When I was growing up on Pulau Seringat, some would call it Pulau Rengit, I remember it as one with no trees – just land, with one small mosque surrounded by 15 houses. As neighbours – the household of Along, Jabak, Sudin and then ours – our homes were on stilts, placed side by side facing the water.
Now, everyone has passed away. I am the only one left.
Many would remember me as Nenek Tijah. My name is Tijah Bte Awang. Our small island I hear is now connected to Lazarus Island, or better known to us islanders as Pulau Sekijang Pelepah.
I remembered in the late 1930s, our island was not safe. Authorities feared that the sea would swallow up the island during extreme high tide or during a storm.
When the water rises rapidly, our homes may drift into he sea. Our neighbours had to leave and shift to Lazarus Island.
I can’t remember exactly when we left Pulau Seringat. I may have been in my teens when our family made the permanent shift to Lazarus Island. That was home for us.
Now, everyone has passed away. I am the only one left.
Tijah Bte Awang, former islander from Pulau Seringat and Lazarus Island (Pulau Sekijang Pelepah)
Life can be tough but regardless, we have the sea. In those days, everyone worked as a fisherman. There isn’t much that we could do as islanders.
Tijah Bte Awang, islander from Pulau Seringat to Lazarus Island
Living on Lazarus Island was different compared to the conveniences we have today.
Life can be tough but regardless, we have the sea. In those days, everyone worked as a fisherman. There isn’t much that we could do as islanders.
We would rear chicken and buy rice once in a while from the main island or from the provision shop everyone called Thiam Seng – named after the shop owner.
Whatever we could find to eat, we simply ate.
For fresh water, we would make the journey to Pulau Brani on a boat. Kusu Island too was a source for fresh water.
Though many families lived in close proximity, surrounding the island, there were no fights and learnt to live in harmony.
Eventually we all had to leave the island in 1975.
I was really worried. How would I find a job and provide for the family living on the main island? What would we have to eat?
I remember my children tell me: “We are all adults, so you need not worry. Everyone is leaving the island, not just us Mak (mother).”
It has not always been easy and I remembered crying leaving the island. I regret not being able to die on the island like my parents did.
We were born there – and we would like to die there too.
In this photograph, brothers Mustari Dimu and Yacob Dimu are collecting corals to be sold to Kusu Island pilgrims. Unknowingly, we showed this photograph to Yacob’s wife, Tijah, during an interview. Even though it has been almost 60 years, she recognised her late husband instantly. Since the family had never taken a photograph of Yacob, it became the first time his daughter Kamariah had seen the semblance of her late father, who passed away when she was still a baby.
We were born there – and we would like to die there too.
Tijah Bte Awang, islander from Pulau Seringat to Lazarus Island