Green And Clean Singapore

A day before we left though, Bollywood pretty Komathi,[that Ambassador Ringim’s amiable secretary] along with her equally Bollywood handsome husband Gobi, had taken us out to dinner—which I mustn’t forget to mention – at a restaurant appropriately [for us] named, ‘Out of Africa’ in Selangor state, some 20 minutes or so out of Kuala. The […]

A day before we left though, Bollywood pretty Komathi,[that Ambassador Ringim’s amiable secretary] along with her equally Bollywood handsome husband Gobi, had taken us out to dinner—which I mustn’t forget to mention – at a restaurant appropriately [for us] named, ‘Out of Africa’ in Selangor state, some 20 minutes or so out of Kuala.

The name instantly brought back memories of that Robert Redford/Merlyn Streep movie named so. Mayana and his wife Rabi – the custodian of our yaji [pepper] – couldn’t join us because they were out of K L with their children on a visit to a near relative.

But, luckily the pepper wasn’t in need at all that day; after all, the restaurant was African. The restaurant, set in like a spa/ sports club, with a nice view of an Olympic size swimming pool, decorated with scary animal caricatures on the walls, and with staff appropriately dressed in African brocade, looked every inch ours. No sooner had we sat down, than the menu was brought over.

Now, looking up at those Tiger and antelope heads, hides and skin displayed on the wall, I expected the menu to offer something like this; Lion heart instead of Chicken wings for starters, Elephant thighs instead of beef steak for main course, wild forest fruits for desert and crocodile tears [literally] for drinks, – and you can imagine what that kind of food would do to your system – but it mercifully offered a good variety of familiar food with very nicely cooked ox tail served in a traditional African pot as their specialty.

We thanked Komathi and her husband after the dinner and drove back to K L supposedly, because there weren’t any clear demarcations. We flew out of K L with Silk air [a partner airline with Singapore Airlines] in an aircraft that was expectedly new, clean and that which offered comfortable space in all classes.

There is nothing better than flying around with your country’s airline. I never understand what the problem here really is, or maybe I do, but just don’t want to mention it here. In fact, everybody knows what the problems are, but very few mention them, and even when they do, nobody seems to listen or care.

Not that I can do anything about it, but I surely do know many that can. We jetted into Singapore precisely on the 3rd of June and were received in the airport by an embassy staff named Muhammad Ungogo. Out of the airport, we had to arrange a 7 or 8 seater Mercedes SUV to ferry us to town in addition to the vehicle Ungogo came with because of our number/baggage.

The driver, Harry, with a head quite proportional to his broad shoulders and that which sat comfortably on them, and whose exact ethnic mix wasn’t easily discernable, eventually ended up driving us around throughout our 3 day sojourn. As we hit the highway out of the airport, I just couldn’t believe my eyes – what with the number of trees/flowers along the highway, on pedestrian bridges, inside the parks, on balconies, in short, in every conceivable space available. It also looked to me as if there was not a single vehicle that wasn’t new.

This, Muhammad confirmed—as if reading my thoughts – as we drove along by saying ‘here, any car that’s above a certain number of years [can’t remember exactly] is automatically withdrawn and re-cycled’. They aren’t even exported out of the country, because what they probably believe is; if it’s not good enough for them, it won’t be good enough for anybody.

Can anybody be more kind hearted and mistaken at the same time?  On arrival the ‘Mandarin’, our hotel on Orchard road—a fashion street unarguably comparable to Champs Elysees in Paris, or Rodeo drive in Los Angeles – we thanked and bid farewell to Mr Ungogo and collected clean [ nor dirty] Harry’s contact, if you know what I mean, promising to call him when we were ready to go out the following day.

He said I should give him 30 minutes notice before hand, in a business like manner and left. This left me wondering if they [Singaporeans] would have any sense of humor at all.

The fact is, as I read somewhere, the country could not have achieved its level of economic success without that single-mindedness and seriousness of purpose. So, don’t be offended if they talk to you that way.

No sooner had we checked into our room than the phone started ringing. It was, expectedly, Bashir, rushing us down to go eat and check out the mall attached to the hotel. Having traveled with Bashir a couple of times, I was used to that. One couldn’t really find a more hyperactive traveling partner.

I, for one, couldn’t find a more suitable traveling companion, because; In more ways than one, we are indeed very similar. As they say; it’s the choice of your travel partner that makes or mars a trip. We chose a Thai restaurant for an early dinner and ordered a variety of meals, some of which had to be spiced up with—you know what, some which didn’t need any additives, and some of which just couldn’t be corrected at all.

Dinner over, we strolled into the shopping mall adjacent to the street, where I ended up buying some things I want, but don’t really need. This can hardly be avoided once you stroll into these shops.  I vividly remember collapsing into bed like a park of cards on retirement to the hotel that day.

On the 4th of June, [not July] I and my wife strolled into another mall across the main Orchard road, but that’s after a very sumptuous buffet breakfast, where, with eyes wide open, I saw a fat and chubby Chinese kid down about 8 sausages along with other things on his plate. But, this time to pick up a few essentials we needed only.

On return, I placed a call to clean Harry, who said he would be with us by 12 30pm and he-no price for guessing – was on the dot. As usual, the first thing you tell a driver when you are in a new city is to drive you around to get a general view and feel of it.

We did. The air was really fresh—if you catch my drift—what with those trees that consume carbon dioxide and emit fresh undiluted oxygen for consumption. If you can stay calm and achieve yoga like concentration, either sitting or standing by the road side, the intake of fresh oxygen can be felt, irrespective the size of your nostrils.

Our first stop that day was the Marina Bay Sands, a billion dollar project that houses the world’s biggest casino, an Architectural masterpiece, with a ship like structure sitting atop, and a spectacular view of the Singapore River from the viewing platform.

You don’t need to ask—we went up, savored the view, had a souvenir photo and came down, after which we drove down to the other side of the river to see the Singapore lion on Harry’s recommendation. Not a real Lion though, but rather a statue that spills water in form of a fountain out of its mouth, the significance of which I have forgotten because I honestly think it not important, at least to us.

By the time Harry drove back to pick us, it was already lunch time. So, on his recommendation again, we drove down to a section of the city called little India for an appropriately well curried lunch.

The lunch,-in which Harry joined in – turned out to be nice, really nice, so nice that it reminded me of an old song by a food vendor who used to go round our street in K/Nasarawa inside Kano city, way back when we were young. And here, I am talking about some 30 or so years back, to give you an idea of how really nice that food was. You know, I don’t know about you, but real good food never fails to switch me into silent singing mode, and things long gone bye.

I only know of one other person we share this trait with though, and he happens to be in this trip also. Lunch done, we sang our way out of the restaurant to a mall coincidentally named ‘Mustapha Shopping Centre’, a large and dangerously enclosed—no visible escape outlets – multi level shopping arena patronized by mostly Indians or Pakistanis—can hardly tell the difference.

We saw—wait for it – sand on the ground for the first time since arrival in this area of the city, which I couldn’t help calling the attention of everybody to. Harry dropped us at Mr Chandru’s office and left with the wives for—you know what.

Chandru, an old friend of Bashir, was recuperating from an open heart by-pass surgery then. They came back for us about an hour or so later and we drove to Arab Street, a street populated by Arab traders, and that which has a lot of the stuff we can easily relate to.

We so much enjoyed shopping in the street that we requested for a re-visit the following day. We retired back to the hotel and went eating well into the night.

On our third and final day, Harry arrived at 10am on the dot. Our destination was Sentora Island. But, before we get there, let me share with you a little bit about what I read on Singapore. In Sanskrit, a Sumatran language, Singapore means ‘Lion City’. Now, this probably explains the Singapore Lion we went to see.

This is how the name came about; on a visit to the island in the 13th century, a Sumatran prince said he had seen and spotted a lion in the forest. The prince was probably or obviously mistaken, because lions are not found in that part of the globe.

But, as the saying goes, especially in this part of the globe, or here, to be precise, [unfortunately], ‘the boss is always right’. Thus, the island, formerly known and called Temasek, got the unique name—‘Singapura’ or ‘Lion City’—Singapore now.

The island subsequently grew into a thriving trading centre with merchants going from all parts of the world to trade in wares such as silk, tea, coffee and pepper, despite the ever present—then – danger of pirates who found Singapura and its surrounding islands a convenient hideout.

Before the arrival of the Chinese and Indians, Singapore was inhabited by the Malays. These three now constitute the ethnic mix of the country. It’s the early Indian merchants who set up shops and businesses in one of the oldest roads in Singapore that gave rise to the place now known as little India.

The Chinese also settled in an area now called Chinatown. Singapore became a British colony in 1824, and that was when trade began to grow and ships started arriving from all over the region. The favored location for loading and offloading goods was along the banks of the Singapore River in the area now known as ‘Boat Quay’.

The old buildings that once served as warehouses have now been converted to restaurants and clubs. The British surrendered sovereignty in 1924 when the Japanese army invaded. These Japanese—‘sun cika tsokana’— they are currently mired up in controversy over some disputed islands with china.

Singaporeans who previously sang ‘God save the queen’ suddenly found themselves learning Japanese and having to refer to their country as ‘Syonanto’. Aren’t we lucky here in Nigeria?

In 1945 the Japanese surrendered to the British who returned and stayed on until when Singapore was granted internal self government in 1959. It became part of Malaysia in 1963, becoming an independent republic in 1965, a disputed process in which our first Prime Minister, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa—of blessed memory – was said to have played a key role in.

Today, Singapore has become famous because of the numerous developmental programmes embarked upon right from inception by its equally famous and visionary leader Lee Kuan Yew, and like they say, ‘the rest is now history’. Ok, now, Sentora Island, which is a short drive from the main island of Singapore, can also be accessed by cable car in case you are that adventurous.

The island has one of the best real estate I have ever seen. The first thing that came to mind whilst driving around the island when I caught a glimpse of its serene beaches was the description of Paradise Island as a millionaire’s playground by the famous author James Hardly Chase. The houses, almost all of which have personal yachts anchored in the backyard, are definitely not for the ordinarily rich, but the super rich.

Anyway, our mission there was not property search [you guessed right] but a tour of Universal Studios, a make believe world of showbiz, sci-fi adventure, restaurants, and rides.

Our first stop inside after purchase of tickets was a Hollywood special effects studio, and believe me we were blown away by how an empty sound stage became a setting for a major hurricane about to hit New York city, right before our very eyes. Though I was let in on the secret of how these special effects are made, I still have to give it to them because of the attention to detail, and the extent to which they go to make the end product so convincing in the movies.

Four of us – and you can guess who and who – then went in for a ride that’s fit for the elderly, close to the ‘Battlestar Galactica’ ride, which we dared not go close to. I will tell you why.  The Battlestar galactica is the world’s tallest dueling roller coaster ride. It goes up, around and upside down with an intense corkscrew and cobra roll, at a speed of almost 90 km/hr that propels riders to the equivalent of over a fourteen storey building into the air. See why I said we dare not go close.

We left Sentora Island for china town late afternoon to pick souvenir dresses for the kids and some Chinese medicine—you know they have all sorts. We then went to the tailors; revisited Arab Street, ending up at a restaurant in the hotel for a real nice buffet dinner. We left the mandarin early the following day for our onward flight to Dubai.

(On arrival Dubai, we were confronted by that annoying queue for eye scan. Of course, the governor and those with residency of the city amongst us practically walked out through the e-gate), whilst those of us that didn’t went for the scan.

I noticed there were about 10 counters, but only three were manned, which expectedly didn’t bother the staff manning them one bit, despite the meandering and out of place—considering the facilities at the airport – queue.

Were Sheikh Muhammad—the ruler of Dubai – to see that, I am sure all those staff would have been severely reprimanded, if not outrightly sacked. The ladies queue was ‘expectedly’ different and shorter, so I,—poor me—became the only one left in our group amongst fellow Bengali, Iranian, Pakistani, and some few other nationals that require the mandatory eye scan, for almost 2 hours on that annoying q—-. I hope you know it’s not all countries Nationals that have to do the eye scan.

Unfortunately, our dear country isn’t amongst the ones exempted, despite the volume of trade our people engage in. I eventually came out and found the entire group, with the exception of my wife, who had gone to file a report on her missing passport waiting.

We were lucky the passport got lost after immigration. Almost all bad situations, when thoroughly thought over, could have turned out to be worse, I thought, for had it been before immigration, the situation would have been better imagined.

We left the airport for ‘The Palace’, a very nice hotel with traditional Arabian touch, strategically located close to the Dubai mall—the biggest shopping galleria in the world, which isn’t really good for me—and you know why.

It was at the hotel we noticed either the Mayana or his wife had lost a hand luggage, [cant recall] which would have been disastrous for us either way. The Mayana had the cash, and his wife was the custodian of the yaji [local pepper].

Luckily both the passport and the bag were found some few hours later. Talk about luck. I slept off early and woke up at 1.00 am with hunger fangs, to find myself snacking at that time of the night. A terribly bad habit I am finding difficult to shake off.

On the 7th of June, the four of us left the hotel [without breakfast] to keep an appointment with Dr. Amer at the royal medical centre for the medicals I told you about in my last piece – so you know the rest of the story.

We have come full circle.  That night’s dinner was at a restaurant inside the Dubai mall called ‘Café du Paris’. The food would have ordinarily been nice on its own, but a combination of ‘man shanu’ [ don’t know the English translation, sorry] – I am sure that is what it was – in the meal, coupled with the soothing sound of waterfall from a fountain close bye made it extra ordinarily nicer.

You should check it out whenever you find yourself at the Dubai mall. I think it’s on the 1st floor. Just check out the info map, or ask at the info counter to make it easier. The following day, [8th June] we went sight seeing at Palm Jumeira.

Two things really caught my fancy there. One, the sheer luxury at Zabeel Saray hotel, [description on paper wouldn’t suffice], a spectacular beachside resort lavishly decorated in exquisite style with murals, hand crafted marble, crystal chandeliers and oriental art to be found only in the worlds finest galleries, reminiscent of the magnificent era of the Ottoman Empire.

Second, the view of islands from afar, shaped in form of the continents of the globe. The idea is for one to purchase a piece of land or invest in any country of his/her fancy, but right there in Dubai. All you need do is look up its position on the islands and purchase.

It may surprise you to know that investors have already started buying into the idea. I watched a programme on T V sometime ago in which a German investor said they are planning on building a resort there with – wait for it – and believe it or not-air conditioned streets.

How they will do it, he didn’t say and your guess is as good as mine. From then on, it was shopping, eating, visit to the incredibly soothing dancing fountain, a visit to the salon for the most expensive hair cut-which came with removing oil from the face and head massage by a combination of Indians and Chinese.

Back to the shops again, but then, come to think of it, is there anywhere else to stay in Dubai? The whole city is a shopping mall. Let me share with you a story the Mayana told me.

He had once seen a man tossing and turning an item for a long time in a shop at a mall in Dubai. The shop attendant on noticing this said to the man ‘looks like you really want this, pointing at the item’, to which the man replied in the affirmative, adding however, that his money was finished.

You know what the attendant said?  He said to him, ‘then what are you doing in Dubai?   Anyway, to cut a long story short, I didn’t leave with a dime in my pocket also; the Sheikh and the shop attendants took away everything, which wasn’t that much anyway. ‘Basa raina kadan’, ‘they take from the big and small’.