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A couple of pictures hang upstairs in the
gallery of the informative Penang Museum, which have long intrigued me.
They show a foreigner at a waterfall dressed in that wonderfully
overstated manner of the time. Top hat and tails is hardly your run of
the mill tropical costume but we are talking about colonial British you
know. Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun and all that. He
is staring in awe at the water cascading off the rocks in a steep
descent before him. He, just to the fore of the waterfall, is dwarfed.
You can almost hear the water crashing down and Conan Doyle’s
description of Sherlock Holmes at Reichenbach Falls springs to mind.
The
jungle hems the observer in and a small wooden bridge seems almost
insignificant. The painting was done back in 1815, while Wellington,
after whom the narrow strip of land o the peninsular was named (Province
Wellesley) was routing Bonaparte on a field in Belgium. Penang at the
time had been settled for nearly 30 years. A precocious youngster, much
like the British themselves, muscling in on the trade that flowed along
the Malacca Straits and had done since time immemorial.
Today
of course Penang is a rich, confidant contributor to the Malaysian tiger
that seeks Developed Nation status by 2020 with all the trappings of
modern society. Airports, high-rise, fast food outlets, traffic jams.
What I wanted to do was to capture a sense of Penang, well Georgetown’s,
richly varied history by retracing the steps Robert Smith may have taken
on his way to the waterfall.
I
imagine the esteemed military man had no bus available to him though
some of the buses on the island may have seen service in his time, such
is their apparent antiquity. I though had no recourse to a sedan chair
or horse, which is how he may have made the journey. Rickshaws were
still some 60 plus years away so I was left with that most primitive and
under utilized mode; my feet.
Not
knowing where Smith lived I imagined a scenario for him which sees him
starting his journey at the Protestant Cemetery, in his time little more
than a mound on the outskirts of the initial settlement. Some of those
who played a major role in the development of the island found their
final resting place. Among them Francis Light, the founder who has
buried here in 1794. A brother in law of Stamford Raffles, Quinton
Thomas, is here. In Smith’s time there was no wall, indeed the ground
had yet to be consecrated, this came a few years later.
Later,
much later Northam Road was to become the place for wealthy Chinese to
build their opulent residences in eclectic Anglo Chinese style and today
some of these still stand though in various states of repair. For Smith
though, this would have been jungle of perhaps a cleared path. Today it
is one of the main arteries funneling Georgetown’s traffic into the
commercial district that Smith would recognize. In shape if not style.
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The
first building of note we reach, which came long after Smith, is on the
left hidden behind steel sheeting which tries to cover the nakedness of
a once grand dame. Originally built in the 1880’s by Cheah Tek Soon it
was the first five-story residence in Penang. In the early 1920’s it was
converted into a hotel, called Raffles on the Sea where the elite would
sip tea on the garden. Later it became a school but today the 5 stories
have become 3 and the house is being allowed to wallow in it’s own
personal jungle, left alone with it’s memories and undergrowth. |
Time
to cross the road, today a hazardous activity, and head away from
Georgetown. Amid the high rise lie some ruins in the manner of Raffles
on the sea. The military base on the right once upon a time used to be
Runnymede, the second most prestigious hotel after the E&O overlooking
the sea front. Checking in today may be a bit of a problem.
You
can’t mss Homestead set back on it’s own grounds looking resplendent,
proud, confidant. Secure in the knowledge that whatever happens around
her, her owners are not afraid to show a little TLC. The house was
designed by Stark & McNeill; a firm responsible for many of the old
houses left standing in the area and was built for Lim Mah Chye in 1919.
Later on the house was purchased by Yeap Chor Ee, founder of Ban Hin Lee
bank, the only Penang based bank, who subsequently provided for its
upkeep through his trust. Incidentally the same firm that designed
Hoestead designed the head office of his bank, on Beach Street.
Next-door is Istana Kedah, the Penang home of the Kedah Royal Family.
Once upon a time of course, these Royals handed the island to Francis
Light. This house was designed by Charles Boutcher in 1935 and
resembles, seaward, a Georgian villa. From the main road a single tower
that acts like a massive gateway dominates the house. In reality, the
main entrance is through a side portico. Once upon a time it was a
popular stop over for the Royals but today, with travel times so much
quicker, is little more than a place to shower and change.
The
last house before we reach Gurney Drive is Woodville with its French
chateau influence. Lim Lean Teng was a Chinese planter with many
interests in Kedah who wanted a mansion with a domed tower similar to
that found on the HSBC building on Beach Street and the architect
obliged. This house was built in 1925 and is owned by the planter’s
descendants. Like Homestead it is kept in beautiful condition.
Today
Gurney Drive early morning plays host to joggers and Tai Chi
practitioners stretching their limbs. Soon, if a proposed Penang Outer
Ring Road goes ahead then stretching limbs will be serving an altogether
different purpose. For me, I watch a little heron eye the seas
expectantly waiting a late breakfast before heading up Lorong Burmah and
cross Jalan Kelawi. Here are a couple of Buddhists temples on opposite
sides of the Lorong, one that Smith doubtless would have seen. The
Burmese temple here was founded in 1803. The oldest part, the stupa, was
consecrated in 1805, the rest added in about 1838. Opposite is a Thai
Buddhist temple built on land donated by Queen Victoria in 1845. A
Burmese community settled in this area during the time of Francis Light
while the Thais followed soon after.
I turn
right onto Jalan Burmah that leads on through the shopping/dining area
of Pulau Tikas. So named because there is an island out there shaped
like a rat but with the huge Midland Shopping Plaza there is no sea view
available. The clouds are looking ominous so I decide to do something
not available to Smith. I nip into KFC to wait out the storm and have a
cold drink n some air-conditioned luxury. Sure enough, no sooner have I
taken my seat than the heavens open with a vengeance.
It
doesn’t take long for the rain to ease and I resume my journey, past the
Indonesian Consulate before turning left on Jalan Gottleib. I guess it’s
only right that a town as spiritual as Georgetown with it’s Muslim,
Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh communities should name a road
after a German whose name translates as God Love. In his own way, said
German had a temple of his own, though his was a Masonic one. The clouds
hanging over the hills still look menacing but the air is cooler as
imperceptibly I climb above sea level into the interior of the island.
At Waterfall Hotel I turn right on the Waterfall Road, a road has been
here since 1800 making it one of the oldest on the island, and head
towards the Botanical Gardens, past a Hindu temple that once served the
Indian community that provided much of the labour for the sedan chairs
that transported the wealthy up to nearby Penang Hill.
Not
interested in a sedan chair I walk on past the Moon Gate that leads up
into the jungle clad interior and on to the gardens themselves, opened
in 1884. Many monkeys roam free in the gardens, leaping from branch to
branch and frolicking on the finely manicured lawns but the rain kept
them hidden.
In the
early 19th Century the waterfall was the main tourist
attraction. People would travel through the jungle, much as I had done,
to see the water cascade down over 400 feet. They would bathe n the rock
pools and delight in the cooler air on the side of the hill. The E & O
Hotel was offering trips to the Crag Hotel on Penang Hill via the
Waterfall via rickshaw to the falls then sedan chair up to the Crag.
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I walk
along the North Circular Path, going ever higher, getting ever wetter as
I realize the rain never stopped, it just faded once in a while. The
drops beat a constant beat on the large over hanging leaves keeping all
fauna and folk at bay. Except me, a rather cranky Englishman determined
to see a waterfall. On a narrow bridge I hear the water crashing down
over the rocks, the noise audible over the rain. Barbed wire tells me
not to cross the fence. Next to the bridge is a water treatment centre,
cut off from the walkers by fences and gates and what looks like
electric fences. The waters higher up feed into a reservoir that
provides drinking water fro the whole island and security is a major
concern. They obviously don’t want some dumb tourist getting his kit off
and jumping in the water that Mr and Mrs Wong will later be bathing in
and drinking from.
I
stand by the gate, wet, forlorn, hoping to attract the attention of some
staff who might take sympathy but, like the simians, they are
sheltering. The gate looks open and for a moment I consider opening it
and walking boldly in but the Englishman in me prevents me from doing
it. I’d rather stand there getting wet and hope someone invites me in.
They
don’t of course. Eventually I have to move on round the Gardens, past a
Malayan Monitor Lizard and back to the entrance. I hadn’t seen the
Waterfall. I hadn’t been in a sedan chair. In fact my journey bore
little relation to any Smith may have taken nearly 2oo hundred years. It
was raining; he’d have been sensible and stayed at home. I get the bus
home.
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