I was born in 1935, which made me 7 years old when World War II unfolded. When the Japanese came, you had to keep quiet when the sirens rang.  My father would often take me along as he went to collect rationed rice at Mangis Road.

Sample of a census-taking list issued during the Japanese Occupation. The details on this list include the age and occupation of every member in a household. Every household had to be registered in order to qualify for rations.

Credit: Roots.gov.sg (link)

​In our family, there were six of us: my sister, me, two brothers, our father, and our mother. My family would cook the rice and then we would each take turns to take a spoonful until everything was gone. Everyone got about three spoons of rice. The rice wasn’t good, but it was edible. 

​To make ends meet, my father sold plates and utensils along the roadside at Joo Chiat. It was a way to earn a living during those challenging times.

We also had to be resourceful with our food. We would cut the skin of tapioca thinly to make mee. (This most likely refers to finely slicing or shaving the inner layers of tapioca, and then boiling or pan-cooking the shavings).

​We didn’t dare go out to catch fish. There was a place near a canal at Kallang, called “Five Stones”. They would display the decapitated heads of those they had executed. You had to bow to the decapitated heads displayed on the bridge as you walked past, or the soldiers would shout at you and call you “bakerui” (stupid).

​Everyone was very poor during that time, so even if you left the door to your house open all day, nobody would steal anything. The reason was simple - there was nothing worth stealing. If you were caught attempting to steal, the Japanese would execute you. It was a time of immense hardship and fear, and survival meant learning to adapt to these grim circumstances.