In a small workshop tucked away in Subang Jaya, Malaysia, echoes of laughter and the whirring sounds of tiny motors intermingle, not as the byproducts of assembly lines, but as the signs of healing. Meet Tan Guan Poh, affectionately known as “GP” to both children and adults alike, who is neither a conventional doctor nor a retired handyman, but a specialist in the unique and heartwarming field of toy restoration. GP’s remarkable journey from manufacturing engineer to toy doctor encapsulates not only the technical aspects of mending broken toys but shines a light on the broader themes of sustainability, emotional well-being, intergenerational connection, and the power of hands-on play in the digital age.
The Anatomy of a Toy Doctor
The journey to becoming a toy doctor might sound whimsical, but for Tan Guan Poh, it is steeped in a lifetime of technical expertise and compassionate service. With a background as a manufacturing engineer, GP honed his skills in electronics, wiring, and soldering—a toolkit that finds new purpose, not in high-tech factories, but amidst “wounded” Barbie dolls, malfunctioning remote-controlled cars, and faded plush toys.But what elevates GP’s work beyond the technical is his philosophy, as he bridges the intricacies of toy repair with the nuances of human health. Citing the similarities between the wiring inside toys and the blood vessels within humans, he describes, “Wires are like blood vessels. They connect to the ‘heart’, which is the integrated circuit. The connections must be good – they cannot be broken. Just like how a broken blood vessel causes a stroke!” This analogy is not just poetic but also serves to illustrate the vital, albeit miniature, circuits of life and love that course through children’s most cherished possessions.
GP’s reputation as the “toy doctor” blossomed as he volunteered with the Re
lay Project in 2023, an initiative by Play Unlimited, a Malaysian social enterprise dedicated to giving preloved toys a second chance and redistributing them to marginalised communities. The project, which sources toys from the public and manufacturers, relies on people like GP not only for their skills but for the compassion and patience required in the painstaking work of restoration.The Art and Science of Toy Repair
For many, a broken toy is a one-way ticket to the landfill. For GP, it’s a puzzle waiting to be solved—a diagnosis to be made and a recovery plan to be put into action. The variety of repairs he undertakes is impressive: battery replacements, replacing motors in race cars, rewiring sound circuits in electronic toys, stitching up well-loved plush companions, and performing “surgery” on dolls with missing limbs or cracked torsos.His process begins much like that of a detective: careful inspection, troubleshooting, and testing. When confronted with particularly stubborn or unfamiliar toys, GP does not hesitate to consult YouTube tutorials or leverage Microsoft Copilot, reflecting a blend of analogue and digital know-how. This openness to continual learning, even in his mid-seventies, sets a powerful example for lifelong adaptability—a quality increasingly crucial in our fast-changing world.
Some of the toughest challenges, GP admits, are remote-controlled toys, whose intricate systems of gears, motors, and wireless circuits can baffle even experienced engineers. But for him, the satisfaction of reviving these complex toys is immense, both for the technical feat and for the joy it restores to a child’s life.
Sustainability and a Second Life
Perhaps one of the most forward-thinking aspects of GP’s work is his commitment to sustainability. The toy industry, valued globally at over $100 billion, produces vast quantities of plastic-based, battery-operated products annually. Many of these end up in landfills after batteries run dry, motors burn out, or components break—contributing to mounting e-waste and environmental harm.GP has innovated by converting some battery-operated toys to run on USB power, stating, “Batteries aren’t environmentally friendly, so I use USB cables.” This conversion not only reduces the need for disposable batteries—a significant source of toxic waste—but also cuts costs for families. Such repairs extend the lifespan of toys, providing an antidote to the throwaway culture prevalent in many consumer societies.
Social enterprises like Play Unlimited highlight another dimension of sustainability: social equity. By facilitating the repair, cleaning, and redistribution of preloved toys, these organizations bridge socio-economic gaps, ensuring that joy is not the preserve of the privileged. GP’s volunteerism ensures that toys, once destined for the dump, instead find new homes among children who may never have owned one.
Emotional Healing and Intergenerational Connection
The work of a toy doctor is more than technical. It has a deeply emotional dimension, often underestimated in contemporary discourse. For children, toys are not mere playthings but repositories of comfort, imagination, and identity. To repair a broken teddy bear or a doll missing an arm is to restore a precious relationship—not unlike healing a cherished family pet.GP recounts a story of a mother who brought him her son’s beloved soft toy, cherished since birth and now in dire need of repair. The boy’s delight at the toy’s revival, GP says, “made my day, too.” In these moments, the lines between service, craftsmanship, and emotional caregiving blur, bearing witness to the unseen yet profound impact of his work.
In a broader context, this form of repair revives something deeply human: the belief that reparability is possible, and that not all bonds broken are destroyed. In an era of disposability, this ethos has far-reaching implications, encouraging children and adults alike to value nurturing over replacing—not just with objects, but in relationships.
GP, now also a part-time hospital chaplain, holds a unique vantage point on healing—one that transcends age. He advocates for seniors to pass down practical skills to the younger generation, saying, “If you have some skills, use them to help the younger generation. It’s a way of giving back.” Toy restoration thus becomes not just a task, but a bridge across generations, affirming the role of elders as custodians of wisdom, patience, and kindness.
The Joy and Purpose of Hands-On Play
In a digital world, where screens have encroached on so many facets of childhood, GP’s work is a call to re-engage with tangible play. He observes, “With a handphone, they can only see things... When they hear the sounds from a toy and hold soft toys, it creates a sense of connection.” Tangible toys cultivate senses—touch, hearing, proprioception—that digital experiences cannot replicate. Moreover, toys can foster a sense of ownership, responsibility, and care, qualities that can later translate into how young people relate to others around them.Studies echo GP’s observations, indicating that physical play improves not just fine motor skills but cognitive flexibility, empathy, and social interaction. As digital entertainment becomes ubiquitous, advocates like GP remind parents and educators that real-world interaction is irreplaceable in early childhood development.
Risks and Realities: The Road Ahead
While stories like GP’s are heartwarming, they raise critical questions about the state of modern consumerism, sustainability, and the undervalued art of repair. The global toy industry’s reliance on plastics and electronics has created durable-yet-disposable products, contributing to e-waste. Programs like Play Unlimited and professionals like GP are rare; their impact, though inspiring, remains localized.Scalability is a real challenge. Without sufficient funding or institutional support, repair-based models struggle to compete with mass-manufactured, low-cost imports. There is also the risk of safety issues arising from amateur repairs—particularly with older toys subjected to rewiring or replacement of power sources. Ensuring that repairs meet safety standards is essential, especially when toys are gifted to the most vulnerable.
Yet, the positive signals are clear. The rising interest in 'right-to-repair' movements globally, pressure on manufacturers to make toys more serviceable, and growing consumer demand for sustainable goods suggest a climate ripe for change. Toy repair shops are rare, but not extinct. In places like Japan, the Netherlands, and parts of the United States, “toy hospitals” are making a comeback, run by artisans, hobbyists, and retired engineers motivated by more than profit.
The New Face of Volunteerism and Lifelong Learning
GP’s embrace of technology in his repair workflow—be it YouTube tutorials or Microsoft Copilot—spotlights the new landscape of lifelong learning opportunities. Older adults, once assumed to retreat from the digital world, are now leveraging online resources to refresh and augment their skill sets. The fusion of hands-on skill and digital literacy is not just a personal asset; it is a community resource.His example is especially pertinent as societal aging accelerates. With many retirees seeking purpose, engagement, and a sense of usefulness, volunteering in areas that align with their life’s work or hobbies—like toy repair—can yield immense psychological and social benefits. Studies have shown volunteering later in life is correlated with better mental and physical health, increased wellbeing, and greater community cohesion.
The Value Proposition of Repair in a Throwaway Age
For communities, the value proposition of toy repair goes beyond economics. Every toy saved from the landfill is a small victory for the planet. Every act of repair teaches children and parents that value is not synonymous with “new,” but with “loved,” “used,” and “cared for.” It is as much an attitude as a practical skill.GP’s workshop embodies the principles of the circular economy: reduce, reuse, repair, and recycle. In this model, waste is not destiny but a resource, and those like GP are the agents of renewal rather than mere end-users or consumers.
Conclusion: The Doctor Is In, and Hope Is Alive
In a world increasingly defined by speed and disposability, the simple act of mending a toy resonates as a subtle, defiant gesture—a reaffirmation of value, tenderness, and possibility. GP, the toy doctor, is more than a fixer of broken things; he is a healer of spirits, a restorer of memories, and a catalyst for community resilience. His story is a timely reminder that behind every cherished toy, there is a story worth saving, and often, someone with the heart and craft to save it.For parents, educators, and policymakers, the call is clear: support the art of repair, champion sustainability, and foster hands-on play in a screen-saturated era. And for anyone with a beloved toy in need of “healing,” remember that the doctor is just a call away—ready to bring not just toys, but joy itself, back from the brink.
Source: Free Malaysia Today GP for toys: meet Tan Guan Poh, a toy doctor