The Wizard of Oz Storms Singapore

Singapore’s tropical rains lasted about thirty minutes. I realized that Singaporeans didn’t bother with raincoats and umbrellas; instead, they gathered together in dry shelters. So I typically crammed myself into bus stops, shopping centers, and genial bars. When the rain stopped, my dry comrades and I would say goodbye and continue on our way.

Asian hurricanes usually formed in the central Pacific from May to October and tracked north-easterly toward the Philippines, Taiwan, China, and Japan. Hurricanes seldom hit Singapore. One afternoon Singapore’s Weather Bureau nonchalantly announced that a hurricane had formed early that afternoon and headed toward the Philippines. The next morning the hurricane had turned south-westerly toward the Indonesian archipelago; the abrupt report was unsettling. That afternoon the Bureau stated that the hurricane would hit Singapore the following afternoon; details followed.

That evening and the following morning, Singapore’s authorities took steps to reduce the storm’s damages and flooding. Tides would run high that afternoon and close the drainage system that channeled rainwater into the ocean. Emily, my wife, and I checked our supply of food and beverages, shuttered the large windows, and covered our car. Hilda, our dachshund, stayed under the bed. That morning, Emily and our servants continued while I flagged a cab to the bank. Returning home would probably be wet, difficult and dangerous.

I was five years old when my mother took me to “The Wizard of Oz”; the movie was terrifying and disturbing thereafter. The oncoming Singapore hurricane jostled my memory; my imagination created “Oz, Tropical Sequel One”. The original Oz opened with a tornado’s eerie green sky; “Sequel One” replaced the tornado with a hurricane and kept the eerie green sky. The sprinkling rain turned horizontal as the wind increased; the Weather Bureau advised people to stay clear of windows that could shatter. Banshees provided the chorus.

How Banshee poltergeists traveled from Ireland to Singapore, I would never know. Upon arriving, the Banshees’ initial roar developed into a choir of screams that became endless screeching. Lightning added to the earsplitting mayhem: trees cracked, branches snapped, and rubble began to fly. People outside were hunched while searching for shelter; the bank guards bought them inside.

During a brief calm, an empty pram rolled toward the expanding puddle that became a pond facing the bank. The pram floated away; a policeman swam to the pram and signaled, “Baby with parents.”

Watching the storm was tiresome. When the hurricane abated, police and firemen began untangling the confusion while doctors and medical assistants attended to the injured. “The Wizard of Oz” and the Banshees accompanied the hurricane to the island of Sumatra, west of Singapore. I needed a change and started walking to the Tanglin Club, the old British Club, perched on high ground with a comforting bar.

A large lorry left the pond; its exhaust pipes were above the water and didn’t stall the lorry. Four Chinese men from the lorry were checking for additional damage.

As I approached, one man said, “English?”

That was his invitation to speak Pidgin English, the lingua franca of South-East Asia that was comprised of an abbreviated English foundation with components of Malay and Indonesian — both languages were closely related.

I cleared my throat and said, “Me house Adam Road and Bukit Timah Road. You go?” The man nodded yes. “Now?”

Another man approached and said, “Yes. Me Boss.”

Boss told me to sit next to him in the cab while his three men climbed onto the truck’s flatbed. I said, “Me big.” Pointing to the back, “Me ride.” The Boss’s men helped me up to the flatbed.

A man put me behind cab and said, “No move.”

We drove through the city streets and turned to Bukit Timah Road and made good time to Adam Road. The Boss stuck his head out, “Where now?

“Right, left, three house.”

He followed my directions and yelled, “You house?”

“Indeed…” Better Pidgin, “Yes. Me house.”

The Boss had an old camera and took several pictures of his crew and me. A crew member took photo of the Boss and me shaking hands.

I tried to pay the Boss fifty Singapore dollars but he refused. We shook hands goodbye. I held my Singapore dollars next to me; a crew member palmed the fifty dollars and winked at me.

As they were leaving, Boss stuck his head out the window and said, “Goodbye Englishman.”

I saw them from time to time in traffic; we waved and honked our horns. The following Christmas, we received a Christmas card addressed to:

On my stormy ride in the lorry, it had not crossed my mind to tell them I was an American. I don’t think it mattered.