To my surprise, Serangoon Garden was chosen as another Millennium outdoor celebration center besides Orchard Road in 1999. Serangoon Garden is an old area, mainly inhabited by British families with dependents during the 1950s and 60s. It's about as old as I am. I was born at Thomson Medical Centre and have lived in Serangoon Garden ever since, never moving. In dynamic Singapore, where things are constantly upgrading, I wonder if I should give myself an award for being the most loyal resident or for being the least ambitious?

Crows and Traffic Jams

      This has always been an inconspicuous, unknown place. There are no flashy supermarkets or cineplexes. Even the only somewhat dilapidated cinema, the Paramount, closed down in the 1980s. No Member of Parliament needs to fight tooth and nail in Parliament for housing or public facility upgrades, and it's not a battleground during elections. I even thought that if the PAP didn't come, the seat would be vacant.       

      Thankfully, the Group Representation Constituency system came along, and we've since enjoyed the benefits of neighboring districts, somewhat alleviating the loneliness.

    The residents here have always been like typical older generations of Singaporeans: easily satisfied and not prone to making a fuss.

      “Not making a fuss” refers to the residents, but the crow noise here is quite famous for being very boisterous. There are many crows because the trees are large, and large trees attract both wind and crows!

        Also, the traffic jams are notorious. There are three reasons:

      First, there are quite a few family-style restaurants here, from chicken rice, curry fish head, fast food, Western food, Russian food to Japanese cuisine, from traditional coffee shops to trendy cafes and ice cream parlors, seafood restaurants, dim sum to hawker centers—a diverse range of choices. So, during mealtimes, everyone crowds into this area.

     Second, there are several primary and secondary schools here.

     Third, there are also several historic churches.

     This creates a considerable number of  a “floating population”. During school hours, Mass times, and especially on weekends, the Serangoon Garden traffic circle is always gridlocked, a lively scene. Strangely, as soon as drivers enter the garden, their usual impatience and anger disappear. Everyone patiently queues, slowly merging into the community atmosphere. Everyone is used to it, taking it in their stride. It's unclear whether it's a case of accepting the situation and adapting to the slower pace, or whether the community's strong cultural and educational atmosphere has transformed visitors.

A Non-Traditional Malay Kampung with Malay Merchants

      The other day, I went to Mel's barbershop for a haircut. Mel was a pop singer before opening the barbershop, and his past glory is displayed throughout the shop.

      I asked, "Many traditional Chinese men's barbershops in this area have closed down. Are you worried about being replaced by the market?”

   Mel, with the typical Malay optimism, said,  “I run a barbershop, not a salon. We have our own way of doing things. Our customers are our friends; we chat and laugh with every customer.”

      Yes, Mel is very good at joking. Once, he teased a colleague who only treats barbering as a side job, mocking his lack of humor, saying that he's only a part-timer, not a professional. As they were talking, it suddenly started raining despite the hot weather. I frowned. The unassuming colleague, who had been mocked by Mel, smiled subtly, making a double entendre, and meaningfully interjected, “Don't worry! It sometimes snows in December.” His deadpan humor almost made me fall off my chair.

      Mel also told me that he'll be forming a team under the barbershop's name and touring Jakarta and other Indonesian cities in June. This time, it's not a concert but a football tournament. Getting a haircut at Mel's Club gives you a taste of a stylish lifestyle.

      Serangoon Garden has a wet market. At the market, I love Rohaya's Mee Rebus; it tastes just like what I used to buy in the school canteen. I usually see a long queue of customers in front of her stall, regardless of whether they are Chinese or Malay, all using the market's Malay language to order Malay cooked food. Only recently did I realize that Rohaya's stall doesn't even have a sign, yet her business is still booming, defying modern advertising principles.  In a community that still retains a colonial feel, with many Chinese shops struggling, constantly renovating, modernizing, and seeking breakthroughs, several simple and unpretentious Malay shops miraculously survive and are deeply accepted. Why?

Half a Horse's Nose Ahead The Millennium Celebration

      Serangoon Garden was chosen as another Millennium outdoor celebration center besides Orchard Road. My first reaction was: This place is finally getting noticed.

      There's no MRT here, and parking is a problem. How will people get in? How will crowd control and dispersal be managed? I once discussed this with a friend. We went back and forth……

• Why not hold the celebration in a densely populated, mature HDB estate like Jurong, Toa Payoh, or Ang Mo Kio?

• Like wine, it needs age to have flavor.

• Why not at Chinatown or Tan Tock Seng Hospital?

• Chinatown has historical significance, but lacks the forward-looking  symbolism of the new century.

• Why not in Singapore's few mining areas like Bukit Timah or Katong?

• Too ostentatious, too flashy, easy to attract thieves.

• Why not the upscale Holland Village?

• Too trendy, too glamorous, too arrogant……

      More than once, friends have complained that Serangoon Garden is like a maze. More than once, friends have told me that kind people have led them to their destinations by car, and kind people have given rides to those walking in the rain.

        The scattered housing in Serangoon Garden seems to make it difficult to form a residents' committee like those in HDB estates or condominiums. With its predominantly white-collar professional residents, Serangoon Garden residents are individualistic and privacy-conscious, and they wouldn't want to revert to the open-door kampung days. If this kindness, this help given to strangers within one's capabilities, is similar to the community spirit or kampung spirit we often hear about, what should this spirit be called in Serangoon Garden? How did this spirit form?

      Questions abound, and the answers elude me—just like how Serangoon Garden, this dark horse, won by half a horse's nose in the Millennium race.

        A dragon town should have a dragon legend.

        Why Serangoon Garden?

        Perhaps it's because of the dragon in Serangoon.