Our Bedok Kampong House Singapore

We recently came across a beautifully handwritten Jawi note dated 30 August 1946, tucked inside our grandfather’s old folder from our Bedok kampong house - a folder our late father continued to keep long after we moved away. None of us had ever seen this document before. It surfaced only after Dad’s passing, as though it had been waiting quietly for its moment to be remembered. The text appears to be a formal Islamic legal declaration, likely touching on matters such as inheritance, guardianship, or the transfer of rights. Its B.M.A. (British Military Administration) stamp places it firmly in the immediate postwar period, confirming that it was officially recognised at a time when Malaya was rebuilding its civic and administrative structures. We do not know who the individuals named in the document were, nor how this paper came into our grandfather’s possession. But its survival feels meaningful. The document has now been donated to the National Library Board’s Archives, where it can b...

There is a saying our mother once shared with us - one she carried quietly through the decades since we left our Bedok kampong in 1974. She was just thirty‑six then, leaving behind the house our family had lived in since 1954, a home that had shaped twenty years of our lives. Now, at almost eighty‑eight, she recalls a moment with her late mother‑in‑law, spoken in soft Peranakan Baba Patois - a reminder passed from one generation to the next: “Pandai tak lawan (melawan) nasib.” Cleverness cannot overcome fate (or blessings). It was a simple line, yet it held the weight of lived experience. Our paternal grandmother was telling her daughter‑in‑law not to carry the world on her shoulders - that no matter how smart, capable, or resourceful we may be, there are currents in life we cannot command. We may be pandai , but without the right nasib , things may not fall into place. And sometimes, even without great cleverness or advantage, good nasib can open paths we never expected. As w...

We are pretty sure this 1985 photograph of the original Bedok Corner Food Centre - which first began operations in 1971 - will stir up memories of the sedap kind. Not just for us, but for every Bedok kampong foodie (and former Bedok army camp mate) who still carries these gastronomic delights close to heart. Before its refurbishment in 2005 transformed it into the food centre we recognise today, this humble structure served as a gathering point for the itinerant hawkers in our kampong. Many of them operated just across the road at the sandy patch outside the old Bedok Rest House, bringing with them the aromas and flavours that many a kampong folk still carry in our minds today. Thanks to Jayne Krishna , who captured this scene from across the road and generously shared it with us, we can now savour a rare moment in time - a framed piece of culinary time‑travel indeed. Beyond the well‑remembered cheng tng and dried cuttlefish stalls, one hawker our family recalls fondly was Mr T...

Looking back at our Bedok kampong of days past that included all the adjoining areas like Jalan Greja, we could quietly boast of something extraordinary: Malay film legends once lived among us. One of them was the iconic Nordin Ahmad. A Star Just Three Houses Away For Yitzhak Usov, the memory is vivid. Nordin lived just three houses down from him at 33L Jalan Greja . Marhamah Sapan, who stayed at 35M , remembers living barely 50 metres away - all neighbours sharing the same sandy lanes, the same evening breeze, the same kampong spirit. It is remarkable to imagine: a man celebrated across Malaysia and Singapore, yet here in Bedok he was simply another resident, another familiar figure in the neighbourhood. Why Bedok Became Home Born in Penang in 1929, Nordin entered the film world early - starring in his first movie at just 22. When he began his contract with Cathay‑Keris Film Productions in 1956, it made perfect sense for him to relocate to Singapore. With the studio’s office...

Sometimes the memories that linger most vividly from our school days are not the pleasant ones, but the moments that shaped our character in unexpected ways. For Daniel Koh, the discipline at Bedok Boys’ School during his years from 1960 to 1965 remains unforgettable. While many schools of that era practised public caning - Bedok Boys’ included - there was another method considered the “lesser evil.” An offending student, accompanied by a teacher, would go from class to class to explain his misdeed. It was a walk of mild shame, meant not to humiliate but to nudge the boy toward better behavioural outcomes. What the whole school remembers with a mix of amusement and dread, however, was the Bell Ringing ritual. Once a week, just before the open-air assembly, a loud bell would ring - sharp enough for every boy to hear, whether he was on the field or along the corridors. The moment it sounded, every student had to freeze. Stand at attention. Hold completely still for 20 to 30 seconds...

Today brought a delightful surprise -  a discovery that reconnects us with a name woven deeply into our Bedok Laut and Padang Terbakar kampong memories. The original Koh Sek Lim Road, the quiet stretch many of us remember leading to the NEWater Visitor Centre since 2003 (and recently closed), has now been succeeded by a brand ‑ new Koh Sek Lim Road just a short distance away. As the map in the photo shows, this new road sits roughly 300 metres from the original alignment, built wider and sturdier, with two ‑ lane traffic in both directions. It follows the gentle curve of the Sungei Bedok Canal as it flows towards the East Coast Parkway, giving the landscape a renewed sense of openness and movement. Although the new road does not sit exactly where the old one once lay, its name - proudly inherited - feels like a small but meaningful act of remembrance. For those of us who grew up in the kampongs nearby, seeing “Koh Sek Lim Road” rise again on a modern streetscape is a quiet affi...