He remembers when $350 a month was a good wage, when 50-cent chicken rice made it stretch, and when queuing an hour just to ride a train felt like the most exciting thing in the world. Sixty-three years old this year, he’s watched Singapore transform from kampong zinc roofs to underground trains — and NS, factory shifts, and roadside supper sessions along the way. His son finally asked him to tell the whole story.
Dusty roads, sugarcane shadows, and hearts pounding with mischief. Aunt Carol and her friends crouched low, waiting for the exact moment a worker’s back was turned or a stray stalk tumbled from an overfilled cart. Then came the dash, the grab, and the scramble back into hiding. Under the shade of a banana tree, one bite of raw, syrupy sweetness made every risk worth it.