Heritage walkabouts

I mentioned in my last story that I had gone exploring the old civic precinct in the George Town heritage core zone last July and August, but I never actually got around to dedicating a story in this blog to my walks. It wasn't just once, either. I think I made the rounds twice, perhaps even three times, taking my time to walk the streets and look around.

After all, I couldn't very well avoid the area when I had already visited the Penang State Museum and Fort Cornwallis three times each since their reopening. Call me obsessive about these heritage landmarks, but that's just me. So here are some pictures from my walks. Pictures taken from my perspective. I won't be describing them much, though, if at all. I'll leave that to the pictures.

A rather surreal few weeks

The past few weeks have been rather surreal for me. Looking back, quite a lot has happened in a relatively short space of time, and I am still trying to take it all in. It started in July with the release of a People of Penang podcast in which I was the featured guest. Not long after that, an article I wrote appeared on the ChessBase India website, the second time my name has appeared there.

But the most significant event in July was undoubtedly the Penang State Awards investiture ceremony at the Dewan Sri Pinang. That was followed a few days later by the official reopening of the Penang State Museum. The museum visit turned out to be rather special for me. I was happy to be reacquainted with the name of my great-great-grandfather on the marble plaque on the museum wall, but there was also the satisfaction of seeing how some of my own contributions to the history of Penang Free School had been acknowledged in the museum's new exhibits.

There was also a charity and fellowship dinner organised by the Persatuan 88 Captains. That evening gave me the chance to show the Penang Governor an old photograph from 2008 that featured him, Tan Chin Nam and myself at a private function, back when he was the president of the Malaysian Chess Federation from 2007 until 2016. He didn't say much, but his wife asked me for a copy of the picture.

Then there was a Town Hall dialogue with the Penang Island City Council, which I attended as the representative of the Swee Cheok Tong (Seh Quah Kongsi). I also took the opportunity to walk extensively through the civic precinct of George Town's heritage core zone and revisit several of the landmarks there, including the newly reopened Fort Cornwallis.

Rather unexpectedly, after not attending a George Town Festival programme for years, I suddenly found myself at one again. This time, at the former Majestic Theatre for a Malaysian Songbook performance. It was nice to be back at a festival that I had not been following for quite some time, and even nicer to discover that I could still be pleasantly entertained by what it had to offer.

And then came yet another small satisfaction of seeing my name in print, this time in the August 2026 edition of Penang Monthly, the magazine published by the Penang Institute. I had written about the history and development of chess in Penang. As I haven't actually elaborated on this last bit yet, here is the story in full:

Farsighted organisation behind Penang's prowess in chess competitions 
By Quah Seng Sun

IF SUCCESS IS measured by titles, then Penangites have built a reputation for prowess in chess. The state can proudly point to its roll of International Masters, FIDE Masters and Candidate Masters, titles bestowed by the World Chess Federation (FIDE), their numbers growing with each passing generation. But Penang’s chess story is not just told through 64 squares and 32 pieces, but also the generations of students, teachers and enthusiasts who have transformed the game into one of the state's most vibrant youth activities. What began with scattered school clubs and occasional competitions almost a century ago has evolved into a thriving ecosystem supported by schools, parents, coaches and volunteers: one which has always had students at its core.

The birth of school chess 
The earliest traces of organised gameplay in Penang are difficult to pinpoint, but the Penang Free School magazine provides a starting point. Throughout the 1930s, chess matches were reported, suggesting scattered pockets of enthusiasm among students, appearing briefly before disappearing. Under the Japanese Occupation, organised chess largely vanished from public view. Following the war, chess gradually re-emerged, but only in 1964 did student chess establish a significant presence. A major catalyst was the Penang Schools Students' Chess Council, formed by leading school chess clubs to organise annual competitions among themselves. No longer confined to individual institutions, students had a platform to compete against peers from other schools, creating rivalries, friendships and a growing sense of community.

Although the Council performed a pioneering role, a more comprehensive organisational framework was necessary to institutionalise the game. In the pivotal year of 1972, the Council voluntarily dissolved following the establishment of the Penang Chess Association, which assumed responsibility for the game’s broader statewide development and administration (and keeping the trophies accumulated by the erstwhile Council). That year also saw the introduction of the first team chess championship under the Majlis Sukan Sekolah-Sekolah Pulau Pinang (MSSPP, Penang Schools Sports Council) at Han Chiang Primary School, while an individual championship was introduced the following year. And in December 1972, the Majlis Sukan Sekolah-Sekolah Malaysia (Malaysia School Sports Council, MSSM) organised its inaugural team chess championship at Dewan Sri Pinang, officiated by then-education minister, Tun Hussein Onn, where four players represented Penang. This event marked the beginning of national-level school chess competitions, sending a clear signal that chess was recognised as a legitimate school sport.

These competitions provided a regular, structured and enduring pathway for student participation and talent development. Even after the MSSM chess competition was suspended after the 1997 edition, a casualty of the Asian Financial Crisis, Penang continued organising MSSPP championships uninterrupted, ensuring that young players continued to have opportunities to compete and develop.

A generational divide?
Despite these advances, chess remained widely perceived as a game for adults, as reflected in competitive chess circles. When the Malaysian Chess Federation, established 1974, organised its first National Closed Championship that same year, none of the Penang Chess Association's representatives were students. They remained in school competitions, the strongest state representatives were generally expected to be adults.

Although this distinction persisted for many years, the foundations laid by the MSSPP were quietly producing results. In the 1970s–80s, students gained tournament experience and developed stronger competitive skills at increasingly younger ages. By the 1990s, student players had the strength and confidence to compete successfully against experienced adults. When the Penang Chess Association selected teams for major events, such as the Merdeka Team Chess Championships, talented students increasingly found themselves earning places on the senior team through merit. 

Since then, the student–adult balance has shifted decisively. Today, it is normal that student players dominate Penang’s (and Malaysia’s) chess scene. In most open tournaments, students typically make up around 75 percent of the field. A thriving calendar of junior tournaments encompassing various age groups ensures a steady stream of opportunities for young players to develop skills and gain competitive experience. 

Fascinatingly, the growing presence of young people in chess circles persists despite the dominance of smartphones, social media and digital entertainment, all of which foster fragmented attention spans unconducive to a game requiring patience, concentration and prolonged quiet thinking. For many youths, chess appears to offer something that much of the online world does not: rewards for sustained focus and careful thought. Competitions themselves provide experiences that cannot be replicated entirely through screens: students travel to tournaments within and beyond Penang, meet friends from other schools, test their skills against unfamiliar opponents and cope with victory and defeat. Friendships are formed, rivalries emerge and memories are created across tournament halls.

This growth did not happen by accident. Many students who took up chess during the 1970s–90s have since become parents themselves. Having experienced the game’s benefits first-hand, they have introduced it to their own children. It is not uncommon to see parents waiting outside tournament halls for their children to finish games. Occasionally, coaches are present to provide immediate post-game failure analysis. As a result of the game’s re-emerging popularity, chess clinics and coaching programmes have mushroomed nationwide, where experienced adult players find themselves becoming coaches, either part-time or full-time. 

Initially, coaching was logistically constrained. Coaches often travelled between students’ homes, limiting the number of children whom they could reach. But with the Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns, online coaching quickly became practical, and even unexpectedly advantageous. Coaches could teach larger groups simultaneously without spending hours on the road, while students could attend lessons from the comfort of home. Online platforms allowed students to play, learn and analyse games at any time of day. Coaching became more accessible and competitive opportunities multiplied. Further, a timely popular culture boost—Netflix's The Queen's Gambit—introduced the game to a worldwide captive audience. For perhaps the first time in generations, chess became fashionable. Across Malaysia, tournament participation increased, coaching programmes expanded and a new generation of young players emerged. 

Rather than being overwhelmed by the digital revolution, chess has adapted strategically. If anything, the game's ability to cultivate focus, patience and thoughtful decision-making may explain why it continues to attract young players. In a world where attention is constantly under siege, the chessboard remains one of the few spaces where deep concentration is essential.

Lessons beyond the chessboard
Despite these technological changes, the essence of chess revolves around two players sitting across from one another, each attempting to outthink the other. In an increasingly screen-dominated era, one could argue that the qualities cultivated by chess— concentration, patience and self-discipline—have become even more valuable. Beyond mental discipline, chess develops pattern-recognition and structured thinking ability. Students learn to identify recurring ideas and anticipate likely outcomes, skills that prove useful in everything from mathematics to language. It strengthens decision-making under uncertainty, teaching players to weigh imperfect options against each other, and accept that every choice involves trade-offs.

The game also nurtures calculated patience and delayed gratification. Students learn that short-term sacrifices can sometimes lead to greater long-term rewards. Working memory and concentration are strengthened when players hold multiple possibilities in mind while planning ahead. Every defeat becomes an opportunity for failure analysis, encouraging students to examine mistakes objectively and improve systematically. Chess also promotes creativity within constraints, with players constantly challenged to discover original solutions within a structured framework. This skill translates naturally into many professional and academic fields. Equally important are social and emotional lessons. Learning to remain composed after a blunder, managing time pressures and displaying good sportsmanship all contribute to emotional resilience. 

Today, chess in Penang continues to be organised and regulated by the Penang Chess Association. The association itself is among the relatively small number of sporting organisations classified as Category One—the highest—by the Majlis Sukan Negeri Pulau Pinang (Penang State Sports Council, MSNPP). Since the mid-2000s, the Association has organised its annual flagship Penang Chess Festival at year-end, which continues to attract hundreds of players from Malaysia and neighbouring countries. Such recognition reflects the breadth and consistency of its activities, both nationally and internationally. Above all, it is a story of students, who have embraced the game, carried it forward and reshaped it according to the needs of their times. In the process, they have ensured that chess remains not merely a pastime from an earlier era, but a living and relevant activity for the 21st century. 

Town hall meeting

Earlier this month, I attended this meeting at the Penang Town Hall as the representative of the Swee Cheok Tong (Seh Quah Kongsi). Called by the Penang Island City Council (MBPP) and chaired by its mayor, Rajendran P Anthony, it brought together representatives from numerous Chinese clan associations in George Town.

The meeting began with a presentation from the Heritage Department which highlighted the dos and don’ts of carrying out repair works on heritage buildings in the core and buffer zones of the UNESCO-listed city. It was a reminder that owning or occupying a heritage building comes with responsibilities. Old buildings in the protected zone cannot simply be treated like any other property, and a decision to knock down a wall, replace a roof or alter its façade needs careful consideration.

The presentation covered the conservation guidelines and the Special Area Plan (Rancangan Kawasan Khas) for the George Town World Heritage Site. The emphasis was on ensuring that any development or repair work is compatible with the site's UNESCO status and that the historic character of George Town is not gradually eroded in the name of improvement. 

This was the second Town Hall session organised by MBPP that I attended, the first being last year. I learnt from the circulated minutes that there had been another one in February this year, attended by a handful of clan associations, apparently the bigger ones. I’m quite certain that the notice of that meeting never reached us at the Quah Kongsi. Was there a misdelivery? I don’t know. Nevertheless, I welcome the idea of having these meetings every six months, which should provide a regular channel of communication between the city council and the various stakeholders within the World Heritage Site.

The Town Hall meeting provided an opportunity for both sides to sit down and talk. After the presentation, the floor was opened to representatives of the clan associations, who raised their views, suggestions and concerns on matters affecting heritage conservation. This was perhaps the more important part of the afternoon because it allowed MBPP to hear directly from people who actually own a large number of these historic properties.

The mayor also addressed the elephant in the room, namely the recent collapse of a termite-infested beam at a house in Armenian Street, which injured two foreign tourists. He said that while the council would work with the various stakeholders to inspect and monitor the condition of the buildings in the UNESCO zone, the responsibility for carrying out the necessary repairs still rests with the owners.

Rajendran said the Town Hall was intended to strengthen the relationship between MBPP and the community, explain the council's policies and obtain direct feedback from those who play a role in preserving George Town's heritage.

That is really what a town hall meeting should be about. Not simply telling people what they can and cannot do, but explaining why the rules exist and listening to the difficulties that arise when those rules are applied in real life.

Nomadic statue

It seems quite appropriate for me to say something about the Francis Light statue at Fort Cornwallis as I have written quite a bit about this statue in the past. In fact, I have probably written more about it than most people would care to read. But having followed its movements over the years, I couldn't resist taking another look after Fort Cornwallis reopened following its extensive conservation works.

The last time I saw the statue, it was standing at ground level within Fort Cornwallis, silently eyeing visitors as they entered through the western gate. It was a fairly prominent position, although not, as far as I was concerned, the most historically appropriate one.

Then the fort closed for restoration as part of the North Seafront Programme, with Think City involved in the conservation and redevelopment of the site. I had heard that the statue would be repositioned, but there was little information about where it would eventually end up. I began to wonder whether this might finally be an opportunity to put it somewhere more appropriate. After all, the statue was not originally erected inside Fort Cornwallis. 

This is something I had written about previously after digging through old newspaper reports. When the statue was unveiled in 1939, it stood outside the fort, on the grass verge in Light Street between two of the bastions, opposite the District and Police Courts. Those courts are now replaced by the Penang State Legislative Assembly. The statue was deliberately positioned there with Fort Cornwallis as its backdrop and facing the courts.

So when I heard the statue was going to be moved again, I thought perhaps it might finally go back there. But it didn't. As I subsequently discovered, there was a rather obvious reason. The conservation works have restored the moat along the southern side of the fort. And once I saw the completed moat, I realised that putting Francis Light back in exactly the same spot was no longer viable unless they intended to put him in the middle of the moat!

That would certainly make for an interesting monument, but somehow I don't think that was ever going to happen. So while I had to revise my expectations, I still kept an eye on the southern side of the fort in the months leading up to the reopening. I couldn't see any obvious preparation for the statue, so I had a feeling that Francis Light wasn't going back there.

Sure enough, after Fort Cornwallis reopened to the public on the 26th of July, I went looking for him inside the fort. This time, he had been placed in the north-western corner, in the bastion there. And the area around him had been roped off with a sign announcing that conservation work was in progress.

So there he stands now, looking down at the centre of the fort while visitors look at him from behind a barrier. I suppose Francis Light has been moved around so many times that he must be quite accustomed to having his address changed.

The statue has had a rather nomadic existence. It was commissioned for the 150th anniversary of Penang's founding and unveiled in 1939. It subsequently moved to several locations, including a spell in front of the Penang Museum, before eventually returning to Fort Cornwallis in 2003. And even then, it didn't return to where it had originally stood.

There is also the little matter of his missing accessories. The bronze statue originally had a sword, but that disappeared during the Japanese Occupation and only returned after the War. The brass plaque  has also disappeared, but it was still there when the statue stood in the Museum grounds.

So here we have Francis Light, minus his sword and plaque, moved around the civic precinct several times and now installed in another corner of Fort Cornwallis, where he is currently being kept behind a barrier. The poor fella has had a rather unsettled afterlife.

To be fair, I don't know what considerations went into deciding where to put him this time. There may be perfectly good conservation or practical reasons for his present location. And having seen the restored moat, I can now understand why simply returning him to his 1939 position wasn't as easy as I had originally imagined.

Nor do I want to take anything away from the good conservation work at Fort Cornwallis. The fort has undergone a considerable transformation and it is gratifying to see a historic site that had been looking rather tired for years receiving some much-needed attention.

Perhaps once the conservation work around the statue is completed, the barrier will come down and Francis Light will finally be allowed to mingle with visitors again. Perhaps there are further plans for him that I know nothing about. Who knows?

After all these years of following Francis Light around Penang, I've learnt not to assume that I know where he is going next. For now, he has found another home inside Fort Cornwallis. Let's just hope this one lasts a little longer.

Today is Penang's 240th anniversary

On the 240th anniversary of the landing at Penaggar Point to found Penang as a British settlement by Captain Francis Light, I'm reproducing here a story that had appeared in The Straits Budget newspaper on 20 August 1936. The Straits Budget was a long‑running English‑language newspaper published in Singapore during the British colonial period, with circulation across the Straits Settlements of Singapore, Penang and Malacca. It played a distinctive role in the press landscape of British Malaya well into the 1950s.

PENANG 1786-1936 
The Anniversary of the Hoisting Of the Flag On First British Foothold In Malaya 
By JAMES F AUGUSTIN

EXACTLY one hundred and fifty years ago, on Aug 11, 1786, Captain Francis Light founded the Settlement of Penang. Charged by the Bengal Government with the task of establishing the new colony, he formally took possession of the island "in the name of King George and for the use of the Honourable East India Company."

The actual ceremony took place at noon, when everyone assembled under the flagstaff and Captain Light read the Act of Possession. All the officers then assisted in hoisting the flag (the Old Jack) and the artillery and ships fired a salute and the marines three volleys.

Boyhood In Suffolk

Captain Light whose memory we honour today, was born at Dallinghoo, a parish near Woodbridge in Suffolk in 1740. Adopted and educated by William Negus, a relative of Milton and a son of Colonel Francis Negus, who held a prominent position at the Court of George I, he was sent to Seckford’s Grammar School at Woodbridge. On leaving School he entered the Royal Navy as a midshipman on board HMS Arrogant in 1761.

Four years later he resigned his commission and sailed for Calcutta as a passenger in the ship Clive. There he joined the Mercantile Marine as master of a country ship trading between Indian, Siamese and Malayan ports. In addition to his ordinary duties he acted as representative of the Madras firm of Messrs Jourdan, Sullivan and De Souza, which had traded for many years with Kedah, where it had maintained a factory since 1763.

Light made Salang (Junk Ceylon, now Tongkah) his headquarters and became very proficient in the Malay and Siamese languages. He also acquired a knowledge of native customs and won the confidence of the people.

Ever since 1763 the Directors of the East India Company had been seeking for a good naval station to the east of the Bay of Bengal, which would also serve as a commercial factory more central than Bencoolen in Sumatra and as a port of call for merchantmen en route to China. Light was well aware of this, and in 1771 he wrote to Warren Hastings suggesting that Penang would be a suitable place.

Nothing happened at the time and in 1780 Light went to Calcutta with another proposal that Salang, and not Penang, should be occupied. A scheme was drawn up for the occupation of Salang through private subscription but with the consent of the Governor-General-in-Council (Warren Hastings). Nothing was done however, because ships and men could not be spared owing to the War of the American Revolution and wars with the French and the Dutch which were then being waged.

Rebuff At Acheen

The need for a British port increased, especially in the face of opposition from the Dutch and Portuguese, who had settlements on the Peninsula and in Sumatra. They allowed trade at their own settlements and nowhere else. The Bengal Government in 1784 sent Mr Kinloch to found a settlement at Acheen in 1784 but he had to return owing to the hostility of the natives. Light was in Calcutta when Kinloch returned in 1786.

He immediately informed the Governor-General, Sir John Macpherson, who had succeeded Hastings, that he had exercised his personal influence with Sultan Abdullah of Kedah, who had agreed to cede the island of Penang to the East India Company for an annual subsidy of 6,000 Spanish dollars. Negotiations between the Company and the Sultan were thereupon opened and on February 23, 1786, the Governor-General-in-Council approved of the settlement of Penang. On May 2, 1786, Light was commissioned to treat with the Sultan and "vested with the charge and superintendence of the Island of Penang on the part of the Company."

Light lost no time in sailing for Kedah, where he arrived on June 29 in command of the Company's snow Eliza (a snow was a small type of sailing craft) and with a force of one hundred Bengal marines, thirty lascars, fifteen European artillerymen and five officers. Anchoring at Kuala Kedah, where he found two merchantmen, the Prince Henry and the Speedwell, he sent an officer ashore to inform the Sultan of his arrival. The next morning Light himself went ashore and was received by the Sultan's shahbandar and saluted by the guns of the fort and by three volleys from the marines.

On July 1 he again went ashore with the Governor-General's letter and presents, amid salutes fired by the fort, ships and marines. He was received by a guard of honour composed of Malays with colours flying, and, preceded by state trumpeters, was led to the Laxamana's (Admiral's) house where a canopy was erected and the King's representative, a Syed, received the letter and guns were again fired. The presents consisted, among other things, of brass-barrelled blunderbusses and gold and silver brocades, but as these were not considered sufficient, one hundred muskets were added.

Received By The Raja

Negotiations followed, and on July 3, after receiving a message from the Raja, Light, accompanied by a sergeant of artillery, a dozen marines and drums and fifes, came upstream to Alor Star, then, as now, the capital. He reached the town only on the following day and was received without any state by the Raja, who was much troubled at a passage in the Governor-General's letter which he did not understand, for it seemed to threaten him with pains and penalties if he did not comply with the Governor-General's request.

Light pointed out that there must be some mistake in the translation of the document and the Raja then appeared to be satisfied with regard to the explicit passage. After reading the translation again to his visitor he obliged Light to sign it. Six days later, Light took leave of the Raja and reached the Kuala with the signed treaty of cession.

He spent the next three days in embarking the troops and the stores, and on the 14th at 8 pm he sailed on the Eliza in company with the Prince Henry and Speedwell and anchored off Pulau Tikus Island on the 15th. With the help of a flood tide and a light breeze the little fleet ran into Penang harbour and anchored in thirteen fathoms of water within musket-shot of shore.

The first two days Light stayed on board, surveying the harbour and testing the anchorages, and on the 17th, he disembarked Lieutenant Gray and the marines on Point Penaggar, near the Esplanade. The troops were at once set to clear the ground, which did not prove to be an easy task, the wood being "so exceeding hard that the tools double like a piece of lead."

The Europeans landed on the following day and the island soon presented a busy appearance. Attap houses were erected with attaps from Kedah, wells were dug and tents were pitched. Almost a month passed away in the performance of these first labours.

George Town Named

On August 10 two of the Company's ships, the Vansittart and the Valentine, arrived off the island and the formal ceremony of taking possession took place, Light naming the settlement George Town after the Prince of Wales and the fort Cornwallis after the Governor-General.

The new colony progressed rapidly and by 1789 the population had increased to about ten thousand. The task of governing this mixed multitude fell entirely upon the shoulders of Light himself.

In 1789 Light went to Calcutta and was able to inform the authorities (who regarded his settlement with some jealousy) that the imports had already reached six hundred thousand dollars per annum. In the following year, prompted by his high sense of responsibility to the settlement, he petitioned the Government in Calcutta for an increase in his salary of one thousand rupees per mensem to enable him to give up trade because he was of the opinion that the duties of government were not consistent with his trading activities. It is not recorded whether this request was granted but it is sufficient to reveal the uprightness of his character, for as Superintendent and principal merchant he had every opportunity of enriching himself in those lax days.

Light's Death

In January, 1794, Light petitioned that a trained civilian should succeed him and that a regular system of administering justice should be established. This was virtually his last act, for later on in the same year he went down with malaria, to which he had been subject for many years, and died on Oct 21, to the great grief of the whole Settlement.

Francis Light has been described as "a worthy precursor of Sir Stamford Raffles" and as "a man of sound sense, probity and judgment - active, practical and moderate." His name survives in Light Street and in Francis Light School, Penang. His tomb lies in the middle of the Protestant cemetery in Northam Road but there is also a monument opposite the portico of St. George's Church, Penang, where a memorial tablet let into the wall of the canopy bears this inscription:

In Memory

of

FRANCIS LIGHT, Esquire

Who first established this Island

as an

English Settlement and was many

years

Governor.

Born in the County of

Suffolk in England

AND died

October 21st,

1794.

IN HIS CAPACITY AS GOVERNOR

the Settlers and Natives were greatly

attached to him, and by his

death had to mourn the loss

of one who had watched

over their interests

and cares

AS A FATHER.

Malaysian real book

I haven't attended a George Town Festival programme in years. When was the last time? I can't remember, but it was definitely before Covid-19. Funny how we've started classifying events as "pre-Covid" and "post-Covid", almost as though history has been split into two distinct eras. Anyway, I remember my last George Town Festival outing. It was to the old Soonstead mansion in Northam Road for 2 Houses, a play that required the audience to move between two neighbouring buildings. The houses themselves became part of the performance, blurring the line between theatre and reality.

This year, it wasn't a play that brought me back. Instead, it was a concert called The Malaysian Real Book II: Past to Present, part of this year's George Town Festival. To be honest, I had never even heard of The Malaysian Real Book. Apparently, the inaugural concert had been staged last year and was successful enough to earn an encore. It had completely passed me by.

My invitation came from an unexpected source. See Ming, a dear ex-JobStreet colleague from Kuala Lumpur, had planned to meet me on the fourth of August while she was in Penang. Unfortunately, I already had another engagement. Rather than abandon the idea altogether, she surprised me by buying a ticket for the following evening's performance before flying off on her own travels. It was one of those small acts of kindness that catches you by surprise.

So on the fifth, I found myself stepping into the Majestic Theatre in Khoo Sian Ewe Road, a venue I had not stepped into since 2019. Instinctively, I looked for a strategic position. The front rows were all occupied by the well-connected, but the back row suited me perfectly. Only three seats made up my row, mine and those of an elderly Caucasian couple sitting beside me. Little did I know they would become part of my evening's entertainment.

The concert itself was unlike the jazz performances most people would probably expect. There were no familiar American standards, no Gershwin, no Duke Ellington, no Fly Me to the Moon. Instead, this was unapologetically Malaysian.

The three featured vocalists, Janet Lee, Ida Mariana and Yon Lynn, explored a repertoire that drew on the country's multicultural musical traditions. Some songs were well known, others completely unknown to me, but all had been lovingly reimagined through the language of jazz. Backing them was the WVC Jazz Quintet under the direction of Tay Cher Siang, whose musicians seemed equally at home accompanying a gentle ballad, a lively Hokkien number or an energetic jazz improvisation. Keeping the evening flowing were Gareth Richards and Melina, who introduced the songs with warmth and humour without ever overstaying their welcome. 

As I listened, I occasionally glanced sideways at my Caucasian neighbours. Their expressions became increasingly difficult to read. It wasn't that the music lacked quality. Far from it. The problem, I suspect, was that the concert demanded a familiarity with Malaysian culture that overseas visitors simply could not be expected to possess.

When the singers launched into Malay classics, Penang Hokkien songs and Mandarin compositions, much of the audience responded with smiles of recognition. Heads nodded. Feet tapped. Some quietly sang along. The couple beside me sat politely through it all. And after about an hour, they quietly stood up and left. They never came back. I almost felt sorry for them because they had missed the second half, which I thought was even more enjoyable than the first.

The programme wandered effortlessly across Malaysia's musical landscape. There were songs by P Ramlee, instrumental compositions by contemporary Malaysian jazz musicians, a charming Penang Hokkien bossa number, Chinese melodies with unmistakable Nanyang flavours and, towards the end, Francisca Peter's Setia, which had much of the audience singing along. This was jazz wearing a Malaysian passport. The melodies, languages and stories belonged unmistakably to us.

Too often, when we speak about preserving our heritage, we think only of old buildings, temples, clan houses or food. Rarely do we include music in that conversation. Yet Malaysian music is every bit as much a part of our cultural identity. Projects like The Malaysian Real Book remind us that our musical heritage deserves to be documented, celebrated and performed, not simply archived away as memories of another generation.

When the concert finally ended after the encore, the audience were already on their feet in enthusiastic applause. Many had spent the evening clapping along. A few even danced. It was obvious this wasn't merely another jazz concert. It was a celebration of who we are.

As I walked out into the warm Penang night, I couldn't help looking back at the brightly lit Majestic Theatre. I found myself thinking that perhaps See Ming had done me a favour without even realising it. Had she not bought that ticket, I would probably have stayed home and remained blissfully unaware that such a remarkable project existed.

Sometimes all it takes is one thoughtful friend to nudge us out of our routines and remind us that there is still plenty happening around us. And perhaps that's the greatest gift George Town Festival continues to offer after all these years: the chance to discover, in our own backyard, something I never knew I was missing.

Penang Museum reopening

Anyone visiting the newly reopened Penang State Museum could be forgiven for thinking that it is, in part at least, a museum devoted to Penang Free School. 

That was certainly my first impression when I finally ventured beyond the curtain at the entrance. During the official reopening by the Penang Governor last Thursday evening, I never actually got that far. I had made a beeline for the marble plaque listing the donors to the building fund in 1895-96, then somehow got sidetracked into conversation with someone and never saw the rest of the museum. 

So on Sunday, I returned with Saw See for a proper visit. We headed upstairs and found ourselves in a corridor paying tribute to Penang's historic schools. Along one wall stood four child-sized mannequins dressed in the familiar white uniform of Penang Free School, complete with school ties and crest badges. One even wore the dark navy-blue blazer of a School Prefect. A video projection showed Free School boys and prefects running down the corridor, as though eagerly hurrying off to class. 

Following their lead, we arrived at the room at the far end of the corridor. It turned out to be entirely dedicated to Penang Free School. And why not?

After all, the museum building itself was once the school's home, built specifically for that purpose. Constructed in two stages, the first wing adjoining the Church of the Assumption was completed in 1896, while the second wing, extending towards St George's Church, was added in 1906. During the Allied bombing campaign of 1944 and 1945, carried out by the RAF and the US Army Air Forces to weaken the Japanese occupation of Penang, much of the later wing was destroyed. It was one of many colonial-era buildings that suffered damage in the raids. The surviving half eventually became the Penang State Museum in 1965: a history made even more tangible today by the excavated foundations of the lost wing, now preserved as an outdoor exhibit.

The recreated classroom is laid out with rows of old-fashioned desks facing a blackboard. Greeting visitors is the school's motto, Fortis Atque Fidelis. The walls are lined with displays tracing the school's more than two centuries of history, alongside a bust of Tunku Abdul Rahman, arguably the most distinguished Old Free of them all. There are also photographs of many other prominent Old Frees who have made their mark over the years.

It was here that I experienced a sense of satisfaction. Much of the historical information displayed in the room was adapted from my book, Let the Aisles Proclaim, which I wrote for the school's bicentenary in 2016. I had also supplied the museum with an updated summary of the school's history, leaving it entirely to the curators to decide how best to present the material. I can only hope I didn't overlook anything that some eagle-eyed visitor will one day point out.

Lest I give the wrong impression, the Free School exhibits occupy only a small corner of the museum. The rest explores Penang's history in all its facets through almost 1,200 artefacts, supported by multimedia and interactive presentations. Interesting though they are, I must admit I was rather biased. As an Old Free, I naturally spent more time in the galleries devoted to my alma mater. 

That changed, however, when I wandered into one of the ground-floor galleries devoted to Penang's legislative and judicial history. Looking down from the wall were portraits of Hussein Abdoolcader, James Ambrose, Alfred Winslow and Wee Chong Jin. Hussein Abdoolcader was one of Penang's most distinguished lawyers and also served on the Straits Settlements Legislative Council. Ambrose, Winslow and Wee later moved to Singapore, where they rose through the judiciary to become Federal Court judges, with Wee Chong Jin eventually serving as Singapore's Chief Justice. Apart from the fact that they were from the legal profession, all four were also Old Frees. Goes to show that Penang Free School has had rather more than its fair share of producing lawyers and judges.

Before leaving, there was one final stop to the newly opened archaeological exhibit which I mentioned earlier. Here were the foundations of the bombed-out 1906 wing which had been excavated and preserved. Standing there and looking at what remained of the original structure brought the story full circle. Almost a century after Penang Free School left these premises, my alma mater had, in a sense, come home again.

My old ancestor, Oh Cheng Chan

I attended the reopening of the Penang State Museum last Thursday evening. It was a grand affair graced by the presence of the Penang Governor, Ramli Ngah Talib, Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow, members of the State Exco and a host of invited guests. I was also happy to bump into quite a number of familiar faces among the crowd and even made a few new friends along the way.

After the speeches and a rather late dinner, which didn't begin until well after nine o'clock, we were finally invited into the museum. But I didn't get very far.

Just inside the entrance, my attention was drawn to a marble plaque mounted on one of the walls. I already knew what I wanted to see. It had been on my mind for years, and I was looking forward to reacquainting myself with it. My eyes quickly worked their way down the list of donors until they finally rested on a familiar name.

OH CHENG CHAN ESQR

There he was. This gentleman from the past, who contributed Straits Dollars One Hundred towards the building fund in either 1895 or 1896, was my great-great-grandfather on my mother's side of the family.

Seeing his name there again gave me happiness and a sense of pride. Suddenly, this wasn't just another heritage building with an interesting history. My own family had played a small part in making it possible. Quickly, I asked someone to take photos of me pointing to the name.

As far as I know, that makes me at least the fifth generation of my family in Penang. I say "at least" because I have never been able to trace Oh Cheng Chan's birthplace or date of birth. If he had come from China, then he would have been the first generation here. But if he had actually been born in Penang, then I would already be the sixth generation. Unfortunately, history has remained silent on that point.

His donation of Straits Dollars One Hundred may not sound like much today, but at the turn of the 20th century it was a substantial sum. In terms of purchasing power, it would probably be comparable to somewhere between RM15,000 and RM20,000 today. He was one of several public-spirited Penangites who contributed towards the construction of this magnificent building, leaving behind a legacy that has endured for well over a century.

The building itself has witnessed more than its fair share of history. Construction began in 1896, with the western wing completed first so that Penang Free School could move into its new premises in 1897. The eastern wing was completed in 1906 and occupied the following year. It was in this very building that Penang Free School celebrated its centenary in 1916.

Twelve years later, the upper forms moved to the school's present Green Lane campus, leaving behind the lower forms to become Hutchings School, a name chosen by The Old Frees' Association in honour of Robert Sparke Hutchings, the founder of Penang Free School.

The building suffered its first taste of war in December 1941 when Japanese bombs landed nearby. One exploded within the compound of the St George's Church, and the blast damaged the building's doors and windows. It fared much worse in February 1945 when Allied bombing scored a direct hit on the eastern wing, reducing much of it to rubble. Hutchings School returned to the surviving portion in 1947 and remained there until their new school buildings were completed in 1960.

After that, the old building stood empty for a while and even came close to being demolished. Thankfully, Tunku Abdul Rahman stepped in and decided that it should instead become the Penang State Museum. Whether he was motivated purely by its historical significance or by fond memories of his own schooldays here as a Penang Free School pupil, we can only speculate. Whatever the reason, Penang owes him a tremendous debt of gratitude for preserving one of the state's most important heritage buildings.

So there I was, looking at the plaque and finding myself thinking about my great-great-grandfather. More than 130 years ago, he and many others contributed to a public building that would go on to educate generations of Penangites before eventually becoming the State Museum. I doubt he could ever have imagined that one of his descendants would one day return, stand before that very plaque and quietly read his name once again. History isn't just something we read about in books. Sometimes, it stares back at us from a wall.