In 1963, after the British left and the Japanese
occupation still stank in the bones of Tiong
Bahru, Ah Ma Lim, 78, refused to move from her
kampongturnedHDB flat when the government
offered $1,200 for her threeroom unit. She’d
buried three husbands there — one under the
kitchen sink, one behind the toilet, and one in
the cupboard where the rice was kept — and the
ghosts didn’t like being uprooted.
The HDB officer came twice. The first time, he
brought forms. The second, he brought a
bulldozer sketch. Ah Ma Lim didn’t speak. She
lit joss sticks at dawn, whispered in Hokkien to
the shadows under the bed, and left bowls of bak
kut teh on the landing. By night, the ghosts
started knocking — not loud, just three taps on
the wall, then silence. Neighbours complained.
The flat below heard the creak of a rocking
chair where no chair stood.
The world changed because the dead here didn’t
rest — they bargained. In the old kampong days,
spirits demanded offerings; in the new HDB
blocks, they demanded rent. Ah Ma Lim had
learned this when her first husband’s ghost
started folding his own sarong and sitting at
the table every evening. He never ate, but he
always waited for her to pour tea.
When the Housing Board sent a surveyor with a
tape measure, the ghosts turned aggressive. The
toilet flushed itself at 3am. The fridge hummed
the old Malay lullaby Ah Ma used to sing to her
children. The officer’s clipboard vanished —
found three days later stuffed in the rice jar,
wrapped in a red envelope with “For the Dead Who
Pay Rent” scribbled in chalk.
Ah Ma Lim didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. She posted
a notice on the block’s noticeboard: “Tenants of
the unseen: rent due every full moon. Pay in
joss paper. Eviction notice invalid unless all
ghosts sign.”
The HDB couldn’t evict a flat with active
spectral occupancy. No law covered ghosts. No
court would hear a case where the plaintiff was
a 1942 war widow who swore her husband’s spirit
had filed a tenancy appeal under the 1958
LandlordTenant Ordinance — amended in secret by
the spirit council of Pulau Ubin.
By October, the block had become a tourist
curiosity. Schoolchildren came with offerings. A
TV crew from Radio Television Singapore filmed
the “haunted HDB” but cut the segment when the
camera caught Ah Ma Lim handing a ghost a plate
of kueh lapis.
The Housing Board revoked the resale order. Not
because of policy. Not because of pressure. But
because the ghost of Ah Ma’s second husband —
the one buried under the toilet — started
squatting in the HDB director’s own flat in Toa
Payoh, flushing his toilet every morning at 6am.
Ah Ma Lim kept the flat. She sold the rice
cooker instead. Used the money to buy more joss
paper. And every evening, she still poured tea.
The ghosts never asked for more. They just kept
knocking. Three taps. Always.
Her kiasu spirit had turned death into a tenancy
contract. And in Singapore, even the dead learn:
if you don’t pay, you get evicted.


