Why do certain conditions seem unending, but are ultimately faced with the reality of demise? Have we failed to accept the terms of evolution? In the city of Singapore, time is both ally and foe. The rapid urbanisation of the country has led us to march forward into progress, yet we simultaneously cling to the past.

We see it in everyday life. Hawker centres go through mandatory upgrades. Shophouses are retrofitted from thatch to tile roofs. Fleets of buses, taxis, etc., are being upgraded from diesel to electric engines. What remains are hauntologies, carried forward as verbal memories, anecdotes from aunts and uncles about the past, and a certain cadence when speaking about the 2000s, 1990s, 1980s and earlier.

It’s a retrospective nostalgia that makes you go, “I wish I lived through that era.” We hold craft, art and tradition most dear. However, they are not exempt from evolution. The streetside cobbler, a craftsman who practises repair instead of replacement, exists in this weird, awkward liminal space. Consider this as preservation in the economy and realities of disposables. What is more, their profession is still deemed as valuable as its utility. And yet, for all we claim to hold craft dear, their profession is still deemed only as worthy as it is useful.

But if so, what happens to the practices that cannot compete with the speed and convenience of new commodities? On a busy Sunday afternoon, amid the pushing and shoving and the hustle and bustle of Tekka Market crowds, in the city of rebuilding and building, there exists a two-by-four-metre pocket of stillness.

“Everything I do, I do with heart,” professes Uncle Joe, a streetside cobbler stationed at the entrance of Tekka Market who has been mending shoes for more than two decades. He starts in the late morning, arranging his equipment, laying out his tools, and patiently waiting for his first customer of the day. On average, he receives about five to six customers a day, coming to him with all sorts of requests: a broken heel cap, a pair of sneaker soles that need to be stitched, or frayed shoelaces that need replacing. Not long ago, the streetside cobbler would not have seemed remarkable.

Before industrialisation and the consolidation of formal retail, much of Singapore’s working life took place in public view. People made do through whatever labour was available; the streets hosted an entire ecosystem of informal occupations: fortune tellers, roadside barbers, kacang puteh sellers (local snack sellers), trishaw riders and karang gunis (traditional rag-and-bone man). With modernisation, some trades found ways to transform themselves into regulated, “professional” forms; others, less compatible with the new spatial order spearheaded by government planning communities, pursued “cleanliness” in their efforts to do so. Over time, the “ruggedness” of streetbased work has been edited out of the city’s preferred image, replaced by smoother interfaces and more predictable transactions. Entropy is the enemy. Or rather, mess is best but only within the limits of what is permissible.

“Pakai puas-puas,” Uncle Joe tells each customer after handing them their freshly mended shoes. He means it sincerely, not as an advertising tactic to gather a return rate, but rather, a short, succinct message to tell them: “Wear them well.” He says it poignantly, bowing and handing over the shoes with both hands. He smiles and satisfactorily lights a cigarette as an acknowledgement of his accomplishment. For no matter how passionate he may be, Uncle Joe, like others in his profession, is well aware that his trade is a dying one. However, that does not necessitate that cobblery as a whole will vanish: the craft is immortal, even as its mortals are left behind.

Even in the age of fast fashion and mass replication, people will still treasure certain items, and those who truly love them will mend them. You have surely heard of “grandma’s recipe” — that same concept applies. The knowledge and rituals of our past persist in memory and notes, passed down through generations. The streetside cobbler is thus both acknowledged as important and lodged in a bygone era. Nevertheless, you should patronise them while you can.

Editorial Director Izwan Abdullah
Photography Jaya Khidir
Art Direction Danessa Tong

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