We chug along a freshly surfaced freeway; metres of sharp barbed wire fences crowd the roadside. The sun today feels like it's cutting through my skin and it's terribly hot — like someone is boiling water and I can't find a window to open.
Luckily for me, this air-conditioned bus offers a temporary sanctuary from the tropical temperatures outside. It's hard to believe these are the same temperatures experienced by inmates over 70 years ago on this site.
Changi prison today is only used for its original purpose; a home to those who have been charged for breaking the Singaporean law.
This is a country which still practices capital punishment and where caning is still court ordered for over 30 offences. Peace and order, like in any country, is an ongoing process by citizens and government. Changi memorial today reminds visitors that peace time is not a gift, but something we must be aware of if we want to avoid wars.
It's been 75 years since the Japanese invasion of Singapore and the opening of the Changi internment camp on these grounds now shared by the modern prison. Singapore today is a wealthy, clean and ordered city with steady growth and low crime rates. It's hard to believe less than a century ago it was still a colony of Great Britain, a past shared by many developing countries today.
Changi was named after a tree of the same name which means 'The Time Tree'. Legend has it that the tree, which was 76 metres tall, was put onto maps from 1888 and became a prominent landmark because of its height. During WWII the tree was cut down to stop the Japanese from being able to use it as a vantage point, but the tree falling may have been an omen to the falling of Singapore itself.
Folklore aside, the connection between Changi and time rings true to the lasting memory of the community which was formed between its walls during the three and a half years of occupation. The museum stands in memory to the thousands who suffered here and the lives they built while interned. It is their will to live, not their suffering, which is recreated through the countless wartime artworks and outdoor chapel which resembles the original one inmates worshiped in.
In the entrance, the artwork of Australian Ray Parkin is printed onto a white wall in dark black ink. In Two Malarias and a