I've always loved museums, and I've never needed a reason to visit one. But life is such that sometimes you get special reasons to make the trip to the museum a much more anticipated one.
This wartime exhibition, held from September of 2017 to the March of 2018 at the National Museum, was a good enough one.
It might have been held in a single gallery space at the lower levels of the new wing, but something about this exhibition distinguished itself from the others I'd previously seen.
For one, there was hardly any mention about the forts, the significant events, the battle plans and the whole Fortress Singapore account. And there was even lesser mention- if not at all- about wartime atrocities, the Kempeitai and Sook Ching.
If they were trying to avoid the topic altogether, I don't know, maybe it wouldn't do to conflict with the other permanent exhibitions dotted around the island, but what I got was a factual narrative of the Japanese Occupation during that time.
I found it interesting.
Because far from the oft-mentioned themes that make up the whole story of WWII, what I saw and heard in this exhibition reflected very much the day-to-day life that swirled and sailed its way like an undercurrent in the middle of all the notable happenings.
These were things that went unmentioned in relation to the more regular themes, like military defence and strategy and POWs and prison camps and military intelligence, and yet, these facets of life must have always been there.
No doubt, there was a bit of information on anti-aircraft guns and taking cover in trenches and motivational speeches and sandbags and the like. But there was information on the cabarets and Chinese opera theatres and other entertainment outlets during that period. And there was information- in the form of newspaper advertisements- about Cantonese and Mandarin movies shown in cinemas during thos years. Surprising, but yes, in relation to the war fun and all, there were movies in the years leading up to the Occupation, and there were even movies and entertainment activities in the middle of the Occupation.
On one side, mounted on the wall were cases displaying the uniforms worn by the British troops, which, I thought, seemed really huge and heavy. The boots looked chunky, the fabric of the uniforms looked thick and rough, and then there was all this equipment they had to carry about with them- water canisters and pistols and mess tins and backpacks.
On the other side, there was this wall that displayed posters- what we'd call really large memes today- with graphical pictures and block lettered impactful statements probably meant to rally citizens and maybe tired-out, exhausted troops.
It wasn't all from the British perspective though.
Not in this exhibition.
There were displays showcasing the Japanese side too.
In one clear display case was a radio, complete with knobs, dials, built-in speaker and all. In the case next to it was the signals and communication equipment that the Japanese used. There were notebooks, really small ones, used by the Japanese as personal journals and record diaries of sorts. There were hand-drawn A5 sized maps used by the Japanese to indicate the land topography of Singapore, and in one of the display cases was an A4 sized messenger bag supposedly used by the Japanese message delivery boys.
I thought the bag looked similar to one that I bought in Dongdaemun a couple of years ago. #fashionrevisited
There was quite a bit about the day to day.
Further away from the glass cases was a set showing what it was that people in Singapore ate during the war. There was a stove, a wok on the stove, a few enamel utensils, a spatula, and in the covered wok, which you could lift the lid, were two models of sweet potatoes, tapioca and yams. I don't remember whether there were vegetables or not. I suppose not.
Further away from the glass cases was a set showing what it was that people in Singapore ate during the war. There was a stove, a wok on the stove, a few enamel utensils, a spatula, and in the covered wok, which you could lift the lid, were two models of sweet potatoes, tapioca and yams. I don't remember whether there were vegetables or not. I suppose not.
It was a simple, effective, straightforward exhibition.
You didn't get sad, scary stories. You didn't get first hand accounts from victims, or second hand accounts from family members. There are exhibitions for that. It wasn't found here.
You didn't get sad, scary stories. You didn't get first hand accounts from victims, or second hand accounts from family members. There are exhibitions for that. It wasn't found here.
Here was a more balanced approach- one that showed you the facts of what living in a war was like. It was, in short, a story of individual survival.
See, there was the civilian part- the entertainment part, the movies, the food, even the clothes. And there was also the soldier part- for every military personnel is a individual soldier- with their pictures and journals and gear and uniforms.
What it was, I felt, was how one would view the life story of each and every person in this period, up close. These were things that belonged to someone and had possibly been used by someone, and through them, they were telling us about the lives they had lived. They were telling us about the person whom they had belonged to, and who had used them.
It was a very beautiful thought.
Because it is a thought that is so often forgotten amidst all the memories and information about the Pacific theatre or the European theatre or D-Day or the Nanking Massacre or the Holocaust.
But we shouldn't forget about the ordinary. We shouldn't forget that in the ordinary and the mundane and the inaction, we find stories of coping, strength, resilience and survival- and that away from the dropping bombs and weaponry and all, in the cities, villages and towns, there were heroes, and heroines.
See, there was the civilian part- the entertainment part, the movies, the food, even the clothes. And there was also the soldier part- for every military personnel is a individual soldier- with their pictures and journals and gear and uniforms.
What it was, I felt, was how one would view the life story of each and every person in this period, up close. These were things that belonged to someone and had possibly been used by someone, and through them, they were telling us about the lives they had lived. They were telling us about the person whom they had belonged to, and who had used them.
It was a very beautiful thought.
Because it is a thought that is so often forgotten amidst all the memories and information about the Pacific theatre or the European theatre or D-Day or the Nanking Massacre or the Holocaust.
But we shouldn't forget about the ordinary. We shouldn't forget that in the ordinary and the mundane and the inaction, we find stories of coping, strength, resilience and survival- and that away from the dropping bombs and weaponry and all, in the cities, villages and towns, there were heroes, and heroines.