A friend indeed: Vincent Lim Ewe Tee, 1953-2022

By Lim Siang Jin

EWE TEE was my class monitor in Standard IC, Westlands Primary School, in 1960. We got on quite well and have been very good friends ever since. He lived a few roads from my home so it was very convenient to meet and play. And play we did! Like all other innocent and curious youngsters our age.

At his place, No 19 Birch Road, I remember going up to his room to spend time; it opened to a small verandah facing Gurney Drive. The bungalow was on the land where the 24-storey Sunrise@Gurney stands. Aunty, his mum, was a caring soul. She made sure I had enough to eat and drink while we played. I also remember his soft-spoken dad with a very kind face. He would drop me back home once in a while in their light-coloured car, probably a Hillman Minx. Uncle unfortunately passed away when we were at a tender age.

The Gurney Drive beach front in the 1930s.
Source: Aliran

The centre of activities, from 1964 onwards, was our area —  at the junction-enclave of Gurney Drive and Cantonment Road. Ewe Tee was part of our “gang” there. About 20-strong, we engaged in various formal games — badminton, football, rounders, table tennis, etc, many adapted to the environment we found ourselves. We also followed the annual calendar of state-wide youth activities involving marbles, kites, tops and cards. 

Numerically, we were big enough to play chiak bak, mata chat and kham bak chieu – so they became part of our repertoire of activities, many a time with creative variations, like hide-and-seek in the dark of the night (read more about these games here). And I would never forget how we stood under the scorching sun at the mouth of the big drain that ran the length of Cantonment Road — to catch measly catfish and chwee chiam (mini swordfish). The four acres we had access to, plus the beachfront, was a haven for children growing up. 

Ewe Tee was a good story teller too. Two of them remain etched in my memory. The first was his 1963 description of how he and his tent-mates probably encountered the lantern lady at Jubilee Camp, replete with details like a light moving outside their tent and raincoat dripping with red liquid the next day. My guess is that it was one of the scout masters making sure the boys remained in their tents! The second, in 1965, was an animated account of the second encounter between Cassius Clay (aka Muhammad Ali) and Sonny Liston, where the latter was KOed in the first round with a controversial “phantom punch”. The former had used a secretly-learnt karate chop, Ewe Tee insisted.

Ewe Tee, a school prefect at Westlands Primary School in 1965, was seated next to the form
teacher, Mr Teoh Chye Teik. For the caption and more photos of that year, click here 

In 2018, I asked if he remembered them. He chuckled and said no. Such are the strange ways our memories work.

I remember there was some healthy rivalry between us too. In 1965, both of us were appointed scout patrol leaders. We had to name our patrols after animals. I decided on the cobra saying it was versatile with a strong ability to protect itself, and attack if necessary. After some thought, Ewe Tee decided on the mongoose, telling me it was deft enough to defeat the cobra. I refused to believe that then, however in later years I found out that the mongoose indeed won up to 80 per cent of its encounters with the snake. 

Come Job Week, we would go jobbing together, going door-to-door to do odd jobs and collect money for the scouting movement. Focussed on the vicinity of Birch Road and places near the school, we learnt a fair bit about the places and its people — from the scrooge who squeezed the most out of his or her one dollar to the generous who gave us two and hot drinks to boot, and sent us off without lifting a finger.

Our friendship extended into Free School. Every school day in 1967-68, we would go to school together with Ooi Teong Siew and Ooi Peng Huat. Driven by Ah Eu, the family driver, every journey was filled with hilarity, usually derived from harmless pranks and disturbing girls along the way.

From the WPS Camaraderie page, 23 Feb 2018:
Farewell lunch for Ewe Tee (left) at Oriental
Pavilion Restaurant, Jaya 33, Petaling Jaya.
Click here for more

We lost touch for a number of years after PFS and caught up again in the late 1980s when he moved back to Penang with his lovely wife Kym. At the time, he was running a personal tour guide business and their son, Matthew, was born in our home state. In 1997, they moved back to England. After that we stayed in touch close enough for me and my family to visit his home in north London in the early 2000s.

He was very proud of and loved his family deeply. He spoke highly of his wife Kym, a Londoner who teaches children with special needs. Ewe Tee once said I could learn a thing or two from her if I ever wanted to do anything in the area. I was then exploring the possibility of coaching people to care for the aged. Matthew, their son, did very well in his studies scoring first class honours in mechanical engineering from the University of Nottingham and is now working in consulting for a technology company in London. It was very clear from our conversations that he was the apple of his eye. 

In the last 15 years or so, Ewe Tee would come back frequently to visit his mum, sisters Dawn and Grace, and close relatives. We caught up each time he came back and our friendship deepened further. 

During my last visit to London in 2018, knowing I would be alone, he meticulously advised me about the Oyster Card, places to avoid (“because you might get mugged”), the London Tube app, etc. I had wished to visit Kings Place, office of The Guardian newspaper, so he, Kym and I decided to meet there. After that we took a double decker down to Soho where we visited Liberty London and had dinner at The Real Greek. The day before I left, he came to Central London again and we spent many hours talking at a pub in Queensway. All these made my trip so much more memorable.

At the Real Greek restaurant, Soho, London, in April 2018, with Kym and Matthew

That was not to be the last time I met him. In late 2019, his mother passed away in Subang Jaya. He and Kym came back. Seng Oo and I, among others, met them at the funeral. Little did I know then it would be the last time I saw him in person.

During the Covid outbreak we spoke now and then, dwelling mainly on subject matters we agreed on and avoiding areas of contention — our political views had diverged over the years but that, we felt, should not come in the way of our friendship. My last series of contact with him was in end-August 2022, a week before his diagnosis. We shared our new-found interests. In the summer, the first in three years that was not snarled by Covid, he took a liking to lawn-bowling and had engaged in it many times a week, making new friends. On my part, I told him about my upcoming art exhibition, hoping he would be able to make it back in time. He mentioned he was looking forward to coming back to see his sisters in November-December 2022 after three long years.

That he would fall sick and pass away in three short months came as a complete shock to me. RIP Ewe Tee. We will miss you.