Prior to 1965 or so, no one in our neighbourhood had a proper oven of any kind. But plebeian resourcefulness kicked readily.
An empty kerosene tin was all we needed. One face was cut away to form a nice rectangular tank. Fine sand (from the beach nearby) was used to fill about one-third of the tin to form an even heating bed.
For the topside heating , a piece of old sheet metal with plenty of glowing charcoal was placed over the kerosene tin. And Voila, our Oven !
Admittedly, this contraption was quite susceptible to mood swings. Often, the cakes turned out looking like Mt Fujiyama, some others resembled the Table Mountain of South Africa, or worse, macam Lake Toba. Bad recipes, perhaps.
No problem lah, we just opened our mouths big big — “Eat lah, mountain, table or lake !”