“Yes? What is the matter?” she asked.

We went through the usual drill of introducing the Singapore Snaps Project to her and explained our intentions of collecting old photographs from the public to provide them with free digital copies. At that time, I was with a student volunteer going door-to-door on a photo-collection drive in Toa Payoh, the first neighbourhood to kick-off our art and community program.

“You’ll get all your photographs back with a DVD of its digital copies within 1 week at your doorstep,” my student partner chirped.

The lady warmed up to our presence and emerged more confidently from behind her door.

“But I don’t have any old photographs. My parents didn’t take any for me. They never cared,” she said with a straightforward tone. But in her eyes was a tinge of sadness.

Both of us were suddenly thrown off-guard by a gush of empathy. For a short while we did not know what to say. We learned that her name is “Serene” and we explained to her that if she is visiting the neighbourhood library where our booth was based, it would be nice to be able to chat again.

Serene thanked us courteously before she closed her door.

Days later, Serene paid a surprise visit to us at our booth. She brought with her an envelope which she held endearingly close to her chest. Sitting together with her on our seventies-fashioned sofa, she revealed three black-and-white photographs and three large colour photographs from the envelope. The black-and-white photographs were of her as a child with her mother, looking very blissful. The large colour photographs were taken in a studio, of Serene in her convocation gown clutching a certificate and looking accomplished.

Photo credit: Jasmine Chan

“These are the only photographs, I have (of myself) when I was young… I worked very hard to study and get to where I am now, so that I can live independently and prove myself,” she told us.

Even though we set a minimum of twenty photographs for a contribution (any lesser will be a toil on the logistics), we accepted her photographs with appreciation. Serene’s sincerity in supporting our project has certainly moved us. Her situation also made us think about the individuals who never had the luxury of photographs to document their personal histories.

As we met more residents, it turned out that Serene’s story was not a remote one. Another resident had explained to us how he never had any photographs because his family could not afford a camera. There was also an individual, who told us how he had lost his entire life of photographs because an ex-fiance had burnt all of them in a fit of anger. Having those photographs of their lives documented, would mean everything to these people.

Yet, an absence is a presence of meaning – that absence of photographs is also a reflection of one’s personal history.

Photo credit: Pearl Pang

On the other side of the coin, we met many generous contributors with cupboards full of photographs waiting to be digitised. We recalled a contributor handing us a huge luggage worth of her family’s old photographs. We explained to her upfront that there was a limit to what we could accept, but she insisted that we take everything. I still can recall sitting alone in the cold activity room in the top floor of a library, browsing through multiple stacks of photographs from that particular family. Their personal memories whizzed through my head visually. For three hours I went through their photographs, album by album, selecting images that would be valuable to them and the project. While I am certain that these memories are precious to the family, there was also an underlying sense of insignificance of these printed photographs – like clutter to be cleared.

Whilst some residents whom we met at their homes, readily lent us their photographs for the project, there were others who found their personal memories too precious to be placed in the hands of a stranger. Both ways, we understand and respect their choices. After all, photographs mean different things and have different values to everyone.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

The Singapore Snaps team were delighted to welcome the photography club students of Fairfield Methodist Secondary School to join us for 3 sessions of their photography club program with the initiation of their insightful teacher-in-charge, Mr Larry Loh.

Kicking off the program in the first week, participating students started off getting to know a little more about the value of old photographs and how to handle them with care. The project orientation session with the students on was held in the cozy activity room at Geylang East Library. The students’ knowledge on photography was wide, but it was one of the first time they had come into close contact with photographs created from the analog era. Some students had even brought their personal family photographs from home to share with the group.

Following which, we accompanied the students straight into the neighbouring blocks across the road from the library to begin the door-to-door photo collection. For many of the students it was their first time in a door-to-door community involvement program like this, but all of them certainly had the courage and tenacity. Most of them started out shy whilst a number of the students were very forth coming with introducing the project to the residents.

Gracie, Outreach Officer for Singapore Snaps with two students from FMSS Photography Club on our first day.

On the second session, the students continued going door-to-door speaking to the community. From the feedback session that we had with the students, disappointment from being unable to receive a single photograph from any resident was common:

“I felt pretty disappointed as we did not have a single contribution and most of the neighbours turned us down. (On what can be improved) Our communication skills. We need to improve on our mandarin (our mother tongue) and other dialects” – Hagen Li

The students recognised the value of being multilingual so they can communicate with more people in Singapore because of the diverse cultures here. Comfortable with a single language used amongst their families and friends, the students quickly realised the value of dialects in understanding people from the earlier generations.

But some of the students took the rejection in a very positive light. C.S Chan a student wrote:

“Through the collection of old photos and speaking to strangers publicly, I realised that photos are more than just memories. They are precious milestones (of individuals) in their golden years. Many were reluctant to offer (their photographs)… Perhaps that is how priceless the photos are to them.”

Chan also drew the connection between photography and biography in his reflection.

“One’s photography is another’s biography.”

Audrey, another student from the photography club gave us new insight to our project:

“I learned that stories are meant to be shared and the power of voicing our inner thoughts… This experience allowed me to treasure the community even more especially when there are so many stories waiting to be shared by them! Their fascinating stories bring Singapore’s past alive, so that us, the next generation could appreciate its beauty and see through its growth.”

One of the written reflections from the students of the FMSS Photography Club.

We were extremely heartened to receive handwritten reflections like these from the students. They were very honest and we were glad that this community involvement from the students were beyond simply achieving the project’s goals. The students took home with them new insights about the local community, and of themselves. The younger generation’s interest and participation are necessary and important for us because the observation and writing of history is a continuous task for us to gain insight of the present.

Singapore Snaps would like to thank the students of the Photography Club from Fairfield Methodist Secondary School and teacher-in-charge Mr Larry Loh. They had travelled far to join us and we have learned as much from them as they had during their journey with us.

All photo credits in this post are Chan Wen, Hagen Li and Larry Loh.

Written and edited by Samantha Tio

Top picture: Young boys in a sampan at the heart of Geylang River. Photo credit: National Archives of Singapore. Source: Lee Kee Hwee

Durian shop in the 1980s. Photo credit: National Archives of Singapore

Possibly the most exotic eats you would ever find in Singapore are concentrated in Geylang – from the semi-outdoor durian shops touting an array of durian varieties enough to satisfy an connoisseur to other mojo-boosting dishes such as frog porridge and turtle soup. Aside from outlandish dishes, you can also find the best of Singapore’s hawker classics: wonton mee, beef kway teow, nasi padang, tze char (home-style chinese dishes), nasi biryani, traditional desserts and dim sum served 24-hours, round the clock. It is not surprising as well, away from all the humidity and grease of the hawker establishments in Geylang there are also several air-conditioned, barrister level, hipster joints that have been mushrooming all over Singapore over the past years.

Food and gluttonous thoughts aside, vice is also rampant in Geylang. Regularly found on the newspapers are news of police raids for contraband cigarettes, illegal gambling, drug trafficking and unlicensed street walking. Surely, in a city with a squeaky clean image like Singapore’s there is somewhere you would find the underbelly of our straight-laced society. “Cleaning up” always seems to be the order of the day, but lost is the very soul (though darkened) of Geylang, just like the Bugis Street in its former days, to our values-promulgating state, should the prostitutes, pimps and drug dealers all ran away.

So how would a family-friendly project like Singapore Snaps find its fit in Geylang?

The neighbourhood of Geyalang Serai had kampong squatters located side by side HDB Flats before the 1990s. Photo credit: National Archives of Singapore

Along the northern side of the MRT train tracks that connects Kallang, Aljunied and Paya Lebar, nestles a charming neighbourhood. You can find the regular civic amenities such as the Geylang East Library, where the SG Snaps booth was based, Geylang East Swimming Complex and Geylang Polyclinic, as well multiple schools in the area. The public library, though the lowest in human traffic compared to the ones at Toa Payoh and Redhill, where our collection booths were previously based, is endearingly quaint. We really like the “Green Reading Space” on the second floor where visitors can lie on a synthetic turf in air-conditioned comfort under a glittery LED-lit ceiling. Not forgetting the conducive activity room on first floor where there is a painted life-size mural of famous fairy tales. This dainty neighbourhood is a huge contrast to its other half across the train tracks, as day to night. The SG Snaps team was so fascinated with these almost schizophrenic characteristics of Geylang that we had to look at the kind of photographs that we would find there.

On the origins of the district’s name, one could never be too clear. There are writings that say that the name “Geylang” is a mutation of the Malay word “kilang” which means “mill” or “factory”. This could refer to the mills of the coconut plantations in the area, which were operated by some of the Orang Laut who resettled from the mouth of the Singapore River to live along the banks of the Geylang River in the 1840s. In a map of Singapore from 1849, there were also mentions of a small island named “Pulo Gelang”, which disappeared with the land-fills and reclamation of the Kallang Basin.

Singaporeans are also familiar with the famous Malay folk song that begins with the line “Gelang si paku Gelang”. Its lyrics sounds like it is referring to the area of Geylang. However, it is a traditional Malay song in the Malay literary format called “Pantun”, and “Gelang” in the song actually refers to the creepers or wild plants growing in Singapore. For the longest of times, I had always been singing “Geylang sepatu (shoes) Geylang”, thinking that the song was talking about shoes bought from the district.

Sundries shop in a long Geylang Road in the 1980s. Photo credit: National Archives of Singapore

Geylang is also rich in history. Following the Orang Lauts are the new migrants from the late 19th Century. While speaking with a contributor from the neighbourhood, we discovered that Geylang supported many new factories and micro-businesses of the immigrant population during the early 20th Century. She told us how she had grown up in one of the shophouses, where her family operated a motor repair shop at the ground level. Many industries were found in Geylang and its population grew from the influx of immigrants that overflowed from the city center during that era. This influx also results in the present distinct shophouses found along Geylang that were used by clan associations as points of contact for new migrants. These clan associations helped to integrate the newcomers into the local custom and culture.

A child growing up in a shophouse along Geylang Road where the living quarters were at the second floor and the workshops were on the ground level. Photo credit: Gaan Ho Mui

Today, Geylang continues to be a reflection of our rapid demographic changes in Singapore. Geylang now plays host to many foreign workers and new migrants not minding the area’s reputation, but seeking affordability in rental prices and accessibility to the city center.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

Top picture: Mdm Saraswathi with her first child, standing outside her block at the residential wing of the Seletar Camp. Photo Credit: Saraswathi

Mdm Saraswathi with a stack of old photographs of Seletar Camp in her hands. Photo credit: SG Snaps

As a clerk to the Singapore Armed Forces, Mdm Saraswathi had lived in residential quarters at the military facility together with her family. She shared with us her family’s long history there, since the camp’s former days of being the largest British Royal Air Force base in the Far East. Built by the British in the 1920s, the camp became operational in 1928 and had housed staffs to the British Airforce. Aside from the British, the Malay and Indian community had made up majority of the staff. Her father, who was an Indian migrant, had worked for the British as a labourer, and her uncle as a supervisor.

A photograph of Mdm Saraswathi, her husband, first son and her two brothers in her husband’s quarters. Photo credit: Saraswathi

The living quarters were located at the east side of the camp. Mdm Saraswathi described two different layouts of the quarters. Her husband was also a staff who lived in the bigger quarters, while she had grown up in the smaller one with her family – A three-room apartment consisting one hall, bedroom and kitchen. There were six apartments in a block, with toilets and water taps shared between all the families living there. She remembered how she needed to take her laundry and plates out to the public tap for cleaning. On the other hand, her husband’s house, where she had moved to after their wedding, had a private toilet, but the rent was higher.

“The rent for the three-room quarters (back then) was only $12 per month. For the bigger one, it was $20,” said Mdm Saraswathi.

In a photo taken right in front of the guardroom of the residential quarters, Mdm Saraswathi recounts how tightly guarded the facility was. Any of her relatives visiting the camp were required to report to the guard house, where she would have to produce her official pass in order to allow them onto premise. Public access into the camp was highly restricted, and any outsiders entering or leaving the camp were duly noted by the guards.

During Christmas, the British would hold celebrations for the military staff. Families would go to the clubhouse carrying coupons previously handed out to them, to collect goodie boxes filled with cakes and ice-creams for every member of each household. The clubhouse was also a place where families held meetings, as well as movie screenings hosted for the families.

“We would bring out big mats to lay on the grass and watch the movies for free from the big screen,” she quipped.

Bride & Groom – A photograph of Mdm Saraswathi’s wedding held at a tent pitched on a field in Seletar Camp. Photo credit: Saraswathi

Amongst the photographs that Mdm Saraswathi had showed us, there were some of her wedding ceremony. Contrary to the rich and colourful festivities that typically surround an Indian wedding, Mdm Saraswathi’s wedding was very modest. Instead of a temple with a priest, her wedding was celebrated in a tent at the Seletar Camp, specially erected for this joyous occasion near her husband’s living quarters.

“(During the ceremony) we had followed our book, the tiripura, a book written by a sage to convey the knowledge. And somebody had read from that book. That was how we got married.”

Mdm Saraswathi’s brother on the eve of Thaipusam, preparing to carry the kavadi (behind them) for the ceremony the next morning. Photo credit: Saraswathi

Another eventful recollection she had at the camp was the preparation for her brother to carry the kavadi for Thaipusam, a Hindu celebration in honour of Lord Subramaniam. In the photo was her husband, uncle and brother on the eves of Thaipusam in their home, getting ready for the journey the next morning.

During the Thaipusam procession where Hindu devotees carry the kavadi. Photo credit: Saraswathi

When asked whether carrying the kavadi would be painful, she chuckled as she replied, “Actually, it would be, if you hadn’t followed the preparations properly. (The devotees carrying the kavadi) would fast for one week. You can take food only once a day in the evenings after your prayers.” The fasting devotees would be allowed to drink. But milk, she told us, is restricted because it is meant to be an offering to the God.

Wei Keong and Mdm Saraswathi outside her flat in Toa Payoh. Photo credit: SG Snaps

After our pleasant afternoon with Mdm Saraswathi, listening to her time-transporting stories of Seletar Camp, we thanked her for her time and exited her flat to the scenery of Toa Payoh today. The home in the black and white photographs of hers is so different from her current home. The times that we see in a single lifetime in Singapore has definitely changed, and we continue to wonder how the lives of people living here has changed too.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

For this blog entry, we recollect one of the best days with a group of 12 volunteers joining us at Redhill. The participating volunteers were the staff of the Halogen Foundation, teamed together with students from CHIJ St Theresa’s Convent and Hwa Chong Institution. It was daunting, thinking how to coordinate 6 pairs of volunteers scattered in the neighbourhood, but we knew one thing for sure – that each of their participation will be unique with every resident they meet.

The volunteer experience at Singapore Snaps means a lot to us. We believe, for an individual who shares our vision and comes forward to work with us, every precious minute of their time counts. The best returns of volunteering will always be the learning and interaction in a social sphere where the public gathers to do good. Because of that, before we head out to the neighbourhoods to interact with the local residents, a warming-up briefing session with our volunteer team would be the key to a rewarding volunteer experience.

Each volunteer gets to introduce himself or herself in the quirkiest of ways – by recounting his or her first memory; the first thing you remember consciously. This is SG Snaps’ unique way in getting to know everyone better. This part of the session is always filled with comical moments that even the shyest volunteer would join the conversation and have a good laugh.

Simply because SG Snaps is one project which is interested in excavating memories, being acquainted with our volunteers means learning their memories too. First memories are significant to us, because it is intimate and it signifies the beginning of our consciousness as an individual. We also had the honour of some volunteers bringing their own photo albums to share with the group. Looking through old photographs is one definite way of knowing a person better.

Most certainly, the most important aspect of our briefing session is appreciating and handling the old photographs. We prepare our volunteers to receive the photographs in an array of formats – from the ones pasted into adhesive albums, to the ones inserted in sleeves or even piled up in loose sheets. SG Snaps team member and photographer Samantha Tio, shared with the student volunteers the technicalities of handling photographic prints. She also shared her views on why images created during the era of analog cameras are important and relevant to us even today.

The students started out with great energies, and with positive attitudes they had managed to encounter some amazing finds. During this particular door-to-door collection drive in Redhill, we found our first hand-coloured photographs. For many of the young participants, it was the first time seeing anything like that. Read more about studio portrait trends from the 1950s-80s in our previous post.

What was also remarkable about that photograph was the handwritten message on the back in Chinese characters in calligraphic style, dating and addressing the portrait to a beloved. The photograph was taken and developed in 1967, and was addressed to the sender’s aunt. We later noticed more photographs with such personal messages. It was a trend then, to give a copy of the photo with accompanying text to relatives and friends, just like a postcard.

One of our youngest volunteer, Edison recounts how he was so delighted when an elderly resident had invited his group into his house. He described the house to be filled with incredible antiques and the series of portraits that he had kindly contributed for the project seemed to be dated to the early 20th century.

Unfortunately not all the students managed to interest a resident to participate and contribute old photographs. Rejection is part of this learning process and it pushes us beyond of our comfort zones, humbling and motivating us continuously. We truly hope our volunteering students had learned beyond the textbooks, and benefited from their unconventional afternoon with Singapore Snaps.

Written by Samantha Tio

Edited by Tan Wei Keong

Photographs by Khee Shi Hui

An image of the attap huts at Redhill, where a fire broke out in 1963. Photo: National Archives of Singapore

Old legend aside, Redhill today continues to prove itself as “legendary” in our Singapore Snaps collection drive. Here are four reasons why:

1. The oldest flats in Redhill are the last of the “chek lau” (or seven storey flats in hokkien) owned by the Housing Development Board.

A child at a playground with the “chek lau” flats in the background. Photo: Lim Poh Kwan

Built in 1955, these low-rise flats give Redhill a nostalgic serenity that you can only find in the old estates. The flats are well-spaced and you can see beautiful sunlight streaming in the daytime.

Whilst visiting the residents there, we found out that the flats along Redhill Close are due for the Selective Enbloc Redevelopment Scheme by 2017. In the face of demolition, a few of the apartments there are now empty. Even the Taoist temple Chin Lin Keng (Zhen Ren Gong in Mandarin) in the vicinity is due for redevelopment.

A view from inside an apartment on the top floor of a “chek lau” flat in Redhill. In this photo, you can see the old Housing Development Board Headquarters Building, which used to be located at Bukit Merah Central. Photo: Cher Su Hoon

Recently, there had been a call for conservation following the flats of the Singapore Improvement Trust in Tiong Bahru. But with the soaring value of the government housing in neighborhoods like Redhill that are closest to the city areas, you cannot fault anybody for being skeptical. In a country that puts pragmatism in the forefront of any decision-making, nostalgic poetics of the past is a luxury that we cannot afford.

2. The Redhill Hawker Centre is famed for its rich hawker heritage (and other things).

Teochew satay beehoon, hainanese curry rice, fried carrot cake and chicken rice are amongst the famed must-try-dishes at Redhill Hawker Centre. Even the fried chicken wings had our Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong standing in line for half an hour.

“Qing Tian” dessert stall when it first opened at Redhill Hawker Centre in the 1960s. Photo: Lim Poh Kwan

If you remember the social media furor on that episode, PM Lee had posted an image of a lucky cat from one of the dessert stalls. As it turned out two weeks later, we had stumbled upon and met Mdm Lim who is the owner of the dessert stall. She contributed some of her old photographs that same stall since it first opened in the 1970s. We will share more on her story in a later entry. Keep a lookout for it!

3. Gangsters!

There are barely any written records, but Redhill is infamous for being the den for the triads.

We had met an elderly Eurasian man, Michael, in his 90s who recalled serving as a policeman in the late 1940s. “I had to catch all the gangsters over there,” said Michael, pointing in the direction of Bukit Merah Central from his flat along Redhill Close. “They were all very fierce, but we had to catch all of them,” he said.

Some residents recalled finding drug users shooting up in the stairwells, while others talked about the fights that happened at the void decks. Imagine the level of danger there was with gangsters in those days. But if you were to visit Redhill on Friday evenings, you would find remnants of the neighbourhood’s gangster past. The neighbourhood police still makes its rounds regularly, whilst groups of merry-makers toast boisterous and drunken cheers over bottles of tiger beer and “tzi char” (local hawker stalls selling restaurant-style Chinese dishes) delicacies.

4. Home to many elderly.

Samsui women having their meal and resting from their back-breaking jobs at the construction site in the 1950s. Photo: National Archives of Singapore

Redhill is home to a growing population of elderly. Some of the elderly living here, used to be the Samsui women whose work in Singapore’s early building industry remains one of the most iconic in the country’s history.

In the early 70s, the government had built several flats catered for the elderly and the poor. These single-room flats are located at Bukit Merah View, along Henderson Road. Located at the void decks are several social service organisations which cater to the community.

We chatted with the many elderly residents who live alone, while in the neighbourhood. Some of them would frequent the centers at the void deck for craft sessions and Wii (a wireless game console) games, whilst others would just keep to themselves. At times, we met a household of entire families living in the cramped quarters. Witnessing life in these single room rental flats prods us to think about how an SG50 project celebrates the progress that Singapore has achieved, and recognise the people that may have been left behind.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

My husband’s uncle was barely 10 years old when his great-grandmother passed away in 1968. Although she was 92 years old then, a deceased woman is granted three more years to her age, according to tradition. Therefore her death age was declared as 95 instead.

The great-grandmother was the oldest elder in the Jalan Kayu village. She lived through five generations. For the wake, my husband and his siblings were dressed in green “xiao fu” (孝服), which literally means “filial clothes”, with pink overlays. The youngest member was just four years old then.

In the traffic. Photo: Teo Yap Tee

The wake lasted for 7 days – only odd number of days, and the duration of wake is dependent on the seniority of the deceased. The funeral procession was done in Hokkien-Taoist tradition. Besides serving dinners, my husband remembered that they had to order a truckload of “Green Spot”, a brand of soft drinks, to be given out to people who showed up to pay their respects. Thus, you can imagine the crowds who turned up.

Green Spot served to guests at the wake. Photo: Teo Yap Tee

Funeral procession through the village, as curious bystanders look on. Photo: Teo Yap Tee

On the final day of the funeral, the family and close relatives walked some 2 kilometres through the village, to send the great-grandmother off for the last time before the burial. Coffins, at that time, were made from solid wood and it was very heavy to have to carry it and walk for a distance.

Stilt walkers stand tall among the crowd. Photo: Teo Yap Tee

As you can see from the photos, stilt-walkers were invited to perform for the procession.

As the deceased had lived to a respectable age and has had a long and enjoyable life, the funeral was considered a “xiao sang” (笑丧), a term which combines the word “smiling/laughing” and “mourning” to describe a “smiling funeral”. A “xiao sang” is a term used mainly in comforting the bereaved, rather than being put into practice, although no one was allowed to cry at the funeral.

It was the grandest funeral that my husband’s families had gone through.

Interviewee Teo Yap Tee
Written by Gracie Teo
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

SG Snaps team cannot be more grateful to all the students and individuals who have stepped forward to discover Singapore’s hidden historical tokens of photographs and personal narratives together with us.

Today, we would like to celebrate and congratulate two outstanding volunteers, Joshua Cheng and Ong Zhi Hong from Hwa Chong Institution, who made our collection drive a blast! Joshua and Zhi Hong, together with volunteers from other schools, had joined us at the various neighbourhoods to collect old photographs from the residents during their school break in June.

Here are what Joshua Cheng and Ong Zhi Hong have to say about their experiences:

Joshua Cheng

Relaxing at the Bukit Merah Library after a day of going door-to-door. Volunteers from the right – Cassia, Joshua, Charlton, Xin Ru & Gracie, our SG Snaps Team Member. Photo: SG Snaps

“Participating in this Singapore Snaps’ photo collection drive has been very enriching. During the June holidays, when my classmates were either playing games or studying, I am happy to be able to spend my time doing something meaningful by revisiting Singapore’s roots and learning about the past.

Being in one of Singapore oldest neighborhoods at Redhill and visiting the homes of the people living there has really helped me to appreciate how far Singapore has come in the last 50 years. Originally, I was a bit hesitant to go door-to-door to introduce the project and ask for old photo contributions. I am not an outgoing person by nature and had never done anything like this before. However, after the first few tries, it started to get better. Even though my volunteer partner and I met with rejections the first few times we approached a household, it was still very engaging to meet people of different characters living in Redhill.

The first time I had received a contribution was from an old Chinese lady living in one of the older blocks. Even though she had only contributed a few photos, there was a sense of accomplishment and achievement, especially since it was my first time  going house-to-house to ask for contributions. Most of the photos she contributed were photos taken in studios. It was very fascinating to see the different designs and decorations that studios added to frame the photos.”

Joshua helping Mdm Lim tag her photos at her home in Redhill. Photo: SG Snaps

“One of the most memorable moments that I had was when returning the contribution from a lady. She ran a drinks store in the nearby market and it was very interesting to listen to all her stories which are not just about her pictures, but also about her life experiences in general. I was glad that she was willing to take the time to share all her stories. ”

Volunteers Joshua (right standing) and Cassia (left standing) sharing stories with Mdm Lim (seated right) and family. Photo: SG Snaps

“These experiences from the Singapore Snaps photo-collection drive have really enriched my life and piqued my interest in learning more about Singapore’s heritage. I hope that I would be able to participate in similar activities in the future.”

Ong Zhi Hong

Zhi Hong with Mdm Lim Mui Tiang talking about the stories behind her photographs. Photo: SG Snaps

“While volunteering at Singapore Snaps, there was one memorable contributor that I had encountered. She was an old lady who has a brother involved in politics during the 60s-70s. She mentioned how her brother in the 1960s was from the same school I am in, Hwa Chong Institution. Her brother’s life story was really intriguing. It allowed me to view Singapore’s history from a different point of view, from outside of the textbook to understand and learn a more complete version of Singapore’s history.

Often I get rejected by residents who do not wish to share. Whenever I receive a contribution, there is a sense of accomplishment and it keeps me going on and stay hopeful to find more willing contributors. The interaction with people of different backgrounds have also enabled me to step out of my comfort zone.

No hard feelings – volunteers (from front), Hairul, Sean & Zhi Hong turn around after being rejected by a resident. Photo: SG Snaps

“I have learnt that memories may remain with us forever and photographs are important ways to keep those memories. Most of the times contributors would show us photographs of themselves when they were young. Photographs of outings with their family at places like Haw Par Villa are very common in the past. They get really happy talking about their childhood and it really made me realise how different their lives are then from ours now.”

A photograph together for keepsake! Commemorating our first day of collection with the volunteers. From right – Wei Keong, Alfred, Zhi Hong, Choon Pin, Samantha & Gracie. Photo: SG Snaps

“Today digital photographs are abundant unlike the analog ones in the past. It was just two decades ago that photographs are so precious and rare, that they are taken only on special occasions unlike now when people will take photos all the time. This fact serves as a reminder for me to constantly use the camera’s function to document my own life. I learnt that back in the old days, the less fortunate did not have the chance at photography. Now that I am given the chance to take photos so freely, I should not miss this opportunity and regret it later when looking back!”

Compiled by Samantha Tio

Mdm Sisilia Tan and company posing for a picture by the sculpture found in Toa Payoh Town Park with the estate in the backdrop. Photo: Sisilia Tan

Also located here is the headquarters of our nation’s Housing Development Board (HDB).  Situating the headquarters here is extremely apt for being the first town to be built ground-up by the board in 1968. With a neighbourhood population of close to 116,000 people, it is not a surprise that the town centre will always be crowded with people, especially during the evenings and weekends.

Through chatting with the local residents, we discovered the urban legends and quaint histories of this neighbourhood.

1. Urban legend goes that there was an immutable “Tree God” which fell in a storm in September last year.

Every morning, the SG Snaps team strolled past the site where the “Tree God” used to be – on the way from the train station to the community library. We were told about the lightning strike that brought down the tree said to be over 100 years old. It is with this curiosity that we searched for the site to pay tributes.

Upon quizzing a few of the shop owners in the vicinity, we were directed to a tightly barricaded site that seemed dilapidated and uncared for. The emptiness of the space was a huge departure from our imagination of the tree with majestic bark and extensive branches that shaded the temple that was beneath it.

A photo from the 1970s of the sacred tree and its temple at Toa Payoh Central. Photo: National Archives of Singapore, Source: Singapore Press Holdings

The site did exude a mystical charm which was even more resonant when we learned of the strange occurrences when the new town was constructed in 1965: The bulldozers that were tasked to flatten the area malfunctioned when they approached the tree. Workers who tried to fell the tree had also died mysteriously. The town planners then had to alter the layout of the shop houses to accommodate the tree in the centre. Isn’t it interesting how our urban development can be shaped by mysticism and superstition?

2. Toa Payoh Public Library was one of the earliest full-time library to open after Queenstown.

The location, prior to the opening of the library, was the Games Village which housed athletes for the 7^th South East Asian Peninsula Games. It was the first regional sporting event ever held in the country in 1973.

A portrait at the fountain in front of Toa Payoh Community Library. Photo: Chan Lee Shan

Before the amphitheatre in the front of the library was built, there was a huge water fountain where many of the residents gathered for photographs.

The SG Snaps team (from left) Gracie, Stacy and Wei Keong at the cozy booth on the second floor of Toa Payoh Community Library. Photo: SG Snaps

Toa Payoh Community Library has got to be one of our favourite libraries visited. The library was streaming continuously with visitors over the weekend. Besides being a conducive air-conditioned haven for our tired volunteers to catch their breaths, the library staff there were simply endearing. Uncle Sunny is one of them, along with the counter staff who would climb up and down the stairs assisting our requests. Huiyi and Shao, from the Arts and Culture team of the National Library Board, were the ones who made our 3-weeks residence at the library possible. We missed the friendly cleaning aunties whom we grew close to and felt so sorry when we had to leave for another library.

3. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II visited the flats in Toa Payoh twice in 1972 & 2006.

Ask any long-staying resident for a historical anecdote of Toa Payoh and they will definitely mention the visit of Queen Elizabeth II. The lucky then-boy-now-man visited by the Queen in 1972 is Mr Jerome Lim, writer of the blog ‘The Long Winding Road’ which reminiscent intimately the personal histories of growing-up in Singapore.

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on the rooftop of Toa Payoh’s VIP Flat at Blk 53 Lorong 5, during her visit in 1972. Photo: www.toapayoh.com

The Queen had visited Mr Lim’s 3-room flat – a VIP Flat with a rooftop viewing gallery, which sounds like the Pinnacle@Duxton of the 1970s. She returned to the estate 34 years later in 2006 during her Diamond Jubilee tour of the world. There must be a certain nostalgia and pride that our country holds for our history of being colonised.

 4. How can we not possibly mention? The Dragon Playground, of course.

Walking along the long ‘body’ of the Dragon. Photo: Seow Shin Horng

I suppose, most heritage buffs in Singapore would know of the Dragon Playground along Lorong 6. The playground has become so iconic that it has inspired more replicas and reflections than the Merlion in the last 2 years.

Digging sand with daddy at the Pelican Playground. Photo: Seow Shin Horng

The Dove Playground. Photo: Seow Shin Horng

The Dragon Playground was part of a series of animal-inspired playground designed by the HDB in the 1970s. Other motifs include the Pelican, Dove and Elephant etc. In the collection of photographs received from the public, there were many cute kids portraits taken at these playgrounds. It is no doubt that these playgrounds have a prominent place in the childhood memories of Singaporeans who grew up during that era. Though there is another dragon playground in Ang Mo Kio, it is the one in Toa Payoh that retains the sand pit. A sand-filled playground was a common structure in most neighbourhoods, before boring rubber matting replaced the sand. What’s the fun if you can’t throw sand into the eyes of your enemy/crush ?

5. Toa Payoh used to be a farmland.

Part of the old Toa Payoh came alive when we spent an afternoon with Mdm Lim Mui Tiang, a resident of Toa Payoh. Mdm Lim recounted where the farms were, and how the HDB flat she’s living in was previously a hill flattened for the construction of the town. At the age of six, she helped at her family farm with the harvesting of vegetables and feeding of the poultry. By seven, she was bringing water from the well. Though we probably have heard similar stories from the earlier generations many times, it is hard to imagine the same kind of hardship for any children growing up in modern Singapore.

Aerial view of Toa Payoh taken in 1967. Photo: www.toapayoh.com

Toa Payoh has come a long way from its earliest histories of being made up of marshland and plantations. The name “Toa Payoh” means “big swamp”  in the Hokkien dialect. Walking down the concrete paths, watching people sip coffee from Starbucks, families pushing their children around in strollers and pedestrians burying their heads in their devices, it must be really astounding to witness such tremendous change within a single lifetime.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong

Top photo: Volunteers Quince (left) & Xuan Jin (right) visiting the residents at Redhill. Photo: SG Snaps

Before our team decided on the idea of knocking on the doors of residents from three neighbourhoods for three months, we had  considered the many ways which can make our collection a lot simpler. The first instinctual idea was to start an open call on social media, and then to receive photo-contributions from our direct networks of friends. If any contributor brought 1,000 photographs, which would be the average quantity taken by a snappy-happy household, all we needed were 15 contributors to be able to hit our target of 15,000. But what would that all mean – featuring those photographs from such a tight demographic and treating it as a survey of the family photographs taken in Singapore? Nothing much, we thought. What is, after all, a social art project without being “out there”, meeting new people and to be headed on by chance, discovery and adventure? Though passé enough, going door-to-door would be the best approach which we could pay tribute to the spirit of civic participation.

Students volunteers from the Photography Club of Fairfield Methodist School going door-to-door at Geylang East. Photo: Larry Loh of FMS(S) Photography Club

After gathering all of that rationalisation and plucking up the barest bit of courage, my volunteer partner, Stacy and I pressed on our first doorbell. Nobody responded. I went on to the next apartment, and then to the next, until somebody opened the door. There were a lot of nervous stutters and eyeballing each other at first when we tried to introduce and explain the project. Putting aside our rough take-off, it was what seemed like a snowball of adrenaline that had shuttled us from one door to the other. Until the final day of our collection drive, we  achieved and reached way beyond our target of receiving, scanning and returning over 15,000 old photographs.

It would be very tempting to celebrate the numbers but it is the journey that mattered. Looking at the collection process on hindsight,  we realise how humbling it has been for our team. We really have to salute the team of young volunteers from the secondary schools who had accompanied us on this expedition. The sweltering heat, along with our aching heels in our vertical marathons through the HDB flats were enough to slow us down. Yet, truth be told, it was the feeling of rejection that made each step heavy; the countless times when residents ignored our presence and pretended not to be at home, or when we were met with hostile “No’s” before we could even speak a word. Curious residents opened their doors, but only to a gap small enough for their eyes to peek through, and for them to quickly shut it as soon as they find out that what we had to offer was not up their alley.

It is simply uncommon for local residents to be greeted by a group of individuals doing an art project in the heartlands. So, naturally, this caused a handful of wary and skeptical residents with whom we spent more effort in sharing the value of preserving old printed photographs, and recognising the intangible values of art in a modern society like Singapore. By having a digital duplicate of a physical print, we can ensure that personal memories are not subjected to physical conditions of the print, like discolouration and paper disintegration. By connecting common themes through different contributors, we seek unity and hopefully see the ‘spirit of the times’ through strings of photographs in the animations.

Interestingly, a small group of residents expressed an aversion towards programs associated with the government. Even after we had explained that our project was initiated by independent artists and supported by the National Library Board, there was a sense of disassociation by some people who felt it was too good to be true. On polarised ends to members of the public who were excited and supportive of the project, there were also people who expressed disgruntled feelings to a project that conveyed the impression of nationalism. “I am a Singaporean but I do not want to have anything to do with Singapore” was a retort from one resident that left us bewildered.

Our volunteers (from the right) Alfred, Zhi Hong & Choon Pin visited the home of Mr Fu Ya Bo (left) were treated not only to photographs and packet drinks but also a rare glimpse of a his wedding certificate from 1938. Photo: SG Snaps

All these experiences had taught us to be grateful every time someone supported the project. Their mutual respect and encouragements are immediate oasis to our parched motivation. When residents opened their doors to invite us into their homes, never did the granite floors of the HDB apartments felt so cooling, and the chilled packet drinks that they had offered tasted so sweet. The moments that rejuvenated us the most was when we experienced the warmth and openness in the contributors in sharing with us their photographs and the personal stories that they narrated so fondly alongside them. It is those stories which had made this journey through the corridors of our heartlands and the private-historical passageways of our country’s psyche, entirely worthwhile.

Written by Samantha Tio
Edited by Tan Wei Keong