Our Bedok Kampong House Singapore

This year we once again had the pleasure of being present for the National Library Board’s Donors' Appreciation Night, graced by Mrs Josephine Teo, Minister for Digital Development and Information, held on 23 October 2026. Upon our father’s death 3 years ago, we had donated, in his name, documents, keepsakes and photographs our dad had kept all the many years even before moving over to our Bedok kampong house in 1954. These were brought along to our HDB flat when we moved in 1974 and stayed there throughout the decades ever since. Over the years, he had expressed his desire to donate items of historical or heritage value to organisations such as the National Library Archives but did not get to do so in his lifetime. Last year, on display, among other items donated by others, was a 1942 Japanese occupation dictionary, historical documents of the Bukit Timah Rubber Estates (1942) and 1919 photos of the Singapore Peace Celebration taken by our grandfather. This year, we are so h...

They first met in 1954 when she was just eighteen years old and living with her family near the Bedok Police Station. A year later, when the family moved to 14 Jalan Haji Salam, a budding friendship blossomed into a romance that would stand the test of time. After four years of courtship, the couple became engaged in 1958. However, following the passing of the groom's father and in keeping with the traditions of the day, their wedding plans had to be postponed for several years out of filial respect. At last, on Christmas Eve in 1962, wedding bells rang for the young couple as they began their married life together. He joined the rest of her family at Jalan Haji Salam, where they lived until June 1967, when the house was sold and the family relocated to a new HDB home in Bukit Merah. Their family soon grew with the arrival of three lovely children. Their eldest child was born in this very house two years after their marriage. By the time they left Jalan Haji Salam, she was ex...

We would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to Tunku Dato' Iskandar Dzulkarnain, grandson of the late Sultan Abu Bakar of Pahang, for his deeply engaging book, Trailblazer: Life & Legacy – Abu Bakar of Pahang. Having connected with us through this Facebook page, Tengku Nain (his name in shortform:)) very kindly presented a copy of the book to the older of us, thoughtfully arranging for it to be delivered from Kuala Lumpur just last month. Recognised as one of the 50 Best Malaysian Titles for International Rights 2023–2025, the book chronicles the life and achievements of the towering fourth Sultan of Pahang, who stood an impressive 1.88 metres tall. Ascending the throne in 1933 at just 28 years of age, Sultan Abu Bakar would go on to reign for forty-two years, establishing himself as a formidable presence not only in the political landscape of Malaya but also in the social and economic development of Pahang and the wider peninsula. The book vividly recounts His Highness's ...

With most of us having moved to brightly lit HDB estates following the relocation and redevelopment years, it is almost overwhelming to remember just how dark our kampong nights once were. At our home at 10J Bedok Road, the rear of the house, where the main entrance door was actually located, faced a gravel road illuminated by only a handful of widely spaced incandescent street lamps. The front of the house, however, faced the sea and had no such lighting. Once dusk fell, a curtain of darkness would descend upon us. This photograph captures the front verandah of our house, with its distinctive criss-cross timber lattice panels. Seated on a rattan armchair is our mother, then in her mid-thirties, in 1973. What is remarkable is that beyond the reach of the camera's flash lay complete darkness. The photographer was looking directly out from the verandah, yet there was virtually nothing for the lens to capture. Looking at the image today, it is little wonder that kampong nights o...

Recently, we were contacted by reader Jelajah Ilmu Benar Insani, who, to our great delight, turned out to be one of the descendants of Haji Kahar, the famed "King of Bedok". Through his villa at Jalan Haji Salam and the legacy he left behind, Haji Kahar's presence remains an unmistakable and enduring part of Bedok's history. Our conversations on Messenger opened a fascinating window into the life of this remarkable pioneer, whose influence helped shape the Bedok of old. Villa Haji Kahar, named after businessman Haji Kahar bin Haji Abdul Ghani, was recently gazetted for conservation and was described by The Straits Times as "one of the last surviving markers of the old Kampong Bedok." Standing at No. 1 Bedok Avenue, just off Jalan Haji Salam, the two-storey bungalow occupies a generous 5,963.2 sq m site that also includes No. 3 Bedok Avenue, a beautifully crafted kampong house that once formed part of the family's estate. Based on public records, Ha...

 To everyone who reads this blog, thank you. We are truly glad you are part of this journey. Within these posts, and in our companion Facebook page, lies a living archive of a vanished Bedok that future generations might otherwise never know existed. These stories are more than simple histories. While many heritage articles tell us what once stood here, these recollections help us remember how it felt to live there. Through photographs, memories and personal accounts, we are transported back to the rhythms of everyday kampong life: the familiar faces, the well-trodden shortcuts, the bus rides, the neighbourhood shops, and the friendships that bound our community together. These ordinary moments may never appear in official records, yet they are often the memories we cherish most. This page has become more than a collection of stories. It is a shared community narrative, woven together by former residents, family members, neighbours and friends, all contributing their own thre...

This photograph, taken in 1985 by Jayne Krishna , captures a familiar scene along Bedok Road. It was photographed from the bus stop (notice the roof?) just outside her late grandfather's shop, belonging to our favourite barber, Uncle Velu. For many former kampong residents, this was a place rich with everyday memories. If you had been making your way to catch a bus here, you might have emerged from the wet market behind after taking the narrow shortcut that ran between Uncle Velu's shop and Fang Rong. Those cycling in from Padang Terbakar would often lock their bicycles along the fence of the Bedok Rest House before walking through the terrace shops to reach the bus stop. After checking whether your bus had arrived, chances were you would have stood for a while, letting your gaze wander across the row of interconnecting houses directly opposite. Looking further to the left, you would have seen the distinctive two-storey laundry building, followed by the Bedok Police Post. ...

We started this blog and Facebook page to share stories of life at our Bedok kampong home at 10J Bedok Road during the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. Many former residents began following our page and reaching out to us. It became our privilege not only to recount our own memories, but also to tell the stories of others who had lived in the same kampong community before the tide of relocation and redevelopment changed the landscape forever. What many may not know is that, in the early days of this page, we received an unexpected comment that took us completely by surprise. It came from our former next-door neighbours from the Rumah Bombay house at 4E Bedok Road. That remarkable discovery led to an initial reunion, and just last month, two former neighbours, both among the surviving residents of that bygone era, were reunited after fifty-two years apart. We were warmly welcomed by Abu Bakar Haji Ibrahim and his family into their lovely home, where we enjoyed their generous hospitality and ...

Today, we dedicate this Children’s Day post to all the little ones who once lived, played, and breathed in the old Bedok kampongs and their surrounding villages. There was truly something different - something magical - about being a child in our kampong from the 50's through the 70's. Childhood was not an age; it was an adventure. For Ron Ho , the kampong was freedom itself - roaming the beach, digging for shells, hunting for crabs and prawns at low tide, and “attacking” fruit trees that definitely belonged to someone else. Those were, as he often says, the best years of his growing‑up life. For Saadiah Ahmad , the memories still spark joy. She learnt to ride a bicycle along sandy lanes, caught banana‑tree worms to feed the family’s monkey, followed her mother to the beach to collect cockles, crabs and seaweed for homemade agar‑agar . She remembers catching tiny fish at the big drain near the army camp and watching mudskippers dance at the mouth of Sungei Bedok. For Marc...

Indeed, it was a lovely day to be married - 2 October 1960, the day our parents tied the knot. After the groom fetched his bride and returned briefly to our Bedok kampong house for the traditional tea ceremony, they set off for their studio portraits at Studio De Luxe, located at 33 Stamford Road. Only after the photographs were taken did they continue on to their wedding high tea - a modest celebration at Robinsons Café in Raffles Place, back when the Robinsons Department Store stood as a landmark of the district. A dinner was beyond their means then, but the joy of the day was full and unreserved. This photograph was taken just outside the studio, capturing the moment the couple prepared to leave for Robinsons Café after the photo session. Our mother, the bride, is seen being gently helped into the wedding car by her bridesmaid - her younger sister - and the best man. It is an iconic image for our family: not only for the splendid Pontiac that carried them through the day, but also...

In our earlier post, we introduced 30 Bedok Road, the modest shophouse known as Fang Rong, remembered by many as a half‑tailor, half‑barber establishment before redevelopment erased it from the landscape. What makes this little building especially meaningful to us is that it carried a connection to our own family. Houses can be owned, like ours at 10J Bedok Road – but we still had to pay monthly ground rent to our landlords, the Queks. And if we failed to make the monthly rent, the landlord reserved the right to have our house demolished – such was the precarious nature of living in kampongs in those days. Others like this shophouse was rented and the owner pays the ground rent on its behalf. Well, the owner of this shophouse at 30 Bedok Road was our grandfather. Before the renumbering exercise of early 1964, the property was known as 630‑A Bedok Road. Our grandfather purchased it in September 1950 for $4,700. He owned the structure, but still paid ground rent to the landowners of ...

The experience of having the neighbourhood Indian bread mama - our familiar uncle on wheels - come right up to our kampong houses was truly on another level. It always began with HEARING him before anything else: that bright bicycle bell, sometimes a cheeky horn, ringing through the stillness of our gravel paths. Only then would you SEE him pedalling steadily toward the side of our houses, easing his bicycle to a gentle stop. He would dismount in one fluid motion, flick the kickstand down, and flip open the wooden bread compartment behind him - transforming it instantly into a makeshift cutting table. And with that simple gesture came the unmistakable SMELL of freshly baked roti perancis (baguette), its crusty, golden aroma drifting toward us like an invitation. Our mother remembers that whenever she ordered an entire perancis , he would slice it horizontally from end to end, opening the warm loaf like a book. One side received a generous spread of Planta; the other, his own h...

Many in our Bedok kampong community will remember Fang Rong, at 30 Bedok Road - that modest little house which once operated as half tailor, half barber, sitting just to the right (from the orientation of this photograph) of Uncle Velu’s Indian barber shop at 34 Bedok Road. From Jayne Krishna’s years living with her grandfather Velu in the 70’s and 80’s, we learn that the barber‑owner here was Hainanese, living on the premises with his family. Jayne also recalls that several tailors came and went over the years - a reminder of how trades in the kampong shifted with time, opportunity, and circumstance. From our conversations with Ron Ho, a more intimate portrait of one of the earlier tailors emerges. In the late 1950s, the tailor was a man named Ah   Kow, married with two young children. He was part of a tontine community - known variously as hwei ( 银会 ) in Chinese, duit kutu in Malay, or kootu in Tamil - a communal savings system that helped families manage their finances long b...

Whenever the old Bedok Police Post or Police Station comes up in conversation, our attention almost inevitably shifts to the building beside it - a structure so familiar to kampong residents that it felt like part of the station’s own silhouette. Thanks once again to Jayne Krishna, whose 1985 photograph preserves this humble landmark, we are able to share its memory here. From our chats with both Jayne and our Rumah Bombay  neighbour Abu   Bakar, we learn that the left side of the building housed the dhobi (laundry) shop, while the right side was home to a sound and TV repair shop - clearly visible in Jayne’s 1985 photo under the Skylight Trading   Co. signboard. Though the structure is long gone - replaced by the car park of Bedok Corner Food Centre - it remains vivid in memory as a simple working house that stood beside the police station (on the left of this photo but covered with foliage) for decades, supporting everyday life through laundry and electronic repair work.

Seventy‑five years ago, on the morning of 22 September 1951 , our late father - just 21 years old then - made his way with friends to the Padang , joining thousands who gathered to witness a milestone in Singapore’s story. Before them stood the grand façade of the Supreme Court , its dome gleaming in the sun, as officials prepared for the ceremony that would formally confer Singapore’s new status: no longer a Town, but a City , proclaimed by His Royal Majesty King George VI . In the photograph above, you can almost feel the atmosphere of that day - the crowds on the field, the sense of anticipation, the pride of a young generation watching their home take a symbolic step forward. Our father was among them, an eyewitness to a moment that would be remembered for decades. He didn’t just attend; he documented. Quite a few photographs were taken by him and his friends, capturing the ceremony, the people, and the energy of the Padang. These images - once kept in our Bedok kampong house ...

We have always loved this studio portrait of our dad’s eldest sister - a photograph taken around 1950 , now lovingly preserved in the National Library Archives . In it, Aunt Annie sits poised on a wooden chair, dressed in a light‑coloured patterned dress with soft puffed sleeves and a neat collar. The floral and bird motifs across her fabric feel almost symbolic now: gentle, hopeful, quietly expressive. Her hair is styled in graceful waves, the kind of mid‑century elegance that speaks of care, pride, and a young woman stepping confidently into adulthood. She would have been about 25 here - serene, self‑possessed, and mature beyond her years. Even the way she holds her handbag, resting lightly on her lap, suggests a woman who understood her place in the world, who carried herself with dignity and quiet assurance. There is a stillness in her posture, a calm strength in her gaze, that makes this portrait feel almost timeless. And yet, just a few years after this photograph was taken,...

In the monsoon season of December 1986 to January 1987, most of Singapore escaped the severe floods of earlier decades - yet for Isnimah and her family at 31H Jalan Greja, the waters still found their way in. The flood rose around their house and its surrounds, reaching knee ‑ high levels for adults, and waist ‑ deep for any child aged ten or twelve. Their home sat close to the large drains running beside the Bedok Methodist Church compound, leading all the way to Sungei Bedok. Whenever the rains came hard, everyone knew what would follow: the big drain would overflow, and the water would spill over into their homes. But for children, this was never only a story of inconvenience. Born and raised in the house at 31H, Isnimah lived there until she completed her PSLE at Bedok Primary School. And she remembers that year’s flood not with dread, but with a kind of sparkling anticipation - the thrill of waiting for the water to rise just enough so she and her cousins could leap in, spla...

This is our paternal aunt - the one we affectionately call Nya Nya - the heartbeat of our Bedok kampong house. She was the neighbour‑connector, the one who somehow knew every household, every small story that made our kampong feel whole. When the skies darkened and the first drops began to fall, her familiar call of “Lo hor ah!” would ring across the neighbourhood. It was a sound everyone recognised - a gentle alert that laundry needed to be brought in, a reminder that someone was looking out for you. That was her way: always noticing, always caring. She planted tapioca trees in our garden so that future tea-times would be assured. She knew how to slaughter chickens and prepare the Hainanese chicken rice we loved, turning ordinary afternoons into meals that tasted like home. Her carrying heart extended far beyond family - even the stray dogs and cats around the kampong knew her kindness, and enjoyed a small morsel and a moment of affection. In this 1959 photograph , she sits ...

Our mother turns 88 years old this week. She first stepped into our Bedok kampong house as a young bride of 22, in October 1960 , when she married our father. From that moment, her life became woven into the rhythms of the house - learning to partner her sisters‑in‑law in its daily motions, caring for her mother‑in‑law, raising her two sons, and eventually guiding the entire household after our grandmother’s passing. Through the decades, she kept pace with the movements of kampong life  - the laughter of neighbours who became friends, the shared meals, the quiet evenings when the house seemed to breathe with its own memory. Her grace was steady, her presence constant, her leadership gentle yet sure. We share here our favourite photograph of her, taken during her honeymoon on Penang Hill , October 1960. Seated against the cool daylight and the sweep of the bay below, she is radiant - poised, confident, and stunning. The image captures not just youth and beauty, but the beginni...

This week, we honour the birthday of our Ah Gong - the Patriarch of our Bedok kampong house, and the grandfather whose life continues to shape ours in ways both seen and unseen. Born in 1878, he purchased our kampong home in 1954, giving our family a place we would cherish for the next twenty years. Ah Gong was a man of quiet discipline and unwavering duty. His work ethic was exemplary, and his service as a volunteer corps member during World War I remains one of the most meaningful chapters of our family history. His name appears in two published books documenting the early contributions of the Chinese community in Singapore. Within those pages sits this 1907 photograph - a proud moment capturing his marksmanship as part of a rifle ‑ shooting team, a testament to his skill, commitment, and sense of responsibility. It took us several months to piece together a blog that tells his story - how he stood for the defence of Singapore, how he contributed to its economic life in those e...

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...