Our Bedok Kampong House Singapore

A home is not simply a place you stay. It is a place that stays with you. For Marhamah Sapandi and Saadiah Ahmad , and their families, seeing this 1987 photograph taken by their granduncle Tok Noh, affectionally called ‘Atok’ by family - who revisited their former house to witness this demolition (the late Tok Noh would cycle over after Friday prayers each week despite having moved away)   - felt like watching a chapter of their lives being unstitched before their very eyes. The places where sunlight once fell into their rooms, the corners and sitting areas where they rested and dreamed, the kitchen where the aroma of meals cooked over gas stoves with tanks from Chop Bun Siong drifted through the air, the garden and open spaces where children played and laughed, the evenings when hush and stillness made everyone feel safe - all these carried the imprints of decades of memory that now yielded to a quiet kind of grief. Yes, the families - and all those from Jalan Greja and ...

At one end of the row of shophouses - closest to the small access road that once led into the homes of our Bedok kampong - stood a coffee shop that held a treasury of memories for so many of us who lived there. Facing the open carpark of the Bedok Rest House and the old Long Beach Seafood restaurant, the coffee shop sat shoulder‑to‑shoulder with a mama stall that sold the familiar snacks and sundry items of kampong life. It even rented out and sold books and magazines - the humble predecessor of what later became Jodhi Book Store at Marine Terrace. For TJ Puar , this place was more than a neighbourhood landmark. His late father rented the entire coffee shop - believed to be No.   6 Bedok Road - from 1974 to 1983. TJ was just fourteen then, watching the rhythms of kampong commerce unfold from the inside. The stalls within were sublet to various hawkers: a distant relative who sold bao , and an elderly couple who ran a porridge stall at the front. But the star attraction was unm...

In 1954, when our family first moved into our Bedok kampong house, our grandfather brought this Junghans pendulum clock and hung it in the living room - its Westminster chime becoming part of the daily rhythm of kampong life for the next twenty years, chiming every 15 minutes. When we moved to our new HDB flat in Marine Parade in 1974, the clock followed us, carrying his quiet presence into a new home. The wooden body was replaced in the 1970s after powderpost beetle infestation, but the original movement still beats faithfully, despite some rust here and there. This week’s wind up proves it again: seventy two years on, the chime still rings true - steady, bright, and strangely soothing. To this writer it gives a feeling that all is well. A simple object, perhaps. Yet for us, it remains a living thread to our grandfather, to the old house, and to the soundscape of a kampong long gone but never ever forgotten. What have you in your home now that still reminds you of your treasured pa...

November 1962. PSLE had just ended, and our cousin - then 12 - was preparing to leave her alma mater, Bedok Girls’ School , after six formative years. On her final day, her form teacher, Mrs   Bandara , handed her a small personal photograph, accompanied by a tender handwritten note on the back. It was a simple gesture, yet one filled with affection and sincerity. Our cousin has kept that photo ever since - more than six decades later - a quiet testament to how deeply it mattered. That gentle act speaks volumes about who Mrs   Bandara was as a teacher. She was not someone who viewed teaching as merely a job. Instead, she embraced it as a calling - guiding, mentoring, and caring for the girls under her charge, sending them off from their primary‑school “ nest ” with hope and encouragement as they stepped into the wider world. This Teacher’s Day 2026 , we honour all former teachers of both Bedok Girls’ School and Bedok Boys’ School - especially Mrs   Bandara - who devoted thei...

Built in   1902 to link Katong and   Bedok , this laterite stretch of East   Coast   Road - later aptly renamed Upper   East   Coast   Road - hugs the shoreline in a coastal scene lift. The swaying coconut palms lend the scene its gentle coastal rhythm, evoking the serenity of Singapore’s seaside roads before reclamation reshaped the land. Captured around   1950 by Tony   Holt of the   RAF   Changi   Association , this photograph brings to life the road that once led toward Bedok   Corner , now lovingly colourised in soft mid‑century hues . We are deeply grateful for the permission to share this image with our followers and readers — a glimpse of the calm we cherish in our Bedok   heritage   memoriam .

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...

For decades, the Bedok Police Station stood as a familiar anchor along Bedok Road, just before the sharp corner turn that every kampong resident knew well. On 1 January 1985, it closed its doors for good - officially “due to a decline in the number of residents in the area, a result of the government’s resettlement programme,” as reported by The Straits Times . That same day, the Somapah Police Post at Jalan Somapah Timor also ceased operations, marking the end of an era for our neighbourhood’s early policing outposts. Operating for more than forty‑five years, the earliest mention of the station appears in a May 1939 news report about the tragic drowning of a three‑year‑old boy from Padang Terbakar. From then on, the Bedok Balai Polis became woven into the daily rhythms of kampong life — not merely as an institution of safety and law enforcement, but as a community touchpoint. Beyond its official duties, the station hosted “Little Police Weeks”, designed to strengthen ties between...

When national resettlement and land‑reclamation plans reached the eastern coastline in 1982, Aimida Haq and her family - together with their neighbours - had to leave the place they had called home for more than fifty-seven years (both her father and children were all born there). Their house at 150A Siak Kuan Road, just a short walk from where the former Sekolah Melayu Padang Terbakar (Padang Terbakar Malay School) once stood, was soon gone, erased by the tide of redevelopment. In the decades that followed, new landmarks rose in its place: the Changi MRT Depot, Singapore Expo, and the NEWater Plant. Yet the longing for the kampong they grew up in never faded. Through a private Facebook group formed to reconnect old neighbours, their kampong spirit endured - friendships deepened, stories resurfaced, and the bonds forged in childhood remained unbroken. Then in 2015, a simple idea took root: to return to their childhood hometown and see how the landscape had changed. In March that ...

To think that for a brief window in our kampong years - from 1960 to 1963 - Singapore’s National Day was not the August 9th we’ve celebrated for the past 60 years, but June 3rd , marking the moment Singapore attained internal self‑governance from the United Kingdom in 1959 before merging with Malaysia on September 16 th , 1963. It was a different rhythm of nationhood, an earlier milestone that sat at the threshold of the Singapore we would eventually become. In fact celebrations were held at both Bedok Girls’ and Boys’ Schools during those years. This first‑day cover, issued on 3 June 1960, commemorates that very first National Day. Addressed to our mother just before she married our dad and moved into our Bedok kampong house, it is more than postal history - it is a small, paper‑thin bridge to the world our parents stepped into as newlyweds, a world where Singapore was still finding its voice and its footing. Thank you, Mom, for sharing this precious artefact with all of us here. ...

We remember those short walks from our Bedok kampong house to Swee Aun, the neighbourhood provision shop that once stood where Cold Storage now sits along Bedok Road, near today’s bus stop. To us, the most‑friendly owner was always Ah   Yam - whom Mr   Yeo Hong Eng, in The Little Red Cliff , identifies as his relative, Uncle Yam. Mr   Yeo paints a vivid picture of the shop in his book: “Just like any provision shop of those days, Uncle Yam’s shop was stacked with rice, flour of different types, dried food products, canned food, bottled drinks, stationery and many other items. He usually wore striped pyjama pants and a singlet when conducting business.” -  The Little Red Cliff , p.   47 That description matches our own memory of Ah   Yam perfectly. He was a gentle, disarming man - almost always in his white singlet and drawstring pyjama trousers with vertical blue stripes - moving easily between the aisles of his shop, greeting neighbours with a smile that felt ...

Today’s post remembers beloved Hong Kong film and television icon Patrick Tse , known to our Bedok kampong folk by the name we grew up with - Tse Yin ( 謝賢 ) , pronounced Jeh Yin in Cantonese. He passed away on 16 July 2026 , just three weeks shy of his 90th birthday, closing a remarkable career that began in 1952 , when he was only sixteen. Over the decades he remained a constant presence on screen - actor, producer, director - with more than 170 productions to his name. Even at the time of his passing, another television series he had completed was still in post‑production. Our grandmother adored him - not only for his acting talent and rising popularity, but also for his striking good looks, a naturally handsome young man who lit up the screen. In 1958 , when the new Hollywood Theatre opened along Tanjong Katong Road, one of the films screened that year was The Heart Stealer ( 情賊 ). Tse Yin was just 22 , already a star. Grandmother was so taken by him that she brought our cousi...

It was one of those everyday wonders we grew up with each time the tide goes out from our beloved Bedok Beach. The moment the shoreline widened and the seabed revealed its secrets, Bedok kampong folk would move in, expectancy in the air. Families and children - we dug for mussels, clams, lalas , the occasional shy crab, and all the small wonders the sea offered only at low tide. For us boys, it was our paternal aunt who led the way. She would bring us down in the late afternoon, when the sun softened and the sand still held the day’s warmth. Those hours crouched over the sand, splashing in shallow pools, discovering treasure after treasure - remain some of the sweetest memories of all of our childhood. This 1954 photograph, shared by our former neighbour Daniel Koh, captures that world perfectly. Daniel, the baby in his late mother’s arms in this image, grew up at Kampong Padang Terbakar , just across Sungei Bedok from Kampong Bedok Laut - linked by that familiar little bridge w...

Back in those days, it was all too common for us Bedok kampong folk to witness road accidents at that notorious sharp bend where Upper East Coast Road meets Bedok Road. More than once, we saw the aftermath of cars that tried to take that corner at high speed - only to skid out of control and shoot straight ahead into the shop front beyond the bend. A recent chat with our old neighbour Ron Ho, who lived less than a hundred metres from that treacherous corner, unlocked vivid memories of the accidents he personally witnessed - recollections so clear he can still picture them as if they happened yesterday. Ron shared one such incident: “Around 1961, one morning I heard a loud screeching from a motorbike, followed by a bang. I ran out of my house and saw that it had skidded and crashed into the pillar of the second coffee shop from the right. The rider was injured, cupping his right hand over his right eye, bloodied, while his female pillion rider had fainted but was not hurt.” But th...

In the carefree days of the 1960s and 1970s, so many of us grew up in our Bedok kampong discovering our worlds on two wheels. A bicycle was freedom - the easiest way to savour everything the kampong offered. We all remember cycling from our various houses, crossing Sungei Bedok, and heading toward the lovely, picturesque village of Mata Ikan and beyond, where the coast always seemed to shimmer in the distance. Our friend and follower John Lynn went even further than we ever did. As a young teenager in Siglap, he once rode with friends from an RAF family and cycled all the way from his home to Bedok Corner, entered the kampong’s gravel tracks, crossed the river, pedalled passed Padang Terbakar, and continued on to Somapah, passing Ayer Gemboroh and all the way to Tanah Merah Beach - and then rode back again. Wind in their faces, laughter in the air, and a smile sealed into memory. Such recollections bring back vivid images of cycling along sandy tracks bordered by swaying coconut t...

One morning in July 1961, a baby boy - the first ‑ born in our Bedok kampong house - came into the world at KK Hospital. And from that very first night, he made sure the kampong knew of his arrival. For a hundred nights he announced himself without fail in loud cries and wails, until a medium advised his parents to appoint godparents who shared his mother’s family name, though not related. Only then did the nightly chorus finally cease. He grew quickly, and soon a younger brother arrived eighteen months later. Then came cousin after cousin, until the house brimmed with joy, noise, and the unmistakable music of childhood. Six children in all - the house siblings’ third generation - filling every corner of our kampong home with laughter. As the oldest son of the oldest son in a Peranakan family, that once ‑ restless baby boy is now   65. Looking back, I count it a privilege to reflect on the historical significance of the life we lived in this literal corner of Singapore - Bedo...

A little less than two years ago, we shared a story about our go to barber along Bedok Road - Hair, There and Everywhere - a hilarious account of how impossibly difficult I was as a young boy whenever it was time for a haircut. Back and forth I went between our Bedok kampong house and the little shop, never quite cooperating. Today, we are deeply grateful to have reconnected with the lovely family who once lived in that humble house cum barber shop at 34 Bedok Road, right by the bus stop - the very spot where Eastwood Centre now stands. M.S. Velu was part of a group of Indian merchants who arrived from Java in the 1930s, seeking a better life in Singapore. Here, he found his life partner, settled into the family home at 34 Bedok Road, and with his skillful hands set up a barber shop that served Bedok kampong, Jalan Greja, and the surrounding neighbourhoods. For many years he worked alone, occasionally receiving help during festive seasons, but he remained the preferred barber for coun...

Some records describe Kampong   Bedok   Laut as a settlement for fishermen and farmers. Yet when our family arrived in the mid ‑ 1950s - and through its life until the early   1990s - the kampong was already a living tapestry of multiculturalism. Having called it home for twenty years, we still recall our neighbours vividly: Kak   Min and her family at Rumah   Bombay; Chew   Nian and Sa   Kor across the lane; the Ho’s and Soh’s nearby. Mdm   Salmah, her large family, and other residents along Jalan   Greja shaped the kampong’s architecture with their daily rhythms. M.   S.   Velu, our village barber, worked beside Ah   Yam of Swee   Aun   Provision   Shop - each eking out a livelihood with steadfast dignity, quiet industry and honest labour. We remember too our friends Adrian   Boudville , Mark   Roch, and their families, and Daniel   Koh. Aimida Haq and the households at Padang   Terbakar who brought colour to our neighbourhood. Adding to this mosaic were Jackie Munro, Ann Froud our R...

How wonderful it felt when SingPost recently launched their new stamp and postcard issue, Our Last Kampongs - and our follower and friend, Dr   Ernest   Chew, gifted us a full postcard set, “inspired by our posts,” he told us. According to SingPost, these postcards “capture the distinct spirits of Kampong Lorong Buangkok and Pulau   Ubin ’ s Kampong   Sungei   Durian through a charmingly quirky lens. Each design offers a whimsical glimpse into a vanishing way of life, illustrating the tightly huddled zinc‑roofed houses and the sun‑drenched, nature‑reclaimed dwellings. Through these artistic windows, the postcards rekindle the warmth and simplicity of our shared heritage, serving as a nostalgic bridge that transports us to a gentler era beautifully preserved in every tiny, intricate detail.” And inspired by these beautifully illustrated postcards, we tried our hand at an AI-re-interpretion of the August 1955 photo of our Bedok kampong house in a similar illustrative style – and h...