasured memory
Forbearance enjoys tending a fresh crop of hyacinths, irises, black‐eyed susans, bluebells and kitchen
herbs. She has read somewhere that to plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow, and loves watching
them drink in the warm summer mornings through her back window, as they come into their fullness.
She remembers what it was like to be strong, to feel the glorious wind billow out her brave, blond hair
asshe dashes up the impertinent coast. She hasfound herself equal to the urgentsummons of a man’s
arms, the needful press of a child’s, the sway and dip of dancing. She is no stranger to the sudden bitter
quarrel, nor the slow,sweet making up after. She has mourned family, seen children grow up and leave
home, taken on new names. Forbearance is a veteran of fickle weather and has mastered the
diplomacy of storms. Few things surprise now; fewer still faze. She has learnt to take her time, and to
let some things be.
Mostly she wishes the carelessly young could know what it is like to grow old. How they love to
shoulder past or stare! The streets tilt steeper every time she steps out of the house, and she must go
gentler on that one foot ever since the accident. There was a time when, waking before the birds, she
would hop up the nearby hill in the dark to watch the sun come up. She has always had a knack for
keeping still and listening quietly. Some days she wishes those sheltering, immortal gums she used to
sit under can tell her what she is waiting for.
Every week Forbearance and her neighbours, Compassion and Grace, sing in a choir to cheer the
forgetful and forgotten. They keep each other company, and awake. In their presence, her house loses
a little of its hollow music, shakes off shadows. She brings in fresh cut flowers from her garden,
arranges them in a vase she has kept and loved for years. Sharing another of the many tales only
Forbearance could have earned, her eyes gleam with an ageless light, as she sets aside her tiredness
and remembers Hope.