Grandfather’s house

When you talk about Singapore and rural lifestyles it seems to be a misnomer. It is not quite true. 40% of Singapore, by law, remains ‘green,’ forest covered and home to wild life and peace and quiet. Somewhere between the bustle of Orchard Road and the congestion of Chinatown are places like the Kranji farms. These days, quite high-tech: not so long ago they were even more rural, and had their stories to tell…

My name is Charlie. When I was young, I loved visiting my Grandparents Eddie and Ivy. They lived on a farm in Lim Chu Kang Lane. Even though Singapore is a small city-state, places like Lim Chu Kang Road and the lanes that led off it were rural retreats. I loved going there with my cousins.

One year, when my cousins and I arrived, we had an adventure that I will never forget as long as I live. As usual, we had a great time playing in the fields around the house and along the bank of the Sungei Buloh. Visiting my grandparents in a rural area was certainly something very few could enjoy in Singapore.

My grandfather grew orchids, but he was getting old, and knew that one day he would have to sell the farm. Meanwhile, he pottered around amongst his beloved orchids. He also kept a few farm animals: goats, rabbits and even a horse. Oh, and dozens and dozens of chickens. We kids enjoyed collecting the eggs and generally thinking how much fun it was to be in the country.

We arrived just after sunset. After greeting each other, hugging and smiling in excited anticipation of the coming weekend, we showered and sat down for dinner.

Dinner finished, parents and grandparents retired to the living room for an evening of talking for hours as they always did. My cousins and I took off! We loved the old farmhouse. It was huge. We ran through the rooms, down the stairs and into the yard, checking out the orchid nurseries and peeping in to the sheds behind the house. We wanted to make the most of every moment of the all too short weekend visit.

Grandfather Eddie’s house was raised off the ground sitting on wooden poles. Originally, it had been built for a Malay family who sold it to Grandfather Eddie many, many years before I was born.  Breezes passed both above and below the house, keeping it cool. A huge living room and kitchen took up one side of the house. The bedrooms were on the other side of the house.

My grandparents had prepared the largest guest bedroom for their grand children. They had placed comfortable mats on the floor for us to sleep on. They had even placed a TV in the room.

All too soon we were called in to go to bed. Tired but happy, we bedded down in the large bedroom. We did not want to watch TV. Why watch TV when there were so many interesting things to talk about?

We chattered until we dozed off to sleep.

Around midnight, I woke up. My cousin, Irene, was shaking my shoulder.

‘Something is poking me from below my mattress!’ she said.

I looked at her.

‘Are you sure?’ I said, instantly curious about what might be happening so late at night. ‘How can that happen? There is a wooden floor there!’

‘I know that! I felt it!’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’

I looked at her again. ‘I am not making fun of you, Irene, but you might be dreaming. Try and go back to sleep.’

Irene went back to bed and soon dozed off. A few moments later I woke with a start again. This time something was poking me!

I looked around the bedroom. All of my cousins were sitting up on their mats. It was dark but I could see from the light of the moon that they looked a little bit frightened. Had they all experienced the same strange thing?

No one said anything. Then, suddenly, Irene cried out. We heard something scratching at the door. We turned and looked. We were terrified.

As we looked at the door, the handle slowly turned, but the door remained shut. My cousins, all younger than me, left their mattresses and huddled together on my mat for protection. None of us wanted to run out of the door as we did not know who or what was behind it!

‘Let’s watch and wait,’ I whispered, and I looked at my cousins huddling next to me, their eyes wide open with fright. I tried to look brave.

We watched and listened. The scratching stopped. We relaxed a little.  Then it started again, but this time the noise came from the ceiling. We heard footsteps on the tin roof, then more scratching on the ceiling above our heads.

‘Quick,’ I whispered. ‘The thing—whatever it is—has moved from behind the door. It is in the ceiling. Run to our parent’s rooms before it comes back down.’

None of them needed any second bidding. They ran to the door and fled to their parents’ rooms.

I watched them run out, but I sat on my mat and waited. I saw nothing more. I heard nothing more. Was it the chickens? I doubted it. I decided to go back to sleep.

Someone burst into the room. It was my father. ‘Are you all right, Charlie?’ he asked. ’The other children said that there was a ghost that scared them.’

‘No dad,’ I said, ‘I am fine and there is nothing to worry about.’

Dad did not seem too sure, but he hugged me. He said goodnight, turned and left, closing the door carefully behind him. Once again, I was alone in the bedroom. I closed my eyes again and was soon sound asleep.

At breakfast next morning none of us were at all sure of what had happened the previous night. We all knew that we had heard something. We all knew that we had felt something poking us, but in the light of the new day, it seemed an odd thing to talk about.

Grandfather Eddie would not let it rest. ‘Now what was this nonsense you were on about last night?’ he asked, not unkindly.

Irene told him what had happened. We all nodded vigorously as she spoke, adding comments here and there.

‘Goodness,’ said my father. ‘That sounds weird indeed.’ He turned to Grandfather Eddie. ‘Father, tell me once and for all! Is this place haunted?’ he asked, and laughed.

None of us laughed, but the adults all chortled. Well, most of them did. Grandfather did not. He took a slow sip of his tea, leaned back against the wall, and began to speak.

‘I do have something sad to tell you,’ he said. ‘Something dreadful has just happened, hasn’t it, my dear?’ he said and turned to look at Grandma Ivy. She nodded. We children fell silent and listened intently. I sat as quiet as a mouse.

‘You know our neighbor, Gani, don’t you?’ asked Grandfather Eddie. ‘As you know, he is a very nice Malay man and a good friend of ours.’

He paused and took a sip of his tea. Grandmother Ivy patted his arm.

‘Go on, dear,’ she said quietly. ‘They need to know.’

‘Two days ago,’ began Grandfather Eddie, ‘Gani’s daughter, whose name was Safrina, died.’

We all gasped. We knew Safrina.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Safrina’s mother died when she was just a baby. Gani bought her up himself but he found it difficult. After a few years, Gani married again. Sadly, his new wife did not like Safrina. She was very, very cruel to her. In fact she was so cruel that Safrina could not take it.’

‘She used to run over here to see us sometimes, crying her little eyes out,’ added Grandmother Ivy. ‘We could sometimes see welts and cuts on her arms and face as if she had been fiercely beaten. Even last week, the same thing happened. It was dreadful.’

‘Didn’t Gani know about this?’ asked my mother.

‘He would not believe it at first, but after a while he could see what was happening,’ continued Grandfather Eddie. ‘It was very hard for him. A couple of weeks ago he told me that he had resolved to divorce his new wife to protect Safrina.’

‘Sadly,’ added Grandmother Ivy, ‘last week he became very ill and had to be taken to hospital. He is still in a coma. He had no choice but to leave Safrina in his new wife’s care.’

‘But if she was so horrid to Safrina, why couldn’t you help her?’ I asked.

‘We tried,’ sighed Grandmother Ivy. ‘Believe me, we tried. But Gani’s wife would have nothing to do with us and accused us of meddling. Then, two days ago, it happened.’

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Safrina drank rat poison,’ replied my grandfather, his words spilling out rapidly.

Shocked, no one said anything for a long time.

‘That is awful,’ said my father. ‘I had no idea. That poor girl! She was so sweet. Are you saying that what the children heard last night might be her ghost?’ he asked.

‘It is possible,’ said Grandfather Eddie.

My mother snorted. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said.

‘Don’t be so sure,’ cautioned Grandmother Ivy. ‘There are spirits all around us, you know! Look up at the ceiling!’ She pointed to the tall ceiling. ‘Why do some people build their houses with such high ceilings?’ she asked.

‘To keep them cool,’ replied mother.

‘That is part of the reason,’ agreed Grandmother Ivy. ‘But it is also because the spirits of those who pass on don’t always leave us straight away. Sometimes they hang around us for years after they die. They like to hover over us, about a meter above our heads. Then when they are satisfied that all is well with us, they leave.’

My mother took a deep breath. She turned to my father. ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ she said and glared at him.

‘My dear, I really don’t know,’ he said. He turned to look at me. ‘Here, son, you are the oldest. You were there. What do you think?’

‘Do you think that Safrina just wanted to play with us?’ I asked quietly.

Grandfather Eddie nodded. ‘That is a strange question, but you know,‘ he said, ‘I think it is possible. I think she wanted some happiness before she finally took her leave.’

Grandfather Eddie heaved a sigh. ‘When it came to burying Safrina, her stepmother arranged it as quickly as possible. It all happened before we knew anything about it. Even poor old Gani never found out till he came back. It was dreadful.’

Grandmother Ivy nodded. ‘If you ask me, I think the poor girl is not at rest. We have been hearing her cry every night since she died. It is all most distressing.’

‘If what your grandfather has told you is correct, this is not a dangerous spirit,’ said my father. ‘I don’t think you need to worry.’

‘She may not be dangerous,’ I said Charlie, ‘but if she is not at peace, someone should help her to find peace.’

‘That is a lovely thought, Charlie,’ said my grandmother Ivy, ‘but how do you do that?’

‘I am sure there is a way,’ I replied. ‘A bomoh would know what to do.’

My mother stared at me. ‘Dealing with spirits can be dangerous, whether they are evil spirits or not. All ghosts are bad.’

‘Not at all, my dear Lillian,’ said Grandfather. ‘What would you think, Charlie?’

‘I think there are good spirits and bad spirits,’ I said, ‘just like there are good people and bad people.’

‘Well spoken,’ smiled my grandfather.

My mother said nothing, but she looked carefully at me. She was really worried and it showed.

‘Surely someone should do something about the wife,’ she said.

‘The police have been, of course,’ said Grandfather Eddie. ‘They spoke to us, but so far, nothing has happened.’

‘And Gani?’ asked my mother.

‘Poor man,’ sighed Grandfather Eddie. ‘He is back in hospital. The news almost killed him. We go to see him each day, but…’

‘And his wife?’ asked my mother again.

‘She has gone!’ said Grandmother Ivy. ‘And good riddance!’

‘That is terrible,’ said my mother. She drew in a deep breath. ‘Anyway, enough sad stories! Go out and play!’ she smiled and we ran outside, momentarily forgetting all about Safrina.

After a full day’s playing and running and having a wonderful time, it was time for bed.

‘Off to bed now, children,’ said Grandfather Eddie. ‘Sleep peacefully. If Safrina wakens you again, just come in to our rooms if you are worried. Good night.’

We went to bed but we were not a little apprehensive as to what might happen, but we knew that nothing bad had happened the previous night. We were scared, but we were not hurt. We felt reassured by what our parents had said.

‘Charlie?’ asked Irene as she lay on her mattress. ‘Why do you not seem afraid?’

‘Did anyone get hurt last night?’ I asked her.

She shook her head.

‘See what I mean?’ I said and smiled at her. ‘If there is the ghost of a little girl out there, I don’t think she will hurt us.’

We all went to sleep soon enough. A day spent racing along the riverbank and playing in the fields around the farm was more than enough for us.

After midnight, we woke up with a start. This time, it was not just the children woke up, but our parents and grandparents woke up as well. Everyone rushed into the living room. We had all heard the same sound: shrill laughter filling the house.

Grandfather went to the front door of the house and looked out.

‘Safrina! Safrina! I know it is you,’ he shouted. ‘Leave us alone. Please. We will try and help you.’

The shrill laughter stopped. We waited. All was quiet.

‘I think she has gone now,’ said Grandfather Eddie. ‘Back to bed everyone.’

My cousins elected to sleep with their parents. I decided to stay in the bedroom alone. I lay there thinking about Safrina. Was there anything I could do?

I got up and looked out of the window. I could see nothing but the dark shadows of the night waving in the pale light of the moon. I could understand why someone who was afraid could imagine strange beings hiding in darkness.

I gradually became aware of a pale light shimmering against a small building in which grandfather stored tools. It seemed to be a small figure. Maybe it was a young girl. Maybe it was Safrina?

I opened the shutters, and the figure turned and looked at me. I raised my hand quietly and smiled. Safrina, for it was she, placed her hands together as if praying. She smiled at me. I nodded and smiled back.

Then she bowed, waved and disappeared.

And we never heard or saw her again.