|
By Kee Thuan Chye. One may criticise nostalgia for stemming from excessive idealism or a bad memory. Be that as it may, it does act as a reminder of things we should not ignore. If nothing else, it can get us to revisit what had been, what could have been, and what should not have been. Most of all, it can help us imagine what can still be. IT seems to me that in the last couple of decades, Penang, especially George Town, has been allowed to develop haphazardly. If I have to use one word to describe what numerous parts of it look like these days, it would have to be “tacky”. I use it in the sense of one of the definitions provided by the online Urban Dictionary – “in bad taste”.
I was born and bred in Penang and lived there till the ripe old age of 25, when I moved to Kuala Lumpur. Up till then, the island was still developing sensibly, although the huge hotels coming up along Batu Ferringhi were beginning to be a cause for concern – in terms of their contributing to pollution and depriving locals of access to the nicer beaches.
When I was growing up, going with friends to Batu Ferringhi and staying overnight on an open beach without a tent over our heads was a frequent joyful experience. And we were ever so free to do it.
I risk sounding sentimental when I say the Penang of those days lived up to its sobriquet, Pearl of the Orient. It was not perfect but certainly better-looking than it is now. There was respect for aesthetics.
A close friend of mine who was originally from Kulim, Kedah, and went to school in Penang came to love the island so much that he used to say, “Penang is not just a place; it’s a state of mind!”
I hardly think he would say the same now if he were to drive around George Town. After all, ugly sights can do things to one’s state of mind.
For a start, Batu Ferringhi is now such a far cry from when we used to haunt it. If you’re coming from town, up to the Rasa Sayang Hotel, it’s still fairly presentable, but beyond that it’s a mess. Stalls and food courts seem to operate by the roadside arbitrarily. Everything looks chaotic and crassly commercial. Holiday-makers looking for paradise would find a bazaar. How did this get to be so?
I was recently at the Phillip Island beach resort in Victoria, Australia, which receives 3.5 million visitors annually, and I found the town centre at Cowes to be serene and well-kept. The surroundings were clean. There was no congestion.
What Penang really needs is a comprehensive beautification plan, and for the whole island. What needs urgent clearing-up are places along Burmah Road and Macalister Road; and of course the downtown area that includes Kimberley Street, Campbell Street, Chulia Street, etc. While hawker food in Penang is undeniably a top-draw, there is no reason to have its vendors spill onto the streets without control.
Along Burmah Road, bungalows and terraced houses that have been reincarnated as gaudy coffeeshops are a veritable eyesore. Horrible lean-tos have also been popping up all over – to serve whatever short-term or ad hoc commercial purpose they’ve been set up for. Nearby Service Road, which used to be the domain of handsome government quarters, are now dotted with restaurants. I used to hang out at one of these houses when I was a child as it was the home of my civil servant uncle, and it piques me that the homey atmosphere that existed then is now tainted by the smell of mercantilism.
Apart from “tacky”, another word I would add to Penang’s current physical state is “incongruent”. The commercial establishments existing right beside residential ones along Burmah Road, especially along the stretch between Tavoy Road and the 1926 Heritage Hotel, reflect incongruence. But easily the most prominent and mind-blowing example of incongruence is the juxtaposition of Northam Tower and the once-stately Hardwicke Hall, which appears like a dwarf threatened by a towering giant.
Talk about a monstrosity and you might be moved to think of Northam Tower. How did such comic landscaping come to be approved? And to think that Jalan Sultan Ahmad Shah (the erstwhile Northam Road) was at one time the prestige road in Penang, with beautifully designed mansions like Homestead and Woodville gracing it. Once upon a glorious time, you could walk along it and bask in the ambience of taste and refinement.
You have to hand it to the people who dreamed up these mansions – they were filthy rich and they were Westernophiles, but they had taste. Unlike today’s nouveau riche who build palaces that are at best vulgar. Visit some of them in Tropicana, Petaling Jaya, or Damansara Heights, Kuala Lumpur.
Unfortunately, the inheritors of some of these classy abodes along Northam Road couldn’t maintain them and had to let them go. Some of the buildings have since gone to seed and the splendour of the road itself has diminished.
Horror of horrors, Harwicke Hall has even been converted into a restaurant. An even bigger horror is the demolition of Hotel Metropole, another Northam Road jewel, which, apparently, was never designated a heritage building. Why was such an elegant building, of French-influenced design and constructed in 1900, not duly designated a state treasure?
Just a few kilometres away, Codrington Avenue used to be one of the smartest-looking streets in Penang, a wide boulevard lined by pruned and proper pinang trees, proud symbols of the state, and houses that blended with the environs.
Look at it today. The charm is gone. Am I imagining it or do the pinang trees there now look rather pathetic? And what about the Esplanade? It used to be a hive of nocturnal activity, full of life and light until the wee hours of the morning. Nowadays, it looks dimly lit and dingy.
People used to say Penang had an old-world charm. I can’t seem to sense that these days. Perhaps I’m looking at it with old-world eyes, jaundiced by the passage of time. And there is surely the argument some will offer that Penang has to move with the times, that it has to progress, to develop. Well, if what I’m seeing are the results of “progress” and “development”, then perhaps those are not the words for them.
Progress should mean that the place must still look good, indeed better, as it marches forward in time, not acquire the appearance of urban squalor. There may be no need to retain the old-world charm, but there is surely a need to polish the Pearl and bring back its shine. Kee Thuan Chye is an actor, playwright, stage director, journalist and author. ** Reproduced with permission. This article first appeared in the March 2010 issue of the Penang Economic Monthly. This 11-year old magazine published by the Socio-economic and Environmental Research Institute (SERI) is being overhauled and commercialised. This endeavour is in response to the growing insight among Penangites and Penang lovers that the downward trend in the state's fortunes cannot be succesfully reversed unless they themselves get seriously involved. The goal is to inspire positive action among readers towards attaining a "Penang Renaissance".
 For more information, please visit the Penang Economic Monthly site or contact the Socio-economic and Environmental Research Institute (SERI) at 604-2283306.
 |
Show/Hide comments
Show/Hide comment form
