A Japanese Christmas

Source: "Lifestyle"-The Star- 10 July 2005

BY OOI KEAT GIN

From the peninsula, Revisiting WWII moves over to Sarawak to find out how people there fared during the Occupation. In this first of a series of articles, OOI KEAT GIN recounts when simple, peaceful lives were subject to a scary new order.

AT 4.30pm on Christmas Eve, 1941, the Hinomaru (Japanese flag) fluttered from the flagpole of Fort Margherita in Kuching, the capital of Sarawak.

The Land of the White Rajah had become part of the Imperial Japanese Empire that would shortly stretch from the Japanese home islands westward as far as the Indo-Burmese border, southward to New Guinea, and eastward to the southwest Pacific.

The unfolding Rising Sun against the blue skies of Kuching signalled the beginning of a new era, a new world.

Sketches of Life in Batu Lintang, a drawing from Papers of Lieutenant S.E. Bagnall, depicted the tough conditions faced by European captives detained near Kuching.

The sombre scene of Imperial Japanese troops in battle fatigues escorting a line of disenchanted Europeans, many recognisable as officers of the fallen Brooke government, left a deep impression of despair amongst the Asian inhabitants.

Earlier, eight Japanese troop ships with an equal number of escort vessels carrying some 4,000 troops had made their way up the Sarawak River. Their landing was unopposed, there was no “Battle of Kuching”.

Their voyage had begun on Dec 13, when a Japanese convoy left Cam Ranh Bay in French Vietnam.

Major General Kawaguchi Kiyotake (hence the Kawaguchi Detachment) headed this task force, whose mission it was to seize the oilfields of north-west Borneo and the airfield outside Kuching. Two days later, this flotilla was off the coast of Miri, the centre of Sarawak’s oil industry.

The Japanese invasion and occupation of Sarawak went off like clockwork. Miri fell on Dec 16, and Japanese forces rapidly moved towards Sarawak’s administrative capital, Kuching.

In the absence of the promised anti-aircraft guns, Kuching was undefended when the town experienced its first aerial bombing on Dec 19, which claimed25 lives and 80 wounded, all civilians.

To Japanese military planners, Sarawak was of strategic importance. The Miri oilfield was a prime prize.

Japan needed oil to advance its imperial designs, hence the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945) on the Chinese mainland. An American embargo on oil sales to Japan was one reason for Yamamoto's decision to strike Pearl Harbour.

The southward thrust towards South-East Asia was an attempt to secure strategic materials – oil, rubber and tin – to sustain the China campaign.

Sarawak’s other consideration was an airstrip located 11km to the south-east of Kuching. The Bukit Stabar or 7th Mile Airfield was one of two aerodromes on Borneo necessary for the invasion of Dutch Java. (The other was at Singkawang, some 95km from Kuching, in south-west Dutch Borneo).

Sarawak’s defence was in the hands of Britain. In 1888, Rajah Charles Brooke (1829-1917), the second White Rajah, had reluctantly penned a protectorate agreement under whichBritain would oversee Sarawak’s foreign relations and defence; internal administration remained the purview of the Brookes.

When war became imminent in the late 1930s, the defence of Sarawak came under the British Malaya command based at Singapore under Lieutenant General A. E. Percival, who made a hurried visit to Kuching in November 1941.

By then, the earlier plan of a mobile defensive strategy was replaced with a static form of defence. An Anglo-Dutch military conference in September had agreed that only the Bukit Stabar Airfield should be defended.

Subsequently, the 1,000-strong 2nd Battalion/15th Punjab Regiment under the command of Colonel C. M. Lane was redeployed with orders to defend the aerodrome and to act in the best interest of Dutch West Borneo.

A contingent of 100 men from 2/15 Punjab was at Miri to protect and assist employees of Sarawak Oilfields Limited in carrying out demolition of the oil installations.

On Dec 10, 1941, when news came of the sinking of HMS Repulse and HMS Prince of Wales off Kuantan, the oil installations at Miri and Lutong (and Seria in Brunei) were destroyed, as planned earlier.

The demolition party, together with other European civilians, evacuated on Dec 14 to Singapore. Members of the 2/15 Punjab returned to Kuching.

The defence of Sarawak was entrusted to Sarfor, or Sarawak Force, which comprised the Iban-dominated Sarawak Rangers (the Brooke regime’s regular army), the Sarawak Volunteers (European civil officers), the Malay-dominated police, and the 2/15 Punjab.

Colonel Lane headed the 2,500 men Sarfor to defend a territory of almost three-quarter the size of the Malay Peninsula.

Much of the territory lay under thick jungle, with vast stretches of coastline drowned in mangrove swamps.

Failing to return to Kuching, Rajah Vyner Brooke (1874-1963), the then reigning ruler of Sarawak, headed a government-in-exile in Australia. When hostilities broke out, Rajah Vyner’s wife, Ranee Sylvia was in New York. In February 1942 she was in London, and later she joined the Rajah in Australia.

In the absence of the Rajah, the Chief Secretary and Officer Administrating the Government, Cyril Le Gros Clark instructed all Brooke officers to remain at their post to ensure a smooth transition of authority in the event of a Japanese victory. Most abided by the ruling.

Individually and in groups, officers of the Brooke government and their families, together with members of the small European community were rounded up and subsequently brought to the Batu Lintang, an internment camp on the outskirts of Kuching.

Despite the occasional heroic stand by squads of the 2/15 Punjab, poor communication that retarded co-ordination of SARFOR, coupled with the suddenness of the Japanese offensive, led to chaos in the defence of Sarawak.

While Japanese troops were on the streets of Kuching on Christmas day, the port town of Sibu in the Lower Rejang was bombed.

Within a week the Japanese occupied the north-eastern districts of Limbang and Lawas neighbouring Brunei. Towards the close of January 1942, Sibu and Kapit fell to the Japanese without resistance.

After deciding that their stance at Bukit Stabar aerodrome was untenable, remnants of the 2/15 Punjab crossed into West Borneo and finally surrendered in early April 1942.

The Sarawak Chinese community, having followed developments in the long-running Sino-Japanese War, feared a Japanese backlash but the indigenous people appeared to be more baffled than afraid of the invaders. Many of the upriver native communities were unaware of what was happening in the world beyond their longhouses and rivers.

All those in Kuching who looked on as members of the Imperial Japanese Forces marched along Gambier Road felt fear and uncertainty.

It seemed like only yesterday that Rajah Vyner had granted a constitution to the peoples of Sarawak to commemorate the centenary of Brooke rule. Back in 1841, a swashbuckling English gentleman-adventurer, James Brooke (1803-1868), was honoured by the Sultan of Brunei with a small fiefdom and the exotic title, “Rajah of Sarawak”.

Now, it was going to be a Japanese Christmas.

Next week, we look at ‘Musim Jipun’.

Ooi Keat Gin is associate professor in the School of Humanities, Universiti Sains Malaysia. He is author of ‘Rising Sun Over Borneo: The Japanese Occupation of Sarawak, 1941-1945’ (London and Basingstoke: Macmillan; New York: Saint Martin's Press, 1999). He is currently working on the Pacific War in southern Borneo (Kalimantan).

Recording a bygone age

Source: "Lifestyle"-The Star- 12 June 2005

BY PHILIP GOLINGAI

Here’s another first-time novelist who’s embarking on a literary career – at the ripe old age of 81! PHILIP GOLINGAI speaks to the engaging Chong Seck Chim, who has startlingly similar ideas about not writing ‘about our grandfather’ that a certain young first-time writer has.

“Everybody has a ‘life’, especially by the time you’ve become a senior citizen,” Chong explains. “You know people and their stories. You have your own. And you weave them together.”

Chong Seck Chim

And what the ex-Malaysian ambassador to Unesco (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation) has woven is a 184-page novel set against the tumultuous backdrop of Japanese-occupied Malaya, and which follows the escapades of Ah Kiew.

He started weaving his tale a few years ago. As one who writes to amuse himself, he took his time because “I’m not beating any deadline.”

There’s no doubt, he adds, that being a former book reviewer for a local English daily helped.

“I’m my best critic. I’m a very impatient man. I don’t have time to stay with a book that goes on and on,” says Chong, who used to write Geography textbooks for the Oxford University Press.

Nevertheless, “just like cooking, you can read all the wonderful cookery books, but when it comes to the crunch, you must have the skill, aptitude and interest to put all the ingredients together.”

Is he Ah Kiew, the protagonist?

“Yes and no. The novel has facts mixed with fiction. It has to be, otherwise who cares about the ordinary life of Ah Kau and Chandra? Our lives are not that exciting after all.

“I wouldn’t say it is a historical book, but it’s a record of the past and will bring memories for people like me, who lived through the war.

“I belong to an age that has gone. There are so many things in my book that talk about the past, which obviously no one in your generation can know of as nobody talks about the old times.”

On his memory of the Japanese Occupation, Chong says: “I was in Kuala Lumpur and the war seemed so remote to us. It was peaceful, unlike the upheavals in Seremban and Johor Baru, where the Japanese had ‘cleaning up’ operations against the Chinese.”

Many of his contemporaries feel the urge to write a book, he notes. “They get it published on their own as they cannot find a publisher. No wonder ? because their stories are so self-centred. But one must be humble to realise that we do not belong to a momentous epoch, like in China.

“Our (Malaysian) experience is not that world-shaking. We could write about our grandfather, who we might think is one hell of a man. But the average reader might not agree. So, inevitably, you have to invent. That’s what I have done with my book.”

His next writing project?

“Time is running out,” says the man who reads French books to keep his mind sharp. “That alone is a big deterrent. And let’s face it, I don’t have the stamina and drive any more.”

Looks like Once Upon A Time in Malaya will be his one and only novel. “Unless I happen to get a fantastically good idea,” Chong says.

Then the old man’s face lights up as he adds, “What I would like to do is write a book like Harry Potter, but based on Chinese mythology.”

The big bluff that worked

Source: "Lifestyle"-The Star- 19 June 2005

BY: MENG YEW CHOONG

“My attack on Singapore was a bluff – a bluff that worked. I had 30,000 men and was outnumbered more than three to one. I knew if I had to fight long for Singapore I would be beaten. That is why the surrender had to be at once. I was frightened all the time that the British would discover our numerical weakness and lack of supplies and force me into disastrous street fighting.”– excerpt from Lt-Gen Tomoyuki Yamashita’s diary

YAMASHITA faced a dilemma. He was down to only 18 tanks and his troops were limited to 100 rounds of ammunition per man per day. Fuel stocks were held up by transportation breakdowns and traffics jams caused by the appalling infrastructure (a consequence, no doubt, of the retreating force’s “scorched earth” tactics).

Starvation loomed, apparently because the Tiger of Malaya had taken pride in the fact that his troops could keep winning on merely two bowls of rice daily.

Japanese troops moving their tanks across the Johor Straits into Singapore by floating them on rafts before the damaged causeway was repaired.

If he waited for reinforcements and supplies, the besieged Allied forces in Singapore could also receive fresh troops and equipment.

If there was a protracted battle for Singapore, Yamashita reckoned, the odds were against him.

The Japanese had sustained 4,515 casualties (1,793 killed and the rest wounded) since they started their Malayan campaign.

Yamashita could only muster 30,000 infantrymen. Fortunately for him, Japanese intelligence provided inaccurate information about the strength of the Allied forces preparing to confront him. He thought they numbered around 40,000 when, in fact, nearly 120,000 of them were holed up in Singapore. Had he known the truth, even so bold a general as Yamashita might have balked at taking on such overwhelming opposition.

Yamashita also had a personal goal to achieve: he had wanted to capture Singapore by Feb 11, the anniversary of the coronation of Jimmu (660-585BCE), the first emperor of Japan who was also revered as the founder of the country.

On Feb 10, a deeply troubled General Archibald Wavell, Allied Supreme Commander for the Far East, confessed to the Governor, Sir Shenton Thomas, that whatever misfortune that besieged them at the moment “shouldn’t have happened”, to which the Thomas replied, “we lacked leaders”.

On the same night, the elite Japanese Imperial Guards crossed the Johor Straits to battle the Australian 27th Brigade at the spot between the causeway and Kranji river. However, many of the assault crafts became bogged down by low tide when attempting to sail up the Kranji rivermouth. Some boats entered the wrong tributaries, and many soldiers died as a result of a freak incident when flaming oil gushed down the Kranji river from fuel tanks that the Allieds had destroyed.

About 30 minutes later, through a series of misunderstandings and miscommunication between the Australian forces and the Malaya Command, the former started to withdraw from the area, much to the amazement of the Imperial Guards. The initiative to hold off the Japanese was lost from this point onwards, and large numbers of Japanese started to land here and went on to pursue the retreating Australians.

The evacuation from the north also gave the Japanese a free hand in repairing the causeway which had been blown up earlier.

On, Feb 11, the Tengah airfield was captured. With ammunition supplies dangerously low, Yamashita decided to prod Percival to give up early.

Japanese tanks crossing the causeway after their engineers bridged the 20m gap blasted by the retreating defenders.

He dropped 20 copies of a personal letter over the Malaya Command HQ area. In the letter, Yamashita implored Percival to give up what he called a “meaningless and desperate resistance”.

The next day, fierce fighting took place at four spots surrounding the city area: Bukit Timah, Nee Soon Village in the north, Mandai Road and at Pasir Panjang.

Of interest today is the Pasir Panjang battle, where the 1st Malay Regiment and the 44th Indian Brigade really showed what they were made of when they held the 18th Division that was determined to capture the Alexandra military complex.

The Pasir Panjang ridge was staunchly defended because it was a strategic location, overlooking Singapore to the north and giving easy access to the vital Alexandra area which consisted of ammunition dumps and the Alexandra military hospital.

The 1st and 2nd battalions of the Malay Regiment were first bombarded from the air, artillery and mortar fire on the morning of Feb 13. The Malay Regiment’s stubborn resistance caused substantial losses on the Japanese side, and the invaders withdrew for the night.

That midnight, the C Company of the Regiment was assigned to defend an area known as Bukit Chandu, a site near a government opium factory (opium consumption was legal at that time).

Greatly outnumbered and outgunned, they held on with no thought of surrender or retreat, supported by artillery fire from the big guns of the Faber Fire Command that were still serviceable. And this was under severe conditions like the absence of trenches, no food and water, and limited ammunition.

On the afternoon of Feb 14, the Japanese began to show their impatience, and resorted to impersonating soldiers under the British command. A group of 20 Japanese soldiers dressed up to look like Punjabi troops and approached the hilltop from the north, all the time displaying friendly gestures.

Lt Adnan Saidi, who was in command of that sector, did not fall for the deception and ordered his men to open fire on the impostors, killing almost all of them.

Pasir Panjang today. It was on this hill in 1942 that the Malay Regiment displayed true grit, fighting until the last man fell.

Japanese soldiers then stormed the hill en masse, and overwhelmed the tiny fighting force. Lt Adnan was shot, bayoneted, and his body was hung on a tree. Six of his men were tied and bayoneted along with him. Only a few men managed to escape.

This near-total destruction of an entire regiment was to become the inspiration for the recent Malaysian movie, Leftenan Adnan. Today, the bravery of the Malay Regiment is commemorated at a WWII interpretative centre called Reflections at Bukit Chandu, next to the Kent Ridge Park.

The fall of the Pasir Panjang ridge meant the Japanese could charge down Alexandra area and they soon stormed the Alexandra Hospital.

Enraged by the substantial losses they suffered while battling the defenders of Pasir Panjang, the Japanese soldiers went on a frenzied killing spree, bayoneting everyone in sight, regardless of whether they were medical personnel or patients. Around 200 people were killed, including a young corporal who was being operated on.

Later accounts showed that Yamashita was not aware of the massacre. The following day, a general who toured the area tried to limit the damage to the Japanese army's image control by distributing some food to the survivors, in addition to executing some of the culprits right there in the hospital grounds. That was Sunday, which also marked the end of the Fortress of the East.

On that morning, Percival conferred with his staff in his underground bunker at Fort Canning, and actually contemplated a last-minute counterattack to retake vital food and fuel depots at MacRitchie reservoir and Bukit Timah. Every general there disagreed with him, and Percival had no choice but to capitulate.

Percival signed the surrender document at Bukit Timah at 6pm that day.

Then British Prime Minister Winston Churchill called the surrender of Singapore “the largest capitulation in British history”.

On this, Cornelli Barnett, former keeper of the Churchill archives, said: “Winston had a remarkable capacity for distancing himself from mistakes and disasters that had his name all over them.”

In his letters to the forum pages of The Straits Times in 1997/8, Singapore historian Dr Ong Chit Chung argued that Churchill consistently underestimated the Japanese threat.

“In retrospect, the battle for Malaya was lost – even before the first shot was fired – in Downing Street.

“The commanders in Malaya were not without fault. They were weak and indecisive. But the fact remains that Malaya and Singapore were starved of the necessary reinforcements, in particular, left without a fleet and without air power.

“The commanders were expected to make bricks without straw. The main responsibility must, therefore, rest squarely on the shoulders of Churchill. It was Churchill who placed Malaya below Europe, the Middle East and Russia in terms of priorities and the allocation of resources. Reading Churchill’s telegram (as published in his memoirs), one wonders why he was so gung-ho about defending Singapore, only at the 11th hour. It was too little, too late.”

Percival was sent to a camp in Manchuria, where he survived the war. The rest of his officers were incarcerated in various parts of the island, and some were eventually sent to work on the Death Railway project in northern Thailand.

The first day of surrender marked widespread chaos throughout the island, with widespread looting.

The surrender also marked the beginning of systematic efforts to root out anti-Japanese elements within the Chinese population, though by this time, it was a wonder if there was any Chinese who would be pro-Japanese or felt ambivalent about them.

Chinese men between 18 and 50 were forced to register themselves, and were then “interviewed”. Those who did not satisfy the interrogators were sent by the truckloads to the Punggol and Changi beaches where they were shot in a tragic massacre known as Sook Ching (which also took place in Penang).

Official estimates of the massacre put the figure at 6,000, though local felt that the death toll ranged from 25,000 to 50,000.

Shortly after the shock of Sook Ching, the Chinese community in Malaya was told to cough up S$50mil as a “gift”, a token of “appreciation for being left alive”. The money was badly needed to finance Japan's war effort, which by then had extended to India, Burma, Thailand, Indonesia, the Philippines, and New Guinea.

Hiding out on Batam

Source: "Lifestyle"-The Star- 19 June 2005

BY DR WONG HECK SING

The war was going badly for the British. As more and more Singaporeans evacuated to Batam Island, all the news they brought was bad. This cast a deep despondency over us – there would be no hope of an early Allied victory.

The lunar new year, usually celebrated with much festivity, brought little cheer to us in Batam. We heard loud explosions coming from Singapore lasting for some hours, followed by an ominous silence.

Had Singapore fallen? Everybody had the same question. We refused to believe that this could possibly have happened. No less a person than Winston Churchill had said that Singapore would never be allowed to fall.

That evening, the first British troops arrived on Batam, confirming our worst fears. We met the soldiers, walking through Father’s rubber estate towards Sungei Panas village.

They were a dispirited lot and their faces told us a story of despair and defeat. They asked how they could get away from Batam. They hoped to sail to Java and they wanted a boat.

As they were walking, they were dislodging the firing pins from their guns. They threw the pins in one direction and the guns in the other. My brothers and I led them to the village headman, who told them to go to Big Company’s godown.

The soldiers numbering about 20 then parked themselves on the verandah of the godown. They were thoroughly worn out. When I inquired whether they had brought any food with them, they shook their heads.

I then went home, and asked Mother to prepare a large kettleful of hot coffee. I brought them the coffee and a tinful of Marie biscuits.

One of the soldiers asked me whether I could look after his pet dog, a fox terrier. I agreed. The dog was called Mickey. The dog was reluctant to follow me and I had to carry him home in my arms.

The British soldiers left Sungei Panas early the next morning. We heard that they had not managed to go very far, and were captured by the Japanese on Bum Island, which lay south of Batam. We also heard that they were sent back to Singapore as prisoners of war.

After the British soldiers left Sungei Panas, I noticed some of the younger villagers looking for something. I did not pay much attention to them until I was told they were looking for the guns the British had thrown away.

I thought it was very stupid of them to do such a thing. The news of British soldiers throwing away guns was bound to reach Japanese ears. They would surely come looking for the guns.

Anyway, I did not pay much attention as there was more pressing business. After Singapore fell, we knew that the Dutch army – Batam was part of the Dutch East Indies – would not be able to hold the Japanese back.

So for some time, we had been planning to move away from Sungei Panas village to a place less accessible to the Japanese. We heard the Ongs, the newly arrived Singaporeans staying at a brick bungalow, had similar plans to move. They were worried about the safety of their womenfolk.

They discussed the matter with a rubber estate supervisor who suggested they move to his boss’ other rubber estate, which lay next to Father’s rubber estate. That was the place where we had been doing the repairs to the hut, as it had not been occupied for some time.

We never expected the Japanese to come to Sungei Panas so soon, not to the village anyway. They must have had a well organised and efficient intelligence service. News of British soldiers throwing their guns away must have been relayed immediately to them.

When the Japanese came, the whole village was caught unawares. The Japanese were at our doorstep before we realised who they were.

There were two of them, accompanied by Indonesian guides. They appeared to be looking for something. We immediately guessed they were looking for the British guns.

They came to one of the bedrooms where we kept the books we had brought from Singapore. The books were mainly English books.

At once the Japanese faces changed. They looked grim and the leading man drew out his sword. I did not realise he was an officer until I saw that he had pips on his shoulders.

He ordered all of us out of the house. He then counted and found one of us missing. He shouted to me to get the missing person. I used sign language to indicate that the wanted person was ill.

Not believing me, the officer strode into the house to see for himself. Third Brother was in bed with a burning fever. At once the officer’s demeanour changed. His face which a moment ago was grim, now appeared kind and gentle

He bade me to fetch him a basin of cold water and proceeded to sponge Third Brother’s forehead. After a while he asked me to continue the sponging.

The officer left soon after, followed by the others. They were then seen sitting under a tree in the village, fanning themselves. The Indonesian guides pointed to Mr. Ong’s house and indicated that there were young women staying there.

The Japanese ignored the guides. They continued to sit under the tree. After a while they all left in their boat.

The Wongs and the Ongs had lucky breaks that day. The Japanese were known for their barbarism towards women in wartime. Fortunately the officer had a restraining influence on the other soldier and the Indonesian guides.

As to why the officer was so kind to Third Brother, we would never know. Perhaps he had a son in Japan.

The news of our luck soon spread, especially the news about the Ong womenfolk and people talked about it for a long time.

Following the visit by the Japanese, Father decided to shift as soon as possible to the rubber estate, even though the repairs to the hut were not completed. Father said, “The Japanese are unpredictable. They may come back to punish us for the English books. We can’t take any chances.”

We shifted that same day. So did the Ongs. They too thought the Japanese might return.

We completed the move in one day, locking up house at Sungei Panas village. The neighbours were curious, asking us the reason for our move. After our explanation, they agreed that it was the right thing to do. They never questioned the Ongs. They knew there were many women in the family.

Singaporean Dr Wong Heck Sing, 82, kept a journal while on Batam but lost it. This edited account was extracted from his self-published book, The Batam Years, which he wrote from memory 60 years later for his grandchildren.

Days of tapioca

Source: "Lifestyle"-The Star- 26 June 2005

BY PHILIP GOLINGAI

Tapioca, when combined with other ingredients, can be made into many types of delicious dishes and snacks. But, when these other ingredients are not readily available, PHILIP GOLINGAI discovers, a little dash of creativity can save the day, and please please the palate as well.

HOW many ways can you cook ubi kayu (tapioca)? One way is to boil it. Once cooked, you can dip it in raw sugar. Yummy!

73-year-old Chye Kooi Loong remembers when tapioca was a life-saving, if bland, staple during the grim days of the Japanese Occupation.

Take away the sugar and all you have is boiled tapioca and it tastes like the root of the cassava plant (which is exactly what it is) - tasteless.

Imagine having it as your main course for a week. How about a whole year, or the entire duration of the Japanese Occupation of Malaya?

And during the Occupation tapioca was available but sugar was scarce. So were meat, rice, vegetable, flour and most other food items.

To get a picture of what those who survived the Japanese Occupation ate, let's see what 75-year-old local historian Chye Kooi Loong had to eat day after day after day.

Breakfast: “In the morning, we had tapioca. It was cheap in the market. We ate it with salted fish or ikan kembong,” says Chye, who was in his teens when the Japanese ruled Malaya.

Lunch: It was porridge with sweet potatoes and sweet potato leaves thrown in. “Sometimes we had a little bit of sawi (leaf mustard) and some yam to go with it,” recalls the author of The History of the British Battalion – Malayan Campaign: 1941-42.

Dinner: “The same story. Porridge again,” he says. “We did not have enough rice so we could only cook porridge as we were only given 3 kati (1.8kg) of rice for a month for our family of eight.”

Rice was served on Chye's family table only four times a year, and these were the major festivals - the moon cake festival, Chinese New Year, Qing Ming (all souls day) and dumpling festival.

“And on those festival days we had a small chicken to be shared among us,” he says, adding “it (Japanese Occupation) was a very, very hard time.”

Before the Occupation, the Chyes ate well. Nearly every other day, they had chicken, pork, vegetables and soup for their meal. They lived comfortably because his father was an accountant in a French-owned tin mining company in Tapah, Perak.

Chye's diet changed when the Japanese occupied Malaya because his father's pay was a fifth of what he used to earn. The French company was taken over by the Japanese and his father was demoted to a clerk because he was deemed anti-Japanese.

“My mother used to tell us, ‘you must understand that now your father's income is lower and you have to learn to eat within his means.’

“And we were very understanding because our neighbours and friends were eating the same fare,” he explains.

There was no change in the diet of those who were rich - tin miners or rubber estate owners.

“On the black market, you could buy almost anything you wanted. But things were expensive,” says Chye, whose family was considered “lower middle class” during the Occupation.

As for the poor, there was not much on the menu other than tapioca.

“They simply could not afford other food items so there was a lack of variety in their diet and they suffered beri beri as they did not get enough vitamin C,” he explains.

Since a varied menu was not an option for many, they simply had to be creative to add some taste to the otherwise bland tapioca. Roasting and frying were alternative cooking methods, and any flavour enhancer that was available was pressed into service.

“Roasted tapioca is especially nice because when you roast it over a fire, it is tastier since the juices are kept inside the skin,” says Chye.

Belacan (shrimp paste) also worked well as a taste enhancer. “Cut the tapioca in small pieces and then fry them with belacan. It tasted wonderful and was a welcome change from the usual bland tapioca,” he recalls.

Fried tapioca was also popular but “good cooking oil was very expensive so we had to use red palm oil. And, in those days, it was not refined like the type that you buy in today's supermarket,” he says.

“The oil was thick and red. And you must eat the fried tapioca while hot or else the red palm oil would congeal,” he adds.

Bubur cha cha tapioca was a welcome, albeit rare, treat “but that was a luxury as sugar cane juice was expensive.”

Whenever Chye eats tapioca today, it reminds him of the “bad old days.”

However, he acknowledges, “without tapioca, I wouldn't be here today.”