Hawker culture is a rich tapestry of cultures and communities in Singapore. In the city-state’s ubiquitous hawker centres, residents from all walks of life commune and bond over a smorgasbord of dishes. Stir-fried Chinese dishes blend with spicy Indian curries and Malay nasi padangs in a glorious medley.
Many of these hawker dishes evolved from the distinctive food cultures of immigrant groups such as the Peranakan and Hainanese, and became distinctive local dishes beloved by Singaporeans. In recent years, hawker culture in Singapore even received a place on the UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in December 2020.
However, these cultural treasures are at risk of extinction. Singapore’s hawkers have been devastated by the COVID-19 pandemic. Besieged by repeated lockdowns and closures, their businesses have been hanging on by a thread.
“The only survivors left in this world”
Kim Keat Palm Market during Singapore’s heightened alert in July 2021
Hawkers in Singapore today sit anxiously at their stalls, awaiting the occasional customer that could help to keep them afloat for yet another week. “It feels like my shop and I are the only survivors left in this world.” said Ms. Wang, whose Western food stall in Kim Keat Palm Market stood forlornly amid a row of shuttered storefronts. Hawkers without the cashflow from a larger franchise, or the clientele from an established brand, have rarely broken even in past months.
Naturally, many hawkers have thrown in the towel, and the survivors are left broken and discouraged. Hawker L. Tan, the owner of clam noodle soup shop Wawa at Fortune Centre, feels drained by repeated rounds of short-term lockdowns. “Little did we expect to be hit by two waves of heightened alert measures. This prolonged crisis has really hurt numerous F&B business and WaWa is not spared.” she lamented online.
The crisis has been especially difficult for obscure food stalls located in industrial parks. Harvest@Woodlands, located deep within Woodlands Industrial Park, has barely seen any traffic since the outbreak of a COVID-19 cluster in May 2021. The industrial workers from nearby factories such as Micron have opted to frequent their in-house canteen for safety reasons, while residents and food delivery riders tend to avoid patronising the coffee shop due to its inaccessibility. Over in Gordon Warehouse Building at Kaki Bukit Road, the elderly operator of the retro Gordon Canteen sits in quiet despondence. He throws away over half of his cai peng, or mixed rice, each day as most workers are still working from home.
Nearly all the stalls in Tanjong Pagar market were closed on a Saturday afternoon.
Safe distancing measures have also contributed to a fall in human traffic to markets. Within her deserted wet market, hawker Lecia Chen bemoaned that ‘the whole market has been fenced up with only one entry and exit point’. Hastily erected barricades give the formerly bustling market the air of a messy construction site, and made it especially difficult to navigate to stalls buried deep within the labyrinth.
Raging against the dying of the light
The ever resourceful hawker community has steadfastly refused to pack up and leave. Online communities such as the Facebook group ‘Hawkers United — Dabao 2020’ have sprouted up as a measure of sustenance and communal solace for the hawker community. Hawkers and their patrons snap pictures of their deserted premises and dishes, entreating Singaporeans to come by for a quick meal. On the odd occasion, a visitor to the group posts a request for a mass order — for a funeral, a hospice lunch, or a company celebration. Hundreds of comments flood in within the hour, from hawkers desperate to clinch this lifeline that might tide them over yet another lockdown.
Food Republic in Tai Seng. Tenants of commercial buildings such as this have complained that landlords have withheld much-needed rental relief during Singapore’s lockdowns.
Meanwhile, grassroots movements such as Singapore Tenants United for Fairness (SG TUFF) have emerged as a source of community organising and self-help for affected hawkers. Serving as representatives for tenants at large, these groups have pushed the government for measures such as a 2-week rental support requirement by landlords, which was announced on 26 July.
In response, the government has stepped in with measures such as the Jobs Support Scheme, Food Delivery Booster Package and rental relief measures, alongside a one-time payout of S$500. While these have helped subsidise the cost of labor, rent and operating on food delivery services, they can only go so far in the face of a complete dearth of customers.
More digitally savvy hawkers have also turned to food delivery services such as Grab and Foodpanda for life support, but these platforms are only profitable for a select few. The 30% margins charged by food delivery services barely allow hawkers to break even, despite new government schemes to subsidise their cost of use. Older hawkers also struggle with the digital literacy required to set up and operate these applications on a regular basis.
A long-term decline of hawker culture?
The historic Lau Pa Sat market, located in the heart of Singapore’s Central Business District, on a quiet Tuesday at lunch hour.
Meanwhile, it remains difficult for older hawkers to convince younger generations to take up what is widely perceived as a difficult and dying trade. Hawkers lead hard lives. They rise at 3am to beat their rivals to the wet markets. They haul tonnes of produce to their stalls, and begin the arduous preparations for intricate recipes that took years to perfect. By the time they start serving customers, they’ve already worked for half a day — and continue until their last customers finish supper in the evening. It’s a gruelling trade run on thin margins, and younger Singaporeans have eschewed these paths for more lucrative careers in finance and tech.
Rumors of the death of Singapore’s hawker culture may be greatly exaggerated. After all, hawkers have survived the clearance of ‘illegal’ food streets in the 1970s, the rise of fast food chains in the 1990s, and the entrance of food delivery apps in recent years. That said, many among their number are likely to vanish forever in this pandemic — and take an indelible piece of Singapore’s cultural heritage with them.
