Destination 3: Pig Farm
The crowing of the rooster is her favourite time of the day. Whenever she rises from her small, thin mattress she feels a certain sense of comfort in this seemingly unimportant daily occurrence; perhaps it is nature’s way of offering solace to a lonely soul left only with the plot of land she was born in and will die in.
Bones creaking like a rusty fence, the grey-haired woman makes her way toward the sty. She senses a restless stir from within the small wooden structure; the pigs have just given birth and need to be fed. As she empties bucket upon bucket of slop into the trough, her mind starts to wander off to her conversation with the government officer earlier that day.

“Uh, hi madam, are you Mrs Soh? I am from the Urban Redevelopment Authority and I have been sent to…”
“Huh… ur… urban… what? You come here do what?”
“The Urban Redevelopment Authority, madam. We are in charge of optimising land use in Singapore so that we can… uh… develop and prosper! The government is actually in the midst of clearing underutilised land in less developed areas, and your pig farm happens to be one of these places…”
“Huh? Optimise what land use? Got a lot of space here what, can’t you see?”
“Yes, madam, I understand your concerns, but there are not many of such areas in Singapore anymore, and the government needs this land to make space for public housing.”
“You’re… destroying my farm?”
“No, no, please don’t get the wrong idea. Under the Land Authority Act, the government will buy this plot from you at a reasonable price, and we will do our best to relocate you…”
“Eh, I’m not very educated ah, but this is my farm; whether I want to leave or not is up to you, it’s my decision. If you say until like that then I go take over your house now can or not? I’ll pay you lah! Also my pig farm not that big, government build house cannot build elsewhere meh?”
“Madam, this land is, by law, owned by the government. We can choose not to give you any money and you will still be required to leave. The compensation rates are in this folder; sign these forms by next Monday.”
The officer leaves and all she can do is stand there, folder in hand, not quite sure whether to continue yelling at him or to attempt to read the thick document riddled with legal jargon and small print. Yet, the impending sense of dread is ever so strong as she looks at the towering cranes in the distance; she wonders how many other farms have been cleared, how many lives devastated, how many memories erased and left in the wake of block upon block of housing flats.
TWO
“Your pig farm? Torn down?”
“Yah lah! That stupid officer from that… don't know what urban… aiyah…. some urban thing lah; anyways he says government owns my land, so I have to take compensation and relocate.”
“Where got liddat one? Is that allowed? How can the government just take your private property away? Eh… what if they also come here, bulldoze the whole kampung down, then throw us some money… I also scared sia…”
“I ask you ah, who decides what is allowed? Government right? Then if they want to take my land then of course can lah! I mean, to be honest ah, the compensation not bad but… my farm… you know…”
“Then let’s protest! Show the government that its not fair, then they’ll think twice before anyhow take your farm!”
So with the group of women she goes. As they trod along the path through the bustling kampung she notices the many doors left open and the children running in and out of their neighbours’ houses. She sees a flock of chicken frolicking carefreely in the fields and a group of men drinking coffee along the river stream. She casts one last look at the kampung, and wonders if this too will be considered “undeveloped” and “underutilised”. With an air of apprehension the only thing she can breathe, she continues her journey half-heartedly, watching the terrain change from grass to pavement to tiling, till she stands at the foot of the looming HDB office building.
FOUR
The group of women cautiously approach the manager’s office, partly nervous about the outcome of their negotiations, partly intrigued by the high-tech devices on each of the neatly-arranged desks around the office. They are particularly confused as to why water was stored in big plastic containers which blocked the corridor, when the nearest wells were just outside the building. Still, though, they are acutely aware that they are not welcome here, that while they are met with a subtle yet piercing sense of disdain by the workers in the office.
“Hi all, may I know what you guys are doing here? It’s a busy office hour now, so…”
“Eh, can we see your manager? The one that come over and say he’ll take over her pig farm?”
“Uh… yes… yes, madam, we know you have concerns, but right now we’re really busy with important work and my manager is-”
“This is ridiculous lah! Why now cannot? You prime minister is it? You better ask your manager to come out right now! How dare you take our land and act like nothing has happened?”
“OK OK OK I will ask him now, can?” “Stupid village idiots…” (under his breath)
“Yes, ladies, what would you like?”
“Give me back my farm! My… my pig farm… it means a lot to me and it’s not fair that the government takes it without asking!”
“As I’ve already explained-”
“She’s a poor, old woman, can’t you see? The pig farm is where she lives, where she works; how can just take it away like that?”
“I… the government said…”
“We don’t care what the government said! Since you so obsessed with clearing land, then what, you going to clear our kampungs also is it? Huh?”
“We actually…”
“Yes?”
“I… I was going to say that… the kampung will be cleared as well but-- no, no please don’t worry! We will provide housing; very nice one, got running electricity and water, no need go well take, and safer also!
Uh… uh… I know it’s a bit hard for all of you to take in but maybe you guys want to come back another day? We will compensate you fairly and make sure you guys are safe and well…”
“Well? You dare to say we’ll be well after robbing us of our kampung? You take our land and…and….you expect us to thank you for giving us another house we don’t want? You think we want to live in those tall buildings that all look the same, with locked doors and lonely corridors?”
“I guarantee you, I guarantee you, that city life is better than whatever you have in the kampung; you’re just not used to it yet! Also this is for the good of the nation… if you give up your land then Singapore will have more space for housing, for roads, for factories, then we can all succeed together… after all we don’t have much land and…”
“NO! We will not accept this until we die! We will just stay at the kampung; see if you dare bulldoze it down lah! You see her, this old woman, do you know how much she is suffering? First you go take her farm, then when we come here to ask you change you go take away the kampung -- the only place where she can meet her friends? Even the Ang Mo never like that, how can our own government do this?“
In the midst of all this the old woman stands unmoving, not gesticulating wildly or protesting loudly like the rest. She is in a trance, her face expressionless and blank, and all she can think about is the towering cranes and monstrous bulldozers she saw just a few days earlier. All she can do is accept, accept the money, the pain, as her world is torn down before her eyes, as the last of what she clings to is eroded and destroyed by the ever-powerful juggernaut of progress.
The moon rests high in the sky, shining brighter than ever after a tumultuous storm the day earlier. In this idyllic and picturesque setting, a woman lies beside her husband on the straw mattresses they laid out on the open grass. From the quiet corners of their sty the groans of a sow in labour blend with the wails of her young, creating a sound of rich vitality and exuberance.
“How… how can I live if you’re gone? I… I wouldn’t know what to do with the farm and the children and… everything…”
“Dear, all these years… we… we had our moments and shared our love, and now it’s come to this but I have to go… nature is calling me back…”
“But so early? Why does it have to be now? The doctors said…”
“The children, dear, they need the money. What’s the use of a pig farmer sticking around for a few more years? But our children, if… if they can get the money then… then they can make a living, go work in the government, make some money… then maybe they don’t need to suffer like we do…”
“Lim San, I…”
“I have to go, dear, I have to go; I don’t want to but… what can I do? Whatever it is, when I’m… when I’m not there with you anymore… think of me whenever the rooster crows every morning. Think of those days where we washed the pigs with the kids and splashed each other with water. Think of the sweat and the toil we put in together to make the pig slop that… that still smells so disgusting… haha… then we’ll be together in spirit, eh? Just like all these years.”
“I…”
“Everything will be fine, dear, okay? This farm… to be honest… actually quite ugly lah. You see that HDB block there so big and tall… but what matters is that we can lie here like this side by side, look at moon lah, talk to one another… right… ? And also… sorry if I couldn’t provide for you… I… quite stupid one lah… only can raise pig, cannot read or don’t know what lah… But I just wanted to say that… that I never regretted spending my life with you and… and… if 老天爷 let me choose I’d be your husband in the next life....”
“You promise you’ll come back and stay on the farm with me…?”
“Yes, dear, I’ll always be here, right here, here with you, okay? I promise, I promise, I’ll be here, okay?”
Under the sympathetic gaze of the crescent moon the two lovers finally fall asleep, their bodies, hearts and souls entwined as they await the dawn of a new day…


References:
ReplyDeletehttps://sso.agc.gov.sg/Act/LAA1966
https://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/infopedia/articles/SIP_1569_2009-09-18.html