Teatime: Hammer time and heartland harmonies
This is part of a weekly column in which we talk about anything under the sun
I recently ditched my reporter's notepad for a microphone and a gavel, determined to conquer not one, but two heartland traditions: the Hungry Ghost Festival auction and a getai show.
Let's just say I learnt that talent for one doesn't necessarily translate to the other.
On Aug 12, I attempted to channel my inner auctioneer under the watchful eye of 35-year-old Mr Kelvin Oh, one of Singapore's youngest getai maestros of the gavel.
Mr Oh's a smooth operator with the rapid-fire Hokkien chants, coaxing thousands of dollars out of wallets like a charismatic snake charmer.
I, on the other hand, was far less graceful.
My mission: to auction off a bottle of Martell VSOP.
The pressure was immense. Three minutes on that stage felt like three lifetimes. My voice wobbled more than a jelly cake in a typhoon, and the only thing I managed to "hammer down" was my self-esteem.
Regardless, we sold the cognac for $1,188. Mr Oh gave my try at auctioneering a six out of 10, which on the auctioneer grading scale translates to, "Hey, you did something."
Lesson learned: auctioneering is not for the faint of heart (or tongue).
Then on Aug 14, I attempted actual singing. My partner-in-crime was none other than getai veteran Li Peifen, a "双语天后" (bilingual queen) who could probably out-sing a siren. Talk about intimidating.
We decided on the classic Fly Me To The Moon. Li, being the pro she is, carried our duet like a champion, while I clung on for dear life, hoping my off-key crooning wouldn't cause a mass exodus.
To my surprise, the getai crowd embraced our performance with such warmth and enthusiasm, it felt like a karaoke session with a hundred new friends.
We even got a shoutout in Shin Min Daily News. I have to admit, it felt weird being on the other end of an interview for once. I much prefer to be the one asking the questions.
The whole experience was a whirlwind. From the adrenaline rush of the auction to the communal joy of the getai, I felt like I'd been baptised in a vat of pure heartland spirit.
I discovered that while my auction skills need a serious upgrade (maybe next year, Kelvin?), the getai stage is a place where even the most tone-deaf journalist can feel like a star, thanks to the generous spirit of the crowd and the undeniable talent of seasoned performers like Li.
Getai, in all its evolving glory, continues to hold a special place in Singapore's cultural landscape.
It's a reminder that beneath the shiny facade of our modern city, the heartland beats with a vibrant, welcoming energy that embraces tradition while making room for new voices, even if they're a little off-key.