Kan Te Ko (lead male pig)

In my book Good Morning Yesterday, I wrote about an itinerant service from the kampong days known as Kan Te Ko. I am reminded of this interesting profession when I saw a photo by Andy MacDonald posted at Tom O’brien’s Memories of Singapore.

Here’s an extract from pages 67 to 69 my book;

So far I have told you about itinerant services provided by food vendors, tinkers and koyok sellers who visited our kampong. But there is one more which is sure to tickle you, and that is the itinerant farmer who provided a service called ‘kan te ko’. Kan te ko which literally means, “to lead (male) pig”, is best translated as stud service. Basically this man – let’s called him KTK for short - will visit the pig farms with his ‘stud’ and impregnate the sows for a fee of $3 per sow. Apparently results were guaranteed; otherwise they would be happy (not sure about the poor animal though) to do a repeat job. Farmers were also advised to feed their sows with eggs to increase the chance of pregnancies.

(According to my friend James Seah) Whenever the KTK arrived at the village to provide this ‘baby-making service’, all the young girls who were unmarried were not allowed to watch. The curious girls were told not to ask why the animals were making so much noise. My friend Yeo Hong Eng who grew up in a farm in Kampong Tanah Merah Kechil shared this interesting information with me.

"My father used to rear several sows. When the sows were ‘in heat’, they would become agitated and want to break out of their sty. My father would send for the KTK. This farmer would tie a light rope on the shoulder of the boar and drive him with a small stick to our pig sty. There consummation would take place. Sometimes the KTK had a hard time trying to get the pig to walk as directed. When passing by a muddy pool, it would wallow in the mud first in spite of coaxing and beatings. It would only get up when it was satisfied with the bath. A bigger boar could be so stout and strong that instead of the farmer dragging the boar, it was the boar that dragged the farmer.Farmers often met and shared their experiences. Some lamented having so many sows and having to spend a fortune for the stud service. But the ‘service provider’ also had his business risks. Sometimes the sow had a false alarm and refused to consummate or the heat was over and the sow was not in the mood. In such cases the sow owner had to pay a reduced fee of $1.00."

Of course the KTK was a job that no woman would not want to take up. But sometimes when the man of the house was unavailable or sick, she had no choice but to stand in. Like the night soil carrier, this profession became extinct in Singapore. After the Primary Production Department was set up, technicians bearing syringes of Berkshire sperm from Australia took over the job. Subsequently, pig rearing was disallowed in Singapore.

UPDATE (24/2/2013)

Reader Lye Khuen Way’s comment about seeing the carcasses of drowned pigs in the Alexandra Canal, during the floods of the 1960s, reminds me of some photos that I have seen at the National Archives’ Picas website. Dated 03/12/1978, these photos describe the plight of pig farmers at Braddell Road, which was quite near to the kampong I grew up in. These photos come with the following description.

“The rains held off as flood waters receded in all parts of Singapore. The flood had caused heavy damage to property, livestock and poultry. The worst hit area was the farm belt stretching across Woodlands, Braddell Road, Potong Pasir and Changi. At least 2,000 pigs and a large number of poultry have perished as flood waters swollen by heavy rain, swirled through the farms on Saturday and Sunday morning.

Picture shows pigs stoically await rescue in their pens as rising water level slowly creeps up to their snouts. They are the luckier ones to be rescued although they will probably end up in a frying pan. Scores of others drowned in the floods."

Tribute to a humble profession (2)

In our recent trip to Yong Peng, we also had the opportunity to visit a rubber plantation. Our hosts who were rubber tappers were very enthusiastic to explain to us about their work. Below are some photos of things you will not find in Singapore - including close-ups of the rubber tapper's knife.

Question

Remember the light that I strapped to my forehead. Nowadays the light is powered by batteries. But in the old days they used something called chow tor - literally, ‘smelly earth’ - in Hokkien. Do you know what was that?

We also discussed the problem of snakes. I happened to chat with a Malaysian friend about this the other day. He is now a Singaporean PR (permanent resident). When he was growing up in Pekan Nanas, he too used to help out in the rubber plantations. He told me he had to wake up at 3 in the morning and start work at 4 am. He said that snakes was not a big problem as long as you do not ‘disturb’ them, although he does recall seeing or peng’s. Do you know what snake is that? The biggest problem apparently was the mosquitoes which came in swarms. They had to cover themselves from head to toe leaving just a slit to see through. What a way to make a living!

Younger readers may not know this. Not so long ago, rubber plantations were a common sight in Singapore. For example, if you were to check out this World War II topographical map which my friend Kenneth put up at Flickr.com, you will see many rubber plantations in the Thomson-Braddell area. (you have to zoom in). In fact, in my previous posts, I have mentioned seeing rubber factories in places like Lorong Chuan, Bukit Timah and Upper Thomson Road. So I believe there are actually living in our midst Singaporeans who once made a living from this humble profession. Do you know anyone like that?


Question

Can you name some places in Singapore where you can still find rubber trees? Of course I am not referring to the islands around Singapore. I am sure there are still lots of them on Pulau Tekong and Pulau Ubin. I can think of three such places.

1) The forests of MacRitchie near the Venus Drive area.
2) Chestnut Drive near the water pipes. I think I saw some the last time I went there for my brisk walking exercise (see photo below).
3) Woodland Town Park East. Whilst researching the whereabouts of Marsiling Hill 180, I saw many rubber trees here.

Related posts:

1) Tribute to a humble profession
2) Toys Were Us - Rubber seed pods

Tribute to a Humble Profession

It was raining heavily this morning when I happened to see someone rush by outside my house. The poor chap must have forgotten his umbrella, I thought. Then I realized that the guy was actually a rubbish collector. He was removing the trash from the big plastic bins ahead of the rubbish truck. If you have seen these guys at work, you will know that it is a pretty tough job. Most of the time they had to rush because the truck may be holding up the traffic; and we know how impatient Singaporean drivers are. Furthermore, they have to be cheerful and friendly to us the customers.

Needless to say, this gentleman was not a Singaporean. Nowadays, no Singaporean would take on such a dirty and lowly job. Whilst so much resentment has been generated in the blogosphere about the foreign talents in our midst, I am sure many Singaporeans appreciate foreign workers like this rubbish collector who perform an essential service for our society.

This reminds of yet another lowly profession from my kampong days which has since become extinct in Singapore. Many years ago, I read of a survey about the ‘respectability’ of different professions. Right there at the bottom of the list was a profession known as The Night Soil Carrier. I wonder how many young Singaporeans even know what that is, let alone have seen one of them in action. So while others blog about Singaporeans’ favourite subject – food, I will play the ‘contrarian’ role and write about something at the other end of the food train instead.

The night soil carrier is a man who collects human waste. Back in the days when many of us stayed in kampongs, the so-called Bucket System was the most modern and hygienic method of waste disposal available. In those days, the family toilet was usually built several metres to the rear of our homes, away from the public view, as well as to keep away the smell. Thus if you needed to answer nature’s call when it rained, you would need an umbrella. Each day, we would deposit our ‘stuff’ into a metal bucket and the next morning, the night soil truck would come around to pick up the buckets. The night soil carrier would bring along an empty bucket to replace the full one. He would then attach a metal cover to the old one and carry it, 2 at a time to the truck. The truck looked a bit like the armoured vans used by our banks today. It had several rows of ‘deposit boxes’ for the buckets. These were brought back to the sewerage centre where they were emptied of their contents and the buckets cleaned. And all this was done manually!




The above 3 photos are Property of National Archives of Singapore

According to the PUB website, the bucket system was phased out in 1987. But actually, the bucket system was not the most primitive system. Even in my days, it was not uncommon to see what PUB calls ‘overhanging toilets’ built over fish ponds. (Photo on right taken by my friend Peh S K in Pulau Ubin). In fact if you go to Malaysia, you can still see these in some rural areas. I am sure many Singaporeans who have visited the fishing village of Kukup in Southern Johor and stayed at the holiday chalets there have experienced what it was like to ‘do your business’ directly into the sea.

And that reminds me of yet another interesting system which only our NS (national service) boys would have experienced – the Taiwanese army camp system. For those army boys like my friend Victor who missed out on this unique experience, I shall describe it below. Unfortunately I do not have any photos to illustrate.

Basically the toilets were made up of 2 rows of cubicles built over 2 long narrow drains over which you have to squat. The partitions were only about chest high, and so sometimes, when you and you neighbour happened to finish your missions at the same time, you would get bit of a shock to see another person face to face when you stood up. There were no individual flushes. Occasionally, somebody would turn on the tap and the water would flow from one end of the drain to the other. If you happen to be occupying the last cubicle, you would be treated to quite an unforgettable sight. I hope this is sufficient to motivate some of our reluctant young men to look forward to their NS.

It’s been about one year since I started this blog. Occasionally I find young people commenting that they wished they could be living in my kampong days. Frankly, I doubt they would want to do that if they fully appreciated the conditions that I have deliberately described in a nostalgic and light-hearted way.