Our Bedok Kampong House Singapore

We once shared about how our parents brought us to the National Theatre at River Valley Road in 1967, where we wandered through its beautiful gardens and fountains. But our memories of that place didn’t end there. One visit stands out vividly: our dad taking the whole family to watch a traditional Japanese Kabuki performance there. As children, those dramatic masks and elaborate costumes were both mesmerising and a little frightening, yet they opened our eyes to cultures far beyond our shores and taught us to appreciate art in all its forms. Then came the mid ‑ 1970s, when the theatre took on a very different kind of excitement. Cliff Richard was in town, and we had tickets to see him live at the same venue — right in the era of “ Power to All Our Friends. ” It turned into an unforgettable night, especially the moment when the drummer played with such intensity that he broke part of the bass drum, which had to be swapped out while he kept going. 1967 with our mother on the grounds...

As children, we never quite knew what to make of the 8 to 0 ‑ inch hard ‑ plastic coin bank our father brought home to our Bedok kampong house. It felt too precious to use, and its narrow slot seemed to prefer dollar notes anyway. What captivated us, though, was its design — a miniature Chinese-style building with remarkably intricate moulding. We would hold it up, turning it in our hands, simply admiring the craftsmanship. Only much later did we realise what we had been looking at all along: a model of the original OCBC building on Chulia Street, then known as the China Building — the very site where the OCBC headquarters we believe now stands.

Our follower and friend, Mrs Jackie Munro finds herself thinking back to 1968 and to the family’s amah then, Selma binte Ali. Selma lived in one of the kampong houses in Bedok and was a wonderful, steady presence who agreed to care for the Munro household despite already raising seven children of her own. “Armeda was one of her daughters — she became a nurse, if I remember correctly. We were invited to their kampong home for Hari Raya celebrations. Her young son — his name escapes me now — was especially fond of the record Guantanamera,” Jackie recalls with a smile. This 1968 photo of Selma sees her on the ground floor yard of 2B (aka Sa-chan-lau) Bedok Road (Bedok Camp is in the distance)

Here is a wonderful photo of the contestants of the 1966 Qur’an recital competition held at the Masjid Bedok Laut, just a short walk from our Bedok kampong house (and featured in an earlier post). Mr Zainal Nizar, who shared this with us, is seated on the extreme left and just 15 years old then. He and his friends would come all the way from their RAF quarters at Telok Paku Road at Changi for this memorable day. He was second runner-up! Zainal also tells us he was an old boy of Siglap Secondary from 1967 to 1969 (then at Cheviot Hill, off Siglap Road). Thank you for sharing this with all our followers and readers, Mr Zainal!

He used to walk about 2km to school every day — Bedok Boys — from his home at Padang Terbakar (later renamed Siak Kuan Road in the 1970s). His house was the second one next to the old Sungei Bedok bridge, (855M Padang Terbakar, later 222 Siak Kuan Road) looking out toward the British pillboxes guarding the river mouth. And of course, another 2km home again after school. On those daily walks, he would have passed right by our Bedok kampong house at Kampong Laut, making his way out toward Bedok Corner before turning right. We were just babies and toddlers then, but how lovely that all these years later, we’ve connected with this neighbour from across the sungei — Daniel. Daniel shared with us this precious family photo taken around 1960, with him at the extreme right. Behind them, you can see the Bedok beach where the river met the sea, and at the right corner, the familiar silhouette of the pillboxes. He also remembers a huge, rarely-seen butter fruit tree in his compound — bearing ...

This 1968 photo of the back of our Bedok kampong house brings back memories indeed. This was the yard where laundry was hand-washed every morning then hung to dry.  Kak Min our neighbour at 4E, is to the left of the photo (and strangely our back is facing her front). That closed door ahead opens to the outside. And that open door you see on the right was the entrance to our uncle’s bedroom cum store. Foreground next to the belimbing tree (not that in-season here) is what both Malays and we Peranakan Babas call a ‘Tempayan’ or large urn. It stood under a rain gutter ending directly above to catch rain water used mostly for watering the garden (with a safety netting over it since we have little kids around). The thing about this tempayan, it reminded this writer, the older of the boys, on how our mother used to discipline me due to some disobedience issue. Picture this: I was running around the tempayan with her chasing but unable to catch me and strike (with the rotan or cane). Even...