The Carousel of Time

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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 - Bedok, before reclamation, before redevelopment, before the old life faded. What amazes me most is the joy of reconnecting with new friends who were, in truth, old neighbours - people from in and around our kampong whom I never met or spoke to until now. And so many others who also enjoy this journey with us. You have made this travelogue of memories richer than I ever imagined. And we welcome more of your stories into this page! 

As I’ve said before, without our late father, none of this - the blog, the stories, the Facebook page, the rediscovery - would have been possible. So Dad, this post is lovingly dedicated to you..








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