Many might not notice Esplanade Park but treat it as just another ordinary green space in downtown Singapore. Built in 1943 on a plot of reclaimed land, it houses many of the monuments we visited on our trail, including the Cenotaph, the Tan Kim Seng Fountain, the Indian National Army Marker and the Lim Bo Seng Memorial.
Anderson Bridge at the southern end of Esplanade Park, taken on Queen Elizabeth Walk
Remembering Old Makan Places
The Satay Club, an open-air food centre with many hawkers selling satay, was located at the end of Esplanade Park on Queen Elizabeth Walk. Open from sunset till early morning, it was a favourite haunt for people yearning for a taste of one of Singapore's local delicacies, remembered most for the smoke ballooning from the charcoal, the flames fanned with a straw fan, the scent of cooked meat that gets your taste buds going, and not forgetting the satay man toiling and touting away. Situated under big, old trees in a quiet corner of town, the Satay Club's charming, relaxed ambience flavoured with a delightful dose of local aroma made the Satay Club one of the most fondly remembered local food centres. In 1995, however, it was demolished to make way for the Esplanade Theatres and the Nicoll Highway extension.
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
One of my English professors has taught me one important lesson: do not just see what is there, see also what is not there. The Esplanade Park has witnessed so many changes, that what we see today is not the full picture. It is merely a snapshot caught in a short span of time, and it most certainly would be different from the snapshots of our fathers, and the snapshots of our sons. These snapshots, far more than being just a source of nostalgia and memory, reminds us of the critical need to live in the moment and realise that nothing is set in stone. (Which is one reason why photography is very close to my heart.)
Taking a wider lens and considering the heritage of Singapore, it is plausible to ask just how much heritage we can afford to retain, and how much simply has to go in the name of progress and pragmatism. Humans have short-term memories - not in a medical sense, but an existential sense. We are temporal in memory, myopic in perception, selective in remembering, and constrained in retelling the stories. (This is perhaps why some simply don't care about history.) It might be wonderful to conserve an archaic way of life for the sake of keeping a history alive, but we know that is impossible. So since by no means can we keep everything the same, as a nation and as an individual we ought to ask: what is really worth keeping?
