As a fisherman at Seletar, who has plied his trade for 40 years, told CNA: “I’m a rare breed.”
“Nowadays, young people don’t want to do this kind of job,” said the 63-year-old, who introduced himself as Mr Bah Lak. “Most want to work in the office with aircon.”
For now, despite lingering uncertainty and the sense that any day could bring notice, Mr Bah and the dozens of other weather-beaten fishermen and boatmen continue to go about their routines.
They are a picture of calm and serenity, like the village that represents possibly their last physical anchor to the only lifestyle they have known.
“If the government says leave, then we’ll just leave,” said Mr Tan, the retiree.
From there, the options are to either find another place to moor their boats, or call time altogether.
In the area, there is the modern Punggol Marina, which would cost easily 10 times as much to dock, Mr Tan noted, concluding: “If there’s nowhere else to go, then I will just scrap the boat.”
If and when his time at Seletar comes to an end, Mr Toh, the caretaker’s son, is likely to move his operations to the Lorong Halus Jetty in Pasir Ris – so long as he can continue fishing.
“I was born in a kampung … I think in the 1970s, when I was about 14 and I hadn’t even gone to National Service, I already started fishing,” he said.
“I really like this place, but if they really want to chase us away, then there’s nothing I can do. That’s the way life is.”
