As May 2021 will be the 51st anniversary of our arrival to Australia, allow me to indulge myself with this blog, as I share the period preceding the journey on the MV Australasia. The story of the sea voyage was posted last year on my newly created blogsite www.frommydeskathome.com. Included here is a family recording only recently digitized for sharing.
Last year I posted a story of our journey by ship from Singapore, as a celebration of our family’s 50th anniversary since arriving in the city of Perth, Western Australia on the MV Australasia in May 1970.
MV Australasia. Source: Bluestarline.org "No copyright infringement is intended"
It was a significant life changing chapter for our parents, James and Patricia Pereira who had to give up their Singapore citizenship, and my dad a career in banking, to board a ship on the 18th of May to migrate to Australia. They had packed all their worldly possessions in a number of wooden crates and had in tow their five children. I was 12 years at that time, my sister Marisa was 11 years, Daphne was 10 years, my youngest sister Bibiana was 8 years and my ‘baby’ brother Sherman was 5 years.
In my July 2020 blog, I shared my sea voyage from Singapore, through the Java Straits, across the Indian Ocean into the Port of Fremantle in Western Australia. It took a total of 7-days. Most of my siblings and I were stricken with seasickness for most of the journey, except for my 5-year-old brother. You can read about the sea journey here https://www.frommydeskathome.com/post/memories-of-a-sea-voyage-that-changed-my-life.
I am sharing more in this month's blog of our adventure as it is even more significant as I have been able to find and digitize an old cassette recording of our late father interviewing each of his five children. It was made in April 1970. The recording goes for about 12 minutes and a link is available at the end of this blog if you would like to hear what all of us sounded like 51 years ago; with our Singaporean accents and each with a sense of wonderment on hearing the sound of our recorded voices. There were other recordings with our neighbours however they are omitted from the shared audio.
Due to the age of the cassette, it had not been played for many years. The last occasion when the cassette was played was at our late mother’s wake three years ago. I had the cassette in my possession since I left Perth for Melbourne in 1980. It was stored in a box of memorabilia and had not been played since then until 2018. It was only recently that I came across it and decided to convert the taped recordings into digital format to ensure that it will last for posterity.
You can imagine my feelings as I reminisced the occasion when my father gathered his children around the tape recorder. It felt like we were at a radio talk-show studio being interviewed as special guests, which in our case was at the very small and simple dining and multi-purpose room of our two-bedroom flat on the seventh floor. Like a true professional dad was even able to coax us in to singing a ditty, concluding with a song on his own, dedicated to Patricia, his beloved wife. Their marriage lasted four months short of their 50th wedding anniversary before he passed away in March 2006. Mum passed away in September 2018.
The Housing Commission Flats, Queenstown, where our family called home before leaving for Australia in 1970. Source: Steven Pereira (c)
The recording was made a few weeks before we packed everything to leave our flat at 164-F Tanglin Halt, Block 30, Singapore 3. I remember my father bringing home a newly purchased cassette tape-recorder for the occasion. From the audio recording you can probably guess that it may have been the first time that he had operated a tape-recorder.
It is also worth sharing that the recording was done before my 13th birthday, because the story following is an amusing tale of how my father got us all vaccinated, without telling us that we were getting the injections before we jumped in a taxi on a supposed excursion. Yes, all seven of us were able to fit in a local taxi and none of us were hanging on any railings or body parts overhanging the windows.
As part of our medical requirements before immigrating to Australia, all of us had to have the necessary paperwork to show that we were all vaccinated. With five children below 13 years, my parents had to come up with a novel and exciting reason for all of us to get this done. My father decided, not only because it was close to my birthday, which also happen to his birthday too, that as a treat he would take the family to visit the most exciting venue, during the evenings at that time in Singapore. It was none other than Singapore's Paya Lebar Civil Airport. “Hooray !!”, we exclaimed, as we had never been there before.
Being brought up in Singapore in the 60’s there were not many places to visit but none were more exciting than the airport, where people could watch, from an outdoor platform, planes taking-off and landing with regularity. Mind you, Paya Lebar which preceded Singapore's internationally renowned Changi Airport, was still one of the places to visit during the 1960's and 1970's.
Paya Lebar Airport. Source: From website roots.sg. "No copyright infringement is intended"
Once at the airport and after spending time at the outdoor lookout, it was time to return home. Knowing already we were approved to migrate to Australia, dad took us to the airport clinic for a visit. There he told us that we needed to get vaccinated before going to Australia, and to show us the way, he was the first to roll up his sleeves. We all followed, from the oldest to the youngest.
Our parents took us to many places while we were growing up and living in those Housing Commission Flats in Queenstown. While there were playing fields and markets around our flats, there was not much else we could go to learn about nature, science, go to the beach or visit historical buildings.
We were fortunate as our father worked in the city and knew places of interest, and these were where he often took us. There was also the semi-regular road-trips to Malacca, Malaysia to visits our grand-Uncle and family. Malacca was where our parents were born. Dad would hire a car with driver and we would pack it with enough clothes for a week. The return road-trip would take us over four hours each way across bitumen roads which included driving onto a steam powered ferry boat which took us across the Muar River enroute to Malacca. The 'half-way house' road stop was a feature I always looked forward to.
Back in Singapore our excursions included places like the Botanical Gardens, Collyer Quay to view the harbour and ride in row boats for hire. The occasion I remember very well was our family trip to the Van Kleef Aquarian and the Singapore National Theatre. I suppose what helps with memory recall are the existing photos which were taken by our father which have become part of my family photo collection. My father was an avid photographer and where ever he went he brought along his Nikon early series box camera where you peer from above the camera to take a photo.
Outside the Singapore National Theater, with its iconic clam-shaped water fountain. Circa 1968. Source: Pereira Family Album (c)
It must have been the custom of the time, because where ever we went we had to dress up for the occasion despite the heat and humidity of Singapore. You can see from our faces in one of the photos that we had had enough of walking and were glad to be going home.
Taking a breather at Fort Canning Hill overlooking the Van Kleef Aquarium. Our mother is captured in the frame. Circa 1968. Source: Pereira Family Album (c)
The events just shared would have been two years before we boarded the ship for Australia. In fact, it would have been around the time that we made our first application to migrate to Australia which was rejected. We were approved on our second application as our mother had a brother in Perth, Western Australia, who had migrated some time earlier.
The audio recording was done, after the second approval was confirmed, and some days after we visited Paya Lebar Civil Airport. By that time we forgot all about the vaccination and the tears which were shed at the clinic.
Having played the recording a number of times since the digital conversion, memories came flowing back as I recall standing at the docks at Singapore harbor ready to board the passenger liner MV Australasia. It seemed massive to me, and walking up the ship’s gangplank was surreal as I still remember stepping over the cross-beams and not looking down to the water below, but holding tightly to the railings as we boarded the ship.
After visiting our cabins below deck and depositing our luggage, we climbed the narrow stairwell to get to the deck.
The excitement felt on board was another cherished moment. There were passengers who were expats returning to Australia, there were the seasoned passengers and then there were the new passengers, like my family who had never been on an ocean liner before.
As was customary then, it was time for the ship’s departure and the ship’s horn gave out three almighty blasts. On the third occasion the gangplank started to be winched on board. All the ship’s passengers were standing and facing the docks. We were each given a multi-coloured paper streamer to toss towards the waiting family, friends and other well-wishers on the docks who would be ready to catch the other end of the streamer.
It was an amazing site to see the colourful streamers spanning the passengers on deck and the people standing on the dock. Everyone was waving and shouting goodbyes and blowing kisses. The idea of the streamers was to hang on to the streamers until the slow departure of the ship from the dock would snap the streamer in two. It was a poignant reminder in past times when such departures saw families depart for distant shores, leaving loved ones behind who were unlikely to return.
The sea voyage to the Port of Fremantle took 7 days, which included one day just being anchored outside the Port. While this episode of my life changing journey was reflected in my July 2020 blog, there is another story worth sharing here, apart from the many others shared previously on our seasickness, our experiences with Australian and British children on the ship who were more outspoken than us ‘Asian kids’.
This story is about my brother Sherman who got lost on the MV Australasia while my parents, my three sisters and I were on deck. While sitting around we suddenly realized that the youngest child was not with us. Being a big ship and unaffected by the motion sickness he had disappeared from our parent’s care. Concerned for his well-being, we all started looking for him. We finally found him in one of our cabins, however he had locked himself in and was not able to unlock the door from the inside to come out. Somehow he had managed to find his way back, walking down narrow flights of stairs and enter our cabin.
What made it more traumatic for our parents, was the porthole windows in our cabin and the bunk beds in there. Being tourist-class ticket holders, meaning below deck, our cabins were just above the waterline with the upper-bunk bed adjacent to the window. You can imagine the thoughts that my parents had of him trying to get out via the windows. I remember the pandemonium among the people surrounding outside the cabin door. Eventually someone had called the ship’s captain who had come down to authorize the opening of the cabin door.
My sisters and I who remember the incident still occasionally remind our brother of the trauma he caused our parents.
I must say however that I had the time of my life on board the MV Australasia. It was a brand new adventure for me, filled with great excitement, anticipation, anxiety and after experiencing the waves of the Indian Ocean and the roll of the ship, with a little trepidation.
Standing outside our Uncle and Aunt's house in Perth a few days after arriving in Australia, May 1970. The scooter came with us from Singapore. Source: Pereira Family Album (c)
It was the last month of Autumn time when we arrived in Perth, Western Australia. Our mother’s brother who sponsored us, opened their house to us. We were totally indebted to our Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Monica and their six children; five girls and a boy who welcomed us unconditionally. Our cousins around the same age as my siblings and I totalled 11 children under 13 years of age. The first few months of our stay in Australia, despite our first Winter was filled with laughter, games of all sorts, pillow fights, screaming and running around the yard, with love and warmth. The fruiting fig tree at the back yard did not stand a chance while we were there. I remember with fondness this period of my life.
The sacrifices our parents made then and since settling in Australia were unimaginable for us children at that time. However now, having lived out our lives to see our children grow up in to adults, and to see grand-children running around at the age of my siblings when we migrated to Australia, it is with humble gratitude we remember them for what they had done for us.
One of my favourite family photos taken circa 1973. Source: Pereira Family Album (c)
Thank you for allowing me to share my personal story with you in this blog.
Steven
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