Final Notes from a Great Island by Neil Humphreys

Author:Neil Humphreys
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789814398961
Publisher: Marshall Cavendish Editions

CHAPTER 17

I set foot on Malaysian soil. But I was nowhere near the country. I was still in Singapore, in the train station at Tanjong Pagar, which is owned and operated by Malaysian Railways (Keretapi Tanah Melayu Berhad—KTMB). I took a bus to Keppel Road, darted through the dusty, grey building of the railway station and entered Malaysia, thanks to a crumbling empire. In 1918, the British colonial government allowed the grounds around the station and the line that runs through the heart of the island to be sold to the Federal Malay States with one caveat—they were only to be used for train services, not commercial development. Now we are not talking ulu land here, we are talking prime real estate: some 40 kilometres of rail track from Keppel in the south to Woodlands in the north, stretching to over 50 metres at its widest point, all owned by Malaysia. Not surprisingly, it remains a contentious issue on both sides of the Causeway. The dogged Singapore government has bought back segments of the land in recent years and asked its Malaysian counterpart to move the station up to Bukit Timah or, better yet, Kranji. But the Malaysians continue to stall on an agreement. I cannot think why.

However, the anomalous station’s colonial history makes it a fascinating building. Its high, arched ceilings resembled several train stations in London and had the floor been delicately coated with pigeon shit, it could well have been the Waterloo and Victoria stations of my childhood. Stained glass windows depicted scenes of a nostalgic Malaysia, with men in traditional Malay costume working in a rural world that looked more like an illustration from a children’s storybook than an accurate reflection of life over the Causeway. But then, the whole station had a dated, stale air about it. Faded posters of Kinabalu and Sarawak said many things, but visiting either destination was not one of them. There was a drab, Malay coffee shop, a magazine stand cum money changer and a few tatty souvenirs that only the most charitable of travellers would take a fancy to. There were a handful of backpackers and a few foreign workers; otherwise the cavernous station was pretty much empty.

I was nosing through the magazine racks when I realised, to my dismay, that I had less than five minutes to fill out my immigration form, clear Malaysian customs (at a counter positioned beside Keppel Road, it was so bizarre) and make the train before it departed at 10.30am. The immigration officers pointed out that forms could be completed and checked on the train. As that was not the case, I inadvertently spent the entire day in Johor Bahru as an illegal immigrant.

The train itself exceeded my expectations. I had taken a slightly, negative Singaporean view of the Malaysian train and anticipated an antiquated, non-air-conditioned carriage with lowly paid workers hanging out of one window and hens, goats and chickens the other. Instead, the air-conditioned train was modern, clean and comfortable and the wide windows offered expansive views of the journey.

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