Some of the most vivid memories of living in Trengganu Street and Chinatown were the smells associated with the place.
The daily arrival of the night soil collector brought one on. My communal house did not have modern sanitation and sewage systems. A black cast iron trough, placed under an opening, was the ‘toilet’. The liquid and solid excretion from everyone living in the house went into this trough, which was collected daily by the night soil carriers. I remember at least six adults and four children lived in that communal house. This was the reason why I hated having to go to the toilet.
The irony was that this toilet was situated in the communal kitchen. If someone was cooking at the same time as someone using the toilet, the intermingled smell of the food and the toilet was unforgettable.
Someone would signal when the night soil carriers were sighted, and we, especially the children, would run to the front part of the house, which was furthest from the toilet, to escape the odour.
The night soil collector came with a wooden pole slung across his shoulders, with a covered and empty trough hooked on either end. They then took the “used” one from the toilet, covered it and replaced it with the empty one. The used trough would then be hooked onto the pole to be taken away. Each collector could only call on two houses before returning to the vehicle they came in, depositing the loaded troughs and picking up empty ones again.
This vehicle was a very interesting specimen. It was a lorry-like thing, with 32 compartments arranged like lockers in rows. Each compartment was just big enough to hold one trough. As we sat by the window to watch them at work, tracking which compartment had already been used for a loaded bin trough became a game. That way, we knew when the night-soil vehicle would move away.
The night soil collector’s job was unenviable, and we could understand that even at a young age. It was common for mothers with children who were deemed not diligent enough in their studies to threaten them with, “You don’t want to study; go and be a night soil collector.” The alternative was, “You don’t study; sweep the streets!” The latter threat survived longer than the former, for the night soil carrier’s job disappeared when modern sewage systems became available in all households.
To be continued in Smells Remembered II
Carena Chor
Carena Chor is a retired ITE lecturer interested in drama, reading, writing and craft work.
