I was just four years old when we lived on Koek Road, near Orchard Road in Singapore. It was a peaceful time until, one year later, the Japanese invasion changed everything. Home was a simple wooden kampong house raised on stilts. The kitchen was on the ground floor, you could rear chickens under the house. When the air raid sirens rang, we would hide under the house in the earth. 

Aerial view of Orchard Road

1945 -1946

Credit: Roots.gov.sg (link)

My father was taken away because they found a Union Jack flag in our possession. It was a small school flag pin, and the Japanese found it on one of our school uniforms at the back of the house. Before the invasion, the schools were run by the British so it was part of the student’s uniform. The Japanese discovered it during a house inspection and took my father, leaving our family distraught. The next day, they rounded up everyone in the kampung.

After the loss of my father, my mother had to slog to make a living. She found work making nylon ropes to make ends meet. We moved to various places, including a rented room near North Bridge Road, close to Odeon. Whenever the Japanese came around, my sister and a tenant's daughter would hide in the ceiling, as teenage girls were prime targets for the Japanese. These girls had to cut their hair short to avoid being taken.

Once, the Japanese found a jade Buddha in our house. At first, they were aggressive, but when they saw the Buddha, they stopped shouting and began to pray. Then, they left the place without searching the ceiling. 

Our jade Buddha was large and held a special place in my mother's heart. She prayed to it often. Every night, my mother would sew the Japanese army rankings on uniforms. We couldn’t even turn on the light to sew because if they saw the lights in our house, they would bomb it. 

We later moved to Handy Road, and my brother and I eventually went to Indonesia to live with my uncle-in-law. I was around six years old at the time, and my brother was about ten. We had a comfortable life there, with plenty of chickens and food. We lived on my uncle-in-law's rubber estate until returning to Singapore after the war. My mother gave us a sack of rice as we were leaving Singapore, so we grew vegetables and ate them with the rice. We also ate sliced sweet potatoes with the vegetables to stretch our rice supplies. She also gave me $40 in British money as we were leaving, and I hid it in my clothes. Even as a child, I had to learn to be resourceful. 

Meanwhile, my mother and sister stayed behind in Singapore. On top of her seamstress work, mother would earn a commission selling gold. She would help goldsmiths to sell gold and then take a commission from it. They trusted her even though she had no collateral. She would send non-perishable food like salted fish over to us, bought with the money she earned.

Known as banana money (due to the banana tree illustrated on the note), the Japanese currency issued during the Japanese Occupation became worthless due to runaway inflation coupled with blackmarket practices.

Credit: Roots.gov.sg (link)

​My mother was very smart. When the war was about to end, she knew that the Japanese yen would be useless. But instead of buying gold bars, she bought good furniture instead so she could resell them for a profit after the war since people would want to rebuild their houses. When the seller asked why she was buying furniture, she deliberately lied by saying that her children were coming back to Singapore and she wanted to prepare their rooms. She didn’t want to say that the Japanese were losing. After buying all the furniture, she had 1000 yen left and bought an egg to eat. Eggs were so expensive back then, that one egg cost 1000 yen. 

We couldn’t sleep every night during the Japanese war. Every time we heard the sirens, we had to run and hide. We had to wear shoes when we slept. The Japanese would flip your tables and upturn all your food every time they came around. Everything that was in English was burned because of its association with the British. That’s how I lost my IC (identity card). 

Raffles Hotel in the1940s

Credit: Roots.gov.sg (link)

For me, the saddest thing in my life was the loss of my father. My father was a businessman who worked in catering at Raffles Hotel. Before the war, he would bring back special treats, like a big chicken pie with a crest. After my father was taken away, my mother went to the Japanese quarters to look for him. She was so brave. After his death, my mother became a vegetarian. She refused to let us kill any chicken for meat and she wouldn’t even kill an ant. My auntie told us “never mind lah, chickens are very precious” because they laid eggs. We needed those eggs to survive. 

When my brother and I returned after the war, we moved to Bencoolen Street and later to the government housing quarters in Bukit Timah, which is now KKH hospital.