Nandaka's natuk kong

For the third year running on the eve of Hari Raya, we’ve been attending a buka puasa worship—Chinese-style—for the resident Natuk Kong shrine at the Nandaka Vihara, joining friends, monastery devotees, and workers. Yellow candles and plenty of joss sticks. Though the Nandaka Vihara is strictly a Theravādin Buddhist monastery, certain local beliefs still persist, including the spiritual presence of Natuk Kong, the guardian of the land on which the monastery stands.

Since Natuk Kong is believed to be of the Islamic faith, special care is taken in preparing halal food. No pork is ever offered to the deity. Last night, we had briyani rice with both chicken and mutton curries—plenty to go around for the occasion. The worship began at around 7.40 pm, just minutes after the official buka puasa time for Penang.

About 50 metres away, a dhamma talk was underway, attended by some 80 people—mostly temporary monks, sayalays and eight preceptors—all absorbed in their practice and completely unaware of our buka puasa activities taking place on the Nandaka grounds.

Earthquake

I didn’t hear about it until maybe two and a half hours later. A friend called out to me, saying a devastating earthquake had struck Burma, in a region known as Sagaing, not far from Mandalay. She also mentioned that reports said tremors were felt as far away as Bangkok, where a building had collapsed. Even with this information, I wasn’t quite ready to grasp the gravity of the disaster—not until I got home that night.

Social media was flooded with images and videos, and they were all bad. Roads had cracked open, buildings had crumbled, Buddhist pagodas and stupas severely damaged and general devastation stretching across the affected areas. The pictures trickling out of Burma painted a grim scene. The earthquake measured 7.7 on the Richter scale, followed by several aftershocks, including a powerful 6.4 aftershock about half an hour later. The Sagaing fault line had shifted horizontally—the Indian plate pushing north, the Eurasian plate grinding south. This fault line, by the way, is part of the Pacific Ring of Fire and roughly extends down to the west of Sumatra. Possibly connected to the fault that caused the massive 2004 earthquake off Sumatra, which triggered the devastating tsunami that impacted nearly half the world.

As this earthquake struck on land, there was no tsunami. A small relief, but a relief nonetheless. Even so, destruction wasn’t limited to Burma. In Bangkok, nearly 1,000 kilometres away, a multi-storey building under construction collapsed, and the footage was chilling indeed, bringing into question the techniques deployed by the architect, structural engineers and contractors. Even the developer. If a building under construction can collapse, what guarantees are that it would be structurally safe once construction had completed and the building occupied? In China, some damage were recorded in Yunnan province. So far, reports estimate more than 1,600 lives lost across the two countries, but this number is almost certain to rise as more information emerges from Burma.

Let’s keep the people of Burma in our thoughts and prayers. They’ll need every bit of strength in the days ahead.

The crescent moon

Two mornings before the new moon. In practical terms, from my neighbourhood’s perspective, this is the last chance to spot the crescent moon before the morning light overwhelms it. At this stage, the 8.5 percent illuminated crescent is still at a decent height, but by tomorrow, it’ll be too low in the dawn sky to be noticed. So today, with fine morning weather, I woke up early, crept out of the house, and was rewarded with the sight of a thin crescent just above my rooftop.

By the way, the new moon falls on Saturday, and this one holds particular significance for Muslims. It’s an old ritual—specially appointed observers will be scanning the sunset sky with their telescopes and equipment, hoping to spot it. If successful, Hari Raya Aidilfitri will be on Sunday. If not, then Monday it will be. That said, traditional moon sightings have largely been supplanted by modern astronomical calculations. According to the public calendars, the Government has already determined that Hari Raya will fall on Monday.

I hear, too, that on Saturday, people in North America will witness a partial solar eclipse. Nothing for us to see in South-east Asia, though.

Getting meshed up

Living in a double-storey house can be a real pain when trying to extend a WiFi connection throughout the place. My problem lies with the modem and router which are upstairs in the living area. When I first moved into this neighbourhood in Bukit Mertajam and applied for an internet line way back in 2004, all the technician did was throw the cable across the rooftop from the backlane and feed it through a ventilation gap to the living area, which was centrally located on the upper floor of the house. Straight down and into the modem and router.

Upstairs, my wireless equipment—laptops and mobile phones—had excellent WiFi reception. But because of the house layout, concrete floor and brick walls, reception downstairs wasn’t always great. Mostly okay, but sometimes my wife would complain about poor connectivity when working downstairs. The smart television? It was fine—not excellent, but good enough. We could manage Netflix and YouTube, and I could still enjoy Spotify and Tidal.

Late last year, I chanced upon a ZDNet article about how to get wired connections throughout the house using existing coaxial cable outlets. In some old houses, those outlets were originally meant for TV connections in every room, but apparently, the coaxial cables could also carry internet signals, thanks to a technology called MoCA (Multimedia over Coax Alliance). Sounded interesting, but the problem was, I didn’t have any coax outlets in the house. So it was a nice idea, just not one I could use.

Meanwhile, I was still stuck with acceptable—but not great—WiFi reception downstairs. Then it occurred to me: a mesh router might be the solution. Lucky for me, I found one that was compatible with my existing router. I paired the two units, moved the mesh unit downstairs, and voilà—my wife’s not complaining anymore! Even better, the WiFi reception on the smart TV improved, and those annoying Netflix lags are gone. Not to mention, the WiFi outside the house and in the kitchen is now excellent.

Why didn’t I think of this earlier??

Meanwhile, here is an addendum to this story. If a mesh router isn’t a ready solution, homeplugs might be an alternative. Also known as powerline adapters, they use a home’s existing electrical wiring to create a wired network connection. These come in pairs—small devices that plug into electrical outlets. I don’t know the technical details of how they work, but the setup is pretty straightforward. The first homeplug connects to the modem or router via an Ethernet cable. It then injects the internet signal into the home’s electrical wiring. The second homeplug, plugged into a different electrical outlet elsewhere in the house, picks up this signal and provides an Ethernet port for devices like computers, gaming consoles, or smart TVs. The attractive part? You can add more homeplugs in different locations to extend network access throughout the house. All sounds rather cool—but since I’m already meshed up, a homeplug network is moot for me.

Roget's thesaurus

I'm not unfamiliar with a dictionary or a thesaurus. In fact, as a kid in primary school, I used to flick through my father's copy of Chambers' 20th Century Dictionary. It got so well-worn that the pages were slowly coming apart. I've still got it somewhere in the house, though I'd need to search hard for it—I've got newer dictionaries now, like the Oxford, Collins and BBC ones. 

Heck, at one point in the 1980s, on a trip to the Merdeka team chess tournament in Kuala Lumpur with my chess friends, I even bought a ridiculously voluminous—and heavy—dictionary from the Popular Bookstore there. Mainly because it was cheap. Also mainly because one of my chess friends and I were urging each other to buy such a thick book. We struggled to carry our copies on the bus back home to Penang. That dictionary’s long gone, by the way. Took up too much space in the house, and though I loathed to part with it, I had little choice.

The thesaurus, on the other hand, was a different story. I only discovered its existence when I was in college. The moment I saw a copy of Roget's Pocket Thesaurus in a bookstore, I was smitten. Finally, a book that could provide me with synonyms and antonyms, expanding my vocabulary beyond my limited scope. I used it so much that the pages became well-leaved. And then, a little while later, I came across Roget's Thesaurus in Dictionary Form. No hesitation—I got myself a copy. I was used to the original format of the thesaurus, but I quickly realised that the dictionary form was even easier to use. No more flicking through the index and then jumping to the relevant category at the front of the book.

As time passed, Roget's Pocket Thesaurus was forgotten—misplaced, lost. I relied solely on the dictionary version to get by. But even that eventually fell into disuse. When the Internet came around in the '90s, online thesauruses became my go-to resource, and my physical copy was relegated to the cupboard.

Only two or three weeks ago, I finally brought it out from storage—all because someone passed me a copy of her Roget's Pocket Thesaurus! Putting the two copies side by side brought back such wonderful memories of using them. Those were the good old days...

Peter Long, 1961-2025

Surprising news to share today—I’ve just learnt that Peter Long Chay Boon, a fellow chess journalist, passed away suddenly this morning in Rangoon, Burma, while participating in the Yangon Summer Friendship Chess Tournament. Peter was 64, far too young to be taken away.

When I first met him, he was still in secondary school in Petaling Jaya. Later, I learnt that he had moved to the Philippines for further studies.

How will history judge him? Like me, he had an insatiable urge to tell chess stories in the newspapers. For some time in the 1980s, he contributed to the New Straits Times. But his impulsiveness and outspokenness often put him at odds with the Malaysian Chess Federation. His sharp criticism of certain chess personalities eventually led to his column being suspended—a big example of his foolhardiness. But it wasn’t an isolated case; it was a streak that ran deep in him. He was a tinderbox, always ready to ignite, always wanting things his way. While I respected his frankness and brazenness, I also knew his refusal to hold back would land him in trouble sooner or later. I tend to be diplomatic in my writing, but not him. Peter never hesitated to call a cad a cad—and that was what brought him down.

He was very full of himself. A big ego which was bigger than almost anyone else in the Malaysian chess community, save for one or two others. I’d even dare say he could count his true local chess friends on only one hand. Acquaintances and friends among the foreigners, though—he had plenty. While I was still contributing to the newspapers, we were always respectful of one another as fellow chess journalists. But in the last decade or so, a certain aloofness descended on him—a refusal to acknowledge the presence of many of his fellow local chess players. It was as if he’d outgrown them, or at least thought he had. Yes, he never learnt to be humble, nor did he ever seem to want to.

His passing in a foreign land is a sobering reminder that death can strike at any time. This year alone, I’ve learnt of three people who passed away overseas. A classmate of mine died while on holiday in South Korea on the fourth of January. Then, on the 22nd of February, the son of a doctor friend passed away in Okinawa. And now, Peter, in Burma. Such tragedies bring immense strain to their loved ones—so much red tape to unravel before their remains can be brought home, not to mention the costs involved.

At this time, my thoughts are with Peter’s family. May they find comfort in knowing that, in his final days, he was doing what he loved most—playing chess and surrounding himself with chess people from anywhere but home.

No trains here!

I’ve known this building for as long as I’ve lived. In the old postcards of Penang Harbour, this clock tower always stood out, rising above the surrounding buildings. It was prominent then; it’s still prominent today. When I started working at Ban Hin Lee Bank in 1977, at the other end of China Street Ghaut, I’d see it every single day after crossing over from Butterworth by ferry. Alongside the Ban Hin Lee Bank billboard glowing atop the Yeap Chor Ee building, the clock tower was a defining sight of the area. And yet, for all its grandeur, I never once heard it chime—not because I wasn’t paying attention, but because it had no bell to strike the hour. More recently, I was walking along this road again, and as always, I looked up at the tower to admire its presence. Boy, what an edifice indeed!

This was once the Malayan Railway Station building, though calling it a railway station was a bit misleading. Built in 1905, it never had any train tracks, let alone a platform or locomotives rolling in and out. Instead, it functioned as the ticketing and administrative hub for the Federated Malay States Railway in the north. Passengers would buy their train tickets here before making their way to the FMS Railway Jetty at the end of China Street Ghaut. From there, they’d board a ferry to Prai, where their rail journey truly began. It was an unusual system, but it worked to connect the island to the Malayan railway network on the mainland.

The building itself was an architectural statement. Designed in 1904 by Arthur Benison Hubback—a British architect who would later design Kuala Lumpur’s iconic railway station—it was a striking blend of Neo-Classical and Indo-Saracenic styles. Construction began in 1905 and was completed by early 1909. At the time, it was the largest building in Penang, and its domed clock tower was the tallest structure in town. Inside, it housed railway administration offices, private businesses, a booking hall, a restaurant and even some basic accommodation.

By the 1960s, its railway days were over. Ticket sales were sub-contracted out to various parties, and I still remember buying my train tickets from the Howe Cheang Dispensary in Penang Road in the 1980s. Meanwhile, the Customs Department took over the building, and before long, people simply referred to it as the Customs Building, or Wisma Kastam. It’s fascinating how a place can change identities over the years—what began as a transport hub eventually became used for an entirely different purpose.

Even now, the building stands as a quiet yet imposing reminder of Penang’s past—a "railway station without a rail" that once played a crucial role in linking the island to the rest of Malaya. And every time I walk past it, I still can’t help but glance up at that clock tower, as I have for decades, admiring just how grand it still looks.

I’d initially posted this picture to my facebook, describing it as "uniquely, a railway station without trains." A friend from faraway Dittisham in England commented that there’s a similar railway station without trains in Dartmouth, just a few miles from where she lived. Since there was no railway bridge across the River Dart, rail passengers from Dartmouth had to take a ferry to Kingswear to catch their train. Another unique feature that bounds Penang and Devon!

Fort Cornwallis restoration...and Light

Last month, while attending a workshop on ESG, I picked up a small booklet from one of the exhibitors' counters. North Seafront Initiatives outlined plans to revitalise the northern seafront of the Esplanade, stretching from Fort Cornwallis to just before Green Hall meets the sea. This area had been identified as a priority in the George Town Special Area Plan, gazetted in 2016. According to the booklet, the first inception plan was approved the following year, with funding allocated for key projects such as the conservation of Fort Cornwallis and the strengthening of the Esplanade’s seawall.

For the past eight or nine years, Fort Cornwallis has been cordoned off to allow work to proceed. The fort was once surrounded by a moat, but over time, it fell into disuse and was filled in around 1922. Early restoration efforts focused on reinstating this moat, or at least the western and southern sides of the moat. However, during excavation in February 2018, workers unearthed two cannons buried about four feet deep. Their discovery reignited interest in the fort’s history, though I believe there’s still no definitive consensus on its functional use. The cannons, estimated to be over 200 years old, date back to the reign of King George III (1760–1820)—a period closely tied to Penang’s founding as a British settlement in 1786. Following this, nine cannonballs were also uncovered in the same area.

The North Seafront conservation effort has also involved strengthening the seawall, sprucing up the Koh Seang Tat fountain garden and enhancing the promenade by the sea. The removal of the metal fence around the Cenotaph has made the structure look far grander and more imposing. Meanwhile, on the southern side of Fort Cornwallis, the Light Street sidewalk has been significantly improved.

One piece of news I’m especially excited about is the proposed relocation of the Francis Light statue—again! But rather than being moved to some obscure spot, conservation efforts will see it restored to its original position outside the fort, facing the State Assembly building. This is particularly thrilling for me because, purely by coincidence, I had written about the statue’s original location back in August last year—long before I even knew of this proposal. Now that it may happen, I can’t wait to see it come to fruition!

I also hope that during the relocation process, conservationists will restore the statue’s lost sword. The original statue depicted Light with a sword at his side, and popular belief suggests it was lost during the Japanese Occupation. When the Japanese military invaded Malaya during the Second World War, the statue was removed and hidden away, and the accepted story is that the sword went missing in the process, never to be found. However, I’ve always questioned this version of events. I’ve seen photographs of the statue—complete with a sword—when it was positioned inside the Supreme Court premises after the war. Whether that sword was the original or a replica is irrelevant; the point is, the statue still had a sword after the war. My belief is that it only disappeared when the statue was relegated to a dimly lit corner of the Penang Museum in the late 1960s. The Francis Light statue deserves to have its sword again, and I hope one will be reinstated when it is finally relocated to Light Street in the foreseeable future.

#francislight #fortcornwallis

Chicago transit authority

I used to listen to the music of that seven-man American band, Chicago, but not anymore. I bought their first few albums but stopped after their seventh or eighth. I just couldn't stand their soppy middle-of-the-road pop love songs. Over time, they lost their grittier jazz-rock style, and that completely turned me off.

That said, Chicago’s first album, Chicago Transit Authority, released in 1969, remains a monumental debut in rock history. This two-record set, which I'd call a double album, wasn’t just a collection of songs—it was a bold statement, a fusion of rock, jazz and pop that introduced a band brimming with talent and innovation.

From the explosive opening of Introduction, I was captivated. Terry Kath’s electrifying guitar riffs, combined with the powerful and sophisticated horn section of Lee Loughnane, James Pankow and Walter Parazaider, created a sound that was both unique and exhilarating. Danny Seraphine’s drumming was equally impressive. This wasn’t just another rock band—it was a musical powerhouse.

One of the album’s greatest strengths was its diversity. It seamlessly blended genres, moving from the rock of Robert Lamm’s Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? to the ballad Beginnings. Tracks like Liberation and South California Purples highlighted their instrumental virtuosity, with extended jams that leaned heavily into jazz and showcased their improvisational skills.

The horn section wasn’t just a gimmick; it was the band’s defining element. The intricate, dynamic arrangements wove melodies and harmonies into the fabric of each song, complementing Kath’s guitar and Seraphine’s complex rhythms perfectly.

With such a wealth of material, a single record wouldn’t have been enough for their debut. Most bands wouldn’t have dared attempt a double album right out of the gate, but Chicago did—and their label, Columbia, let them. While its sprawling length could be a challenge for some listeners, that ambition was part of its charm. It marked the start of their creative energy, which carried over into their second and third studio albums—both also two-record sets.

But their excess didn’t stop there. Their fourth release, a live album recorded at Carnegie Hall, took things to quite another level. It was marketed as a double-double album, spanning four long-playing records! It took me a while to buy that, but I eventually did.

Lyrically, this first album reflected the spirit of the late 1960s, encompassing themes of social consciousness and personal relationships. Songs like Questions 67 and 68 and Someday added depth to the musical landscape which resonated with the era's counter-culture movement and its focus on peace, love and social change.

I might be mistaken, but I’ve noticed brief melodic similarities between certain sections of this album’s songs and earlier pop tunes from the 1950s and 1960s. Could the band have drawn inspiration from existing melodies? Musical influence is a complex process, and I’m not sure if these similarities warrant detailed musicological analysis by experts. Maybe they already have. But ultimately, Chicago’s distinctive arrangements, instrumentation and overall sound make this album a groundbreaking and innovative work in its own right.

Side 1: Introduction, Does anybody really know what time it is, Beginnings
Side 2: Questions 67 and 68, Listen, Poem 58
Side 3: Free form guitar, South California purples, I'm a man
Side 4: Prologue August 29 1968, Someday (August 29 1968), Liberation

Jual Morah, the Penang Bazaar

I had meant to write this story for a very long time. Since March 2022, actually, but for the lack of a suitable picture to accompany the piece, I did not. Well, I've found it eventually; this picture was buried deep within my harddisk folders. What was this building? As the name suggested, it housed the Penang Bazaar. However, the locals had another term for it: Jual Morah, or simply, Morah, meaning Cheap Sale or simply, Cheap. (See the Note at the end of this story.)

 
Jual Morah, or the Penang Bazaar, has definitely seen better days. Today, it is a poor version of its popularity during its heyday when the lively art of bargaining thrived. Built in 1904 as a simple, single-storey market, it became a haven for traders from across Southeast Asia. Traders from Indonesia, Thailand, Myanmar and Singapore flocked here, making it the most well-known "cheap market" in the state. At its height, it even attracted tourists from around the world, all drawn to the thrill of haggling for a bargain.

I found an interesting short write-up on the Penang Bazaar in The Singapore Free Press that was dated 12 November 1949. Written by a fella named Kenny Kaye, it described the establishment and its activities quite well at possibility the height of the place's popularity:

"Devaluation or no, Penang's bargain hunters paradise - the Jual Morah or Penang Bazaar - where canny women go to haggle and dicker to their hearts' content, continues to do a thriving business. To most people shopping is a chore that sometimes turns out to be fun, but to the women who frequent this bazaar it is a pretty serious business. A session in this mecca for shoppers may take a whole afternoon, after which time customers usually emerge from its musty recesses triumphantly but grimly clutching parcels and looking and feeling like a wet dish-rag. Like many others, these shoppers go through the mill of blandishments and cajolery hurled by raucous salesmen. Shopping in the Jual Morah is unlike anything you have done elsewhere. It is no mere asking for a price and making an offer. It is more than that. It is psychology and diplomacy rolled into one. It is a battle of wits between buyer and seller. The reason that must of the shoppers are women stems from the fact that they are the only people who can weather the onslaught of quick-fire sales talk and the withering sarcasm of stall assistants. All the insolence, brazenness and check are accepted good-naturedly as part of the game, and the women usually show their mettle by beating the salesmen at their own game. As the name Jual Morah implies, you can get things pretty cheap there, if you know how, because of the stallholders' low overhead. But prices are usually jacked up high, sometimes as high as 300 per cent, for the women to beat down. That is why men fight shy of this mart and prefer the posh downtown establishments where they know they will be charged a bit more with no bargaining, but where they feel they are on much safer ground.

"Jual Morah started in 1904 as a collection of stalls on a vacant lot back of Penang's busy main street, Penang Road. It became so popular that an enterprising towkay built a corrugated iron roof, paved the land and called it Penang Bazaar. But the name Jual Morah stuck. It paid such handsome dividends in stall rental to its owners that a few years before the war it was given a facelift. An imposing modernistic two-storey building was erected to serve as entrance and on the top floor was housed a restaurant for the benefit of weary shoppers. Stalls were renovated and electric fans installed. On entering its precincts, eye and ear are besieged immediately with a symphony of colourful haberdashery, towels, drapes, handbags, toys and other hundreds of items strung out on poles or displayed on makeshift counters for all to see, and the noise of bargaining and the chit-chat of shoppers. Although the bazaar stands within a stone's throw of many high-class shops and department stores, rich in goods, its lure to women remains irresistible."

The land itself belonged to Taiping miner-millionaire Ng Boo Bee, who envisioned it as a place where newcomers from the Nanyang could set up small stalls. By 1937, the front of the building had been expanded to two storeys, but little else had changed. Early photographs show an alley running alongside the bustling market, once wide enough for bicycles and motorcycles but gradually overtaken by hawkers, transforming it into a pedestrian thoroughfare.

Some people tend to mistaken the Penang Bazaar for the Chowrasta Market, which should not be the case. The two buildings are quite different. The Chowrasta Market, established around 1870, stands on the next block. In those days, it was largely dominated by Indian traders, thus leading to the name of one of the roads surrounding it, Tamil Street.

Over time, the Penang Bazaar evolved. By the 1930s, large billboards covered its front, advertising its wares. In the years before the Second World War, it received a facelift. The Pinang Gazette and Straits Chronicle of 05 January 1938 gave a short report within its pages: 

"The average Chinese loves to bargain, and it is for this reason that large crowds are to be seen at the newly reopened Penang Bazaar, better known as the Jual Morah, in Penang Road, in 1938. The building has been completely renovated with an imposing facade facing Penang Road and a car park by the side. The vari-coloured lights lend a gayer aspect to the building within which brighter lights and a larger number of electric fans enable shoppers to buy their requirements in comfort. On the re-opening night, bargain hunters turn up in full force, women easily outnumbering the men who went there, more for the purpose of seeing the parade of shoppers and satisfying their curiosity about the new building than to make bargains." 

The renovations coincided with a boom in Western influences in Penang. Post-war, Western entertainment was all the rage, and the upper floor of the bazaar was transformed into the Broadway Cafe, a lively venue for dancing, drinking and socialising.

In the 1960s, the bazaar remained a favourite spot. Regulars often stopped for coffee and watched the world go by while soaking in the street’s bustling energy. By the 1980s, the coffee shop had made way for an electrical appliance store, which later became a clothing shop.

Meanwhile, the Broadway Cafe had closed in the early 1970s. At that time, China-style department stores were all the rage. A group of entrepreneurs hoped to convert the space into one such business and they tracked down the building's owner. However, their venture faced stiff competition. The real pioneer of China-style department stores in Penang was the Pulau Pinang Supermarket which was founded in 1967 by Chang Cheng Guan, Chia Siak Leng and Tan Peck Yon. Occupying the first and second floors of Chowrasta Market, it was so successful that it inspired others to enter the market.

The second major store, Oriental Emporium, was established by two brothers from Singapore, Lim Tow Seng and Lim Tow Yong, in the former Windsor Building beside Capitol cinema in 1968. Its grand opening drew overwhelming crowds. Super Department Store was the third crowd-puller, located on Rangoon Road at the Burmah Road junction. These stores thrived on the belief that, although China was not yet highly industrialised, its products were durable and affordable. "Cheap and good" were the catch words. [Digression: among the Penang Hokkien community, a more derogatory description would be pan-gee, ko tua-tay (cheap and yet big piece)! 😁]

Determined not to be left behind, negotiations were fast-tracked and in 1975, the space was secured for the Yuyi Shangdian Department Store. However, at just 2,500 square feet, it struggled to compete with the larger stores. Despite initial optimism, success proved elusive. By the late 1970s, new competition emerged from rivals like Angel Department Store, which drew customers away.

By 1980, Yuyi Shangdian was losing money. Unable to find interested buyers due to its small size and inconvenient upstairs location, an alternative plan was hatched. Collaborating with associates in Kuala Lumpur, the space was repurposed into the Chinese Patent Medicines & Medicated Liquors Centre which officially opened in 1980. This business no longer exists, having closed within the last two years or so. When I took this picture (below) in March 2022, this business' signboard was still on display, but not any more!

Over the decades, much had changed, but the spirit of the bazaar lingered. As a child, I wandered through its narrow aisles with my mother and aunt, sometimes marvelling at the sights and sounds, and sometimes feeling bored. Though the heat could be overwhelming, there was an irresistible charm to it. In the early days, fabric stalls dominated the market, but today, they have largely given way to ready-made clothing. As a teenager in the late 1960s, one of my favourite haunts was the staircase at the side of the building. But it wasn't Broadway Cafe that interested me—it was the bookstore at the entrance. Books and magazines piled on the side of the steps, still allowing the Cafe patrons to climb up and down. I could stand there for hours reading without the Indian proprietor chasing me away!

Ownership of the bazaar has remained in the hands of the Ng family. I read somewhere that it was managed by third-generation custodians Dr Ng Teng Kok and his siblings. There were proposals to redevelop the space, but the idea was ultimately abandoned due to unresolved negotiations. In 2006, the owners celebrated the Bazaar's 100th anniversary with a grand dinner.

Disaster struck in 2000 when a fire ravaged two-thirds of the bazaar, leaving only the front portion untouched. After reconstruction, it reopened, but the challenges did not end there. The bazaar’s future remains uncertain. If redevelopment is pursued, the fate of the present traders must be considered. If left as it is, time will dictate its course. Either way, the marketplace that once thrived under the name Jual Morah—Penang’s bargain hunter’s paradise—will inevitably face the changing tides of history.

------

Disclaimer: This story was conceived in 2022, and since then, the fate of the Penang Bazaar may have already been decided. As I haven’t checked on its latest developments, I might be mistaken in some of my comments. But in time, I’ll find out whether my assumptions were right or wrong.

Note: I’ll stick to the old spelling—Jual Morah—even though I distinctly remember my grandmother and mother calling it Molah instead of Morah. It wasn’t so much an inability of the older generation of Chinese to roll their r’s, but rather the way it was conventionally spoken.

Brilliant full moon

It was supposed to be the night of a total lunar eclipse, but unfortunately, not in my part of the world. So there wasn’t much to get excited about last night, especially since it was also raining quite consistently. Still, when I woke up early this morning, intending to sweep the fallen Tacoma flowers from the front of the house, I opened the door to a breathtaking sight—a brilliantly lit full moon in my face, still hanging low in the sky. It seemed to beckon me to rush for my camera. At 6.20am, the moon was 99.9 percent illuminated, with the exact full moon still some 8½ hours away…

A thank-you note

I was completely floored to receive this message out of the blue from a fellow Facebook user. It was totally unexpected, and I’m deeply touched. Messages like these remind me why I continue writing and sharing my thoughts. I can only thank him profusely—so thank you again, if you’re reading this!

Arcam delta 70.2

My old schoolmate, who passed away on 03 January 2025, left a lot of personal stuff in his room. About two weeks ago, his sister called and said that if I wanted anything, I could come over and take whatever I liked.

This compact disc player—the Arcam Delta 70.2—was just lying around on the shelves, collecting dust but calling out my name. It was reputedly spoilt. But I didn’t know that for sure, and it looked like a good enough addition to my hi-fi system. After all, my original CD players had broken down years ago, and I hadn’t been able to find a suitably cheap but reliable replacement.

“Mind you, it’s spoilt,” his sister reminded me as I made my way down the stairs with the player in my arms. “Never mind,” I replied. “Let me see what I can do.”

Later, at home, I took a closer look. The problem soon became obvious—the centre pin from one of the male plugs had broken off inside the female socket. There was no way to remove it. Truly stuck. My old friend must have simply given up and stored the player away. For a moment, my heart sank. Junk it? That was my first thought. But knowing that the Delta was one of Arcam’s signature CD players, I wondered if there was another way to get it working.

I gave the back of the unit a second look. Hmm... there was a coaxial audio output. That could be the solution! But then, my old Technics integrated amplifier didn’t have any coaxial or optical input, only analogue ones. If I wanted to experiment with the coaxial output, I’d need to buy an optical/coaxial-to-analogue converter—plus a coaxial cable, of course.

I eventually settled on a decent converter and cable from UGreen. Together, they cost me less than RM100 and took about a week to arrive. When they did, impatient me wasted no time setting everything up. And it worked! The whole setup worked. And the music, so sweet and warm to my ears! Now, the CD player has become a permanent fixture in my hi-fi system, and I’m relistening to my compact discs with renewed relish through my Triangle speakers.

It's exercise time

Tacoma flowers from the tree outside my house. I shall be spending the next few mornings exercising my arm sweeping away fallen blooms from my porch.

Dr Zhong Nanshan in Penang

Quite frankly, I didn't know who Dr Zhong Nanshan was until about three months before the 146th anniversary of Dr Wu Lien-Teh's birth. Dr Wu Lien-Teh was, of course, one of Penang's most well-known personalities of the 20th century. Fresh from winning the Queen's Scholarship as a pupil of Penang Free School, he went on to study medicine at the University of Cambridge in England. After returning, he had a short stint in private practice in Penang before being unfairly persecuted by the British colonial authorities, forcing him to accept an invitation to work in Imperial China. There, he gained worldwide fame as the plague fighter, eradicating the dreaded plague that had claimed around 60,000 lives in 1911. When his home in Shanghai was destroyed by Japanese bombing, he moved his family back to Malaya, where he resumed private practice in Ipoh. He retired to Penang in January 1960 but died suddenly a week later of a brain attack. That, in short, was the life of Dr Wu Lien-Teh.

The Dr Wu Lien-Teh Society was set up in 2012 by a group of Old Frees determined to revive his legacy. Since then, the Society has worked tirelessly to promote his name, including awarding gold medals to outstanding university students. Over the past decade, the Society has also organised annual public lectures where prominent figures from the medical field have been invited to speak—not just to doctors, but to the wider public. Then, in 2022, as the Covid-19 pandemic raged on, a pivotal decision was made to introduce the Dr Wu Lien-Teh Award for Leadership in Public Health. The first recipient was Dr Noor Hisham Abdullah, then Malaysia’s Director-General of Health. Day in and day out, as Malaysians struggled through the pandemic, Noor Hisham became a familiar face on television and social media, providing daily updates on infections, deaths, government measures, vaccinations and the need for face masks. It was no surprise that he was chosen as the award’s inaugural recipient.

A few thousand kilometres away in China, another medical man was doing more or less the same for his fellow citizens. Dr Zhong Nanshan, having already battled SARS and MERS, was the public face of China’s fight against Covid-19. I’m told that many Malaysians who knew Mandarin also tuned in to his briefings. But for me, well, I knew hardly anything about him. When our Society meetings rolled around and our Secretary-General spoke excitedly about Zhong Nanshan this and Zhong Nanshan that, I found myself wondering—who was this person commanding so much attention?

Now I know. Dr Zhong is a renowned public health expert from China, director of the Guangzhou National Laboratory and the National Clinical Research Centre for Respiratory Disease. He doesn’t travel much these days due to his advanced age—he’ll be 90 later this year—but, to everyone’s surprise, he agreed to travel to Penang to accept his award in person. When word spread that such a distinguished doctor was coming to deliver a public lecture on 08 March 2025, invitations were snapped up quickly. The conference hall at the Penang Institute was packed with registered guests, while those who arrived after registration closed were ushered into an adjoining room to watch via video feed.

In his acceptance speech, Dr Zhong said the award would further motivate him to build bridges, nurture trust and champion health for all. He expressed profound gratitude and humility, saying the honour was not just a personal achievement but a testament to the enduring spirit of collaboration between nations and a shared commitment to global health. “I am deeply moved to stand in the footsteps of Dr Wu Lien-Teh, a son of Penang whose pioneering work bridged nations and saved countless lives. By honouring leaders who embody Dr Wu’s courage and compassion, you ignite a beacon for future generations to follow. This award reaffirms my resolve to uphold his ethos of service, science and solidarity,” he said.

Adding a personal touch to the occasion, Dr Zhong was delighted to meet Pauline Barr, 78, who had taught him English when he studied in England 45 years ago. Pauline and her husband, Joe, now residing in Langkawi, made the journey to Penang just to see him again.

Among those present at the event were Penang Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow, State Assembly Speaker Law Choo Kiang, State Exco members Daniel Gooi and Wong Hon Wai, and former Chief Minister Dr Koh Tsu Koon. Also in attendance was Ding Qiao, the vice-consul general of China in Penang. During the event, it was also announced that Loke Gim Tay had been made an adviser to the Dr Wu Lien-Teh Society, the second such appointment after Cheah Cheng Hye five years ago.

In his speech, the Chief Minister praised Dr Zhong’s dedication to scientific excellence, his courage in challenging prevailing narratives and his ability to communicate crucial public health information. “Like Dr Wu, he has demonstrated the power of scientific innovation and an unwavering commitment to public service. His work has not only transformed public health in China but has also provided invaluable lessons for Malaysia and the rest of the world. Dr Zhong embodies the very values that Dr Wu championed, making him a most deserving recipient of this award,” he said. Chow also took a moment to honour Dr Noor Hisham Abdullah for his steadfast leadership during the Covid-19 pandemic.

Later, after the public lecture, Dr Noor Hisham was invited to join Dr Zhong on stage, where the two past and present Dr Wu Lien-Teh award recipients participated in a health forum moderated by the Society's secretary-general, Dr Hor Chee Peng. The audience listened intently as Noor Hisham shared his experiences managing the Covid-19 crisis in the country. Today, he continues to contribute to healthcare as chairman of the National Heart Institute. 

Kudos to our tireless Secretary-General for a job well done!

Loke Gim Tay is the newly appointed second adviser to the Dr Wu Lien-Teh Society. His association with the Society dated back to May 2012 when a group of Old Frees organised a Penang Story lecture on Wu Lien-Teh at the Wawasan Open University in Penang. The Society came into being a few months later primarily because of that event.

Remembering Wu Lien-Teh

 

91 The Home Store

Last October, we were invited to the opening of 91 The Home Store at the Teras Jaya Business Zone in Butterworth. The general store, run by our ex-colleague from Ban Hin Lee Bank, Lau Theng Sim, offers a wide range of household and office goods. We spent a few enjoyable hours there, taking in the lively atmosphere, complete with a lion dance, firecrackers and a good meal. There were great opening-day deals, and I even went home with a 20,000mAh power bank. I would have shared this story earlier, but it took me a while to locate and upload my video to YouTube. But here it is, finally!

ASEAN+ age group chess

From informal gatherings like this, ambitious projects sometimes emerge. The Penang Chess Association recently held a casual mid-morning breakfast at a local timsum outlet in George Town to discuss a potential project. We were later joined by two notable old friends, Ignatius Leong from Singapore and Hamid Majid from Kuala Lumpur.

It may still be early days, but I can confidently say that the association will organise the 23rd ASEAN+ Age Group Chess Championship here in Penang on 1-11 July this year. Invitations will soon be extended to the national chess federations of the ASEAN member countries—Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Timor-Leste—as well as its dialogue partners: Australia, China, Hong Kong, Macau, India, Japan, New Zealand, Russia, South Korea and the United States. As host, the association will also duly inform the Malaysian Chess Federation and extend invitations to the various state chess associations in the country.

This event comes at a particularly fitting time, as Malaysia assumes the ASEAN chairmanship for 2025. It will not only highlight the Penang Chess Association’s experience in organising international-level competitions but also showcase Penang’s famed tourist attractions and vibrant street food scene. So watch this space for further announcements down the road!

Free School tour

A group of 26 visitors, all descendants of the parents of one of Penang’s most distinguished sons, Dr Wu Lien-Teh, visited Penang Free School and were given a tour of the school premises. Their visit included stops at the Archives and Pinhorn Hall, where they viewed artefacts related to Wu Lien-Teh. A group of students, the Free School Guiders, were on hand to show them around.

 

Grave destruction

In just four days, on 10 March 2025, it will be the 146th anniversary of the birth of one of Penang’s most distinguished sons, Dr Wu Lien-Teh. He undoubtedly ranks among the most famous figures from the state—not as a politician, entertainer or businessman, but as a medical pioneer whose contributions had a lasting impact on global public health.

Two days from now, his legacy will once again be honoured with an annual public talk and an international award for leadership in public health. This year’s recipient is a most deserving figure—none other than China’s medical academician, Prof Dr Zhong Nanshan, who played a pivotal role in combating both the SARS and Covid-19 outbreaks in his country.

But today, I hear a cry of frustration and indignation from the relatives and descendants of Wu Lien-Teh, who have issued a press statement condemning the destruction of his parents’ graves at Mt Erskine Cemetery.

The graves of Ng Khee Hock and Lam Choy Fan, Wu Lien-Teh's parents, were found damaged in an incident that deeply saddened their descendants. These graves have stood for over a century, and could be considered historical and cultural landmarks. On 13 February 2025, it was discovered that Ng Khee Hock’s tombstone had been completely shattered, while Lam Choy Fan’s was severely damaged—leaning dangerously and at risk of collapse. Heavy machinery might have been involved, raising troubling questions about the circumstances behind the damage.

The Wu family members filed a police report on the next day and on that evening, a police inspector visited the cemetery to document the destruction. Inquiries with caretakers revealed that plans were underway to construct a columbarium in the area, with piling work scheduled to begin in May 2025. This revelation has deepened concerns about how the cemetery land is being managed and the potential threat to other historical graves.

In response, the family is appealing to the authorities for assistance in restoring the graves and is also seeking UNESCO protection to ensure that historic sites like these are preserved for future generations. These graves are not just part of one family’s history; they are a reflection of Penang’s rich heritage. By bringing attention to this issue, perhaps there would be greater efforts to protect and respect historical burial grounds, ensuring they remain an integral part of Penang’s unique cultural landscape.