The photographs below exemplify two contrasting views of the triads. There is one view that glamourizes and valorizes triads and their activities. That attitude is often fuelled and given crude credence by films, books and accounts of their loyalty, personal sacrifices and heroism. I am sure some of these are true; but it is even more true that the world of the triads is often marked by betrayal, deceit and self aggrandizement - a mirror portrait of the world of politics and business, which they are often mired in.
Valorizing Gangsters
A snapshot from a Hong Kong triad film. In these gangsters are smartly dressed and behaved like respected members of society.
The Truth
The second photographs shows gangsters as they are, tattooed, anarchic and alcoholic loving.
You would not like to meet these guys in a dark alley! Unfortunately, that is where most people are likely to run into them.
"The Good, The Bad and the Ugly" :Some Accounts of Triads in old Singapore
I would like to give soma accounts of triad incidents I have experienced.
My Godfather
My Godfather was a triad "controller". Which is to say, that he controlled an area. In his case, it was Hong Lim Green as well as the then rural Pek San Teng kampong. Don't ask me why it was like that because I have no idea. He married my aunt (father's sister) and somehow or other I became his godson. I am afraid he did not make much of an impact upon me - the godfather that really had a major impact on my life was (and still is) the Monkey God but that is another story altogether.
In any case, my godfather could get things done. That is, certain things. Like when my mother lost her purse while she was on the bus. There was a bit of a ruckus over that but my father went to "talk" to my godfather. In those days when you wanted something like that done, you always went to "talk" to a person, though of course that must be the right person. A few days later the purse came back minus the money. Just like that.
I don't know whether this is good, bad or ugly. But it did happen.
The second incident was when my neighbour who was a "fighter" in the Amoy Street squared off with another gangster, presumably also a fighter. A "fighter" in the triad jargon was not merely a person who fought but a leader, someone who spoke with authority and "settled" the day to day business of the triad. Ah that term "settling" brings back memories. You "settled" debts. insults, grievances and all kinds of things. I was at the back room one night (listening no less to Ong Toh on the rediffusion) when I happened to hear my neighbour challenging an unknown party to a one to one axe fight. I heard them naming a place and a time. My neighbour was never seen again. It was assumed that either he died or had to flee overseas (that usually meant Malaya) after killing someone. Nobody talked or speculated about him from that point on. That incident made a deep impression upon my young mind. You could say that it was bad to ugly.
The third incident was a religious ceremony in the house next door. In those days, Amoy Street was not what it is today - a clean, well maintained and neat street living off nostalgia lined with cafes and restaurants and offices. The street was cramped with all kinds of things spilling onto the pavement (the five foot way) and onto the road in many instances. A row of chicken cages lined the right side of the house I lived in while the house to the immediate left had wooden shelves on the pavement.
That year, a religious ceremony was held on the second floor of the house next door. There was an altar with a long table creaking with the weight of incense, fruits and other offerings. Incense smoke filled the room mixing with the clash of cymbals and gongs to make a heady mixture. Many came to pray and to make donations. However, these donations were not to the deity but to the triad group that controlled Amoy Street. To be honest, it was all beautifully done. The neighbours as well as other "well wishers" came to make donations right under the eyes of the authorities. The scribe religiously noted each household and their donations, "protection" (not from the gods but the triads) money for the year. This was one of the few times such a large ceremony was held and must have marked some significant event although what it was I could not remember. The usual way of paying "protection" money was to give "kopi liu", coffee money to the small time underlings that collected the amount each month for the triad.
We could say this was the ugly side of the triads. However, on the other hand, the chickens my neighbour kept for sale never got stolen. If anything got stolen or a thief dare break in, you complained or "talked" to the neighbourhood gangster. He would normally sort it out for you. That is not to praise these gangsters. It was simply the way things were in those days.
Although my godfather was a triad chieftain it was understood that he had no choice but to make a living then by joining the "pang" or triad. When my godbrother took over the Pek San Teng Three Flags Gang, a notorious triad grouping my father told him that he was misguided and should make an honest living. Of course nobody listened to my father.
Nothing is ever as clear as present day commentators would like to have it.
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