Bintan village headman recalls a past of blurred borders
No passport needed and we used Singapore currency in Bintan
Ng Tze Yong, The New Paper 9 Aug 08;
National Day - a celebration of The Singapore Story. But when did the story really start? With independence, 1965? With Raffles, 1819? Our nation is also part of a collective memory that pre-dates Raffles, stretching much further afield
The wise man snorts and scoffs.
The wise man snorts and scoffs.
No, he says. He is not telling.
Mr Abdul Zaman, 72, is village headman, mystic and medicine man, all rolled into one.
He watches over the tomb of a forgotten queen - a certain Wan Seri Beni.
Wan Seri Beni was the queen who crowned Sang Nila Utama, the 13th-century prince who founded Singapore, and some say she was in love with him.
Mr Abdul, or Pak Atan as he is affectionately known, claims to know an ancient secret passed down through generations of the grave guardians, one that he claims foretells the destiny of the 'sister islands' - Singapore and Bintan.
Pak Atan is no loony.
Every year, thousands from all over the Riau Archipelago flock to his village to seek blessings from the queen.
And Pak Atan is the man they seek. He conducts the rituals. He speaks to the dead queen. Perhaps unsurprisingly then, Pak Atan is also a man who speaks only in parables.
Journalism school does not teach you how to interview a man like this.
So when we asked him an innocuous question about the queen's beauty, and he replied with an analogy of how there can be many different service providers for one handphone, my colleague Zaihan and I looked at each other perplexed - stumped again.
This National Day, we had thought we would do something different.
Search for Singapore's roots. And see what the Singapore Story looks like - from the outside in.
Why? Because Singaporeans often lament the lack of a national identity.
Singapore's history - textbook style - is 1965. It is 1819. Beyond that, there's a cute story of a prince who saw a lion.
There is little else.
But we forget. We are a little dot, yes, but we are a dot in a region of dots - the Riau Archipelago.
The ties that bind reach far back, past independence, past Raffles...
The Singapore Story here is a different one.
Sitting in Pak Atan's house, the flag-flying Chinooks and National Day melodies seemed so far away.
Pak Atan told us about his childhood, how he often rowed his sampan to Changi to visit friends and family (it took between three and 12hours, one way), how his father was Indonesian, but born in Pulau Tekong, and how they used Singapore currency in Bintan before the '60s.
'Then, overnight, you needed a passport,' he said.
Families were stranded on different islands. A line was drawn across the sea, invisible yet unequivocal.
ARCHIPELAGO TIES
Said Mr Gilles Massot, author of Bintan: Phoenix of the Malay Archipelago, which explores the ancient links between Singapore and Bintan: 'In a way, the smuggling of cigarettes and human beings today, the mistresses that Singaporeans keep in the Riau islands... they're all a continuation of this archipelago life.'
Now, Bintan is building itself a new capital.
The city of Bandar Seri Bintan will rise from the forest to replace Bintan's present capital, Tanjung Pinang, as soon as a corruption case that has halted its progress is settled in a Jakarta court.
Pak Atan played a pivotal role, helping to mobilise land resources in the early stages.
'I want to bring Bintan a new beginning,' he said. 'I want Bintan to be the new Singapore.'
He reminded us of the new capital's location: right beside what used to be Bintan's ancient capital, a trading port that flourished before Singapore was founded by Sang Nila Utama.
It is this cycle of rise and fall, he told us, the entwined destinies of Singapore and Bintan that is forgotten.
Said Mr Massot: 'Bintan was always the lesser sister.'
For example, Chinese migrants settled in Bintan first, in the 18th century, before moving to Singapore.
An intellectual movement started in 19th-century Penyengat before spreading to Singapore.
And it was from Bintan that Sang Nila Utama set sail.
The things we heard from Pak Atan, as we chatted over tea and beef rendang, were strange, yet familiar.
The Singapore Story I know comes from National Education. It gave me dates to remember, names, heroes, villains, the reasons for things - ultimately, it gave answers.
Here, from the outside in, the Singapore Story is clouded by myth.
Why bother?
'Myth' is a word that has taken on a negative connotation,' said Mr Massot.
'But myths help us understand reality. There are secrets encrypted in them.'
The myth of Sang Nila Utama goes much deeper than explaining how Singapore got its name.
'It is about the links between Singapore and its cultural and historic hinterland,' said Mr Massot.
Associate Professor John Miskic, who teaches Southeast Asian archaeology at the National University of Singapore, said Singaporeans should not forget the span of history between Sang Nila Utama and Raffles.
'What sane person would cut out three-quarters of their memory?' he said.
HISTORY IS REALITY
The depiction of the Singapore Story as a freak event harms the national psyche, he said.
'It creates insecurity and rootlessness,' said Prof Miskic. 'Conversely, the longer the tradition, the clearer the identity.'
National identity - it's the holy grail for young Singaporeans like me.
Perhaps it explains why we manufacture Merlions - mammoth ones with laser eyes and baby ones to fit as keychains - but cringe when Miss Singapore parades as one.
Perhaps it is why Singaporeans travel all over the world, but are afraid to go to Johor.
It might be why, too, looking back a mere 20years is enough to get Singaporeans all nostalgic about lost heritage.
Here, however, we were on a journey going back centuries. And we were hopelessly lost.
Today, the search for paradise goes in the reverse direction. Hordes of tourists head to Bintan's spas and cheap golf courses, crossing the same straits Sang Nila Utama crossed centuries ago.
Tourists, resorts, and the construction of the new capital - a wise man watches all this from beside an ancient tomb.
He knows the Singapore Story, too. But his is one that is harder to comprehend, to box in.
We leave confused. We cannot see beyond our sunny island. We cannot see past the familiar story.
Pak Atan laughs, the all-knowing laugh of someone with a secret.
Stay a year, he invites us gently. He may tell us one day.
