Patchworks: Scents from the past
When time seems to pass by us so hastily, don’t we sometimes wish that a moment - just a moment would stop for us? As we age and our memory deteriorates, who, what and which stages or incidents of our lives will we remember?
As a student volunteer for the project ‘Patchwork of Reminiscences’, I choose to write. Using text to the best I could to share and record the valuable learning points and reflections of the different elders I meet.
It was in the midst of the famous Ya Kun Coffee aroma that the graceful and ever-amiable Aunty Anna shared with me her life experiences. Similiarly to most elders that I had spoken before, Aunty Anna holds faint memories of incidents dated when she was a young girl. She may not remember many faces or names, but she confided in me that there was a scent she would never forget.
The scent of opium - A small but significant part of her life story.
I remembered vividly, the expression on Aunty Anna when she accounted to me how she grew up with the scent of opium. It was only on good days where her father could afford opium, could she own temporary tranquility in her home - no quarrels, no abuse, just the sweetish pungent smell filling the compound. To her father back at that point of time, that scent was a sweet escape from the harsh reality of being a larbourer. To the little girl, the scent was assuring. It assured that it would be a peaceful night ahead for the family. Ironically, she also resented the fact that the burning of those black poppy seeds was the cause of the hardships on her family – earning never enough to feed the addiction of her father then.
The conflicting emotions associated with the scent of opium reflects a stage of Aunty Anna’s life– her days spent running around in kampong, her difficult but precious childhood days. It occurs to me strongly then, how uncannily scents can evoke not just past memories but also, emotions.
It also made me wonder.
As Singapore experienced the rise of the opium syndicate in the mid-19th century to late 20th century, how many other families were affected by the trading of opium? How many other children had the same childhood “scent” with our dearest Aunty Anna? Fortunately, the situation took on a bright turn as the government passed a bill to extend the death penalty to all cocaine, cannabis and opium traffickers on 30th November 1989. The younger generation like myself, would probably never experience real opium or the scent of it.
But as the society evolves and with emerging of new occupations etc, what were the scents that replaced the scent of opium?
Is there such a scent that could pull strings close to your heart?
It is the scent of opium for Aunty Anna.
It is the light scent of the rain for me.
What about you?
As a student volunteer for the project ‘Patchwork of Reminiscences’, I choose to write. Using text to the best I could to share and record the valuable learning points and reflections of the different elders I meet.
It was in the midst of the famous Ya Kun Coffee aroma that the graceful and ever-amiable Aunty Anna shared with me her life experiences. Similiarly to most elders that I had spoken before, Aunty Anna holds faint memories of incidents dated when she was a young girl. She may not remember many faces or names, but she confided in me that there was a scent she would never forget.
The scent of opium - A small but significant part of her life story.
I remembered vividly, the expression on Aunty Anna when she accounted to me how she grew up with the scent of opium. It was only on good days where her father could afford opium, could she own temporary tranquility in her home - no quarrels, no abuse, just the sweetish pungent smell filling the compound. To her father back at that point of time, that scent was a sweet escape from the harsh reality of being a larbourer. To the little girl, the scent was assuring. It assured that it would be a peaceful night ahead for the family. Ironically, she also resented the fact that the burning of those black poppy seeds was the cause of the hardships on her family – earning never enough to feed the addiction of her father then.
The conflicting emotions associated with the scent of opium reflects a stage of Aunty Anna’s life– her days spent running around in kampong, her difficult but precious childhood days. It occurs to me strongly then, how uncannily scents can evoke not just past memories but also, emotions.
It also made me wonder.
As Singapore experienced the rise of the opium syndicate in the mid-19th century to late 20th century, how many other families were affected by the trading of opium? How many other children had the same childhood “scent” with our dearest Aunty Anna? Fortunately, the situation took on a bright turn as the government passed a bill to extend the death penalty to all cocaine, cannabis and opium traffickers on 30th November 1989. The younger generation like myself, would probably never experience real opium or the scent of it.
But as the society evolves and with emerging of new occupations etc, what were the scents that replaced the scent of opium?
Is there such a scent that could pull strings close to your heart?
It is the scent of opium for Aunty Anna.
It is the light scent of the rain for me.
What about you?
