Remembering Nya Nya
This is our paternal aunt - the one we affectionately call Nya Nya - the heartbeat of our Bedok kampong house. She was the neighbour‑connector, the one who somehow knew every household, every small story that made our kampong feel whole. When the skies darkened and the first drops began to fall, her familiar call of “Lo hor ah!” would ring across the neighbourhood. It was a sound everyone recognised - a gentle alert that laundry needed to be brought in, a reminder that someone was looking out for you. That was her way: always noticing, always caring. She planted tapioca trees in our garden so that future tea-times would be assured. She knew how to slaughter chickens and prepare the Hainanese chicken rice we loved, turning ordinary afternoons into meals that tasted like home. Her carrying heart extended far beyond family - even the stray dogs and cats around the kampong knew her kindness, and enjoyed a small morsel and a moment of affection. In this 1959 photograph , she sits ...