A postcard taken of the Kuching waterfront in 1952, by the late Ho Ah Chon. — Photo courtesy of Pustaka Sarawak
THE human brain begins to form basic memories at birth, but the reality is that our ability to recall things does not happen until around the age of three.
To keep a long-term memory intact, humans heavily rely on a narrative structure.
Until toddlers develop the vocabulary to describe an event, the brain struggles to mentally organise and file that experience away into a format that can be easily retrieved decades later.
To have a memory happen to you, you must first understand that you are an independent entity.
A solid cognitive ‘sense of self’ and a personal mental timeline do not fully click into place until around age three.
My earliest memories of my hometown and my boyhood are happy ones, during the 1950s when I had stayed with my grandfather at his residence on the road which took his name, Ong Kwan Hin Road.
The period was a peaceful and harmonious Sarawak under the British protectorate, and the then-Head of State was Sir Anthony Abell.
I started school at St Thomas’ Primary in 1956, where my father, his father before him – and the entire Ong family – had attended.
I was six years old when I first entered a class of about 50 boys of varying ages between six and eight.
A majority were Chinese from the main dialect groups of Hokkien, Hakka and Teochew, with a few Hainanese, Henghua, Cantonese and Foochows.
There were a handful of Malays, some Dayaks, an Indian and several of those from mixed parentage including Eurasians.
We had Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus and others.
The school was open to all, and was considered the premier institution of education – and it still is!
I have been a board member of the school management for 13 years, with the last five as its chairman.
There was a boarding house that had an expatriate English teacher as its master-in-charge.
I can’t recall how many boarders there were, but they ranged from a young 10 years old to the oldest, probably 19 or 20.
The 1950s in Kuching was a hugely formative period for me.
I spent a carefree, loving and safe childhood with my parents and elders in the family; enjoyed the company of supportive and endearing siblings with many cousins, uncles and other ‘minders’ – in so many ways, life was certainly idyllic.
I remember best the learning years in school and the making of many classmates (and teachers) who would eventually become lifelong friends.
Seven decades on, quite a number of them are still in touch and we make regular contacts and reunions.
Quite a few have left for other parts overseas; and others, for the great beyond.
Can you remember your first outing with your parents – be it father or mother? I can.
How about the first time you were thrilled at having someone buy you something you really wanted? What was it?
I can also remember where and when I had my very first taste of Kuching’s kolo mee, the laksa, and the chicken rice, and of course my first beer – and most interestingly of all, your first romantic crush.
However, Kuching later underwent rapid changes; it had to,.
From a population of only 74,000 in the 1950s, the city is now home to 674,000, according to data from the Department of Statistics Malaysia (DoSM).
Just for reference, the number of motor vehicles on the road in the 1950s were in the hundreds: my father’s Open Rekord saloon was registered K2793 in 1956; I bought my used Open Kadett in 1969 and it was K9545 – there less than 7,000 new cars in 13 years.
Today’s car population in Kuching alone is 630,000 – that’s a car for every living person within the metropolitan area.
Surely you would have noticed the traffic crawl these days.
It’s always peak hours as our infrastructure struggles to cope with the massive upsurge in the vehicle population.
In the 1950s, I could walk down three rows of shophouses within three streets and get virtually everything I needed or wanted: along Carpenter Street (the full street starting at the General Post Office and ending at Ewe Hai Street), then India Street (now a pedestrian mall), and Padungan Road.
My first real outing would have been a ride in Dad’s brand new saloon car way back then – going around town as he proudly drove us to as far as the Mile 3 in one direction, or to the Dato’s Road Malay ‘kampong’ (village) or if we’re lucky, as far as Semongok or even Mile 12 of Serian Road to visit his brother Kee Hui’s fish farm and orchard.
Cars were not air-conditioned in those days, and we rather enjoyed the breeze as it curled and messed up our ‘Brylcreemed’ hair, or our sisters’ newest perm!
I had very easily fulfilled my personal ‘want-lists’ when it came to buying stuff considered luxuries for me. Back at age six or seven, once I had learned how to read and write, those ‘Classic Illustrated Comics’ like ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ or ‘Moby Dick’ or any Shakespeare’s works would have made my day.
Once I started my lifelong love for popular music and had started collecting records at around 1960, vinyl became the other love of my life.
Between books, movies and music, I was easily satisfied with these interests, which occupied whatever free time I had.
Thinking back, we really were the lucky ones.
We were easily satisfied, and able to find fulfilment with simple, easy to acquire material things.
You could say that’s because we didn’t know any better, but then you’d be wrong.
Today I know a lot better; I am able to find happiness and satisfaction and fulfilment in easy, simple, and uncomplicated things.
At the end of one’s time on this earth, what more can one really ask for?
Peace, love, contentment and a personal gratitude to God the Almighty.
I sing Praises to God.
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