Singapore

9 August is Singapore’s National Day—it marks the country’s separation from Malaysia. (It’s a little confusing: on 31 August in 1963 the country attained independence from the United Kingdom. Just over two weeks later, on 16 September, Singapore merged with Malaysia—then just under two years later the country separated from Malaysia again. These days? Sixth wealthiest country in the world (that’s in that whole GDP per capita way of thinking…).

So there are records of settlement from around the 2nd century, back in the days of the Sumatran Srivijaya empire. When I think of “outpost of empire” I always think of poor Ovid in exile. But I suspect I’m the only one with that problem. Back then it was called Temasek—a Javanese name that meant (imaginatively) “Sea Town.” There have been some artefacts from Temasek found,

When Portugal was engaged in their Malay-Portugal wars in the 17th century, they basically played arsonists to the settlement of Singapore. Grumps. Then they took control for a while, until the Dutch took over for a while, but it didn’t seem to have much impact. The fishermen of Singapore continued to fish.

Then the British East India Company came along. 1819 saw Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles—the perfect British name, really—land on the main island. Raffles realised that this was a great place for a trading post and did some wheeling and dealing with the Sultan Hussein Shah, of the (Malay) Sultanate of Johor until Singapore officially became a British colony.

Oh, and World War II saw the Japanese invade Malaya, with the Battle of Singapore being the main event. The Brits were beaten in six days, and Winston Churchill was not pleased at all. The Japanese occupied the island from 1942 until a month after the Japanese surrender in 1945.

They’re extremely serious about law and order in Singapore. Right down to the appearance of the streets. Litterbugs will face serious consequences. The negative side is that the government controls everything very tightly—for instance, there’s not a lot of freedom of the press. There are more restrictions elsewhere, but Singapore is definitely at the strictly-curtailed end of the list.

Oh, and I’m sure those of you flying around Southeast Asia a lot will stop in Singapore regularly. The airport is, shall we say, huge.

Today’s poem is by Paul Tan—it comes from the wonderful new treasury of Asian poetry, Language for a New Century. Indulge. Buy it. Read it. Email me about how much you love it.


The Sentry at Mutianyu Speaks to the Astronaut

I watch strange creatures unfurl
with each labored breath
and think of your dragon’s flight,
launched to such fanfare.

At the end edge of the kingdom,
language is pointless,
even if our lips were not blistered,
our tongues frost-dead.

These vats of oil dispatch flames
to the sky. In blazing sequences,
we send stories to the capital.
What cosmic language do you use?

Can you see me, nameless sentinel
on this endless line of stones?
Are there marauding barbarians
in cold outer space?

You and I have linked destinies—
we puncture small holes
in the wintry darkness against
strange winds and shifting stars.

We obey the emperor’s bidding,
do not think of earthly rewards;
the festooned laurels we will
save for another life.

—Paul Tan
from Language for a New Century