There’s No Place Like Om
A celebration of 10 years of Going Om at 63 Haji Lane, Singapore
Tonight, Going OM celebrated 10 years of existence. I couldn’t be there in person, so I’m writing this post to celebrate all the wonderful people Going Om brought into my life, and the many ways it has altered the course of my fate.
In February 2008, by some strange twist of fate, my talented and beautiful friend Jacyln, got me involved in a commercial shoot she’d been cast in. She was the beautiful lead, and I, a lowly waitress, but we had a blast sashaying and spinning around anyway.
I quickly got to know the rest of the cast and crew over the 2 days of shooting, and at some point, the exuberant dancing, singing male lead, Oliver said, “Hey, I’m opening a cafe! Come over and check it out before we open!”
So I showed up at 63 Haji Lane, marvelling at how Ollie and Barry, had painted and decorated the entire place themselves in hardly any time at all. I sampled their signature chakra drinks (had my first taste of Advocat — that strange, custardy drink), and devoured Barry’s unforgettable dessert, the Berry Surprise.
Little did I know how much this place would change my life.
Even in its early days, Going Om attracted people from all walks of life… but mostly there were artists, performers, musicians, travelers and hippies. In a desk-bound job by day, I found myself returning again and again, night after night. I didn’t know then, but I had found my tribe of wanderers, freaks, dreamers, makers and lovers.
It was at Going Om that I also got introduced to the wonderful world of flow arts and the inspiring founders of Flowtoys, Prisna & Sean. I learnt to poi on Haji Lane, bruising my face and body with wild abandon (until the pod pois were invented, thank you thank you thank you), and bore witness to the formation of Starlight Alchemy. I was lucky enough to be able to participate in so many incredible shows with them. They were impressive pyrotechnic displays of fire, with a multitude of flashing LED lights… I even got to become The Girl On Fire at the Hong Kong Chinese New Year Parade in 2014, and spin with them at Burning Man 2016 — an huge honour and unforgettable first Burn.
Some days, we sat around talking about life and all the wonderful, subtle or vast differences between our different cultures. Other nights, we stayed up singing and howling at the moon until the telltale pink hue appeared on the horizon. We bonded over music and food, entertained both silly and profound ideas, shared our personal stories and histories, baring our hearts and souls to each other. It was a time of openness and acceptance in a way I had never experienced before.
Some of us even got matching tattoos together. True story.
The thing I loved most about the OM tribe was the love and support we gave to each other. Over the years, we organized various informal fundraisers for schools and orphanages, a leprosy colony, as well as victims of disasters. The very first Flea & Fun Street Festival paved the way for the epic Samsara street parties. Other events like Uke Have A Heart and Let’s Help Nepal were all completely run by volunteers and the Om crew. People have auctioned themselves for dates, tap-danced, taught yoga, sold items or services, DJ-ed, performed with fire or lights or instruments, painted faces, or just helped to set up and clean up after.
And the biggest impact on my life? Music. After Elsie introduced me to the charming little instrument, I went and bought myself $25 piece of crap uke and started playing badly, but obsessively, with my original uke partner in crime, Greta Georges. It came with me on my travels, and made for great times with other travelers on the beaches of Bali, long boat rides in Laos, the verdant islands of Thailand, on random streets and cafes and buses all over the world. Anywhere I went, my uke came too.
With the encouragement of my friends, I played my first show at Going Om. And it was godawful. I was so nervous. I knew nothing of sound systems. But they clapped and cheered and kept inviting me to play and sing. Greta left for China, Kaylin and I formed The Ukulele Girls, and we got sponsored really great ukes by Glyn and Simon, pioneers of the uke scene in Singapore and founders of UKULELE MOVEMENT. We played more and more shows, produced our album Love On the Equator and launched it at the Esplanade in 2014. This also brought about many more amazing opportunities, such as hosting a travel show in Japan and becoming ambassadors for the Shark Savers International Anti-Sharks Fin Campaign.
Having met Ridhwan and Hazizi through Don, they were all involved in the album recording and launch. We continued playing together and formed the first version of the Jukuleles with Lynne on keys. We even recorded a couple of videos for Swee Lee. But as my absences drew longer, Farhan and Kamaljoined the band, and Wan took centrestage to become the main act people come for at Going Om. My vagabond life continued, but I always came back. The boys would always invite me to jump in for gigs with them every time I return (even though I don’t know all the new songs). ‘m still amazed at the crowds that come, even on a Sunday night, to sing and dance with us on the streets.
But it wasn’t all just good times. In 2011, my cousin Shane passed away. He used to play his guitar with Ying and I. We loved emo-ing out on Radiohead songs and indie bands. He had always encouraged me to keep making music before his passing. We held a memorial for him at Going Om to remember the cheeky, laughing boy who always had a smile for everyone.
The challenges Going Om faces are many. I can’t even count the times I was told that the end for Om was near. The popularity of Haji Lane continuously drives rent up to exorbitant rates. Tighter controls on foreigners working in Singapore meant we had to say goodbye to the first manager of Going Om, Ramesh and his wife Pramila, and many other non-Singaporean friends. The nationwide ban on shisha in 2013–2014 removed their main source of revenue overnight. Inflexible and obtuse rules around public entertainment licensing and seating on the street prove to be ongoing battles that has cost thousands of dollars in fines. Over the years, people have left or drifted away, couples have broken up, relationships have soured, and friendships have dissolved. Yet for me, many of those connections still run deep. I’m so lucky to have been able to visit many of those friends on my travels in places far from Singapore. 10 years have passed and much has changed, but the magic of Om remains strong.
I have so many more stories to share and people to remember, but I will end my reminiscing with this. In all my travels and wanderings through the length and breadth of our incredible world, I still have yet to find a place and community like Going Om. Thank you for being an honest and safe oasis from city life, for the beautiful friendships both fleeting and lasting, for the many lessons learned, for sharing the blood, sweat and tears, as well as the love, joy and laughter. Thank you for a decade of life experience that has very much shaped who I am.
Truly, there is no place like Om. I only hope that everyone finds a place like that too — and if you haven’t already, you know where to go.
Originally published at www.facebook.com on 9 March 2018.