Gate of Hope and Beyond

By Theresa Ng

This book tells the story of a young child who dreams of writing a book about her life experiences while living in a convent orphanage. She believes that writing about her past will help her cherish the good and bad moments she has encountered. The writer is convinced that memories can quickly fade when not written down and that writing about one's life experiences helps create a collection of memories that can be revisited anytime. In the writer's opinion, writing takes us to a new level of immersion in our own stories, allowing us to relive them during our leisure time. After her children grew up, she finally got the chance to pursue her dream of writing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Feb 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9781543781298

Theresa Ng

The writer, also known as Sumaiya, was one of the abandoned babies who received dedicated care from nuns at the CHIJ orphanage on Victoria Street in Singapore until her early teens. She developed a passion for reading and never believed she would have the chance to travel. However, after saving enough money from work, she joined a European Tour, and her passion for travelling began. Wanting to work in London, she borrowed money to travel there. In London, she landed a job as a resident housekeeper for an aristocratic couple and stayed with them for three years. From there, her unexpected adventures began.

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Copyright © 2024 by Sumaiya Bte Abdullah.

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CONTENTS

Why this book

Acknowledgement

CHAPTER 1

1. Gate of Hope And Beyond

• Introduction

• Baby House

• The Early Years of Development

• Communal Bath

• Entertainment

• My Favourite Nuns

• Death In The Convent

• Foster Parenting

• Girls’ Town

• Chestnut Drive Secondary School

• The Thomas Cook European Tour

• Farewell, Singapore. London, here I come

CHAPTER 2

2. London

• The Earl and Countess of Chichester

• A Lurcher named Seraglio

• Little Durnford Manor, Salisbury, Wiltshire

CHAPTER 3

3. Snippets of Life in London

• Babysitting in London

• Honesty Is The Best Policy

• The Royal Phone Call

• Cycling in London

• The New Year’s Eve Tip

• The Queen’s Silver Jubilee Parade and Trooping the Colour

• Winter Time

• The Chambermaid

• Weekend Trips

• Friends

CHAPTER 4

4. Countries I Explored

• Spain: Marbella

• Greece: Corfu and Athens

• Scandinavia:

Denmark, Norway and Sweden

• Scotland, Wales and Ireland

• Wales

• Ireland

5. Goodbye London, America is Calling

CHAPTER 5

6. The East Coast of America

• New York

• Niagara Falls

• Washington D.C.

• Clearwater, Florida

7. The West Coast of America

• Los Angeles – San Francisco

• Trek America

* Yosemite National Park

* Death Valley National Park

* Las Vegas

* The Grand Canyon

* Tuscon

* San Diego

* Disneyland, Anaheim

• Los Angeles – Hawaii – Hong Kong

• Hawaii

• Hongkong

CHAPTER 6

8. Home is Where the Heart is

• The Chichesters in Singapore

• My Tutoring Experience

• Courtship, Marriage and Motherhood

• Annus Horribilis

• Switzerland – London Revisited

• Switzerland 2004

• Switzerland - Dubai

• Dubai

• My Asian Holidays

Epilogue

WHY THIS BOOK

As a child, the writer always dreamed of penning a book that chronicled her life experiences. She wanted to look back on the past not with regret but as a beautiful reminder of all the joyous and challenging moments she had encountered – the good and the bad, the funny and the consequential, the happy and the sad. The writer firmly believes that stories and spoken words are easily forgotten, but when written down, they become a part of history, a collection of memories that can be revisited anytime. Writing about one’s life takes us to a new level where we can immerse ourselves in our stories during leisure time.

It’s pretty remarkable and almost eerie how the places she visited during her journey were the exact birthplaces of her favourite childhood authors – Enid Blyton (London), Walt Disney (America), and Hans Christian Andersen (Denmark). These authors played a huge role in her early years.

After her children had grown up, she finally had the chance to pursue her dream of writing about her early childhood experiences in a convent. She also documents her travels to Europe during her early years. While working in London, she visited different countries and recorded her adventures. Before returning home, she explored America’s East and West Coast and met wonderful people who helped her. Her writing also captured the events and experiences she had upon her return to Singapore.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I am grateful to all those who have made a positive impact on my life. This includes the CHIJ sisters I have known and some of my childhood friends from the convent, June Tang, Helena Lim, Bernadette Sim, Ursula Chua and Theresa Chan.

I want to express my gratitude to Barbara Boswell for her selflessness, kindness, sense of humour, and ability to make me laugh in all situations. I would also like to thank Joan and her husband, Bill Goodwin, and Desmond Lim for their generous hospitality during my stay in Florida and Edmund Lim and his wife, Marie, in San Franciso.

I am deeply grateful to the Earl and Countess of Chichester for their kindness, trust and graciousness during my tenure. I am especially thankful to the Countess for her invaluable assistance in helping me with specific chapters of my book.

I also want to thank my husband, Edward Ngen (Muhammad Muneer), and our children, Jabir, Naserah, Jubir, Mansurah, and Asiah, for their constant love, support, and constructive feedback while working on my memoir.

To all of my wonderful friends, including Doris Thong, Jadin Ong, Irene Yeow, Shirley Tan, Tang Wai Leen, Mahani, Alice Goh, Susan Tan, Susan Chin and many others. I would also like to extend my gratitude to my old classmates, John Koh Yat Cher and Sam Teo Tng Chye. Last but not least, in memory of my foster parents, Eileen and Rodney Boswell and Maureen.

CHAPTER 1

GATE OF HOPE AND BEYOND

Introduction

I n the mid-nineteen fifties, Singapore was still a young and developing nation. Many immigrants came from South East Asia from mainland China, India, Indonesia and the Malay Archipelago, to name a few, trying to seek their fortunes and work opportunities in a new land and escape the wars and poverties of their homeland. They brought whatever meagre personal belongings or treasures that were dear and precious to their hearts and their superstitious beliefs. Even as they adjusted to their new homeland, times were difficult and trying, and living conditions were just as intolerable. Hunger, poverty, sickness and diseases were prevalent. In such dire circumstances, death and total abandonment of tiny babies were the most inevitable. While some babies were born healthy and normal, others were either sickly and weak; had physical deformities, such as being deaf, dumb or blind; were victims of polio; physically handicapped; visually impaired; being albino; having too many females being born into that particular family or simply born in the wrong lunar year, especially during the Year of the Tiger where it was thought that such babies were bound to bring misfortune or bad luck to the family and so forth.

Along Victoria Street in Singapore was a small, insignificant-looking grey door next to the main heavy metal gate of the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus. Inside was a substantial self-contained compound consisting of the Catholic nuns’ living quarters, an established English and Chinese schools, an orphanage and a chapel. The establishment was encompassed by four main roads: Victoria Street, Bras Basah Road, North Bridge Road and Stamford Road. This small gate was called the Gate of Hope. That was where most poverty-stricken parents, parents who could not look after their child, single mothers or due to an individual’s unfortunate circumstances in one’s life, would leave and abandon their babies.

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Baby House

Some mornings, the nuns at the parlour would be alerted by the cries and wailing of the innocent baby or perhaps by the sound of the doorbell being rung but with no one in sight upon opening. They would bring in the abandoned baby, often wrapped in newspaper, in ragged swaddling clothes, a towel, or placed inside a small box. One nun in particular remembered answering the doorbell, after which a young man handed her the baby, spoke something in dialect and left, leaving the nun dumbfounded. He was too poor to feed his child. Fortunately, most babies would have their birth certificates next to their tiny, frail bodies, while others had no proper identification documents. The babies would then be handed over to the nuns in charge of Baby House, a creche where other babies in similar situations were cared for. Dealing with sick and non-stop crying babies or disabled children during those difficult and troubled times must have been stressful for young couples and immigrants alike. Mortality rates were also high. Perhaps out of sheer desperation and helplessness, my parents had no option but to hand me to the Catholic nuns via the Gate of Hope. I was a sickly eleven-month-old when I joined the other babies at Baby House. While I felt no bitterness about my parents’ decision to do so, I am eternally grateful for the love and care that the nuns provided us despite our physical conditions or abnormalities. Even though we had parents, we were often called the orphans. If not for the nuns, most of us would not have survived. The nuns who cared for the orphans at ‘Baby House’ were incredibly devoted to their work. They patiently cared for the hungry, crying babies, feeding them, changing them, comforting them and showing them unconditional love and affection. The older residents (between seven and ten years old) would help the nuns during playtime by entertaining the babies or singing lullabies during nap time.

The Early Years of Development

After turning seven, we moved to a different part of the Convent, where we learned basic household tasks like washing and ironing our clothes and being responsible for cleaning. At this point, another group of nuns took charge, and we were divided into groups of eight to ten, each named after a religious saint. This made it simpler for the nuns to identify and address us when assigned cleaning duties. Within the safe confines of the enclosed convent walls, there was sufficient food, playmates, no lack of arguments, books, sleeping companions and entertainment. Time had a different meaning in the Convent. It was associated with the sound of a metal bell rung by the nun on duty. The bell signalled wake-up time, meal time, study time, end of playtime and bedtime.

We had our meals in the refectory, a large room where everyone gathered for communal eating. We queued up with our plates in hand to receive food served by the nuns or older girls. Then, we sat at long rows of tables on benches to eat. Before starting our meals, we closed our eyes and said grace with clasped hands: Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen. After eating, we would wash our plates and cutlery before heading out for recreational activities. As a slow eater, I often found myself being the last to finish my meals. Fridays were particularly challenging because Catholics abstained from meat, and fish was served instead. I always worried about accidentally swallowing a bone and struggled to eat. Drinking lots of water did not help much and only made my stomach feel bloated. This caused me to take an extra fifteen to twenty minutes to finish my food, much to the frustration of the nuns.

During recreational times, we formed our cliques or gangs and had fun playing all sorts of games. Especially Blind Man Bluff, Skipping Ropes, Hopscotch, Five Stones, Hide and Seek, Catch Me if You Can, Pick Up Sticks, or try our skills at Netball, the only popular ball sport we knew then. We challenged each other and tested to see who could score the most goals by throwing a ball into a ring attached to a high post. However, I would sometimes be more comfortable reading books in a sheltered, quiet part of the playground. Injuries happened when we got scratched or bruised. We would lose our balance during rough and tumble games, causing us to fall on the uneven cemented floor. Here was where the bottle of iodine came in handy. After wiping our bloodied knees or elbows, we approached the nun. With a cotton bud dipped inside the antiseptic and disinfectant solution, the nun would gently apply it to our wounds or bruises. Despite its biting sensation, we felt relieved upon application of the iodine.

Growing up in an environment surrounded by other girls, it was inevitable that disagreements and misunderstandings would arise, even during playtime. Tempers would flare, and arguments would break out. Amid these angry outbursts, physical altercations such as pushing, hitting, scratching, squeezing or kicking each other would occur in a tit-for-tat situation. If the fight became too intense and resulted in serious harm, the nuns would step in to stop the altercations. Some of the girls were loud, unruly, and often behaved like fighting cocks. Therefore, a bamboo cane was sometimes used as a deterrent to maintain order, which proved effective, albeit temporary. As there were around fifty to sixty of us, controlling and disciplining our rowdiness was essential for our benefit. Despite tears streaming down our faces, no sympathy was offered as we all knew we had to face the consequences of our behaviour. I was no angel and had my share of the punishments

The Convent received various useable items such as clothes, toys, shoes, books and bags from the public. These items were sorted into different categories and age groups and then distributed appropriately to the nuns in charge. As a resident, I was always excited to receive these items, mainly the reading materials. Enid Blyton’s children’s adventure books, such as The Famous Five, Mallory Towers, Secret Seven Mysteries and Little Noddy, were among my favourites. Additionally, I enjoyed reading comic magazines like The Archies, The Beano and the Dandy, and the Marvel series. Whenever I had the opportunity, I would secretly stash some books aside and read them at night while everyone else was sleeping. I used the street lights along Bras Basah Road as my reading lamp. In my quest to read as many books as possible, I subconsciously developed the art of speed reading. Months later, during the annual eye check-up at school, I was prescribed a pair of spectacles, thus earning the nickname four eyes.

The dormitories in the Convent were spacious, featuring tall wooden beams and columns. Rows of single beds were arranged in groups of six by ten. Every night at eight, we would kneel between rows of beds and pray before sleeping. Amid unfinished gossip whispers, the nun on duty would walk around the dormitory to check on us. A stern "No Talking" was enforced, and any noise would result in an unexpected smack on the head. All Souls’ Day was the most fearful night of the year. Although it was a day to commemorate and remember the faithful who had departed from this world, we, as young children, were always afraid. We were terrified of the hantu, ghosts, or wandering souls around the convent grounds when nighttime approached! To ease our fears, most of us prayed earnestly. However, the rustling of the leaves from the huge mango tree outside the dormitory was enough to scare us, causing us to cover our heads with blankets and hope for no disturbance. Thousands of screeching bats emerging from another annexed building near St. Nicholas Chinese School and flying