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SINGAPORE: For nearly six decades, 91-year-old street vendor Leong Yuet Meng had gotten up before dawn six days a week to make her old-school wonton noodles.
One of the oldest street vendors in Singapore, this Cantonese chef is well known as the founder of Nam Seng Noodle House, which was just outside the old National Library on Stamford Road.
But he has closed his only stall, in Far East Square along China Street, where he had moved 20 years ago. He is a victim of the COVID-19 crisis, with the work-from-home rule that has emptied the Central Business District.
“Business fell dramatically overnight. It was very difficult to get back to where we were before, ”he said.
“Ideally, I would like to continue … I hope to preserve my brand (Nam Seng), I built it with many difficulties.”
Mdm Leong’s store on China Street before it closed.
On the Belly Of A Nation show, street vendors like Leong share their fears and dismay during the pandemic, recounting how surviving became increasingly challenging.
IN HAND, EVEN AT HIS AGE
It was in 1962 that Leong and her late husband opened their stall in a small food court across from the old National Library.
Her first foray into the street vendor trade had been selling chicken porridge and macaroni at a school on Queen Street, but she learned how to make mee wonton from her cousin, an amah who also sold this dish in Chinatown.
The name of the position was suggested by her mother-in-law. “Nam means Nanyang (the region that encompasses Malaya and the wider Southeast Asia), as we were doing business in Nanyang, and Seng represents a successful business,” Leong said.
Their menu included a variety of other dishes, such as chow fun, fried rice, and chicken with soy sauce.
During the withdrawal of British troops from Singapore in the late 1960s, her husband, who also worked as an employee for the British, was offered the opportunity to transfer his family to the United Kingdom.
“I said, ‘Please don’t joke with me. Go abroad? I don’t know a single word in English. I’ll stay here, ‘”he recalled.
Back then, they sold their signature dish for 30 cents a bowl.
“You would have eaten wontons, noodles, and char siu,” he said. “I started with 30 cents and increased it to 50 cents (and then) to 70 cents; then from a dollar … to S $ 5 today. “
Before the library was demolished, he briefly moved to Joo Chiat and later accepted an invitation to open a booth in Far East Square.
Pre-Covid, the queue “went all the way,” Mdm Leong said.
Besides wonton noodles, the couple used to sell fried rice, venison hor fun and seafood hor fun in this position.
Although she had a small team of helpers, Leong was still heavily involved in running the stall, including getting up early in the morning to buy fresh produce at a wet market in Toa Payoh, where she lives.
Her second son, Michael Tang, would send her to Nam Seng, where she would spend the day making wontons from scratch and taking customer orders.
“I like to be practical … A person should be able to do everything. I don’t trust the workers, ”he said.
“If you want to earn money, don’t complain about difficulties. Go home to sleep if you are worried about difficulties. “
Mdm Leong in action.
For two decades, he witnessed life on busy China Street, but that stopped when COVID-19 hit.
At his age, he belongs to the high-risk group, and since people also stay away from CBD, he decided to close the position temporarily. But the restless matriarch complained of being bored during the “breaker” period.
“I stayed home for two months,” he said. “I read the newspapers and sometimes I watched television.”
ENTER BUSINESS BEFORE ‘CIRCUIT BREAKER’
For Delonix Tan Wei Jie, 22, on the other hand, she couldn’t have chosen a more inopportune time to enter the street vendor trade.
Having enrolled in the National Environment Agency Incubation Program, he opened his fish ball stand, SanDai Fishball, at Amoy Street Food Center when the number of COVID-19 cases was on the rise.
“After four days of operation, the Government announced that this circuit breaker would be on April 7,” he lamented, calling it suay (Hokkien unlucky).
Although she had little cooking experience, she had been helping her father prepare yong tau foo at a wet market in Toa Payoh, and thought he might like the “hectic” lifestyle of street vendors.
And when he started, he had a dual role: during the day, he was at his post and during the night, he helped with his family’s food business.
Given his schedule, his girlfriend helped him with his position initially.
“(My girlfriend) knew that I was very stressed, that I was short on cash, etc., so she offered to help me,” said the rookie, who acknowledged that his cooking skills needed “some time to develop.”
However, realizing that there will be almost no footfalls as his stall is within the CBD area, he decided to close his stall during the breaker period.
When it reopened in June, he saw that the crowd from the office had not yet returned.
“The food center used to be full at lunchtime, but not anymore,” he said. “We spoke to our clients and they told us that (they) would return next year.”
So after a few months, Tan decided to drop everything and help his father in the wet market.
“Rather than continue (dumping) money into this black hole, we decided to just cut it,” he said.
“(Being a) street vendor … is a very, very hard job, and the (profit margins are) very, very thin. After this experience, I don’t think I want to be a street vendor ”.
RETURN PROMISE
For Leong, it also resumed business after the breaker measures were lifted.
“When the government said we could open businesses, I did it right away, even if it was just to meet people,” he said.
However, his clients are mostly office workers from the CBD area and despite the lifting of restrictive measures, the area was still quiet.
In July, Leong decided to permanently close his store in Far East Square due to dwindling crowds and leasing issues.
“When I started renting there 20 years ago, the people (building management) were nice. Who knew they would change this year and it would be difficult to talk to them? ” she said.
For his employees, one had returned to China, one went to work at her brother’s restaurant and the last one decided to stop working.
At his age and having worked for so many years, Leong should retire comfortably, but he’s adamant about keeping the Nam Seng brand alive.
“I have worked for so many years. My focus and dedication over the past 60 years has been to my brand (Nam Seng). How can I bear to let it go “She added.” We’ll be back. “
