Sec 5NA2 clinched second prize in the interclass CNY deco competition
The backdrop behind the class done up by my class students
Red colour dominates the classroom
 Streamers hung from the ceiling
Colourful and attractive decorated board
Have a Rabbitlicious New Year!
Lion Dance and fire crackers are integral part of the CNY celebration
TAB YOUR TABOOS
Do you know some superstitions and taboos of Chinese New Year customs? I proudly can say I do! I used to be surrounded by Chinese neighbours and friends when I was growing up. The fact that I had a lot of Chinese and Indian friends when I was schooling also had helped me to understand the Chinese and Indian culture more.
I know for sure that my Chinese friends can't sweep their house clean on the eve of CNY. It's like sweeping all your luck away for the new year. After New Year's Day, the floors may be swept. Dust and rubbish are swept to the middle of the hall. Caution is taken not to step on the rubbish. My neighbours would never sweep the dust out of their front entrance. You would be cursed by the elders and probably hit by the broom on your head if you are caught doing so for it meant you have just swept away all the good fortune of the family. Your sweeping strokes must be inward for harm not to stay with you. One final step to be observed is that all dirt and rubbbish must be taken out from the back door.
You can't give knives away or use knives to cut food or fruits on the first day. You are being anti-social if you do so because it means you want to severe blood ties or friendship. The use of scissors is also avoided for the same reason. Care must also be taken not to break things on the first day. So that explained why when my gang visited my neighbours on CNY, we clumsy kids, were always served with plastic cups and plates while all the fine bone china crockery was hidden from sight.
I stopped short of giving my Chinese neighbour white flowers for a floral arrangement gift on one new year day. White means death and you do not definitely want to wish your good neighbours with immediate death on a very auspicious day like Chinese New Year unless you want to be clobbered to death by him! During my kampung days at Jalan Kasturi, my Chinese neighbours would fire crackers at the stroke of twelve on New Year Eve to send out the old year and ring the new year with a loud sound. They said it's a way of welcoming the gods from heaven too. All their windows and doors were flung open to allow all the bad luck of old year to flow away on the eve. I shut mine closed incase the bad luck flow through my windows.
The explosive sound of the crackers would last continuously long for almost half and hour. Everyone would fire their crackers at the same time. The kampung became a war zone every midnight of new year eve. We would wait for that moment to see the sparks and smoke of the crackers filling the air. If my neighbours were from a higher income strata, then they would hang their crackers on bamboo poles to lit up. The richer you are, the longer your string of crackers should be. In the morning, we kids would rummage through the red strewn burnt paper and sieve for any unexploded crackers for our turn to make the pop sound. You should see the joy on our faces when we managed to salvage a few pieces of that cylindrical-shaped fire cracker. Simple joy but enormous fun for tight-budget children like me!
I also learnt that my Chinese neighbours must cook their rice and leave it overnight till the first day of new year. This means that they would have enough food to last them for the whole year. And to ensure that the young have sufficient money for the year, the adults practice giving hongbao to them. There must be a certain amount shoved into the angpow, like $1.00. I am talking about the amount given in the 1960's where $1.00 was preciously treasured.
Anything to do with number '4' pronounced as 'Si' or 'Death' is strictly avoided. You also need to clear your debt before the new year comes knocking at your door. Ill luck would befall on you and the family if you do not settle the I.O.U payment. It is a no-no to borrow money on that day too.
To get a headstart for the new year, my Chinese neighbour would only move house before the new year and never during the festive season. Renovation work should also end before the festivity starts. This is to give the family a brand new lease of luck for the coming year in a new environment.
My kampung friend Wan Ching was once chided by her mum for washing her hair on New Year day. The reason - she was actually washing away all her good fortune for the new year. Nor was she allowed to wear black on the first day of new year. Wearing anything black is frowned upon unless you want a gloomy and doomed year ahead. Wan Ching's family would go visiting in bright colours. Red is the top choice. Wan Ching would be dressed in a red dress, carry a red bag and walk with a pair of red shoes. Her pony-tailed hair would be tied with a piece of red ribbon. Try asking any youngsters nowadays to wear all red from head to toe 'You xiao or what?'. They will snort and snarl at you with dagger-sharp eyes! Red is the favourite colour for one to be dressed in if you go visiting. Red is a happy, bright and vibrant colour. It is supposed to bring luck and many happy moments to the wearer. The right tone would set the right luck for the wearer all year round.
My kampung neighbours would also hang a new piece of red cloth at their doorway to signify good wealth for the new year. They would set a table of food in front of their doorway. Chicken, duck, pork, fruits and sweet meat would be offered to the gods. It was a must for all of my neighbours to do so for they believe that before they eat the food, it had to be blessed by the gods.
Understanding the culture, traditions and festivals of others was a rich learning for me during my kampung days. I didn't have to surf the net back then to find out about these traditions. Which kampung lad would have ever heard of a computer in the 60's? No textbook could also have transfered the learning and the experience I went through effectively. It was only through living, playing, eating, celebrating festivals together and immersing your heart and soul with the other races that had enriched me in understanding and accepting how others lead their lives. I believe no culture can live, if it attempts to be exclusive.
Jawaharlal Nehru was totally right when he said, “Culture is the widening of the mind and of the spirit." 
With Minah, the ever-friendly host
Sister Power with Killer Powered Lungs
 Mum with Maz's mum-in-law. Both are tough cookies to crack!
Maz with Zac who only drinks Seasons Ice Lemon Tea
Before the make-over of Yek
The reigning Ms Boon Lay 2011. The after make-over look!
The Goddess of Love worshipped by man from all walks of life
 A lucky prize winner - Hajjah Sabiah Bte Sheikh Madar
Maz and I beat the youngest contestants with our pregnated-sized balloon A rock queen was born on the 13th floor penthouse
Smoke on the water and fire on the penthouse.....
I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd. You're gonna hear Ida's voice 
Don't be a Cassanova ok, Zac?
Maz and her outlaws.....oopsss... her sis-in-laws I mean! LAY BOON LAY FOR ME
We received an invitation for a new-year gathering and visited Minah's and Ebby's Summerdale penthouse at Boon Lay Drive. My husband was engaged in his work while my two sons had their own plans. When you have two grown-up boys, it's almost impossible to get everyone at the same time for a night out. Thus, together with my mum, Maz, Zac and Tini we hopped into our Terios and ventured to one of my least visited places on Singapore's geographical map - Boon Lay at West Coast Town.
Summerdale is a 99-year leasehold development. We were welcomed warmly by our host. The unit was tastefully decorated with knick-knacks and decorative items from all over the world. Minah and Ebby have obviously been globe-trotting from Asia to Europe and from America to Ocenia. The view from the 13th floor spacious penthouse was fantastic, offering almost the whole town of Boon Lay. The MRT track was ahead of us while Boon Lay Shopping Centre and The Bluez were just within a walking distance. A private institution was just a stone's throw away. The flickering lights from the nearby residential blocks and commercial retail buildings blanketed the area pleasingly, especially on that cool breezy night. I could just pull out a rocking chair and whilst my time away in eternity anytime.
With a commanding view and a space to entertain, you won't actually need to dine at swanky and fancy restaurants. Ebby had made a good decision when he took up the penthouse unit. He must have had his Math right. The family's needs are self-sufficiently catered by the facilities abounding the area. Entertainment can just be at one's dwelling place, offering privacy and the warmth of a home with throw-ins like hospitality and graciousness. Not only do you save on tons of money, but offering an alternative way of entertaining your guests from one's penthouse is a novelty and refreshing idea.
I used to imagine Boon Lay as one of the a far-flung places in the western part of Singapore where you hardly can find life and entertainment but only old unwelcomed dull grey blocks of flats of yesteryear's. With no relatives staying around the vicinity, my GPS has never been programmed to direct me there. Was I being biased and prejudiced of the western parts of Singapore? Having been raised and lived my entire life at the eastern and southern parts of Singapore, I have to admit shamelessly that I was. I know little of Boon Lay, Jurong West or Jurong Extension for that matter
All this while, Yishun has been my guiding compass for everything that I need. I work in Yishun, stay in Yishun and shop in Yishun. There is no reason for me to crawl out from my Yishun shell. I think I have just been like a suaku, leading a comfortable life in a familiar surrounding and not been brave enough to catapult myself to places I have no bearing and connection of. A night in Boon Lay had forced me to reexamine how I should try to accept new places; with a more open mindset and see things from a wide-angled lens.
My perception of Boon Lay totally took a different view when my son Thaqif drove us there that night. Boon Lay lay in front of me as a bustling satellite town which had been given a new lease of life. Boon Lay's landscape is kicking, alive and shouting of its existence to its first-time visitors like me. We past Boon Lay Place. It had been closed and the entire road was lit up and drowned with music as the folks got ready to usher in the new year. The entire road was jam-packed with our foreign workers and local revelers. That was one way to integrate our hard-working foreign source of labour to the local community.
We ushered in the new year with games, Botak Jones steak and loads of fun and laughter. Most of Maz's in-laws were there to welcome 2011 and say goodbye to 2010. The penthouse was turned upside down as we neared midnight. Earlier on we had rocked the 13th floor with our ala-Bon Jovi, ala-Deep Purple performances and port-belly earth-shaking dancing. Shakira would love to learn some of the gyrating hip moves from our port-belly dancers.
There was almost an earthquake when my team members dolled up Yek with glossy lipstick and splashed his rosy cheeks with red fire cracker rouge. There were the 'oohhsss' and 'ahhhsss' from the men when they stealthily eyed his Marilyn Monroe's upturned dewylicious lips and alluring kohl-lined doe-eyes. With his infectious dimpled smile and a body to die for, Yek was unanimoulsy voted as our reigning Ms Boon Lay 2011 at the strike of twelve.
I didn't wait long enough to find out if Yek received any indecent proposals from the men around. The heat of the night seemed to blaze the penthouse when I left.
Roll in the slides.
Tea Tarik to end the night
It had been an enjoyable night for all  Syukur, Nani and Cuai waiting for their prata
Yati with her son Yusuf. He can draw planes well.
Two brothers - Ridzwan and Yusuf 
Prata had brought a Johorian to Jalan Kayu 
Thanks for the prata Yati and the fish head curry. Burp...
The fish head curry we had 
Ariff- our newly-wed cousin The empty plates polished clean by the men Ratna, Razif and Arif Can I insert a $1.00 coin in you, mum? I want a piggy ride.
These fellows can also take your prata order! 
Relaxing after some fish-head curry 
The fluffy prata with curry FRET OVER PRATA
Cousin Nani and Hubby Syukur had driven across the causeway from Kuala Lumpur for the new year. It's time for another meet-up and more food to spoil my diet plans and pile the extra kilos all at the wrong places. We opted for Jalan Kayu for some prata, mutton and fish head curry and easy parking that week-day night.
During the prata hey days of Jalan Kayu, this wheat flour pancake look-alike was sold at many stalls lining the road, shaded by mighty Angsana trees. Weary SAF soldiers in dusty boots (from the nearby Seletar Camp) and those salivating for some good prata from all over Singapore would throng this area day and night for a visit to their favourite stall. There was never a time the stalls, though many of them would vie for hungry 'Prataners' had any empty seats. In fact it was mandatory for you to queue for a vacant seat and like any true blood 'Prataners', actually would not mind waiting though the stomach could be rumbling with hunger and head fuming like Mount Bromo for an eruption any moment just drooling over the prata.
You had to try out the many pratas available before you could proclaim your top fave stall. Everyone had their favourite prata stall and would head for it automatically with tongue wagging for the mutton or fish curry. The Jalan Kayu prata was the epitome of all pratas sold in Singapore and everyone wanted to claim a stake at having eaten the one and only Jalan Kayu prata. I had been disappointed several times because the pratas or the mutton curry were sold out when I reached there around 7pm.
The prata sold at that time was never bigger than my palm, yet it was crispy, fluffy and would shred easily with a light tug on the cooked dough. It cost forty cents for a plain piece and was considered expensive back then. I preferred eating the prata with my hands than using the metal spoon and fork. Letting the curry soak, sponge and slosh the prata before putting the soggy piece into my cavernous mouth was simply heaven. It's what Colonel Sanders would say 'finger-licking good' or may be "palm-licking syiok" if he had had tasted the elliptical-shaped prata dipped in the mutton gravy or fish curry.
Your hands would smell of the strong curry gravy even after a good wash. Just avoid burping in front of your boss or go for a date after your prata rendezvous, especially when you had reported late for duty or did not exercise punctuality for your appointment. People would have known you have tucked in a few pieces of the pratas even a kilometre away when you let out the wind.
The mutton curry was another legend to write about. It was aromatic, spicy and thick. The cube mutton pieces was tender and moist. It had been cooked to absorb the combination of the myriad of grounded spices used to produce a flavourful rich taste of the best curry gravy around this part of Singapore. Your nostrils could flare and fan out like the tail on an excited male Thai fighting fish when the stall owner slid open his pot cover to scoop the dish. This high-blood pressure causing mutton meat cost $4.00 a plate. High-blood pressure causing or not, snakes of queue reminding you of a dragon dance performance on Chinese New Year would form along the road every evening. This was a common scene along Jalan Kayu daily before the introduction of the present million dollar Toto winning queues at 7-11 outlets.
Nowadays, you can find two to three shops selling prata as opposed to about a dozen during the 80's. The old prata kings of Jalan Kayu had long hung their pots and aprons due to the development of the surrounding area. You have newer owners now and more varieties of prata to spoil your palate. The relaxing no-stress environment has been given a make-over. No longer are there road side stalls where you just grab a stool to enjoy your prata with a glass of sarabat tea mixed with a falling Angsana tree leaf and shout your order at the top of your voice to the dhoti-clad mama prata. Your prata now is served in air-conditioned room with order taken by waiters who scribble your list in writing which they alone could understand.
Give me back the good old Jalan Kayu road-side days of prata stalls any time, my friend.
Bai, teh halia satu, prata kosong dua. Kuah kasi lebih. Masuk buku
(Uncle, give me one glass of ginger tea and two plain prata. Extra gravy. Add into my account book)
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