Selling Fried Noodles & Rations
Lim Heng Lee talks about helping out in the family business selling fried noodles and distributing rations, where a single mistake could be fatal.
I was seven years old when WWII started. We lived in a house with our family coffeeshop in front of it at Alexandra Kampung along Alexandra Road. To the left of our house were Anchorage and ABC Beer Factory, and there was a Japanese army camp beside the factory. The camp was a dangerous place. To the right was the British Military Hospital (BMH).

Postcard of the British Military Hospital.
1940s
Courtesy of Roots.gov.sg (link)
The Japanese arrived in my area on the second day of the invasion by following the railway tracks along Bukit Timah. They fired cannons at the BMH to prevent the doctors from treating the British. (Editor's note: During the attack, more than 250 staff members and patients were killed by the Japanese soldiers, including those who surrendered. This incident is now known as the Alexandra Hospital Massacre.)
When the Japanese reached our place, they threatened to stab my father's worker with their bayonets, and he was scared stiff. In a quick attempt to appease them, we fetched a big pot of tea and offered it to them. A Japanese officer then ordered my father to pour a large cup of tea and finish it. Once he was done drinking, they filled their empty bottles with the tea and left.
At that time, my father was in charge of financial matters for the Alexandra branch of the China Relief Fund Association. The donation boxes for the fund were stored upstairs. These funds were raised in Singapore to aid the people of China who were fighting against the Japanese. If the Japanese had discovered the boxes, I might not be here today.
The next day was the first day of the Chinese New Year, so we cooked Teochew braised duck and braised eggs for breakfast. After lunch, the Japanese came in and noticed we had a lot of chickens, which they promptly took. My father and his worker had no choice but to gather and cook the chickens for the Japanese.
We were evacuated, but we returned when the Japanese granted us permission. By then, both our shop and our home had been emptied out. All our money and food were gone. We opened the door to our shop and just sat inside, not doing anything.
Later, we were allowed to resume business, and many Japanese stationed by the hospital came over to eat our fried noodles. Business improved when the Japanese asked my father to set up a shop at the hospital itself, selling coffee and fried noodles.

Japanese Occupation ration card which allowed the holder to purchase rice from licensed shops.
5 catties amounted to 3kg of rice. As the war wore on, the ration amount were significantly reduced.
Courtesy of Roots.gov.sg (link)
During that time, there was food rationing. To receive rations, you needed a ration card issued by the Japanese. Because we served the Japanese, we received extra rations like sugar and rice. My father also sold some of his rationed cigarettes on the black market, which helped us make some money.
We also sold oil to the general public, a heavily controlled commodity. We would buy and fill large barrels of oil, including red palm oil used to cook red tapioca noodles. Every oil sale required careful examination of ration cards, and all transactions had to be meticulously recorded by the clerk. Even among the Japanese officers, the amount of oil you received depended on your rank.
At that time, people buying oil had to exchange firewood ash for it. They would give us 1 or 2 catties (1 catty = 0.6 kg, so roughly 0.6 kg to 1.2 kg) of ash in return for oil. The ash was then used to make soap, which was also given out as rations. My father personally managed the oil business while his workers handled the food business because any mistake could be costly, and the Japanese were very strict. The Japanese would beat us to death if there were any errors.

Ash was used to make soap. Cinnamon, lime and flowers were often added for scent.
Illustrated by Julia Tay
We also grew some vegetables and tapioca in a plot of land beside our house. My mother and sisters lived separately from us to avoid the Japanese, so my father and us children did most of the cooking. We fried vegetables from our own garden or made soup with them. We also grew sweet potatoes, and there was an abundance of sweet potato leaves which we stir-fried. Occasionally, we would give away vegetables to people who asked for them. Sometimes we bought meat from the market in Chinatown. We also had leftover canned beef and luncheon meat from before the war, which we ate with rice and vegetables. We were better off in general because we were doing business with the Japanese.
Occasionally, when we were hungry, we ate Japanese 'roti' (bread) made from tapioca flour. It was hard and chewy, but we children could still eat it. We also ate tapioca noodles.

Curry puffs with tapioca filling
Illustrated by Julia Tay
I remember eating curry puffs every day. I would buy them from a Baba (Peranakan) kid who sold them. The curry puffs contained only tapioca. They were cooked with curry powder and had some syrup in them, making them both sweet and spicy - they were very nice. The pastry skin was made of cornflour, and it looked just like the curry puffs we have today.