Our Bedok Kampong House Singapore

One of the quiet treasures of our old Bedok kampong house was an 11‑page commemorative booklet marking the public celebrations of May 1935 in honour of the Silver Jubilee of His Majesty King George V - the maternal great‑grandfather of the present King Charles III. Once belonging to our paternal grandfather Tan Piah Eng , this fragile programme is more than a keepsake; it is a window into the civic life of pre‑war Singapore. Its pages map out routes and landmarks still familiar to us today - Orchard Road, Connaught Drive, the Padang, Jalan Besar, to name a few - and reveal a city alive with parades, lantern processions, fireworks, and community pageantry. Most strikingly, it records four centres across the island that served free meals to the poor, a reminder that even amid royal celebration, the spirit of communal care ran deep. This book has since been donated to the National Library Board / National Archives of Singapore for preservation , ensuring that its stories -  and the ha...

A visit by cousins from our first step‑grandmother to our cousin - the second step‑grandmother - at her Jalan Haji Salam home was never complete without a short stroll down to Bedok Beach. There, a photo would always mark the day. We’re so glad they took this one - seated just outside the fenced police quarters, on a perfectly placed rock that seems made for the moment. Decades later, it still feels as if they’re waiting for us to join them, inviting us to sit, smile, and remember. Our heartfelt thanks to Winnie Goh and Yap Teck Gim for sharing this lovely photograph - a window into a gentler time and the enduring ties of family.

On lazy weekends, the songs of old - especially those beloved Chinese melodies from the 1960s like Lover’s Tears - would drift through our Bedok kampong, carried from someone’s Rediffusion box or a Radio Singapura AM set. They invited us to hum along to their beautiful tunes, even when the lyrics were heartbreakingly sad. Ann Froud remembers this song well, and she even kept her original 1963 record. Here is Poon Sow Keng (Pan Xiuqiong) once again lamenting her lost love for us, her voice as tender as ever. Thank you, Ann, for sharing your 45rpm EP cover, this lovely memory, and for opening this gentle doorway back to the world we once knew.

We feel so honoured that our former neighbour, Daniel Koh , has shared glimpses of his childhood and growing‑up years in our Bedok kampong - at Padang Terbakar , where he was born and raised with his family. This lovely video offers an intimate look at his family of origin , including a touching segment dedicated to his paternal grandfather, Koh Sek Lim . Watching how Daniel enjoyed life in our kampong — especially that unforgettable ‘outdoor swimming pool’ just outside his home - brings back a whole era now long gone, yet still rich with memory and affection. His stories remind us of the simple joys, the freedom, and the neighbourly warmth that shaped our childhood landscape. Kam Siah, Baba Daniel (Peranakan speak) — thank you for keeping these memories alive.

What sat beneath a kampong house? For many of us who grew up in these raised wooden ‑ planked homes, that shaded under ‑ floor space became our own version of an attic - a cool, half ‑ lit world where old furniture, tools and forgotten belongings quietly settled over the years. In this 1961 photograph of the back of our former Bedok kampong house (614 ‑ 3, later 10J Bedok Road), you can see how the timber structure rested on a concrete platform, creating a natural storage space beneath it. Within that low ‑ slung area, a narrow passageway allowed the adults to duck ‑ walk their way to whatever they needed - but for us little boys, it became a perfect looping tricycle track. We pedalled round and round under the beams until the day we finally grew too tall to fit. By around 1967, our uncle - ever the skilled carpenter - enclosed a small section facing the front. That tiny nook became our toddler cousin’s playroom, and for us older boys, a cherished corner to play ‘house’ long before...

Sometimes an ordinary evening walk along Bedok beach in 1963 could turn quietly magical. That was how Ann Froud - out with her little dog - found herself greeted by children from the nearby kampong, their faces bright with curiosity as they reached out to meet their new four-legged friend. Behind them stood the familiar silhouettes of the government holiday bungalows, tall and reassuring. Ann had arrived in Singapore earlier that year with her RAF husband, settling into her home tucked between the Bedok Rest House and the three storey sa-chan-lau, reached by a small side lane leading down from Bedok Corner. She would spend more than three years there, gathering a treasury of memories. She often recalled how “the people from the local shops and the kampong were all so kind and friendly towards me.” Even now, decades later, she remembers the comforting soundtrack of that place: the rhythmic click clack of mahjong tiles drifting from a neighbour’s home, and the gentle call to prayer r...

In the early months of 1968, the Munros took a leisurely stroll down Upper East Coast Road from their home at Bedok Corner, the familiar Sa‑chan‑lau three‑storey building. Vic Munro, armed with his new camera, captured the sights of the day - moments Jackie would later recall with fond clarity. It was the same day they met up with their wedding best man, who had flown in from the UK as part of the RAF’s Vulcan aircraft support team. The Vulcan was, of course, the very aircraft on which Vic had been working when the couple first met. Among the photographs taken on that walk was this striking image of the Yuan Meng Shih Buddhist Temple (Yuan Ming Si / 圓明寺 ) at 631 Upper East Coast Road. A check with the temple authorities revealed that it was built around 1964, when the sea still lapped directly across the road - long before land reclamation reshaped the coastline. They also shared that the temple has undergone two major renovations over the decades, meaning its original façade has ch...

Here is our cousin in 1960, ten years old and in Primary 4, standing with her classmates just outside their classroom at Bedok Girls’ School. The scene feels unmistakably festive - each girl holding a small Singapore flag -  yet we wonder what the exact occasion was. It could not have been National Day as we know it today; that celebration did not yet exist. And it was only the year before, on 3 December 1959, that Singapore officially adopted its state flag, coat of arms, and national anthem Majulah Singapura , along with our first Yang di-Pertuan Negara, Yusof Ishak, who would later become our first President. What makes this photograph especially distinctive, preserved here in its original black‑and‑white, are the girls’ pinafore uniforms. Guided by recollections by our cousin and Saadiah Ahmad, who also provided the light blue gingham swatch for this background template, we now know how memorable and iconic those uniforms were to the students who wore them.

Our Bedok kampong was more than just the clusters of homes near the coastal front of Bedok Laut and the surrounding areas. It also stretched further along Bedok Road, encompassing the kampong homes whose addresses bore the name Jalan Greja. From Jalan Greja to Bedok Laut, and even across the river to Pandang Terbakar (later renamed Siak Kuan Road) and beyond, the homes were linked by a network of back-lane pathways, making it easy to move fluidly from one house to another. One such home was that of Mdm Salmah and her family at 35M Jalan Greja. Some may remember them from an earlier post featuring a photograph by Mrs Jackie Munro. In a heartwarming way, both families were recently reunited - after nearly 60 years apart. Those connections were no accident. They were made possible through the tireless and generous spirit of Mdm Salmah. As an amah working in neighbouring homes - including that of the Munros - she built friendships that stood the test of time. Yet, even with the weight ...

Our father sometimes took a break from his work as a radio technician at Radio Malaya (pre Radio Television Singapore but at Caldecott Hill still) to travel north to the Malayan peninsula for holidays with friends and relatives. In 1955, 1957, and again in 1973 - when he brought the whole family along - the journey to Penang by ferry was especially magical. On a recent trip to Penang last month, I found myself aboard a similar ferry. As we left Butterworth and approached George Town, I imagined our late father making that crossing decades ago - the wind in his face, taking in the moment, the anticipation of arrival. Wanting to capture that feeling, here is a short clip with photographs from those years to share – and thinking about Dad still.

We recently uncovered this rare 1960 photograph from our family archives, now gently enhanced with AI. It captures a stretch of Bedok Beach, further up from the Bedok Rest House and just beyond the Sultan of Pahang’s former holiday home - a short walk from our Bedok kampong house. Taken at low tide, the image shows washed‑up flotsam along the right edge of the frame. A fenced compound visible here once housed the police quarters. Continuing in the direction of Sungei Bedok (Bedok River, now a canal), we see a row of standalone colonial‑era government bungalows. A recent chat with our former neighbour, Mr Ronald Ho, revealed that there were six of these bungalows in total. Each featured a kitchen on the ground floor, with stairs leading up to the living room and bedroom. Painted in the classic black and white, these wooden structures sat on cement floors.  Beyond them, a lush fringe of coconut palms lined the shoreline, many of their crowns leaning seaward.

 Another beautiful work by Dr Gilbert Tan - this time in watercolour. ‘ Near Bedok Corner’ , completed just last week, was inspired by one of our earlier posts on Upper East Coast Road, which featured “a beautiful tropical beach view of the pre‑reclamation coastline.” “I wish I could take a dip to escape from the heat,” Dr Tan quips. May 2026, inspired by circa 1957-1959 photo

We are deeply grateful to Mr Sutari Supari for sharing with us a screenshot of Bedok Corner, also featured on his Facebook page. This image is taken from the classic 1963 film Darah Muda . We hope it is alright for us to share a short clip from this particular scene, which shows a food vendor walking out onto the road that would lead to the main Bedok Road corner (with a slight slope) and the other way would have led to our Bedok kampong home, numbered 10J. A chat with our old neighbour Ronald Ho revealed all the details of this scene starting with the left of the photo: The vendor walked by a lane that would have led to the morning wet market. Then the first corner house to the left would be the bicycle shop, after which the ice block seller, then the prominent 6C Bedok Road where the Ho family lived. Then (not seen here) a cluster of houses with a large zinc gate belonging to the proprietor (Mr Chia) of the sundry shop, then the sundry shop itself, before the road turned sharply left...

This Mother’s Day weekend, we turn our spotlight to our beloved Ma Um - our father’s elder brother’s wife - who, together with the rest of the family, once lived at Jalan Haji Salam near the Bedok corner (as shared in an earlier story). Hers is truly a story of triumph over adversity. Ma Um gave birth to eleven children, yet only three survived. We can scarcely imagine the depth of sorrow and strength such circumstances demanded of her. Life with her mother-in-law presented its own challenges, but Ma Um was no pushover. She faced each day with a resolute, never ‑ say ‑ die spirit. Against this backdrop, she discovered a passion for cooking and baking. She mastered the art of making all kinds of kueh and sold them to neighbours in the surrounding homes - out of necessity, to supplement a depleted household income. Her mantra was simple and unwavering: “Never go home until the basket is empty.” She worked with such determination that she could well be considered the family’s main bre...

It was past 9pm, and an eleven ‑ year ‑ old me was making my way home from a Mandarin tuition session. My teacher was one of Ah Yam’s daughters—the owner of Swee Aun provision shop along Bedok Road—and lessons were held at their place. The fastest route home was a shortcut through the back lane, though it meant pushing my bicycle where the paths were too narrow to ride. Back then, bicycle lights ran on dynamos pressed against the wheel, which only worked when you were moving fast. So I pushed my bike as briskly as I could, trying to coax some light out of it, passing the now ‑ closed and darkened ice ‑ ball cum tikam ‑ tikam shop, a cluster of banana trees on my left, and then cycling past the famously haunted kapok tree on my right — careful not to glance in either direction. Such were the low light levels we endured in the kampong after nightfall, lit only by weak incandescent street lamps. The fluorescent glow spilling out from nearby houses offered some reassurance of human pre...

We counted ourselves blessed to have a black ‑ and ‑ white television in our kampong house. Our father had already been working at RTS (Radio Television Singapore) in the Radio Department since August 1953, on rotational duty. By then, our grandmother was non ‑ ambulant and unable to move around much, so having a TV at home became a cherished way for her—and for all of us—to enjoy our evenings together. As daylight faded and the lights outside our kampong house grew dim, and after we returned from school and finished our homework, television became our stay ‑ at ‑ home entertainment. This short clip is a small testament to those days of TV Singapura, and to some of the programmes we loved — English, Chinese, and even Malay shows (especially the Pontianak ones!).

Let's linger over this 1968 photograph by Mrs Jackie Munro, taken off the reclaimed coastal edge at Bedok Corner, near where Bedok Army Camp now sits. What do you think these two were catching?

Just a short walk from our Bedok kampong was Jalan Haji Salam, off Upper East Coast Road - where our peranakan cousin (same grandfather, different grandmother) and her family lived in the kampong there. Jalan Haji Salam was best known as the place where the “King of Bedok” resided, in his Villa Haji Kahar, which still stands today. Theirs was a single‑storey wooden house with plank walls and an attap roof, located at No. 14. The family first moved in circa 1955 (about a year after we moved into our place) and were quite content living among the kampong folk. Our auntie made all sorts of kueh to sell, helping to supplement the family’s income – and never came home until her ‘bakul suda jual habis’ (basket of cakes all sold out). Leaving Haji Salam kampong was not an easy decision. The older members of the family loved kampong life, but the heavy rains caused persistent leaking through the roof. Eventually, it became clear that it was time to move on. In June 1967, they relocated to ...

As much as we romanticise those nostalgic kampong days, we cannot forget some of the smells that were part of daily life in our kampong house in Bedok Laut. One that stands out vividly is the putrid stench we endured in the early 1960s, when a landfill of garbage was poured into the Sungei Bedok tributary that flowed in front of our house, eventually covering it up. Beyond that, three recurring smells defined a memorable chapter of our growing-up years. There was the sharp scent of jeypine, used to sanitise the jamban (toilet) areas (we were on the bucket system then). There was also the familiar smell of mosquito coils burning at night, our constant defence against relentless mosquito attacks as we slept under our nets. And every Thursday evening, there was the weekly ritual instructed by our grandmother: the fragrant smoke of kemenyan incense, placed on a holder and carried into every room of the house. These smells, unpleasant or comforting, are inseparable from our kampong memo...

Here is a rare photo of Bedok corner (where Upper East Coast Road turns sharply to the left to Bedok Road) taken in September 1945. It was taken from a Royal Navy troop carrier on its way to Seletar with the photographer at the back of the carrier facing Bedok corner. This was just after the Japanese surrender of Singapore. Behind the cluster of coconut trees in the middle is Bedok Rest House. Our Bedok kampong house was 2 buildings behind the rest house (but we moved in only in November 1954). Bedok beach is on the right. We are grateful to Mr  Michael Hall  who shared this photo of his as well as the accompanying story.

Two years ago, we kicked off this page with a photo of our house from August 1955. Our friend, Dr Gilbert Tan, loved it so much he asked if he could paint his own take on it – an honour we deeply appreciated. On 27 July 2025 — he unveiled this stunning ink ‑ and ‑ wash piece, boldly painted in black on white. It ’ s such a powerful reinterpretation of a cherished memory. As Dr Tan shared with us: “I’m sure this house must have held wonderful memories for the Tan family. What a joy to imprint these memories in this painting.” Huge thanks to Dr Tan for sharing this beautiful artwork with us again!

Here is another photograph, taken circa 1957–1959, capturing the pre ‑ reclamation coastline along Upper East Coast Road. The view faces Bedok Corner, with a narrow municipal walkway and a line of mature coconut trees framing the left side. From what we read, the concrete seawall—visible here—was constructed by the former Public Works Department to stabilise the increasingly eroded shoreline, a problem already well ‑ recognised by the mid ‑ 1950s. A stepped accessway can also be seen toward the back of the photo. The paved path running parallel to the sea, shaded by trees (interesting to note a fallen coconut tree trunk into the sea) and punctuated with simple rest points like benches, completes this gentle scene of a coastline that has since vanished. Our thanks once again to Mr Yeo Hong Eng for generously sharing this photograph with us. Photo circa 1957-1959

She moved into our Bedok kampong house with the family at the end of 1954, just 4 years of age and the first child in the house – along with 5 other adults. 6 years later our mother married into this same household, and from then on the two of them were often appearing together in the photos you see here. This week, we celebrate our beloved cousin’s 76 th birthday -   we share the same grandfather, though different grandmothers - and we greet her with all our affection: “Selamat Hari Jadi, Panjang Panjang Umur!”

Here’s a remarkable 1968 photograph by Jackie Munro, taken from the fences of Bedok Army Camp—by then already standing on reclaimed ground. From this vantage point you get the entire sweep of the old Bedok coastline, stretching all the way toward Padang Terbakar, dotted with seaside houses, kampung structures, and fishing boats resting along the brilliant white sand. Starting from the left, you can clearly make out the Bedok Rest House with its British pillboxes, followed by Sa-chan-lau, the three ‑ storey home where Jackie lived. Further along the shoreline, the distinctive roofline of the Sultan of Pahang ’ s holiday bungalow peeks out from the trees. If you once lived along this coast, what else can you spot in this panorama—what buildings or familiar silhouettes call back memories of a Bedok that has long since vanished beneath reclamation?

Qing Ming (same day as Easter Sunday in 2026) has always been more than a date on the calendar. It’s a season of remembering and honouring the people who shaped the paths we now walk. The name translated “Clear and Bright” reflects not only the spring weather, but also the clarity of heart that comes with remembrance. For our family, that spirit lived in the way our young father and relatives made their annual journey to Bukit Brown Cemetery to honour his late sister, who passed at just 28 from sudden tubercolosis in 1952. Tomb ‑ sweeping, cleaning, prayers and offerings with quiet moments of reflection were the rhythm of those visits. These photos capture one of those pilgrimages, circa 1953—a small window into how love and remembrance were expressed in those days. And this post is also a shoutout to the Brownies — the dedicated and tireless advocates for the conservation of Bukit Brown Cemetery. Week after week, these passionate volunteers lead visitors through the cemetery’s w...

Not long ago, we discovered that our late father had quietly kept materials from his visits to the YMCA back in 1954 and 1955 - treasures we never even knew existed. We also noted that he only converted into Christianity in the mid 1980’s. These materials included invitations, and old activity programmes that captured a bit of what life and community looked like in those days. The originals are now safely preserved in the National Library Board’s archive collection, and we’re grateful they’ve found a home where others can appreciate them too. We hope you enjoy this little window into the past as much as we did.

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, Salmah 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 Salmah sees her on the ground floor yard of 2B (aka Sa-chan-lau) Bedok Road (Bedok Camp is in the distance)