Barely four months after Mama's departure, one of her favourite nephews has also gone suddenly.
I've known him as "Uncle Fatty" for the longest time, and his family has always been our family's closest relatives.
The following is what I can remember from our last evening with Uncle Fatty. The sequence of events might be slightly inaccurate, due to the extent of shock that I faced.
On the 10th of December, our families got together at Baba King, a new peranakan bistro/restaurant at Singapore Expo that had gotten a review in one of the papers. I didn't bother to read the review, but the headline was "Baba Boom".
We met at the appointed time, which was around 7.30pm. Unfortunately, due to some mix-up in the names, our reserved table for 9, got allocated to someone else. It wasn't crowded, so the waiters moved some tables and chairs, and we got a long-ish seating arrangement that wasn't fantastic, but it worked.
The owner of the place was very friendly and forthcoming in his recommendations. I can't remember his name now, but ordering the food was quite an experience in itself. The owner then went on to ask Uncle Fatty if he was peranakan, quickly adding that there are people who are born peranakan, and there are those who are raised peranakan. Uncle Fatty said he wasn't born peranakan, but might have been raised in a predominantly peranakan environment, just not in so many words.
On hearing this, the owner then said that he would give Uncle Fatty a "surprise", if he still had any left in his kitchen. He then disappeared for a few moments. We continued flipping through the colorful menu and talked about washing machines and other frivolous things.
The owner then reappeared, saying that he did have his "surprise" in stock. Before he could even tell us what the surprise was, I turned to see Uncle Fatty bent over the table. At first I thought he was just trying to look at something and was lowering his head to get a better look. But with my mother, and then everyone calling out to him and trying in vain to get a response, something appeared terribly wrong. Those on his side of the table tried to lift him upright, but it didn't help and his fists started to clench real tight, and he started to make gagging noises. I mumbled something like "I call the ambulance". Just then, I realised that one of the diners from the group that had been mistakenly allocated our table was a doctor, and was trying to assess what was happening to Uncle Fatty, who then slumped off the chair. The doctor then tried to clear an area around him, pushing away the tables and chairs, then said something like "No pulse". He started CPR.
I brisk walked/jogged outside and called 995. I was quite surprised at how clear and coherent I was as I described the location of Baba King.
When I got back to restaurant, onlookers had gathered, but they remained a respectful distance away. The doctor's wife, who also happened to be a doctor, now joined him in giving Uncle Fatty CPR. All of our family appeared to be too stunned to react. I started to pray.
We cleared more tables and chairs in preparation for the ambulance and its crew. In a few minutes, the distant sirens rang out. I walked out to receive them.
By this time, Singapore Expo staff were already on standby to help open up barricades and chains to allow the ambulance access to the scene. Thank you, Ian, and all your staff from Singapore Expo.
Once the ambulance stopped, the paramedics sprang out and rushed towards my uncle. I couldn't hear what the doctor was saying to them, but they just took out more tools, syringes, and the defibrillator thing, I think. Nothing as dramatic as what you see in E.R., with those paddles that shock you back to life. Just a plaster pad with some wires attached to it. The body doesn't quite fly upward as they shout clear either.
After minutes of CPR, they then stretchered him into the ambulance, with Kor kor Eugene (Uncle Fatty's son) and the doctor in tow.
The rest of us made our way to Changi General Hospital A&E on Kor kor Eugene's car, and another cab.
I called Uncle Jimmy, and asked him to call the rest of the family. Within half an hour, relatives started trickling in. Unfortunately, all of them weren't able to make it before the doctors emerged to tell us the bad news.
It was, and still is a shock to the system. Uncle Fatty wasn't actually fat, in fact, he cycled regularly to the market, and to food stall around the katong area. He even made regular trips to Johor to get haircuts and take in the sights and sounds. You will be dearly missed by all of us.
Big "Thank You" to the doctor and his wife, ambulance crew, doctors of Changi General Hospital for doing all they could for Uncle Fatty. I'm sorry I don't have your names now, but God knows you for your efforts.
