Friday, June 12, 2026

长崎原爆资料馆与眼镜桥

说来已一年了。

20255月初,我们连人带车,从天草的鬼池港登上汽车渡轮,渡海前往对岸长崎半岛的岛原。把车子驾下船,续程前往长崎原爆资料馆(全名“国立长崎原子弹爆炸遇难者追悼和平祈念馆”)。这段海陆交通,比起绕行陆路节省了近两个小时。 

长崎原爆资料馆。

长崎原爆资料馆

原爆资料馆的广场上,以殉难的国民学校师生雕像来传达平和(即和平)的意愿。馆内以二战时期的时间轴为骨架,重现原子弹爆炸前后的在地情境,传达长崎人民对和平的渴望。

殉难的国民学校师生雕像,传达平和(即和平)的意愿。

馆内主要分为以下几个部分:

  • 纪念空间:悼念194589日原子弹爆炸中不幸罹难的市民。
  • 资料展示区:呈现原爆相关的历史文献、照片、证词与实物,作为历史教育的现场。
  • 和平信息中心:警示战争的残酷,表达珍视和平的心愿。

194586日,美军在广岛投下第一颗名为小男孩Little Boy)的原子弹,造成逾10万人伤亡。三天后,即89日,长崎成为第二个原爆目标。

代号小胖子Fat Man)的原子弹。

89日当天,苏联对日宣战,美军原定的第一目标小仓市因浓烟弥漫而无法锁定,美军B29轰炸机于是改飞向第二目标长崎。上午1102分,代号小胖子Fat Man)的原子弹在长崎上空引爆,爆炸中心位于今日原爆资料馆上方,方圆5公里内的日常活动瞬间陷入静止状态。

小胖子长约3.25米,直径1.52米,重4.5吨,爆炸威力相当于21,000TNT。不同于传统炸弹,原子弹的毁灭性主要源于冲击波(约占总能量50%)、强热(35%)及辐射(15%)。爆炸不仅造成即时死亡和火灾,亦带来长期健康灾难,例如原爆白内障、小头症、白血病及多种癌症。

原爆后的部分残余物。

爆炸中心地区的建筑物被夷为平地,绝大多数居民当场身亡;1.6公里范围内房屋严重损毁,伤亡惨重;5公里之外的影响相对减弱。长崎多山的地形在一定程度上减缓了冲击波的传播。

根据1950年长崎市原爆资料保存委员会的调查,原爆时的长崎市约有24万人口,死亡人数约74,000人,受伤者约75,000人。距离爆心600米的山里国民学校,全校师生无一幸免;浦上天主堂亦在爆炸中倒塌。

资料馆同时展示灾后日本人民的坚韧与互助精神。尽管长崎市的医院被毁,幸存的医护人员仍奋不顾身赶往原爆现场救援。海军医院、警察及其他机构迅速组织起应急救援队伍,力求抢救每一位生还者。

原爆中心一带的灾后情景。
 
受严重烧伤后的民众,植皮后的状况。

辐射后遗症。

核武器的道德与政治反思

美国理论物理学家奥本海默(Robert Oppenheimer)是领导研发原子弹的核心人物。他起初认为投放原子弹可促使战争迅速结束,挽救更多生命,但见证核试爆的威力后,便开始对其后果深感不安。

19454月,美国总统罗斯福因身体欠佳,由副总统杜鲁门接任总统职位。不排除杜鲁门为了建立自己的威望,利用原子弹来捞取政治资本。美军在广岛与长崎投下原子弹后,奥本海默表示自己成为毁灭世界的死神。

此后,奥本海默积极呼吁对核武器进行国际管控,并推动和平利用核能。科技的突破常伴随毁灭性的代价,他的转变也反映了战争时期科学家所面对的道德困境。

据原爆资料馆统计,二战后至今,全世界共进行过2,056次核试爆,其中美国1,030次,俄罗斯715次,法国210次,中国与英国各45次,印度3次,巴基斯坦2次,朝鲜6次。只有美国正式公布其中的34次核试炸。

尽管自二战结束以来,核武器未曾在实战中使用,但在研发与试验过程中,仍有人类与环境付出代价,太平洋海域亦受到辐射能污染。

 

日本平民为军国主义者买单

战争的最大牺牲者往往是平民。美国为尽快终结太平洋战争,采取军民不分的战略,集中轰炸日本大城市,其中以“东京大轰炸”最为惨烈。

1945310日,美军投下数千吨燃烧弹,东京木造建筑密集,迅速化为火海,生还者称之为“人间炼狱”。估计死亡人数至少12万人,失踪者10万人以上,大多为平民,逾百万人流离失所。死亡统计尚未包括当地的朝鲜人、台湾人,以及临时在东京的外地居民。

东西方学界普遍认为,此次轰炸的直接死亡人数远超广岛与长崎,是历史上伤亡最惨重的空袭事件之一。

以当今的立场,美国杀害平民无数,这笔战争罪行同样血洗不清。日本人应该仇恨美国吗?在原爆资料馆,我们感觉不到仇恨,反而感觉到仇恨不会带来和平,也不会让日子好过些。

参观原爆资料馆后,我们顺道走一趟浦上天主教堂。这座在原爆中严重受损的教堂,战后修复重建。80年后的今日,我们的感知不应仅是历史回顾,更应该是为世界和平做出期盼,尽管地球到处烽火,令我们显得华而不实。战争从来都不是解决问题的良方,但自古以来,战争却始终是人类文明的宿命,最终由平民埋单。

浦上天主教堂。

  

眼镜桥:和平与友好交流的象征

若说发动太平洋战争是日本对东亚和东南亚各国的罪行,那么距离原爆中心仅4公里外的眼镜桥,则象征着中日两国早年的文化交流与和平友谊。

眼镜桥是日本现存最古老的石拱桥,桥面与水中倒影相映成趣,阳光照射下形如一副眼镜。明末清初,中国默子禅师东渡日本,在长崎的兴福寺弘法修行。原为工匠出身的禅师,指导当地居民修筑此桥。400年来,历经修复的石桥仍安然矗立在小河上,河畔的默子禅师塑像,记载着这段古事迹。

400年来,历经修复的眼镜桥仍安然矗立在小河上。

默子禅师:中日两国早年文化交流与和平友谊的象征。

我们在眼镜桥逗留近一个小时,见到多组学生在老师带领下走下石阶,在潺潺流水旁观赏河景。一幕幕平凡而美好的日常,也正是人类千百年来对和平生活最朴素的追求。

眼镜桥河畔的师生。

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Tuesday, June 09, 2026

【广播事】一“粒”榴梿的坚持

作者: 黄淑君
图源: 黄淑君
原文发布于vibes by 8world, 1 Jun 2026

 

榴梿摊

“我说一粒榴梿说了几十年了,改不了口。就算是错的,我还是会说一粒!”

前阵子在广播中谈到,本地人无论水果大小,几乎都习惯用“粒”作为量词。不管是口头表达,还是水果摊上用马克笔写在纸皮上的简单标价,从苹果、橙子、榴梿到西瓜,统统都是 “一粒”。

节目播出后,一位听众发来语音。语气激动之中带着几分委屈,那股认真劲儿,简直近乎悲壮。

听起来就像是在宣誓:

“你们别想从我口中探出什么机密!为了理想,为了祖国,我誓死保卫组织和伙伴,在所不惜!”

我听完当场笑了出来。

播放了这段音频后,我也回应这位“榴梿大叔”:

您今天跟太太说买几粒榴梿回家吃,跟小贩讨价还价时说我多买几粒,算便宜一点,或者跟朋友说我买了十八粒榴梿,快来吃,都完全没有问题。既不犯法,警察也不会来抓您。这是您个人的 “言论自由”。

我只是告诉大家,从现代汉语规范来说,“粒”这种用法受到闽南语方言影响,标准说法应该是“一个榴梿”。

在这个凡事都能上网查询的时代,我也特地查了一下榴梿究竟可以搭配哪些量词。

百度列出的量词包括:一个、一头、一块、一口、一打、一捆、一箱、一盒、一坨、一车、一篮、一框、一只……

唯独没有“一粒”。

榴梿是“粒”还是“个”?

那么,向来不愿得罪任何人的AI又怎么说呢?

AI “粒” 的用法分成两类:标准规范用法和区域性口语用法。

在现代汉语里,“粒”主要用于细小、颗粒状的物品,例如一粒米、一粒沙、一粒糖、一粒珍珠、一粒药丸等。

但在新加坡、马来西亚以及部分受闽南语影响的地区,“粒”的使用范围被大幅扩展。它不仅用于颗粒状物体,也被当成“个”或“颗”的替代量词。

于是便有了:

一粒苹果、一粒橙子、一粒西瓜;

一粒篮球、一粒皮球;

甚至一粒头、一粒炸弹。

看到这里,我不得不佩服AI的高明。

它没有直接说“一粒榴梿”是错的,而是用了“标准规范用法”与“区域性口语用法”来说明两者的差异,既讲清楚事实,也顾及使用者的感受。

其实,语言从来不是静止的。

随着时代变迁,语音会变化,语义会演变,许多原本被视为“不规范”的说法,也可能逐渐成为约定俗成的表达。

作为大众传媒工作者,我们必须采用已经发布的规范用语;但广播毕竟不是学校课堂。节目内容和语言表达,也必须贴近听众、贴近生活。

如何在规范与自然之间取得平衡,是广播员每天都在拿捏的事,宛如提着平衡杆走钢丝。

字正腔圆当然是基本要求,但如果用语过于书面、过于拘谨,甚至给人一种“脱离地球表面”的距离感,那又是否是一种无奈的代价?

一般人平时说话,用词是否百分之百正确,也许影响不大。

不过,如果能够把多数人念错的字念对,把容易混淆的词用准,在懂得的人眼里,往往会是一种加分。

我喜欢一句英文:You are what you eat(人如其食),借来改编成 You are what you say

一个人的谈吐,在某种程度上反映他的修养、习惯和学习态度。

一般人日常说话,未必要时时刻刻像字典一样精准。但如果能够多知道一些正确用法,多留意一些容易念错的字词,总归不是坏事。

当然,如果您还是坚持要说“一粒榴梿”,我也完全理解也能接受。

毕竟语言除了规范,还有情感;除了标准,也有乡音,除了规则,也是一种生活方式、一种身份认同。

6月榴梿季节即将来临,您是选择说“一个榴梿”,还是“一粒榴梿” 呢?


Friday, June 05, 2026

Kallang Basin: Rivers, Industry, and Memory

In the late 1970s, I moved out of Hill Street near the Singapore River, and settled at Maude Road by the Rochor River. I lived there for five years before moving on to Tampines. Almost without noticing, I have settled in Tampines for more than four decades.

Back then, my final National Service posting was at Beach Road Camp. I used to walk home after work. I often strolled along the Rochor River to admire the unforgettable sunsets. Those quiet walks, framed by water and fading light, calmed me down and planted the earliest layers of my personal connection with the rivers that flow into Kallang Basin.

Twakows and repair shacks at Kampong Bugis, Rochor River in 1980. Credit: Paul Piollet.

 

Kallang roar

I came to learn more about both the Rochor and Kallang Rivers. These two waterways converge at the Kallang Basin before meeting the sea. Long before it became today’s polished sports and recreational precinct, Kallang was already deeply woven into Singapore’s collective memory. I was a regular at the old National Stadium, built in time for the 1973 SEAP Games, and later the site of Malaysia Cup matches, National Day Parades and musical concerts. It was there that the famous “Kallang Roar” was born.

Yet before stadiums and spectacles, Kallang Basin had been a trading post, a site of early industrialisation, and home to Orang Laut communities. Much of this past now survives only in fragments, memory and imagination.

The "old" National Stadium was being demolished in 2010.

 

Early trade and settlement

As early as the 16th and 17th centuries, the Kallang Basin is believed to have functioned as a busy maritime trading port. Traders moved spices, textiles, and other goods through these waters, well before the emergence of modern Singapore. Among them were Bugis merchants who helped establish the island as a key node in Southeast Asia’s regional trade network.

Kampong Bugis at Kallang Basin. c.1900s. 

The basin was also home to the Orang Biduanda Kallang, part of the wider Orang Laut community. Their ancestors traced their roots to the Riau–Lingga Archipelago and Bangka Island.

As settlement expanded, the British administration mandated the use of permanent building materials in 1822. Brick kilns, sawmills and boatyards soon appeared along the Kallang and Rochor rivers, marking Singapore’s earliest steps toward industrialisation.

Abundant mudflats and sand in the Kallang estuary supported small-scale brick kilns set up since the 1830s. In later decades, the basin became home to Kallang Gasworks and Kallang Airport.

Another transformation followed in the 1960s and 1970s, when sand excavated from the hills of Toa Payoh was used to reclaim land in the basin. Today, this reshaped landscape is branded as “The Kallang”.

Sand excavated from the hills of Toa Payoh was used to reclaim land in the basin. 

 

Sar Kong and Mun San Fook Tuck Chee Temple

Many Chinese settlers employed in the brick kilns lived in a kampong known as Sar Kong (沙冈), meaning “sand dune” in Cantonese. The village revolved around the Mun San Fook Tuck Chee Temple (万山福德祠) founded in 1861 and recognised as one of the oldest Cantonese temples in Singapore.

Located at the junction of Lorong 17 Geylang and Sims Drive, the temple was far more than a religious site. For working-class villagers and newly arrived immigrants, it provided shelter and a sense of community during their earliest days in a foreign land.

Kallang River, Lee Rubber Factory and Sar Kong (沙冈). 1953 map.

 

Shipbuilding along the Kallang River

Kallang was once a major hub for shipbuilding and repair. As early as 1822, Captain William Flint, Singapore’s first master attendant, had established a shipyard at Tanjong Rhu. From the 1880s to the 1950s, flat-bottomed wooden tongkangs and smaller twakows crowded the Kallang River, ferrying raw materials upstream for processing and re-export.

Tongkangs, larger and seaworthy, transported timber from Indonesia and rice from Thailand, Myanmar, and Vietnam. Twakows, smaller and motorised, operated mainly within coastal waters, linking riverside godowns with cargo ships anchored near Telok Ayer Basin. Wooden boatbuilders and repair sheds lined the riverbanks.

The construction of the Merdeka Bridge in the 1950s prevented tongkangs from sailing further upstream, forcing them to relocate to anchorages at the mouth of the Kallang River and around Tanjong Rhu. By the early 1990s, most shipyards, once clustered around Jalan Benaan Kapal and the Geylang River, had either closed or moved to Jurong, leaving behind a maritime legacy largely invisible today.

The construction of the Merdeka Bridge prevented tongkangs from sailing further upstream. 1960. Credit: Cheshire Military Museum.

 

Lee Rubber Factory

Singapore lacked the land to become a major rubber plantation. Despite that, rubber processing, packing and milling for export were once a vital industry. Lee Rubber Factory sat on the present site of Kallang Distripark at the upper reach of the Kallang Basin.

The factory at Lorong 3 Geylang functioned as a self-contained industrial complex, complete with processing facilities, warehouses, smokehouses, a training centre, research laboratory and workers’ lodging. Its riverside location allowed tongkangs to deliver raw rubber directly to a small jetty, integrating river transport seamlessly into industrial operations.

Lee Rubber Factory, Geylang Lorong 3. 1987. Source: NAS.

 

Kallang Gasworks: Fire City

Established in 1901, the Kallang Gasworks, nicknamed 火城 (Fire City) by the Chinese, supplied gas for industrial, commercial and household use. While it brought undeniable convenience and improved living standards, it also caused fear. Gas explosions and the constant smell of gas were persistent anxieties for residents.

At its peak, the gasworks supplied around 70 per cent of Singapore’s gas needs. Operations ceased in 1998 after Senoko Gasworks assumed full responsibility the year before.

Kallang Gasworks, nicknamed 火城 (Fire City)

 

The Kallang Industrial Estate

After Jurong, the Kallang Industrial Estate became Singapore’s second-largest industrial park. Light and medium industries transformed the basin’s landscape. Factories produced garments, electronic components and toys, while multinational corporations such as Texas Instruments and General Electric established operations here.

For many school-leavers in earlier decades, these factories, established under the nationwide industrialisation programme, offered employment, shaping livelihoods and aspirations across generations.

 

Song Lin Saw Mill and a wartime escape

Song Lin Saw Mill (松林火锯厂), established in the early 20th century, relied on the Rochor River to transport timber and finished products in the early years. When I just moved to Maude Road, I visited the mill to purchase plywood for my family’s metal beds. A friendly supervisor showed me around, giving me my first glimpse into sawmill operations.

Song Lin Building was originally the Song Lin Saw Mill.

Years later, I learned from retired architect James Liaw (廖元虎) about his father, Liaw Chin Sing (廖清醒). A barber from Foo Chow, he was deeply involved in fundraising for China’s anti-Japanese war effort and played a key role in the Second Special District Relief Branch, headquartered on Foch Road.

After the fall of Singapore, Liaw was detained by the Japanese at Song Lin on Syed Alwi Road. Three days later, exploiting the military police’s fear of infection, he escaped by supporting a comrade whose festering wounds were swarmed by flies. It is a small human story hidden within a vast and brutal history.

View of Rochor River from Song Lin Building. The construction site of DBSS flats at the right is where New Singapore Ice Works once stood.  

 

New Singapore Ice Works

Sungei Road was known to the Cantonese and Hakka communities as 淡水河 (fresh water river), while the Hokkien and Teochew called it 结霜桥 (frozen bridge). The latter name was derived from the New Singapore Ice Works, established in the 1930s and renamed in 1958.

Before refrigerators became common, the ice factory played an important role in daily life. Hawkers, wet market fishmongers, fishing boats and restaurants all depended on its ice supply. Ice was insulated with sawdust and covered with rice sacks, a simple yet effective method. Sawdust from the nearby Song Lin was perfectly suited for this purpose, an early example of practical recycling.

New Singapore Ice Works. 1990.

 

The White Crocodile of Kallang River

In Southeast Asian folklore, the white crocodile (buaya putih) symbolises mystery, power and protection. Stories of guardian crocodiles often serve as omens or protectors of sacred waters.

Crocodiles were occasionally sighted in the Kallang River until the mid-1980s. Among the Orang Laut and Chinese communities, tales circulated of a white crocodile guarding the river. The Orang Biduanda Kallang were said to make offerings to it, while some Chinese believed it lived beneath Chwee Kang Beo (水江庙), a rare riverine temple in Singapore. In reality, the temple had no connection to the legend, but the story endures.

Today, as the manicured riverbanks and stadium lights dominate the skyline, it takes effort to imagine tongkangs, brick kilns, sawmills, ice production and other lost scenes. Yet beneath the modern surface, Kallang Basin continues to carry stories of quiet resilience.

Today's Kallang River is a thriving hub for water sports.


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