UWC2101D: Selves and Cities

Yesterday Once More

By Yeo Hwee Pey

In his thought-provoking essay, "Orchard Road: The Hyper-Longkang of Consumption", Tan Kok Meng, a Singaporean architect, observes how "Two long generous pedestrian malls on both sides [of Orchard Road are] shaded by the canopy of what could be the last few remaining angsana trees on the island". Despite the near-extinction of this Singaporean tree, "there is an ominous campaign of extermination of the angsana from the face of this island," Tan bemoans, "because they are difficult to 'maintain'":

Soon, it is rumoured, the angsana trees will be gone; there is an ominous campaign of extermination of the angsana from the face of this island, because they are difficult to 'maintain'. Instead, a re-forestation of the past may take place. And soon the orchards may perversely reappear again, if only as a theme.(98)

Although subtle, his tone reveals a sense of anguish at the impending doom of these angsana trees.

Tan's reluctance at seeing the trees felled is not unlike one's unwillingness to discard sentimentally priceless memorabilia of yesteryears. His emotional attachment to the angsana trees is similar to what moves us to meticulously preserve our primary school record books, secondary school love letters and other reminders of the past. However, to retain these physical remains from the past requires much time and effort. Furthermore, it is a real headache finding sufficient space to keep these items and this problem is exacerbated in land-scarce Singapore. Despite all these difficulties, why do we still want to hold onto physical reminders of the past? Can't we reminisce about the past without them?

Even before we examine the importance of physical reminders, we should first consider the importance of remembering the past. As Walter Benjamin once said, 'To live is to leave traces", and from a psychological perspective, our memory is a way of "encoding, storing and retrieving" (Feldman 221) these traces in life. These traces reside in our repository of memories, and like historical moorings, provide us with "a sense of rootedness and permanence"(Warren 161) so that we can better understand our present and thereafter, contemplate our future. Without memories, we would be amnesiacs whose frameworks of references, identities and relationships have been obliterated. This fear is especially pertinent for our episodic memory because it is the memory component that captures biographical details of our lives like the things we have done and experienced (Feldman 228).

Nevertheless, our memory is not without its problems. Due to the sheer quantity of recollections stored, retrieval of information can be impeded or even impaired, resulting in difficulty with recalling information. Fortunately, psychological studies have found that 'retrieval cues' can substantially alleviate this problem by directing us through our memory warehouses. An introductory psychology text provides this scientific definition: Retrieval cues are stimuli that allow us to recall information located in our memories more easily (Feldman 233).

To identify retrieval cues, one can take a little time to look around the house and it would not be difficult to locate items that evoke memories of particular incidents, places or people. In their essay, "The Notion of Place in the Construction of History, Nostalgia and Heritage", two Singaporean academics, Lily Kong and Brenda Yeoh provided some instances:

For the individual, a playground captured on a photograph conjures up particular constructions of our childhood days while revisiting a former home or school which has changed almost beyond recognition stirs up emotive memories of what used to be. (Kwok et al. 147)

These physical remnants of the past are precisely what constitute our retrieval cues and they take on various forms, ranging from traditional favourites like family heirlooms to avant-garde ones like video recordings. Such quaint paraphernalia may or may not fetch high monetary benefits as antiques, but what is more important is the psychological worth they embody; the value of these tangible items is ironically intangible. Kwa Chong Guan, a committee member of the Singapore Heritage society, summed up such thoughts with his comment: "These [physical remnants of the past] are not objects which will enter a Christie's or Sotheby's auction catalogue & but they are treasured because they remind us of a way of life we used to live; they evoke memories of ourselves" (Kwok et al. 48).

Other than the individual person, Singapore's state conservation projects also rely on physical reminders to bring Singaporeans closer to the past. The authorities remain committed towards conserving physical remnants from the past despite the high commercial and residential demand for physical space in the tiny city-state of Singapore. The emphasis on physical conservation is pointed out by Kong and Yeoh in their earlier-mentioned essay: "To conserve 'our remarkable past' in a manner most accessible to all, an important strategy of the state is to impress the form of the past onto the visible landscape" (Kwok et al. 141). The two authors also provided concrete evidence of how this 'visible landscape' manifests itself via physical retrieval cues in conservation projects:

This [conservation of the material built environment] can be seen in the meticulous restoration of the physical fabric in historic districts such as Tanjong Pagar and Kreter Ayer and close attention to authentic architectural styles and ornamentation, original roof forms and colour schemes and so forth to create physical verisimilitude & emphasis is given to the visual qualities, the facades and concrete forms which constitute place& (Kwok et al 142)

State conservation authorities affirm the importance of tangible remnants of the past as retrieval cues to stimulate recollections, for the individual as well as the larger public.

Recognising and appreciating the significance of these physical fragments from the past enhance the understanding of our need for them. The next plausible step is examining how these remnants work to stimulate our recollections and consolidate our memories of bygone years. Allow me then, to indulge in memories of my childhood and use them as the canvas for illustrating how physical remnants act as retrieval cues to reinforce our memories of the past.

One usually has fond memories of childhood days because it is the stage of life associated with carefree innocence. For a glutton like me, my only concern then revolved around food. It was a daily morning ritual for my grandfather to bring me to the kopitiam a few housing blocks away to eat my favourite kaya bread toasted by the plump kopitiam auntie. Grandfather and I always sat at our usual table and while he sipped his strong-smelling 'kopi-o' , I would be devouring my kaya toasts. After licking up every single crumb of the toasts from the pink plastic plate, it would become my toy that could take on any form and function, subject to the kinds of imaginations I had for that day. There was however, one aspect I did not enjoy about the kopitiam. The noise in the kopitiam was irritating because I had to exert so much energy to make my tiny voice heard amidst the volume of animated conversations interspersed with louder-than-loudhailer orders of drinks. Despite that, Grandfather and I still stayed there for hours, enjoying a leisurely pace of life till it was time to go home for lunch.

However, as I grew older, I seldom patronised this kopitiam because I had moved away and Grandfather was no longer around to accompany me on our daily morning ritual. However, once in a while, I would still make the trip back to this childhood hangout and there, memories of my childhood days never fail to engulf me. My sensitive nose picks up the strong aroma of coffee even before I step into the kopitiam. It is a heavenly smell, like those emanating from grandfather's favourite 'kopi-o'. Although it is now a different kopitiam auntie making the kaya toasts, the rich taste of kaya oozing through as I sink my teeth into the toasts brings me back to many years ago, when I was so addicted to kaya toasts that I ate them every morning. The familiar buzz of drink orders and conversations in the kopitiam that used to irritate me so much are now like music to my ears, soothing and heart-warming. Though I am too old to play with the plastic plate now, I still fiddle with it, simply to touch its smooth surface and feel its chipped edges. This kopitiam is important to me, not only as a tangible link to my childhood memories, but also because it reminds me of the affectionate love of my grandfather, even long after he has left us.

I believe this kopitiam is such an effective retrieval cue for me because it encompasses features that activate my senses of sight, smell, taste, touch or hearing. I am able to transport myself back in time and relive the happiness of my childhood memories while I look, smell, savour, feel or listen to what used to be. Physical reminders undoubtedly help us recall and recollect the past and my personal experience suggests that it is the stimulation of our five senses that makes this form of retrieval cues so effective and our memories so much more vivid. This hypothesis of mine is in accordance with what psychologists term 'the level of processing theory' (Feldman 231). This theory proposes that the depth and intensity of processing of stimuli that occurs when we first encounter them would determine how much of them are ultimately remembered. Not surprisingly, the most basic level of processing involves the physical and sensory aspects of stimuli.

Hence, the presence of physical reminders serve as retrieval cues that activate our five senses and effectively refresh our memories. This may explain why Tan, mentioned at the beginning of the essay, wanted the angsana trees to remain. They were probably physical reminders of his past, serving as retrieval cues when he has difficulty recalling how things used to be. He treasures them because seeing the trees' large branches and touching their rough barks help evoke vivid memories of his past. Like many of us, Tan wants to do more than just holding a vague and fuzzy image of the past in his mind; it is our wish to possess something more tangible from the past.

The past is a period of time irretrievably lost, but such a sense of loss of time can be mitigated if some elements of the past can linger on in our lives. Such a wish of ours is reflected in my essay title, which coincidentally, is a title of an oldie whose lyrics go, "Just like before& Its yesterday once more&".

Works Cited

Feldman, Robert. Understanding Psychology. 5th edition. United States of America: McGraw Hill Co., 1999.

Kwok, Kian-Woon, Kwa, Chong Guan, Kong, Lily and Yeoh, Brenda, eds. Our Place in Time: Exploring Heritage and Memory in Singapore. Singapore: The Singapore Heritage Society, 1999.

Tan, Kok Meng. "Orchard Road: The Hyper-Longkang of Consumption." Singapore Architect 204: 99, 96-99.

Warren, John. The Past and Its Presenters. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1998.