Destination 1: I am a trader, a Bugis Trader.

Tour Guide: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the mouth of the Singapore River, or Tanjong Rhu, now one of the affluent residential neighbourhoods of Singapore. As you all may already know, the Singapore River was a bustling port in colonial Singapore, boasting traders from around the globe. Here, sit back and relax as I tell all of you a story, a story about a Bugis Trader.

There once lived a man named Tuan Ahmad Idris Yacoob, a prosperous Bugis trader in Singapura who lived in a small and modest wooden hut near a river. It is morning, when the sun has yet to rise and the rooster is fast asleep, Tuan Yacoob is preparing breakfast, unwrapping a burasa, waiting for the Fajr prayer. Presumably, 1 September 1846, as it says on the British Calendar at the Open Square. 

They were never really concerned with the date anyway, thought Tuan Yaacob as he munched on his suhur. It had been 27 years since the British landed in Singapore, and now, there was barely any use for the Hijri calendar. Yet, being the ever-religious man, he knew that it was Ath-thalata, Ramadan 10, 1262. 

The month of Ramadan was a month of great religious importance. Without fail, he would perform his duties as a good Muslim father, doing good deeds and fasting from dawn to dusk while he went about his day-to-day business. A principled man, he was disciplined and honest and just, making him one of the most prominent traders within the bustling port. Many flocked to him, Malay, Chinese, Indian, British, all eager to make business deals. 

It was not surprising then, that his life motto was: “Menegakkan nilai-nilai perniagaan, seperti yang selalu dimiliki oleh orang bugis (uphold the moral values ​​of business, as the Bugis people always have)”. 

The rooster twitched in its sleep, almost ready to awaken. The sun was about to rise, illuminating the palm trees with a faint orange glow. 

He waited, papers in hand, at a shophouse near the mouth of the river. The Brits were such hassles to deal with, demanding this contract and that contract, no trust for agreements at all. Back in the day, his father could roam the land freely, making quick business deals with the traders around the Nusantara. He even brought home exotic toys from the Far East. All it required was the verbal promise of seasoned traders, and the deal was set in stone. Now, even though there were more and more people visiting the island, every transaction was a drag, as slow as the penyu. 

In the meantime, he thought of his children, who were probably on their way to school. Unlike their trade, he believed that the Brits introduction of education was a good idea. At least his children would have a better future after studying in Singapore Institution Free School. After all, he had to learn English by himself at 18, and that gave him less time to focus on expanding his business opportunities. With a good education and the nilai-nilai (values) of the Bugis traders, he was confident in their ability to become prominent traders in their time, and carry on the Bugis legacy. 

The sun hung high in the sky, its unrelenting glare reflecting brightly on the murky waters of the river. Smith had scheduled to meet right after sunrise. 

“Mr Yacoob! Glad you could make it” came a deep voice from behind him, laced with a heavy British accent. 

Finally, they had arrived. Tuan Yacoob was sweating buckets under the sweltering heat, annoyed to no end, but he remembered one of the key Bugis nilai - sabar (patience). He turned around and smiled, clasping the plump white man’s outstretched hand in greeting. 

“These are my good working partners, Mr William and Mr James. Great business acumen, and very trustworthy. I recommended you to them since we’ve been great business partners for so long.” Smith said as he gestured to two average-looking British men. 

“Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. I gather that you would like to use my prahus?” 

Indeed, Tuan Yacoob’s prahus were of high quality, and many competent businessmen eyed this convenient method of transporting their goods. William and James traded widely in the region and were looking for a reliable mode of transport for their various goods. They had offered a high price, befitting their status, and were hoping for Tuan Yacoob’s support. It was, however, a big decision, which left Tuan Yacoob in deep thought. 

“Hey buddy”, Smith said as he grinned and put his arm around Tuan Yacoob, “Can’t decide? How about we go to the shop over there and decide. My treat.” Smith winked as he gestured towards an unassuming shop, not far from the shophouse Tuan Yacoob had waited for Smith at. Without a doubt, that was a brothel. Tuan Yacoob knew the place like the back of his hand, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see the glint of lust on the eyes of William and James. 

His mouth was instantaneously filled with the bitter taste of disgust. Such businessmen were not fit to use the prahus so well maintained by the upright Bugis businessmen. They may have money, but they had no morals, and Tuan Yacoob was not about to let them expand their business and collect their filthy money. The British may have control over the land, but the businessman’s dignity was more important than any business. His father would never have allowed these men to even step on this land. However, as an astute businessman, he would handle this situation with good adab (manners).

“Sorry gentlemen”, Tuan Yacoob replied as he shrugged Smith’s hand off. “I believe that I have another engagement to run off to. I have decided that I will be reserving my prahus for my regular customers. Thank you so much for the offer and may God be with you.” 

Visibly, William and James shot looks of discontentment at Smith, the middle-man, and Tuan Yacoob could feel the daggers of anger Smith was shooting at his back. It was undoubtedly a great deal that would benefit all parties, but Tuan Yacoob would never go with it, it was just not in his blood. 

In any case, it was time for his interview with the Singapore Free Press. As one of the most fluent English-speaking Bugis traders, it was only natural that he was invited. The Bugis traders were, after all, one of the most prominent groups of traders in the region. Even the “mighty white men” were often in awe at the efficiency of the Bugis trade. 

The sun hung in the air, its rays no longer as bright, but enough to cast a warm white glow that permeated the tinted windows of the British mansion. 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. How may I address you?” asked a well-mannered British man in a smart suit and tie. 

“Tuan Yacoob will suffice. Thank you so much for the invitation.” Tuan Yacoob replied back, reciprocating the same respect. 

“We shall now begin our interview. Tuan Yacoob, please share your thoughts about your business.”

“I am a trader, a Bugis trader. For anyone who knows me, I enjoy conversing with people from around the world, and this makes my job very enjoyable. To me, business is all about the morals, the ethics, the values. Yes, we need profit to sustain ourselves, but as I always say, I would rather be a beggar with strong values than a rich merchant with no values. I think that is why people enjoy trading with me as well. It is always good to trade with someone who is honest.”

Tuan Yacoob smiles slightly, satisfied with his response, as he gets ready for the subsequent questions. 

(...)

“Before we end the interview, is there anything you would like all traders to know?”

“Indeed, there is. I am a trader, a Bugis trader. I have a set of values that I hold dear, just like my father, my grandfather, and my ancestors before them. We share the spirit of Bugis trade, and this is what makes us strong and gives our trade purpose. For all traders, it doesn't matter who you are. No matter where in the world you may be from, I believe that you should stick true to your moral code and do business to the best of your abilities by following your ethics. That is the mark of a true trader of the Nusantara.”

The white glow of the sun has dimmed into a fainter, warmer orange that envelopes the port city. 

The final stop for today. Tuan Yaacob sat at a table full of Chinese dishes, among them cups of a brown Chinese tea, a foreign soup and a plate of braised pork. Across the table were two Chinese traders, Ming and Wang, who carried the scent of poppy flowers on them like a disease. When they smiled, Tuan Yaacob could see the remains of a meal wedged between gold teeth. 

“Abang, please help yourselves to the dishes. These are freshly made, especially the signature braised pork!” exclaimed an excited Wang, who smiled widely, grossly. 

“No thank you, kind sir. I am fasting, and people of my religion do not consume pork.”

“Yes, yes! I am so very very sorry. Ming, what were you thinking, get the waiter to remove this dish immediately!”

“Oh, there is no need, please do enjoy yourselves. Let us also get straight to business.”

The eyes of the Chinese traders seemed to light up at the mention of business. As effective middle-men, they profited greatly from exploiting inexperienced traders. The hidden trick up their sleeves? Buttering up. Few could resist the shower of praises and compliments by Ming and Wang, who used to do the same to court officials in China before they were sent away. 

“Abang… I have seen your amazing progress recently. I am very glad to be able to work with you. In fact, we have this extremely lucrative deal, which we reserved just for you. You are the most special trader in our hearts, and we respect the Bugis a great deal!”

The more they spoke, the more it irked seasoned trader Tuan Yacoob. These sweet nothings meant nothing to him as he flipped through the contents of the deal. It was nothing special, nor unique, and definitely not something he wanted to dabble in. 

“Thank you for your offers, but I’m afraid I must be heading home to break fast with my family now. Thank you for your invitation.” 

With that, Tuan Yacoob stood and left. 

The sun, now barely visible, is replaced with the dark blue night sky with a smattering of bright stars, some brighter than others. 

“Assalamualaikum, ayah!” exclaimed Tuan Yacoob’s two children as they bounded towards their father, ready for dinner. Iftar was often a joyous occasion for his family, as they performed the Maghrib prayer together, then fed each other kurma (red dates) before they ate. His children especially enjoyed their mother’s pisang epe (pressed banana) and konro (beef rib soup). 

Before long, it was time for bed. The children looked forward to bedtime every night, because their father would tell them interesting stories, most of which were from the Quran. Tonight, Tuan Yacoob reflected on the events of the day and decided to tell his children the tale of “Prophet Muhammad and the Straw Mat”. 

There once lived a man named Umar. Umar was one of Prophet Muhammad’s closest friends. Once the Prophet was resting in his house in Medina, lying on a straw mat. The mat was scratchy, neither soft nor fancy. In fact, it was so scratchy it left little marks on the Prophet’s body.

When Umar saw the Prophet lying on such an uncomfortable mattress, he was so saddened that he started to cry. ‘Umar said, “O Messenger of Allah, how can we let you live like this? Kings live better than this. You deserve better.”

Umar thought the Prophet deserved better since he was God’s Messenger.

The Prophet was humble, so he simply replied that while some people get many things in this world, he was happy that God had promised him the best in the next life to come.

“What can we learn from this? We learn to be humble, no matter how much success we have. Just like Prophet Mohammed, who could have chosen to lead a life of popularity and wealth, we should instead live a modest life. Kerendahan hati, anak-anakku. (Humility, my sons)”

His children looked on in awe. In their eyes shone inspiration - inspiration to become a successful yet humble trader, a Bugis trader, just like their father had. 

“But ayah, can we still sleep on our soft mattresses? The ones Tuan Smith brought over last time are so comfortable! I really don’t want to sleep on a straw mat…” one of his sons mused as Tuan Yacoob tucked them in. 

Taken slightly aback by this question, Tuan Yacoob just smiled and nodded, motioning for his son to go to sleep. Seemingly content, his son slipped off into deep slumber in a matter of minutes. Their peaceful faces put Tuan Yacoob at ease. He always enjoyed spending time with his beloved children. 

But he feared it would not last. 

The British had drafted huge plans of the island - which put the Bugis traders in a new area further away from the river called the “Bugis Kampong”. He would have to wake up earlier in the morning and return later at night to make up for the distance, and this meant that he would often miss bedtime with his sons. It was his only chance to talk to them, tell them folk tales, and teach them important values. 

Plagued with worry and concern, Tuan Yacoob gazed outside his hut at the river once again. The murky river, full of the hustle and bustle of trade, now silent. Even the moon, which usually shone brightly on the river, was covered by a veneer of dark clouds, leaving the river in pitch, black, darkness. 

Tour Guide: Here, ladies and gentlemen, we can see a row of shophouses, some with a history dating back to the 1800s! In fact, just over there is a building which used to be a brothel, now repurposed as a Chinese traditional medicine store. Close by, you can see more Chinese and British stalls selling food, accessories, and much more! Why so many of such stalls here? This was because the British were the pioneers of international trade in Singapore, while the Chinese played the role of the shrewd middle-man. These are the two prominent groups of people who characterised trade in this region, and at that time, many new immigrants respected their business acumen and business values. After all, as the British traders liked to put it: they were the traders of the region, as they always have been, and always will be. 

It is now time for us to move on to the next part of our tour. Here, we take a trip down memory lane and find out a bit more about the Orang Laut, the natives of this land.