"Times they are a-changing."
It was apt that this jewel of a song by Bob Dylan blasted through my earplugs, shutting myself from the world. The afternoon sun remained stubbornly treacherous, and beat downward mercilessly. As the bells rang to mark the end of school, shrieks of joy and laughter replaced the corridor void. Elsewhere outside, domestic helpers scurried into position and ceased their womanly gossip, with huge umbrellas hovering over their heads like parachutes.
The primary school kids welcomed their domestic helpers with unseen sighs of relief, akin to flight arrival passengers spotting foreign strangers carrying boards with their names scribbled on them. They scampered toward their domestic helpers, racing for the safe haven beneath the wings of those umbrellas. Automatically, they off-loaded their backpacks unto the helpers' shoulders. The girls, amazingly had roller bags.
Some of the well to do ones had a better unspoken deal going on with their helpers, exchanging their backpacks for a PSP! With utmost focus, they glued their attention to the screens, while trudging back home.
What happened to good old catching and police & thieves and bola rembat and guli and rumah dayak and Chinese VS Malay friendly football rivalries? What happened to growing oblivous to blistering mid day suns, and hide & seek across the entire HDB neighbourhood? What happened to Tamiya racing in dingy drains and flicking on a piece of 'country-flag' eraser in a winner take all duel?
All the above I cherished. They were simple games, but they moulded a nation of tougher kids. Most importantly, they etched a deep and lasting memory of wonderful irresponsible childhood, every boy secretly dreams of going back to.
As I sat and gazed upon what lay before my eyes, my mind rolled back the years of past landscapes and friends. Some good, some forgettable, some unrecognisable, and a few...sorely missed. None more so than a certain Benny Fong. The good times we had was irreplaceable. I remembered being in Primary 2, and we were hell bent on running the 'country-flag' eraser economy dry.
Benny Fong was in the same standard as me. While majority of the students including myself joined the school since Primary 1, Benny only joined the school in Primary 2. I was in class 2-3, and he was next door in 2-4. He was two years older than any of us. He looked every bit Chinese, but Benny was Malaysian, of Peranakan Baba heritage. For someone who joined much later, he had trouble blending in initially. While everyone had their own cliques and recess playmates, Benny I reckon, was trying to make friends wherever possible.
I have to admit that I didn't really caught on with the 'country-flag' eraser thing until early Primary 2. Prior to this, I preferred perspiring like an animal over football during recess. It was one day after recess when the boy sitting beside me showed me an entire box of 48 'country-flag' erasers he just bought at the bookstore. While most of us only had one or half an eraser, he had 48 full, new ones!
Why I asked him, did he need that many. He explained to me that it was to challenge the other kids at school. In a match, 2 students chooses an eraser of his choice and with flicking movements, try to pin their opponents'eraser. Winner takes all. Blatant gambling they say. I honestly felt it was harmless blissful fun.
With a dollar a day for pocket money, I figured investing 10 cents for such an eraser was not such a bad idea. And so the next day, with my mind set in stone, I made a beeline for the bookshop the moment we were released for recess. I was enthralled by the choice of erasers befalling my view. After much deliberation, I settled for Greece. Not because I have visited the country, but because I vividly remembered a documentary I watched not too long before, of Santorini's mystifying blue waters. In my young mind, I thought if I didn't have the chance to go there, at least I had the eraser.
With Greece in my hand, I marched for the 'gambling' table. It took me just 20 seconds. I lost. Albeit a little unfairly I thought for my opponent pushed his eraser over mine rather than flicking. But I lost graciously. I ran toward the bookshop, and Greece again it was. Same opponent, same result.
For the third time in 5 minutes, I visited the bookshop again. This time I bought Greece and Chad. But I didn't battle. I figured I need some practicing before roughing it out.
That night, and many nights after that, I spent my time perfecting my strokes and techniques. Counter movements, long shots, side shots, close shots...until I felt I was ready for the real thing.
Two weeks later, I was back at the same table, with a different opponent, and Greece tasted its maiden victory. Now I had 3 erasers, yet I yearned for more. I didn't want instant success and resort to buying an entire box like my classmate, I wanted to earn it.
For many days after that, this eraser game got me completely possesed. There were good days and there were bad ones, but the scale tipped more toward the good side as time goes by, and soon enough, I had amassed more erasers than I could ever imagine, and my reputation swelled.
Then Benny came along. I remembered I was waiting for remedial classes. Likewise he. I was alone and reading a book when Benny came up to me. "Want to play rubber?", he asked in earnest hope. "Sure!", I exclaimed gleefully. "Winner takes all yeah?", I laid down the rules, in recent view of how some of the kids only wanted to play 'friendly practice' duels with me now. "OK", Benny retorted, as he took out about 15 erasers from a box. "This is all I have", he confessed, sheepishly prying over the huge mass of 40 odd erasers I had in a plastic bag.
It was pretty fair game for the first ten minutes, but after close to half an hour, Benny was down to his final surviving eraser. He lost. Graciously. With a smile on his face. Humble and accepting of defeat, he shook my hand and commented where he went wrong on that last one. I reciprocated and told him the good and bad points to the session. And that was the first conversation we ever had.
As the time for remedial classes approached, Benny turned around to pick his bag up when I noticed a blue patch of cloth sewn over his shorts, and a sudden gush of guilt swept through me. Here he is, wearing patched up school shorts, and here I am, with 15 of his hard-earned erasers. "Hey Benny", I called out to him. "You can have these back", I gave in, pushing the newly won erasers toward his end of the table. "Never mind la. You won fair and square", Benny reasoned and dashed down the foyer.
I sat there as his thumping steps faded into the distance and I somehow knew that Benny and I, will be close pals somehow.
Almost everyday after that, we would stay back after school to duel. But it became more of a friendly practice session. The camaraderie that grew from those sessions seemed to outweigh the competitive landscape of the game between us. Benny developed a more defensive approach to the game, beating his opponent at the last moment while I adopted a more aggressive and offensive tactic from the start.
Benny began to win me more often, and our duels grew even more constructive as we learned from each other's style of play. At the end of these sessions, we will divide and return the erasers to its rightful owner. We had utter mutual respect for each other. At recess, we will be competing with other students, and after school, we will share our experiences and showcase the hoard we have acquired for the day.
Not long afterward, I had accumulated such a huge number of erasers that I figured I couldn't keep it at home anymore without being caught. Likewise for Benny. So one day, together we scoured the tuck shop and found an empty Jacob's biscuit tin to house our prized possessions. We consolidated our erasers into one tin and hid it far beyond the prying eyes of other students, in an abandoned building known as the 'haunted house' at the far end of the school premise. There, our loot remained safe.
So on a daily basis, we would take out a few erasers to challenge other students at recess, and after school, we would dump it into our tin. It was a perfect tag-team, built to win.
And in a couple of months, we had criminally progressed to a total of 4 tins brimming with erasers. This I kid you not. Then we noticed that fewer people wanted to challenge us. With the decreased competition, our interest in the game waned as along. And before long, we completely shut down and moved on to other games, but our friendship remained strong.
One fine day before the end of the year school holidays, Benny asked if we were ever going to take those tins of erasers back home. We always procrastinated and mulled over it for it really takes much effort to lug it around. With the safety of the 'haunted house' for cover, we figured no one will ever come across that stash anyway. And so we got on with other things and soon, those erasers were somewhat forgotten. We eventually took back the erasers sometime in our Primary School life, two tins each, fair and square.
As we departed to different secondary schools, we lost contact. I'd reckon we moved on to face a new aspect of life. Teenage angst, rebellion, girls, pimples, cigarettes but deep down from time to time, I often wondered if Benny was doing fine.
It was only until I was 18, that I finally bumped into Benny. I just ended my driving practical session, and he arrived late for his motorbike practical session. We walked past each other, and funny enough both of us turned our heads to have a second look.
It was a good feeling, bumping into an old friend, albeit under such rushed circumstances. "Eh you still have the tin of rubbers?", Benny jokingly asked. "Dunno where la all those have gone to", I replied. "I still have mine you know!", he exclaimed with a smile on his face before scooting off for his lessons.
And that was the last time I ever saw Benny Fong.
As I sat there, watching, the blistering afternoon sun began to show mercy at last. Nearby factory workers started coming out after a long day at the production line. I turned to my right and smiled in disappointment. An empty playground at 5pm. The kids must still be at their PSPs I gathered. And not out to play like how we used to in the old days.
Perhaps this is the bitter inevitability of the times. With technology and progress, there's no holding back that the kids of today, and that of tomorrow, will seek solace and happiness differently.
Times indeed are a-changing. But I for one know that during my growing up days, I enjoyed thoroughly how simple it was screaming and shouting in the great outdoors. In my opinion, I wouldn't want to swap that piece of childhood with what the kids are experiencing now. Back then, it felt like the only way for boys to grow up and cherish their boyhood. If only, some things in life remained unchanged.
On behalf of all the boys that grew up circa 1980-1990, may our wonderful growing up memories be forever etched in our hearts. Boys will always be boys. Boys, should always be boys.
P.S. To my good friend Benny Fong,
I will be getting married this coming November. It would be really great to finally see Greece for the first time.
