RGS girls pai kiah meh?

“When Straits Times columnist Chua Mui Hoong wrote that she would not send her (hypothetical) daughter to her alma mater, Raffles Girls' School (RGS), furious old girls wrote in to rebut what she said. Schools play a big role in shaping you, she wrote, and while RGS turns out confident, competent and competitive women, it does not encourage femininity and probably marriageability”

As I read this, I thought about all my married RGS friends, now with anak keliling pinggang and I had to burst out laughing. Is it true? Are RGS girls not feminine, stroppy, scary to men ergo not marriagable?

Apparently, many ex-RGS girls were baying for her blood and the article spawned discussions on blogs galore about school stereotypes. I managed to find the old article, read a couple of the discussions on the internet and my first reaction was disbelief that such stereotypes still exist. My second reaction was “Silly girl! You don’t have to take Technical what! They have Domestic Science then too, bodoh!” Personally, I would rather schlepp all the way to Swiss Cottage and make a wonky toothbrush holder rather than sit in absolute silence trying to sew a skirt or make rock buns.

I do have to say that I was not ultra feminine in school. It was rough and tumble all the way – my posse climbed rambutan trees, climbed gates after school hours, had short hair and dressed up as male characters in Taridra. In an all-girls school, it is inevitable that some of us would have to wear trousers and smudged our jawline with eyeliner to act out the male roles. And the short hair is practical – especially if you have to rush out of the door at 6.30 am in the morning to catch the bus or as in the case of the NPCC and NCC girls, had to march for hours under the sweltering sun.

I can’t speak for the rest but I don’t like acting the damsel in distress. One thing I learnt from being in RGS is that you can be as good as you want to be. I love the fact that in RGS, no one drilled into you that there are certain things that you cannot do because you are a girl.

Although now our tomboy ways are long gone, I would like to think that we came away with the strength of spirit and self belief that were instilled in those days. Yes, of course RGS girls valued achievement. We are competitive (just see my posting about Dikir Barat) and we are independent. And what is wrong with that? Personally I will absolutely burst with pride if Alia, one day, were to wear that blue pinafore.

Happy days!

There was a wonderful surprise in my inbox today. IU, sweet sweet IU, had pulled all the stops, dug out all her old photo albums and sent me not one, not two but twenty-one photos from our RGS dikir barat days in 1987. I was speechless and more than a little touched.
The above is one of my favourites. It was taken at Botanical Gardens and the photographer managed to catch us at the most spontaneous moment. Don’t ask me what IU and Nani were doing – I haven’t a clue!

Practice, Practice, Practice

Here we are, practicing hard, just below the stairs leading up to Anderson Hall. I don’t know why we liked to practice here – maybe because it was so close to the Malay Society Room where we kept our kit. The girls with their backs to the photos were either seniors (the one with the specs is Halmahera!) or juniors who would watch us with eagle eyes and spot our mistakes.

In the audience, waiting our turn

Waiting for our turn on stage and thoroughly enjoying the show. The group in red behind us was from Cedar Girls. I cannot remember who were the ones in white - VS maybe?

These are my Girls!

The calm before the storm –Stage Left, moments before we huddled round to say the Al-Fatihah and minutes before we went to stage. The senior who did my make-up used the ultra-bright red lipstick on me. Why, I tell you, why?! Do we look garang in our $10 costume? Note the rolled up sleeves which according to Wikipedia RG girls like to do, following a time honoured tradition.

Sri Perwira at RJC

Flushed from our victory at Gema Dikir Barat ’87, we were invited to perform at RJC’s annual Malay Debate. It was memorable for the fact that the mic went dead on Suzana on the opening lines, as we were doing the opening moves. She made one gesture and we actually reversed to starting point in synchrony.

Hidop Sri Perwira!!

Ni semua M Nasir punya pasal

Sejenak aku dikejutkan
Bersama ombak cinta luka
Perpisahan melanda kita
Hanya kerna peristiwa itu

It has been years since I heard this song by Gersang. Imagine my surprise when I came across the lyrics (courtesy of IU) in one of my emails at Christie’s. At that point, I left London and its cold streets behind and was transported to sweltering hot bus stop at the back of John Little. Like all teenagers do, Lat started to sing this hit and we were having a laugh when suddenly tears started to fall down IU’s face. I won’t go into details why because it is not my story to tell.
So powerful was that memory for that whole day I was smiling. I was not thinking of the sad tears but all that song embodied. My young life, my wonderful friends, precious memories of my school days – my heart lifted and soared! Don’t you find that snatches of a certain song will unlock the memory bank faster than a speeding bullet?

Demi cinta ku pada mu
Kemana pun kau kan ku bawa
Ke hujung dunia ke bintang kejora

We so know that these words had such special meaning to IU too that when Cikgu Bahri played the most wonderful piano rendition of this, our eyes immediately swivelled over to IU.

I became mad again about those 80s rock songs – the last time we went back to Singapore, I was running around trying to find all Wings and Search compilations. Even obscure songs from Hanafie Warren “Terperangkap Dalam Sinaran” and “Biarlah aku pendam saja perasaan ku, I sanggup menunggu dan membisu” pun aku sambar; because they reminded me of Perjumpaan Hari Raya.

It’s all on my Ipod now and nothing is stranger than listening to my ipod while on the bus to work. The winter sunshine streamed into the upper deck and I was all buttoned up to my chin with a hat and scarf on. The bus trundled along Knightsbridge, passing shoppers English and tourists alike streaming out of Harrods, students coming off the bus coaches to vist the V & A and the National History Museum and what do I have blasting in my ear? “Isabella adalah kisah cinta dua dunia. Mengapa kita berjumpa namum akhir berpisah. Siang jadi hilang ditelan kegelapan malam.Alam yang terpisa.Melenyapkan sebuah kisah…”

Parade Ground at Night

I am staring out of the window at the office. It is busy hour at Paddington. Can it be any more grey? London is horrible when it is grey and cloudy and at times like this, I wonder what the heck am I doing here.

Nani just posted a comment that she had an old GP essay of mine “What will I miss if I leave Singapore?” You don’t know how excited I am to hear this. I don’t have a single article, writing or poem that I scribed during my younger days and it would be interesting to find out what did I say I will miss. Probably if I am being PC and trying to score points for my essay, I would say I will miss my family. The truth is, except for my sister and her family, what I miss most are my friends and food.

The Parade Ground was very different at night. In the mornings, it is the focus of assemblies with over 400 blue pinafore girls singing the National Anthem and School pledge. Come noon time, it would be full of Netball girls trying to sink a ball in the basket or the earnest NPCC and NCC girls practicing their marches with their thumb-tacked shoes. The space underneath the trees would be home to Band Girls practicing.

At this time of the night, it is quiet and cool – cool enough for Anita and I to lie down gazing up to Shang-ri La hotel all lighted up like Christmas tree. We had a busy day, organising a farewell camp for the Sec 4s (ceh! When it’s our turn, no one organised anything for us!). I can’t remember now what did we rambled on. It was just so peaceful and perfect.

I cannot remember when the last time I did stare at the night sky like that. The only other time that came close was during my hostel days when Chek Yin, Sock Chen and I joined the Astronomy Club (total membership : two guys) at the Tennis Courts. We lied down on the turf at 3.00 am in the morning and stared in fascination at the stars above. They even told us how to spot satellites. You have to look very hard – it’s important that it is quite dark with no nearly light pollution. If you see a shining star which is moving very fast in a constant arc, that would be satellite.

Like all my blogs, I will end with a food memory - after spotting a few satellites, we went back to our rooms and cook roti prata. *hahahah*

Roll your sleeves!

Just checked Wikipedia for RGS. Besides the hum drum info like school motto, badge and school song, they had a small section on the uniform with these words “Students customarily fold their sleeves, following a time-honoured school tradition”. I cannot remember the school tradition but I do remember folding my sleeves. It’s mainly because it looked cool and I don’t think anyone remember why we did so. *hahahah*

Ah..the RGS school uniform.. strangely, as Lat could attest to this, the RGS is very much similar to Cambridge Primary uniform except for the collar. So it was not hard for me to make a transition to the dark blue pinafore and white blouse.

Oh the abuses we heaped on that poor uniform! Belts which should have been tied pinned demurely around the waist always end up as dikir barat headbands. When we do wear the belt, the top part of the pinafore had to be pulled out or puffed out ever so slightly to avoid that very square look. Thank goodness we don’t have to wear name badges during my time – can you imagine how long will mine be? All 27 letters of my name on it?

Anita and I were talking about how lasak that uniform was. It bears well to all the dikir barat and dance practice, all the rambutan tree climbing, tebu and bambu chopping. But it bears less well when IU tried to grab Anita in the normal police-thief game. One shoulder ripped away and Anita just collasped from laughing so hard. Luckily Eli did have some thread and a needle handy. Less luckily for me, when we were climbing over the gate after yet another late practice, my pinafore was caught at the top. I jumped without checking and the whole pinafore on the left side was ripped up to the waist.

I think I only wear the formal school uniform only once or twice in my school years – it was a long sleeved blouse with a prefect waist coat and skirt. I wore it only to the semi finals and third placings Malay Debate back in 1988. The school tie was worn during Assembly on Monday. Arghh.. always forgot to bring it and ended up sweltering in a sweater, pretending that the tie is underneath.

Cambridge Primary School

“Sekolah Cambridge Sekolah Kami
Tempat yang mana kami sanjungi…”

It’s 1.17 am in the morning and I can’t sleep. Like a broken record, these two lines of my primary school song kept playing in my head. It’s probably one of the few schools to have their school song in Malay. Pictures of my primary school trial and tribulations flashed across my eyes and I cannot help but think I should commit them down here before they are filed away again.

Primary school started with the most embarrassing situation for me – with the words from my very fierce grandma “Stay with your friend! Stay with Norliah” ringing in my ears, I sat with her in Class IB. Well, I was supposed to be in Class 1C. For all you know, there was a manhunt going through the school at the moment looking for a missing 7 year old! The teacher of Class 1B went through her charge one and one and finally came to me “Aiyah! You are supposed to be in Class 1C!” and dragged me along to classroom next door. Well, with such a start, it can only get better I supposed.

It was not until Primary 2 when I met Lat - although she was in the hospital for very much of Primary 1 due to her heart condition, clever girl that she is, she still made it to Pri 2A. We only really get on together in Pri 3 when we played a silly game of marching under the hot sun in the playing field with Roslinda, with a wooden ruler tucked under our arms.

Of course, recess is no fun without playing hopscotch, batu serembat where somehow one stone would land up inside our pinafore or Zero point. That took some gymnastics, I tell you and I can safely vouch I cannot do them again. I used to catch grasshoppers which were prolific near the school fences but when this humongous beast of a grasshopper suddenly landed on my chest with its beady eyes staring at me, I lost interest somewhat. Hahahaha!

Food was either mee rebus or nasi lemak served in bright orange plastic plates. It was very much a free for all – none of this senior holding your hand or maid sitting in the canteen waiting for you. The counter was very high and there is this metal mesh in between you and the delicious delights that will be your lunch. My lunch money (all glorious 40cts in Pri 1 to increase to 50cts in Pri 2) were knotted very tightly in the corner of my hanky.

You can buy sweet cordial drinks from the apek at the drinks stall. For a seven year old, he seemed incredibly old with his balding hair, fixed lips that never cracked into a smile and huge round thick glasses. He reigned supreme over the large square plastic container with its sticky colourful drink (pineapple, chin chow, bandung) and it is always a thrill for me if I can spot the ladle flashing like a fish in the watery depths. I remember giving him a 50cts piece once – he took it, turned it around a few times and bounced it up and down the counter a few times. Apparently satisfied that that 50cts. is genuine, he ladled out a pineapple drink into a plastic cup and pushed it across the counter. Somehow thirteen years later when I was asked by this very unpleasant apek at Hollywood desert stall at Bedok to show that I can pay $1.50 for his ice jelly, I remembered that apek in primary school.

If there is extra money, there was always the desert stall with its myriad cakes and pastries. My favourite was that horn shaped pastry with cream piped in and the sight of that nowadays always transport me back. There was also the cream roll with peanuts on the outside. Of course, there were ice-creams. I had a particularly sweet creamy pink one which I shared with Lat, proceed to play some sort of game which involved spinning around really fast (probably imitating Wonder Woman) and yes, you guess it… half an hour later, I threw up all over my dark blue bag in class. I distinctly remembered it (the vomit) was very pink and I have an aversion for creamy strawberry ice cream till now.

Megawati’s mum featured largely in my later years in primary school since she always looked out for me. She would be there for her kids during recess with warm roti prata all readily cut up. We lived in the same block so she ended up as my surrogate mum – in fact she was the only one who noticed my black eye (courtesy of my fierce grandmom) and asked what happened. In my child-like wiseness, I told her that I “terlanggar tembok” (walked into a wall) although since I was still a child, I cannot contained the tears that sprang into my eyes.

Recess is not complete without the obligatory “brush teeth”. You get a special mug which is like a plastic cup with a clear cover (which tend to end up filled with Ribena anyway) and toothbrush. The teacher will tell us to line up along the shallow drain, squat down and one two three brush, one two three brush. Oh dear, the sight of thirty or forty young kids squatting by the drains earnestly brushing their teeth!

I can never forget the horrible powdery sweet free milk that you get. Everyone queued up with their mugs and the school caretaker will hand over that awful cereal-like thing. And it’s piping hot too. I always give my share to someone else. Can’t stomach the stuff. So perhaps I wasn’t too displeased that they stopped that and they launched a carton milk drive where you have to pay about 30cts. for a carton. Too expensive for my family – didn’t really missed the milk although I thought that I could probably drew better than the illustrations they have on the cartons. Hahahaha! not modest!

I was initiated to the wonderful world of the stage at Pri 4 when I was roped in for a fashion show. Of all the costumes I had to wear, it had to be a Chinese Costume! Me? Yang black sweet ni trying to pass off as a Chinese whereas Lat who is as fair as they come had to wear a baju kurung. Rocky III was very big then and we had “Eye of the Tiger” as an accompaniment. Since then, I was hooked on the stage so each year from there on till I graduated from uni, I am always involved in some performance or other. When I am on that stage, it seems that my life transcends from the humdrum and elevated to another sublime level (will talk about this later!).

The school bus fetched us from the void deck. The nyonya who guarded the door grabbed and hauled us up the stairs and we rushed to find seats. At the end of the month, she would wave a thin booklet and asked us to give it to our parents. What else? Bus money! And we still have to pay for school holidays too. The bus became so familiar because we took the same one for our excursions to the zoo and Jurong Bird Park too. Someone tried to write No Smoking on the roof, just above the windows but was unsuccessful. It came out as “No Somo” and I think he’d probably realised his mistake and didn’t continue.

There were two huge Angsana trees on the playing field, just opposite the school gate and at certain times of the year, the ground would be covered in red and yellow from the shedding blooms. I think they contributed to my first initiations to science lessons – the teacher would quote them as an example when she tried to explain evergreen tree and umbrella shaped trees. We just need to go there to see what she means and find the funny angsana seed which looked incredibly like a flattened assam masin.

I wonder whether the trees are still there now or like Cambridge Primary, they would probably been bulldozed over. I felt a twinge when I found out that they were tearing down the school. Just like when they tore down the playground in front of my block of flats to make way for the ECP. Like my friend, NYF said, I should protest to the gahmen – they are eradicating all my memories! but I know that they are somehow filed away in a compartment in my brain and I know they cannot bulldoze them there.

Gema Dikir March 1987

The deadline was March 1987. That was the Big day.
Three months worth of blood, sweat and tears… oh yes, there were tears.
Trying to get twenty willing Sec 3 girls within Malay Society to participate is nigh impossible. A few even defected to join the Boria team (more of that later) so we had to rope in the NPCC girls, band girls and two Sec 2s Hanin and Marziah.

Suzana (as she was known those days) did the lyrics and was the Juara of the team. Nani, the more than capable Tukang Karut. Weeks were spent choreographing the hand movements - we worked on a more “flowery” and showy moves; easily done since there are hardcore Malay dancers in the team.

The Rafflesian’s quest for perfection did not stop there. It was in the practice, practice, practice; often at the back of the canteen, just under the stairs leading up to the Anderson Hall. Every hand angle was scrutinised and spotted, every head tilt, every sway and oh the hours we spent perfecting the good hollow clap! Hours and hours singing so that we can be heard at the back of the hall without sounding shrill. There is something therapeutic about yelling (opps! I mean singing) out “Eh Wau Bulan Eh Wau Bulan” at the top of your voice.



A good few hours spent training and then we are off to Taman Serasi at Botanic Gardens. Nothing beats a sore throat like a cold soursop juice or an ice kachang (10cts. discount from the auntie if Anita were to come along). Everyone tucked in either to a Roti John with the powerful chilli sauce or the mee soto with the even hotter sambal. Ah…where is Taman Serasi now?

There is no way I am going to let my girls wear that horrible Angklung blouse so it’s fund raising time folks! After discussions with Cikgu Rohaya, we approached Mrs Chee to set up a food stall for two weeks. On my paper petition, she made a note “Pls make sure the students wash their hands”. Two weeks running, Sri Perwira sold hotdogs, keropok, rojak and kueh. Not bad really – we managed to raise enough money to buy the materials for twenty costumes.

Off to Arab Street with Roziana’s mum and we chose black for the baju kurung and ochre/gold for the kain samping and kain selimpang. Matching gold ribbon for headband and decoration for the cekak musang collar. Roziana’s mom sewed everything (thanks to Roziana who pleaded with her mom, she charged a very low rate of $10 per costume!). It was great to try on the costume on one Saturday afternoon – felt very garang, you know, tying on the headband. After that, it is a norm to tie your headband onto your school bag. It’s like a special membership to an exclusive club.

*Trivia – if any of the SP girls are reading this, the position you are nearer to the centre means has a little to do with height and a lot on how well you do the moves. That’s the sneaky thing that Suzana and I did when we do the arrangements. That’s why Lat is asked to do the important job of playing the tambourine. That girl can’t dance but she can definitely keep a beat! *

The big day finally arrived. We changed, applied our make-up in the school canteen and trooped onto the bus taking us to NYJC. A week earlier, Victoria School organised a Boria competition and our girls had horrible time. Somehow, the PA and sound system were screwed and the girls took some time to recover. I don’t know what other people think of RGS girls but we are sometimes targets for “sabo”. Noraserene and some of the other girls were crying right after the performance and I remember them saying “Never mind about us! You’ll beat them next week!”

The atmosphere at NY was electric. Gema Dikir has always been such a popular competition, open to Secondary and JC and that year was no exception. More than 10 teams had taken part and the hall is chock-a-block with team in their colourful costumes and their screaming supporters. It had always been Dunearn Sec (Sri Kelanas) in top three and Crescent Girls will take the coveted 2nd spot (somehow girl teams never win first place in this competition).

Dunearn's performance was magnicient. JJC had a hilarious lyric which is still stuck in my mind twenty years on : Kami datang dari JJC, datang kesini naik teksi, tambangnye mahal sekali, nasib baik cikgy yang bagi. *ketawa lepak* Crescent Girls were ultra feminine with their fake curly hair, Cedar Girls was fab as well.

Before long, it was our turn. I cannot describe how I was shaking. A last ‘Al-fatihah’ and we are off onto the stage. Took our places behind the curtain, last minute “good luck”s and “remember to smile”. The MC annouced “Sekolah Menengah Raffles” and the curtains were drawn. Faces upon faces looked at us and three judges right in front with Yusnor Ef, the chief judge, in his big glasses.

Suzana’s melodic voice broke the silence. On raising my head and my hands for the movements of the opening verse, the only thing I can focus on was IU’s big smile through the pelepah kelapa. After all that training, the movements were graceful and fluid, the clapping solid, the voice powerful. Some of our more exotic movements were greeted with cheers. *Especially time kita pukul bangku. Bukan main suka lagi audience tu. Hahahaa. Nasib baik pukul bangku, bukan baling bangku*

I messed up one movement – me! Chief choreographer missed one move! How lame is that? – silly me! Instead of enjoying the time, I was obsessed with that one missed move. We finished to much applause and ran off stage. A guy was sitting at the steps on the way off stage. He looked very serious when he said “Very Good” I was in tears about that stupid missed move.

The waiting was unbearable. The MC finally had the results. They announced the best Tukang Karut and Best Juara. Suzana won Best Juara! We erupted into yells and cheers. They announced the Third Place winners. We were holding each other in agony. “Tempat Kedua… Sekolah Menengah… Raffles!” For a few seconds, we were stunned before breaking out in screams. We were jumping up and down too much to remember to go onto stage. IU ran up first and grabbed the trophy and I was up there and then the rest came. I was sobbing, my make-up running off onto a senior’s white prefect’s blouse– what do I care what I looked like. Hanisa was on the chair screaming “Tiga bulan! Tiga bulan!”

Victory is so sweet. Especially one that you worked so hard for. We were giddy and on a high. We went back to the allocated classroom to change and Anita went mad scribbling on the blackboard “We love you NYJC! I want to come here after O levels”. Little did she know how prophetic those words were. Well, no dikir barat session is complete without going to BG and there we met the winners, the team from Dunearn, also partaking their dinner. So over mee soto, roti john and ice kachang, we celebrated our win. Hidup Sri Perwira!

One hot day in December 1986

I was mulling on which name to use. Everyone’s got their nicks down pat now and the usual ones which I would use are probably grabbed ages ago. It must be something meaningful and hopefully not to obscure ,so I would remember it – age is catching up alas! I have so many handles it’s hard to keep track!. It’s easier when I peg it to something memorable - my ebay handle is the bike which Man and I used when we were dating. hee hee!

So in the end, seeing that it is IU who have been pestering me for a blog, there seems to be only one choice. Try as I might to find some trace of this name on the Internet, there’s none so this is my small contribution to keep that name alive. Of course, the events that kindled this name is way before the internet age we know now.

It was the December school holidays. The school canteen was empty except for three earnest girls trying to get together a dikir barat group for NYJC annual 1987 Gema Dikir Barat. Without fanfare, the name Sri Perwira was chosen. We liked the Perwira (warrior!) bit and I think we cobbled the “Sri” in front of it to make it more feminine.

I was still smarting from the “humiliation” our school suffered two years running. The first time RGS took part, it was a lacklustre performance and worst of all, the dikir barat group used the Angklung blouse (it is really a chiffon blouse with the most kuniang bow at the neck! Where got brutal?!) with black slacks, red kain samping and oh my! the headress was fashioned using paper, aluminium foil and sewing thread. Complete with aluminium balls at the side!! Oh tidak! Against the dazzling costumes of the other teams, we faded like a wallflower.

The second year, it was a fantastic performance. Our seniors did a fab job - we had a good juara and tukang karut. They had proper dikir costume in lilac. I thought the prize is a shoe in especially since it was so bloody obvious that the Tukang Karut from CGS was reading the lyrics from her palm. Still thwarted! They said we looked too masculine. I was so determined that 1987 will be our year!