Faded genes

In the centre of the Republic of Yemen lies a remote desert region called Hadhramaut. And about 6,260 kilometres southeast of this barren landscape lies the Republic of Singapore, as verdant as Hadhramaut is arid. The two places are literally an ocean apart, but historically linked. In some older Hadhramaut kitchens, you'll find a condiment ubiquitous to Malay Singaporean cuisine - the shrimp-and-chilli-based sambal belacan. It's one of the few clues in this remote area as to why Singapore has an ethnic enclave called Arab Street, based around a street of that name. Most of the 'Arabs' in Singapore are Hadhramis, meaning they can trace their ancestry to Hadhramaut. The harsh desert environment has long forced the Hadhramis to look beyond their borders, and they have been traders of formidable repute since the 15th century, engaging in maritime commerce in India, East Africa and Southeast Asia. For most of the last century, Singapore's Arab community was one of the wealthiest and most influential in the multicultural city state. But its heyday seems to be over, with older denizens of the neighbourhood lamenting the fading of the community's heritage. Ahmed, a 62-year-old trader in Arab Street who was once active with the Arab Association of Singapore, explains the community's current identity crisis. 'The Hadhrami community in Singapore is now at a crossroads. It has almost been totally absorbed into Malay Singapore, a process that has not been forced but one that older Arab-descended Singaporeans find a bit regrettable, simply because we're losing our identity. Indeed we have been losing it for a while.' The last two generations of Arab Singaporeans do not speak Arabic, although almost all have some knowledge of the written language from studying the Koran. 'Efforts have been made by various community groups - especially Al Wehdah Al Arabiah Bi Singhafura [the Arab Association of Singapore] to promote Arabic language learning, but these have not really taken root recently,' says Ahmed, who declines to give his full name. 'Today, those who are interested in learning Arabic are more likely to leave to attend courses in Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta or even the United Arab Emirates. 'Furthermore, in recent years, fewer and fewer Singaporeans of Arab descent travel back to Yemen or send their children back, and so ties have gradually faded with our homeland. I don't think this picture will change or be reversed. We are a bit like the Bugis [an ethnic group from Indonesia's Celebes Islands who also settled in Singapore]. Historically, we have had a strong presence in Singapore. But our day as a distinct ethnic group is over.' It was a lengthy golden age. The early Arab settlers arrived in Singapore with wealth made in Indonesia. Familiar with regional customs and language, they were quickly accepted by the Malay community. During British rule in Singapore, the Hadhrami branched into property dealing, the batik trade and organising the passage of Singaporean Muslims to the haj. Arabic culture exerted a strong influence over the local Malay culture through Islam. This is evident in the Middle Eastern-style architecture of the city's mosques. When Singapore gained independence in 1965, ethnic Malays became entitled to special educational benefits. This led to many Arab families listing the ethnicity of their children as Malay. Intermarriage also led to the blending of the two communities, with a shared faith providing a bridge between their cultures. The year 1967 was a watershed one for Singapore's Arabs. The formation of communist South Yemen - a new Soviet ally that encompassed the Hadhramaut portion of the country - led to a rapid tapering off of travel between Singapore and Hadhramaut. Meanwhile, Singapore's wide-open economy surged, and English, rather than Arabic, was seen as the key language for advancement in the community. Today's Arab Street exhibits a hybrid of Malay and Arabic culture. Still, the sights, sounds and aromas of the Middle East can be found in abundance: conservatively dressed Muslims steaming towards the Sultan Mosque as the call for prayer wails over the shophouses, Middle Easterners and tourists puffing away on shishas, customers haggling over the prices of Persian and Afghan carpets, souk-style. The retail outlets in this atmospheric street also affirm its Arabic identity: shops here sell the Koran (both printed and in the form of digital devices) and other Islamic texts, prayer mats, Muslim apparel such as burqas, and Arabic fragrances (which do not contain alcohol), the essential oils of which are sourced from all over the Arabian Peninsula. Arab Street feels a bit like a theme park and is always thronged with tourists. It's an enjoyable place to feel slightly detached from the rest of the island city. In common with Singapore in general, there's a passion for makan, the Malay and 'Singlish' word for food or eating-out. Many restaurants in the vicinity of Arab Street offer Middle Eastern cuisine, though it's pan-Arabic rather than specifically Yemeni. Amirah's Grill Restaurant & Cafe, Aladdin Cafe, Altazzag Egyptian Restaurant and Deli Moroccan get particularly high marks for the taste and authenticity of their menus. It's in a Muslim Indian eatery that I find myself chatting with another Hadhrami, fragrance importer Mohammed. 'Those fancy Arabic restaurants charge tourist prices - I never eat there,' he says. 'What's the story of the Arab Singapore community today? It's getting shorter all the time, as the Arab-descended Singaporean and Malay Singaporeans blend as a people. We are more defined by our faith then by our geography. But Arab Street will be here forever. It has always done well ... Overseas visitors regard Arab Street as a must-see, and there's a lot for them to spend their money on here. Don't forget, we're business-minded Singaporeans.' Mohammed is one of the few residents of Arab Street with tangible ties to Hadhramaut: 'I took my son back to Yemen once in the mid-1990s, and we felt very Singaporean on that visit! It's a distant land, but a magical one in the minds of the older people here. But many of the youngsters probably could not find it on the map.' As night falls and the crescent moon emerges above the palm trees around the Sultan Mosque, Mohammed says: 'Don't forget, this is one of the oldest port cities in the world - far older than Hong Kong or Dubai or Yokohama - that's why people here rub along with each other very well. 'Arab Singaporean? Malay Singaporean? Is it such a huge dilemma? Not really. Identity crisis is too strong a term. OK, Arabic won't ever catch on here again, not now. But Singapore has enough languages already.' He tears off a piece of roti bread and dips it into an aromatic curry sauce. 'It's a mixed-up place and that's how we like it,' he concludes with a smile that glints with golden Yemeni dentistry.