I have faint memories of my first home, a one-room HDB flat in Toa Payoh more than 45 years ago. As a child, I rarely ventured beyond our block and spent most of my time in the long, dark common corridor that was flanked by units on both sides. The building itself was a long block with a central area connecting two blocks. In those days, chewing gum was abundant and unsightly patches of gum stuck to the cement floors.
Our entire floor, which had more than 20 units, had no lift. It only stopped on specific floors, so we had to climb the stairs for the rest. Once or twice, someone urinated in the lift, and the smell was unbearable. Often, one of the corridor or stairway lights would be spoiled, and if we were lucky, it would be dark for that segment of the corridor, otherwise, the flickering lights would blur my vision. Thin railings fenced off both ends of the corridor, and from our end, we could see the open space carpark below. Owning a car was a luxury in those days.
One interesting social behavior was that neighbors would leave their doors open, and there were no gates then. A small hump on the entrance prevented water from flowing in or out of the unit when the cleaner washed the corridor. I would often visit my Malay neighbors across the walkway just to explore, and they were always welcoming to a three-year-old Chinese boy's "intrusion" visits.
It was also the first and last place where I witnessed my father and his friends praying in the direction of Mecca. I loved the carpeted area where my elder sister and I would lie down and watch TV. Our black-and-white TV was large, almost like a table, and watching it too much probably resulted in my having to wear glasses at an early age. I still remember the cartoon with the song "Gu Gua Gu Gua Xiao Qin Wa...", about the story of a frog. The entire unit size was probably the size of a living room space of a 4-room flat, so there was no separation between the bed and the living room.
There was a narrow pathway connecting the kitchen to the backyard, and the narrow side was fenced with a railing at the bottom, so I could see what was happening on the ground floor. Once, I was naughty and dropped an eaten apple stem a few floors above, hitting a young girl's arm on the ground floor. She shrugged it off and walked away.
Right at the back of the backyard, we needed to make a U-turn to get into the toilet. The door was made of flimsy metal sheet, and it made a cranking sound every time we used it. We had to squat to get our business done, and I never really understood which direction I should face, but squatting was easy then. It would be a feat for me to try today. Back then, you could slip and have your feet stuck inside the shit hole if you were not careful. There was also a rubbish chute in our backyard, but it smelled.
Doing laundry used to be a strenuous task for housewives, involving rubbing clothes on a washboard in the toilet. It seemed like my mother did this all day. However, I found the process interesting. The long bamboo pole used to hang the clothes was heavy and angled, making it a challenge to handle when it was loaded with wet clothing. It required a certain level of skill to hang them out to dry under the hot sun. I still recall the practice of our neighbor, who lived one floor above us, slamming the bamboo pole against the outside wall to notify us that she planned to hang wet clothes. My mother would then quickly collect the dried clothes.
Our home was simple, lacking a table, with only a master bed neatly tucked against the inner wall. The floor was polished cement. Across from the bed was a window where my mother placed her vintage sewing machine.
Surprisingly, our home did not have a fan or air conditioner, but I hardly ever felt hot. Perhaps we were conditioned to the climate in those days, or the room temperature was much lower. Life was simple back then because we did not have mobile phones, computers, or washing machines. However, we did have a charcoal oven in the backyard for cooking Chinese medicine for hours. It was also the place where my mother would slaughter chickens, which was quite gross, with blood dripping down.
I just remembered that we did not have a water heater, but I never felt very cold while taking a shower. In the kitchen, we had a medium-sized fridge, which was already common and invented by the 1970s. Other than that, I can only recall the washing basin next to it. We hardly ever ate outside, as my mother would cook all our meals, visiting the wet market, which was within walking distance. Supermarkets and coffee shops were unheard of, and our expenses were very low.
Living like we did back then would make it much easier to raise a family with less money, even after adjusting for inflation. However, I could never live like that today unless I had no other choice.
