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Kampong Buangkok: a romanticised stupid village?

"Countless other Singaporeans have romanticized that stupid village" is Sahil Mahtani's reply to Seth Mydans' Urban Singapore Prepares to Gobble Up Its Last Village in The New York Times.

"They’re welcome to enjoy the pre-industrial world—provided they choose to live in it. Many such places still exist in neighboring Malaysia, and rents, I hear, are cheap."

"Your idea of Eden, it seems, depends on where you stand. Singapore’s neighbors in Southeast Asia view it as an island of normality, with an honest civil service, good medical care, and a bright future. By contrast, First World sophisticates see Singapore as a bossy little republic - behemoth flattening everything in sight, only to produce sterile—no, “soulless”—apartment blocks and polluted air."

Telescopic Philanthropy
First World urbanites and their contempt for Third World urbanization
Sahil Mahtani City Journal 29 Jan 09;

There are many ways to hate the tiny island nation of Singapore, but faulting it for overdevelopment is perhaps the cruelest. And when the New York Times makes the criticism, the cruelty slides into absurdity: a newspaper in America’s largest city is accusing Singapore of having too many buildings?

Earlier this year, Seth Mydans filed a report for the Times about Singapore’s redevelopment of its last village, a “secret Eden . . . hidden in trees among the massed apartment blocks, where a fresh breeze rustles the coconut palms and tropical birds whoop and whistle.” The village was “Singapore’s last rural hamlet, a forgotten straggler in the rush to modernize this high-rise, high-tech city-state,” wrote Mydans. “When it is gone, one of the world’s most extreme national makeovers will be complete.”

The editors titled the piece SINGAPORE PREPARES TO GOBBLE UP ITS LAST VILLAGE, and the accompanying picture showed a distraught woman standing amid unruly foliage, looking into the distance. “To make more space, neighborhoods are razed, landmarks are sacrificed and cemeteries—an inefficient use of land—are cleared away,” Mydans wrote, summing up Singapore’s long history of land reclamation. The reporter clearly considered this government-initiated redevelopment a bad thing, and he described villagers happy with their lot and wary of the vast anonymity of the beckoning city. In keeping with the Edenic vision, he noted that “snakes and lizards scurry through the undergrowth, and tiny fish swim in a tiny stream.”

The fish are a nice touch. As it happens, fish need water, which the flood-ridden, low-lying village, Kampong Buangkok, has in abundance. In fact, the settlement’s Malay name means “to lift a skirt,” in reference to raising one’s sarong to pass through floodwaters. Flash floods, it turns out, have long been a problem there: most recently, a multimillion-dollar drainage project was deemed not cost-effective for the village’s barely three dozen houses. And a tropical flood is not a cheerful affair. A Singapore paper recently told of a 47-year-old Kampong Buangkok resident suffering from kidney failure while struggling to build a brick wall to keep floodwaters out. Natural disasters are a constant presence in the literature on Kampong Buangkok, and before or after romanticizing the place, Mydans could have acknowledged them.

But perhaps doing so would have interfered with the reporter’s pre-industrial view of the village, a kind of garden-variety Rousseauism that willingly trades other people’s poverty for certain idealized notions of naturalness. The truth, as the history of floods indicates, is that life in Eden is often precarious. Disease is common—the Singapore government recently deemed the village’s surrounding area one of several “hotspots” in a recent dengue outbreak—and ambition is often stifled, which may explain why many young people have left in recent years. That’s another fact that Mydans neglected to mention, and it explains why the residents he spoke to wished to stay; all the others had left already. Redevelopment, of course, might solve some of these problems.

Mydans’s piece raises substantive issues that go far beyond Singapore. Pre-industrial romanticism plays a role in every debate about the meaning of progress, from drilling in protected spaces in Alaska to imposing a gas tax. As a general rule, participants in these discussions become more myopic the farther they are from the place under consideration. Alaskans have shown overwhelming support for drilling, for instance, but many Americans have been unwilling to follow suit. Ted Kennedy backs wind farms, so long as they aren’t anywhere near his Cape Cod mansion. Does anyone doubt that a village hamlet at the edge of Manhattan would be happily bulldozed?

Your idea of Eden, it seems, depends on where you stand. Singapore’s neighbors in Southeast Asia view it as an island of normality, with an honest civil service, good medical care, and a bright future. By contrast, First World sophisticates see Singapore as a bossy little republic-behemoth flattening everything in sight, only to produce sterile—no, “soulless”—apartment blocks and polluted air. The same disparagement often greets its doppelgänger Dubai, another emerging nation that’s allowing talent, freedom, and some semblance of normality to thrive. Many in the educated classes greet its rise with condescension and alarm, seeing the upstart emirate as a tacky and congested playground for the plutocracy. We will put aside the question of whether London or New York meets that description equally well, or whether those cities’ residents would have it any other way. The broader issue is the sheer loss of nerve about industrial development among those who have profited most from it.

The economic historian Joseph Schumpeter made this point back in the 1940s, warning of a fundamental contradiction in many thinkers’ opposition to capitalism. Because economic rationalism destroyed most of the underpinnings of civil society—village, clan, craft guild—and did not replace them with any similar organic enterprise, more and more people would eventually yearn for a kind of moral authority that capitalism could not provide, Schumpeter predicted. With little direct responsibility for practical affairs, intellectuals would be especially prone to this tendency; they could support vague moral or cultural ideas with few of the tradeoffs that ordinary people face. As a result, the bourgeoisie would underwrite its own gravediggers, subsidizing an intellectual class hostile to itself. Capitalism’s long-run benefits were very much worth fighting for, Schumpeter argued: for those outside the system, they provided a path in, and for everyone else, a constant improvement in living standards through innovation. But capitalism’s negative consequences—constant volatility and income disparity, to name two—would remain stark, and intelligent people would often fail to grasp its redeeming values. Defending capitalism, even in the best of times, would always be an uphill battle.

There’s much truth to this. After all, not only Seth Mydans, but countless other Singaporeans, have romanticized that stupid village. They’re welcome to enjoy the pre-industrial world—provided they choose to live in it. Many such places still exist in neighboring Malaysia, and rents, I hear, are cheap.

Sahil Mahtani is a reporter-researcher at the New Republic.

Kampong Buangkok in the New York Times

"Urban Singapore Prepares to Gobble Up Its Last Village" the article headlines. When it is gone, one of the world’s most extreme national makeovers will be complete, it declares.

Photo by Jessdo from habitatnews flickr

Will Singapore school children then have to go to Johor to experience their natural heritage?

from Urban Singapore Prepares to Gobble Up Its Last Village
Seth Mydans, The New York Times 3 Jan 09;

Under the city’s master plan, at an unannounced date Kampong Buangkok will be “comprehensively developed to provide future housing, schools and other neighborhood facilities,” said Serene Tng of the Urban Redevelopment Authority in an e-mail message.

Ms. Sng, 55, is now the landowner, wheeling her bicycle among the metal-roofed, one-story homes of her tenants, who are also her friends and pay only nominal rents for their houses.

Fruits and flowers cluster in the village like endangered species in a vanishing ecosystem. There are tiny guavas and giant papayas, yams and tapioca plants, dill and edible bamboo shoots, bougainvillea and hibiscus. Snakes and lizards scurry through the undergrowth, and tiny fish swim in a tiny stream.

Through the trees in all directions, the people of Kampong Buangkok can glimpse the government housing blocks that represent their future.

In modern Singapore, few neighbors know each other, said Sarimah Cokol, 50, who grew up in Kampong Buangkok and now lives in one of the apartments that people here call pigeonholes. “Open door, close door,” she said in the terse speech of no-nonsense Singapore. “After work, go in. Close door.”

Other articles

Rush for land to sweep away last Singapore village
Melanie Lee, Reuters 21 Dec 07;
also in Business Times 22 Dec 07 as Singapore's last kampung

Built 60 years old ago on low-lying land, the kampong has weathered many floods. But the biggest danger it faces is not a natural disaster, but Singapore's voracious appetite for land.

In Singapore, history and heritage are often found at the receiving end of a wrecking ball. The space-starved island, about one third the size of Greater London, has one of the world's highest population densities. For decades it has reclaimed land from the sea and razed landmarks to make space for development.

"Given the need to optimize the use of land in land scarce Singapore, it may not be viable to retain the kampong in its current state," said a spokeswoman from the government redevelopment agency.

from Singapore's last kampung worth $33m but landowner won't sell
Bryna Sim Straits Times 5 Aug 07

Ms Sng Mui Hong is determined to sit tight on her sizeable piece of land in Punggol. 'My father bought this land, it has much sentimental value for me,' she said. 'I would feel trapped in a flat.'

The rent of the 20 families who live in the kampung's self-built zinc-roofed huts ranges from $6.50 to $30 a month. Their huts are an average of about 1,500 sq ft each, and range from three to five rooms, depending on how their dwellers chose to build them. They have basic utilities such as running water and electricity, and are surrounded by jackfruit and banana trees, as well as chilli padi and lime plants.

from Owner of $33m Kampung: My family ties are not for sale
Hedy Khoo New Paper 20 Aug 07

The 54-year-old feisty land owner has been in a foul mood since recent news reports suggested the land she co-owns in Lorong Buangkok is worth $33 million.

Said Ms Sng in Mandarin: 'Since the reports, all sorts of strangers have come to the kampung.' She wants one thing made clear: 'I am not rich, and I am not selling my land.'

She said: 'I take after my father in my philosophy of life. As long as I have enough to eat, I don't hunger after money or to be rich.'

'Even if the land is really worth much, and I can sell the land and move to a huge bungalow with a big backyard, I can never regain this feeling of simplicity and freedom, and be close to my childhood memories.'

But not all visitors are unwelcome. Ms Sng said: 'I love students who come to do projects or field trips, because they can learn so much about nature here.' And those interested to learn that family ties are not for sale may also want to drop by.

This New York Times article was also carried in the Jakarta Globe, 5 Jan 09.

More links

• Kampong Buangkok Videos on the Singapore's Heritage, Museums and Nostalgia blog
• An interview with a Lorong Buangkok Kampong Resident on the Jalan Kayu Trail blog
• The last kampong - Buangkok on the life and other weird things blog
• The last kampong on the habitatnews blog
  

Seletar shore from afar

The plan was to nip by the shore at Seletar after work to check it out for sea stars. From the dam across Lower Seletar, there were huge mudflats, with Pulau Seletar in the distance.I haven't been there for more than 5 years. The last time I went, there was a tranquil little mangrove with sandy shores, fiddler crabs and the usual mangrove creatures.

Here's a google earth map of the Lower Seletar dam with the mangroves of Khatib Bongsu on the left and Pulau Seletar at the seaward side, and the two halves of Pulau Punggol on the right. There has been massive works at Pulau Punggol in the construction of a dam across Sungei Punggol. While a causeway and bridge was also being built to Pulau Punggol Barat.
And there is the humungous bridge, complete with streetlights and all.In the little mangrove patch I remembered, next to the new bridge, was a whole flotilla of little boats on two long make-shift jetties.There were houses among the mangrove trees!
On the shores, smack in the middle of the Lower Seletar dam was another outdoor loo!The structure the loo was attached to had been dismantled.And the structure next to it as well.It seemed the walls had been removed, leaving all kinds of things there intact. Including the potted plants and a sign to "Walk Do Not Run".

Alas, I couldn't find a safe way down to the shore. The shore was a lot lower than I remembered and the seawall made up huge loose rocks. Having fallen down enough sea walls and jetties to learn better, I decided not to chance it. When I last visited, the shore was a lot higher and it was just a hop skip and jump down to it. Has there been erosion on the shore?
Way way in the distance were the beautiful mangroves of Khatib Bongsu, the mudflats dotted with shore birds. I checked and there was also no easy access to that shore. Without some serious bush bashing and rock climbing and other stuff too manly for me to do before dinner and in the setting sun.

Sigh. Booties still dry, no mud on my face, I went home.

Here's some interesting history and background about Seletar that I found out, to make up for lack of marine life sightings.

Rare mangrove trees in Seletar!

from "A Guide to Mangroves of Singapore", Peter K. L. Ng and N. Sivasothi (editors)

Botanists discovered a stand of Berembang (Sonneratia caseolaris) in the upper reaches of Sungei Seletar only last year (1998). Prior to this, only a single tree of this species in Woodlands was known of in Singapore! It is actually viewable in the distance from Lentor Avenue! This tree is thought to be associated with fireflies, and can tolerate freshwater conditions.

Rich history of Seletar

from the Wikipedia entry on Seletar

The Malay word seletar refers to the aboriginal coastal dwellers (orang laut) called orang seletar, who lived along the mangrove creeks of the Johor Straits and especially at the mouth of the Seletar River (which has since been dammed up to form the Lower Seletar Reservoir), hence the river's name. Later, Sultan Abu Baker of Johor is said to have taken these people from Seletar to Sungai Pulai in southwest Johor.

from the Joshua Project

Who are the Orang Seletar?

The Orang Seletar are one of the nineteen Orang Asli people groups living in Peninsular Malaysia. Nearly half of the Orang Seletar ethnic group of 1,700, also live in northern Singapore.

They are a maritime people, the descendants of the Orang Laut or sea people who constituted the original navy of the Malaccan Sultanate and played a pivotal role in the region's history. Originally from the Spice Islands in Indonesia, five hundred years ago they roamed the Straits of Malacca in bands, raiding, burning, and pillaging. They were the old pirates of South East Asia.

What are their lives like?

The Orang Seletar have been generally integrated into the Malay community to the extent that they are in danger of forgetting the central role they played in early Malaysian history. In fact, some royal families in Malaysia have Orang Seletar ancestors!

Those who have retained their old nomadic lifestyle prefer to live by the sea and remain one of the poorest minority groups of Asia. They are specialists in harvesting the produce of the sea, shore, and mangroves for their own consumption and for trade.

See the the Joshua Project for more about "What do they believe?" and "What are their needs?"

Recent changes at Seletar

At Seletar Airbase, residents are making their last farewells to the tranquil surrounding they have enjoyed for many years. The area is being redeveloped for the aviation industry, another JTC success. Like the original Orange Seletar, some Airbase residents have moved to Johor following the development of their homes. More media articles and blog posts about the changes at Seletar Airbase.

More links

• Sea People: What happened to Singapore's Orang Laut? a letter to the Straits Times Forum.
  
• The Seletar or Orang Laut about the effect of pollution on their lifestyle
  
• An Orang Laut story an interview with the last of the Sea Gypsies
  
• The tranquility of Seletar a visit to the mangroves in 2007 on the wonderful creations blog
  
• Parameswara in Seletar, c.1402! more about the Orang Seletar on the Seletar Chronicle
  
• The Seletar Reservoir Dam recent history on Singapore's Heritage, Museums and Nostalgia blog.
  
• Seletar Reservoir on infopedia by the National Library
  

The Seletar or Orang Asli Laut

It is said they can dive underwater for half an hour without any breathing apparatus. So attuned to the sea are the Seletar or Orang Asli Laut of Kampung Bakar Batu Danga in Johor Baru.

Yet, they could soon be like fish out of water with the onslaught of development that has polluted the sea around them.

Their hearts beat for the sea
Zulkarnain Ahmad Tajuddin, Johor Buzz undated

The Seletar or Orang Asli Laut of Kampung Bakar Batu Danga in Johor Baru are so acclimatised to the sea that some of them can dive underwater without any breathing apparatus for half an hour.

Yet, they could soon be like fish out of water with the onslaught of development that has polluted the sea around them.

The mud crab or ketam bangkang (Scylla serrata) used to be their main catch for generations, but now the large crustacean have left the mangroves around their village due to siltation and water pollution.

Villager Udi Ki, 33, said he could easily get RM60 worth of mud crabs a day 10 years ago, but nowadays he counts himself lucky if he gets RM20 a day.

“They are not here any more, they’ve simply vanished from the mangroves which used to be teeming with them. Now it’s difficult even to see their burrows, let alone catch them in large numbers,” he said.

Such is this community’s attachment to the sea that when the catch from the sea can no longer sustain their livelihood, they would turn to collecting recyclable materials from the sea, even to the point of endangering their lives.

Udi said he once collected about 600kg of scrap metal from the bottom of the nearby Sungai Melayu without realising that the heaviest items were World War 2 bombs.

“One way or another, we will get our catch from the sea or rivers around here. But it never crossed my mind that I would ‘catch’ bombs.”

Luckily, the bombs did not explode and the scrap metal dealer who spotted the bombs among the scrap metal called in the police bomb disposal unit.

Udi said the fishermen’s association had informed them in 2000 that they would be given compensation for their loss of income resulting from the construction of the Danga Bay project.

“We have not heard from the association since then. Nothing.”

Udi said if they had a choice, he and his tribesmen would rather have what they treasured most — unpolluted sea, rivers and mangroves.

“The money cannot bring back our way of life.”

It’s clear that the Seletar community just wants to use their fishing skills to earn a living, allowing them to be independent in shaping their future without sacrificing their way of life.

“We are not against development. If so, we would not be living in the brick houses built for us by the Orang Asli Affairs Department. But we would rather catch fish and crabs than floating bottles and plastic debris with our net,” Udi said.

Another villager, John Toh, 32, does not only fish for a living but he can almost live underwater among the marine creatures.

Almost all the villagers can dive without any breathing apparatus but they agree that nobody dives deeper or longer than Toh.

The villagers said that once, a boat had capsized in the Tebrau Straits and efforts to salvage it came to naught as divers came up with their ears bleeding because of the depth.

But Toh jumped in and resurfaced half an hour later with a rope that was attached to the sunken boat. Since then, the whole village has acknowledged him as the best diver among them.

“It’s nothing, all of us can remain underwater for a long time,” he said nonchalantly when asked about his incredible ability.

Toh said he started diving and spear fishing from the age of 12, insisting that it was a normal thing for the community as their lives revolve around the sea.

What he said is not mere rhetoric as the sea and mangroves have permeated every aspect of their life, and are reflected even in their folk songs like Serampang Laut, Ketam Bangkang, Lagu Siput and many others.

The song Ketam Bangkang, which goes Yok sang, Ke laut di hempas gelombang, Ke darat lintang pukang, Nak cari lubang si ketam bangkang, is not merely a senseless song meant to cheer the heart. In fact, the term “lintang pukang” is indication that their life would be in disarray if they were asked to live on land, cut off from the sea.

“We cannot live far from the sea although our houses are on land now. Our forefathers lived their lives totally in their boats, seeking land only upon their deaths,” Toh said.

It may not be long before their technique of catching mud crabs becomes just folklore, reflected only in the dance moves that accompany the song, as the mud crab population declines further.

The community’s worry now is that the water quality in the Tebrau Straits will worsen as a result of the Danga Bay development of high-end real estate on the river delta just opposite their village. The project is an integral part of the Iskandar Malaysia development corridor.

In the evenings, Seletar children as young as 4 years old can be seen frolicking in the water, diving into the Tebrau Straits — just 100 metres away from the heavy machines that are reshaping the delta.

Their shrieks of joy fill the air as they play, blissfully unaware that the murky water holds the answer to the question of their future existence.

Clifford Pier returns

It was a grubby pier when we used it regularly for our Southern Island forays. Rather desolate and dirty, and very quiet except during the Kusu Island pilgrimage, when hordes of people would use it to get to tiny Kusu Island. There used to be a tacky open air karaoke bar there, and we would be regaled by late night drunken singing as we waited for our predawn transport out to the islands.
Closed in 2006 as the Marina Barrage was constructed, the Pier has returned as a posh restaurant.

Singapore Heritage Society president Dr Kevin Tan comments: 'The cavernous space would have been an ideal location for a maritime museum. It is a travesty that we, the busiest port in the world, do not have a world-class maritime museum. It is really quite ironic.'

Pier pleasure
The Art Deco-style Clifford Pier gets a stylish, Oriental update with new eatery One on the Bund
tay suan chiang, Straits Times 27 Dec 08;

It was a pier where immigrants in boats first arrived in Singapore. It is now a stylish restaurant serving contemporary Chinese cuisine called One on the Bund.

The owner of the restaurant at 80 Collyer Quay designed it himself - a task made easier by the fact that Clifford Pier was designated a conservation building last year by the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA).

This meant that the pier's main architectural features, such as its concrete arched trusses, had to be retained.

For an old-world feel appropriate for the space, antique pieces such as opium daybeds and wooden cupboards fill the 346-seat restaurant. All the items were imported from Chinese cities such as Beijing and Shanghai.

The Art Deco-style pier was built in the 1930s by the Public Works Department. It was also known as Ang Teng Beh Tao, which is Hokkien for Red Lamp Pier, because someone had hung a red lamp here to direct incoming sea vessels.

It was named after Sir Hugh Clifford, a colonial governor in Singapore. It later became a ferry terminal for visitors heading to the Southern Islands, which include Kusu and St John's islands.

Two years ago, URA shut it down to free up more coastline areas for public use. Visitors now take ferries from Marina South Pier to the Southern Islands.

Mr Calvin Yeung, a food and beverage entrepreneur from Hong Kong who is behind the new transformation, chose this location for his first eatery outside Hong Kong because he says he is a nostalgic person and 'likes old landmarks'.

'Clifford Pier is beautiful,' he says.

It took him a year and $6 million to transform the place into the 10,000 sq ft One on the Bund, which is not related to the Three On The Bund in Shanghai.

Mr Yeung, who is in his 40s, says the restaurant's name was inspired by The Bund in Shanghai and because it is close to the One Fullerton area.

One on the Bund, which opened on Dec 11, is divided into four areas: After entering the place, diners come upon the dessert bar which offers Western desserts with an Asian twist. Next to it is the noodle bar, which has an open kitchen.

Opposite the noodle bar is the main dining area, which offers signature dishes such as crispy lamb ribs. Beyond the dining area is a cocktail bar.

Enjoy Marina Bay views

Diners can also opt for alfresco dining on the deck, which looks out to the Marina Bay area.

Mr Yeung is the founder of Wang Workshop Group and also owns four popular restaurants in Hong Kong: Shui Hu Ju, which serves Northern Chinese cuisine; O Sip Hah, a contemporary Thai restaurant; Shu Zhai, known for its dim sum; and Pop Bites, a gourmet sandwich eatery.

He leased Clifford Pier from Hong Kong-based Sino Land, a sister company of Far East Organization.

In 2006, Sino Land paid $165.8million to buy the Fullerton Heritage area, which includes Clifford Pier, One Fullerton and a group of buildings comprising fine dining, shopping and entertainment venues.

While foodies may rejoice at yet another hip location, Singapore Heritage Society president Dr Kevin Tan says: 'The cavernous space would have been an ideal location for a maritime museum. It is a travesty that we, the busiest port in the world, do not have a world-class maritime museum.

'It is really quite ironic.'

More links
End of an era for boatman Today Online 6 Apr 06

An Orang Laut story

The Orang Laut or Sea Gypsies are tribes who traditionally lived off the sea in our coastal regions, including Peninsular Malaysia, the Riaus and Sumatra. They played an important part of our history. Alas, like many traditional ways of life, these are rapidly fading.

Here's an interview with an Orang Laut in the New Straits Times, recalling days before the Causeway was built, during the Japanese Occupation and more. He laments "However, for the past 10 years, very few fish or crabs have been snagged by our nets and fish traps. The rivers and mangroves that were impervious to bombs and bullets seem to be dying in peacetime."

Dying days of a tribe
By Yang Aseng; Interview by Satiman Jamin
New Straits Times 17 Nov 08;

I WAS born in a small dugout or pau kajang. I have lived off the sea all my life but I never dreamed that the sea around me would die in my lifetime. What surprised me was not that I have lived to such an old age, which is uncommon among my Orang Seletar tribe, but that the sea could lose its life because of callous acts by humans.

Gone were the days when my fellow tribesmen could be guaranteed a good catch at sea or among the mangroves. This has been replaced with the certainty that our way of life will wither along with the catch.

There are not many of us now, even if all the Seletar people from other villages are counted.

In Kampung Bakar Batu Danga (Johor) where I live, there are only 27 families, with fewer than 200 people.

It's a stark contrast with the times of my childhood in the 1930s when one could hardly look at any stretch of the Tebrau Straits without spotting tens or even hundreds of our tribesmen's boats floating in the water.

Before the Causeway was built, our tribe was one large close-knit community as we could visit each other no matter where we lived around the Tebrau Straits.

We could just row our boats from Gelang Patah in the west of the Tebrau Straits to Stulang Laut at the other end, as did the merchant ships plying the waterway to get to the Tanjung Puteri Port.

The Causeway split our community in two as we could no longer visit those on the other side. Travelling there by land was out of the question as we rarely even set foot on dry land, let alone travelled across it.

During the Japanese occupation, we did not venture out to the Tebrau Straits, hiding under the cover of riverine mangroves of Sungai Pulai, Sungai Skudai, Sungai Melayu and other small rivers in the area.

We heard loud explosions in the distance but I was not sure whether they came from Johor Baru or Singapore. It could have been both, because we had seen warplanes shrieking above us and zig-zagging over Singapore on the other side of the Johor Straits.

Luckily, none of the bombs fell near my family's boat. The frail dugout would not have survived even the smallest fragments of the bombs as it was made only to ride the waves of the sea.

The mangroves not only protected us from Japanese atrocities. They enabled us to survive the war for years by providing shelter and food.

The war took human lives, but the mangroves' fish, mud crabs and shellfish flourished.

As we spent the war years hiding in the mangroves, the most notable difference to us when it ended was that we could go out to sea again.

Soon after our country's independence, we were given a piece of land (which later became our present settlement) by the late Sultan Ismail, who said we should change our nomadic ways.

It was a good move as the government, through the Orang Asli Affairs Department, could not provide us with the amenities for a better life if we still lived on boats, moving from one place to another around the Tebrau Straits and the surrounding mangroves.

Those who have lived on land all their life would not understand what a fundamental change it was for us to make the change from living a life at sea to one anchored on land.

We were labelled as shy and unwilling to communicate with others, but it was merely due to our not speaking Bahasa Malaysia as we found it unnecessary, living among our own people on our boats.

Many of us learned to speak Bahasa Malaysia when we resettled on land and it has helped us to adapt to life on land, surrounded by people who did not speak our language.

However, for the past 10 years, very few fish or crabs have been snagged by our nets and fish traps. The rivers and mangroves that were impervious to bombs and bullets seem to be dying in peacetime.

I have seen many things in my life and I have learned to accept things that I once thought impossible, but it really baffles me when the landward buildings seem to be heading towards water and getting nearer to the mangroves.

We moved out of the mangroves to live on land, but they have been so intertwined with our life that we cannot bear to see the mangroves dying when earth movers and fancy buildings move in.

The ketam bangkang (mud crabs) are gone. They were once so abundant here that we immortalised the hunt for them in a folk song. Our tribe's traditional music group, which once played to packed audiences in places as far away as Kuala Lumpur, called themselves "Kumpulan Ketam Bangkang".

It's just a song now. There are no more ketam bangkang, only earth movers with steel claws.

We could only watch as the river delta in front of our village changed into rows of gleaming glass-panelled buildings after the iron machines cleared it of mangrove trees.

I fear for my great-grandchildren's future as Orang Laut when the mangrove forest that once sheltered us from bombs falls to the encroaching concrete jungle.

Yang Aseng, 80, is the oldest individual in the Orang Seletar or Orang Laut community at Kampung Bakar Batu Danga.

More about the Orang Laut on wikipedia.

The Bajo: Sea nomads of Malaysia and Indonesia

A glimpse into the history of sea nomads of Sulawesi who are believed to have originated from Johor.

Tracing the origins of Bone's sea nomads
Jakarta Post 22 Oct 08;

The Bajo community in Bone, South Sulawesi, has thrived in the area for more than a century. According to Bajo oral history, they lived aboard boats anchored along the shore of Bone bay. Their boats served at the same time as a means of fishing for their livelihood, earning them the nickname "sea nomads".

In their early years in Bone, the Bajo, known also as members of the Sama or Same tribe, moored their boats along the bay to form a line about five kilometers long.

The numerous boats served as a bastion of defense, protecting the shoreline for the Bone kingdom whenever Dutch troops tried to attack. During the reign of La Pawawoi Karaeng Segeri, the kingdom was finally subdued but it was done through other means.

As Roso, a Bajo community leader, recounted, the Bone administration allowed Bajo nomads to settle near the bay following the Bone war in 1904-1905 to show appreciation for their resistance against Dutch colonial forces.

"Based on stories from our elders, when Bajos first settled on land, they built small homes with single pillars. Gradually the model was changed to adapt to today's Bone community dwellings. The shift was especially noticeable after the 1950s," Roso said.

The Bajo settlement later became Bajoe subdistrict. A port in the area was named Bajoe port. This village has become a tourist destination for Bone regency.

Nobody knows for sure the origins of the Bajos.

Roso said one tale affirmed the Bajo in Bone came from Ussu, Luwu regency, in South Sulawesi.

As described in the South Sulawesi epic La Galigo, the Bajos first appeared in Bone after a flood hit Ussu, causing a boat to come unmoored from a tree and drift away.

Sitti Manurung, a young woman from Ussu, got washed ashore in Gowa, south of Bone. Owing to her beauty, Gowa community chief Manurungnga promptly married her.

Another narrative maintains the Bajo came from Johor, Malaysia. That origin story is backed up by shipwrecks found on one of the islands in the region, estimated to be 300 years old and believed to be linked with Bajo heritage. Some Malaysian parliamentarians claiming to be of Bajo descent once visited Bone to meet with Bajo leaders in the regency.

"We have no idea which story is correct about Bajo origins, either Ussu or Johor. But the early Bajo language combined four tongues: Buginese, Makassarese, Javanese and Malay," Roso said.

The Bajo are in fact not found only in several parts of Indonesia but are spread out as far as Malaysia and several other countries.

The Bajo population in Bone has drawn the attention of overseas researchers. A number of experts from Germany, Malaysia and Singapore have conducted research in Bone.

Bajo seamanship, which helps them survive under adverse conditions for many days at sea, is their unique cultural capacity that researchers come to study.

Though they no longer live aboard their boats, their fishing skills are incomparable. Equipped only with simple boats with outboard motors, they face high waves and strong winds, sometimes diving without modern equipment. Some of them use spears to catch fish; others set off homemade bombs.

Roso talked about how they picked up bomb-making skills during the Japanese occupation.

"But we only use explosives under certain circumstances. For daily use, we fish with lines, spears and trawl nets. But now it's getting even more difficult to fish, so we've got to sail a long way out to sea," he said.

Unlike the Bajo living in other countries, the Bone Bajo have not completely modernized. Their children are apparently destined to continue living as seafarers.

Bajo children are taught to sail and fish at an early age. For Bajo parents, teaching their kids fishing skills is more important than sending them to school.

No wonder Bajo descendants have so far remained tied to the sea. Only a few Bajo children enjoy formal education, and only a smattering of them finish high school. In comparison, some Malaysian Bajo have become members of parliament.
-- JP/Andi Hajramurni

Raffles Lighthouse: Singapore's Southernmost point

Raffles Lighthouse is what Singapore's reefs might be if we don't mess with them.

It is located on the tiny island of Pulau Satumu, which is ringed by stupendously rich reefs.

There was a flurry of articles today about the very lucky (to us) people who work at the lighthouse on Pulau Satumu.

As part of Singapore Maritime Week, an exhibition “From Lighthouses to Electronic Charts: An Exhibition” will be held at VivoCity, Central Court A, from Friday to Sunday, 10am to 9.30pm. The exhibits include models of lighthouses and a life-size buoy used to mark sunken wrecks.

Here's some titbits about Raffles Lighthouse from the media articles

Kusu Island pilgrimage season starts 29 Sep to 28 Oct

100,000 devotees and visitors are expected to visit tiny Kusu Island from 29 Sep-28 Oct for the annual pilgrimage season.Traditionally happening on the ninth month of the Chinese lunar calendar, it is said that 80% of the pilgrims are women. Many come to pray for good husbands, healthy babies and obedient children.

Besides the temple, Kusu Island is also the resting place of three Malay kramats. More about the rich legends and stories behind this delightful island on the singapore celebrates our reefs blog.

The road to Marina South Pier will be closed to regular traffic during this period, and normal ferry services to St. John's Island suspended.

Access to Marina South Pier during the Kusu Pilgrimage Season 2008
from Port Marine Notice No. 179 of 2008 dated 22 Sep 08

Similar to previous years, all ferries to Kusu Island during the annual Kusu Pilgrimage Season this year will be deployed from Marina South Pier (MSP). This year, the Kusu Pilgrimage Season falls between 29 September and 28 October 2008.
During this period, some 100,000 devotees and visitors are expected to make their way to MSP to take the ferry.

Hence, the Maritime and Port Authority of Singapore (MPA), in co-operation with relevant agencies, will be implementing additional measures to ensure a smooth flow of vehicle and passenger traffic to and from MSP, throughout the pilgrimage season. These include:

Increased Frequency of SBS Transit Bus Service 402: The frequency of SBS Transit Bus Service 402, which plies between MSP and Anson Road, will be increased during the Kusu Pilgrimage Season to accommodate the enlarged passenger volume.

Free Shuttle Bus Service: The MPA will provide a free shuttle bus service plying between Car Park B at Marina South and MSP. The free service is provided on Saturdays, Sundays and Public Holidays during the Kusu Pilgrimage Season from 6 am to 7.30 pm.

Road Closure: To facilitate traffic movement, Marina Coastal Drive, which leads right up to MSP, will be closed to traffic (except authorized vehicles) from 6am to 3pm on Saturdays, Sundays and Public Holidays during the Kusu Pilgrimage Season. The public is advised to park at Car Park B and transfer to the free shuttle service to MSP during these road closure times.

Ferry services suspended
From the Sentosa website

Current ferry services to Kusu and St. John's islands will be temporarily suspended during the Kusu Pilgrimage season from 29 Sep 2008 - 28 Oct 2008.

For those who wish to visit Kusu island during the Kusu Prilgrimage season, ferry tickets are as follows:
Mondays to Fridays (excluding Public Holidays): S$14.00 (Adult) / S$12.00 (Child, 1 – 12 years)
Saturdays (excluding Public Holidays): S$16.00 (Adult) / S$12.00 (Child, 1 – 12 years)
Sundays & Public Holidays: S$16.00 (Adult) / S$12.00 (Child, 1 – 12 years)

For those who wish to visit St. John's island during this period, you will need to charter your own boat.

Nature Society (Singapore) and our shores

What was the role of the Nature Society (Singapore) in efforts for our shores? In particular, the effort for Chek Jawa?And what about Project Noah? Wee Yeow Chin and Richard Hale have published "The Nature Society (Singapore) and the struggle to conserve Singapore's nature areas" You can download the PDF file from Nature in Singapore, online journal by the Raffles Museum of Biodiversity Research, National University of Singapore. Some comments about the article ... from the Habitatnews blog

Wee Yeow Chin and Richard Hale reflect on the issues and approaches of nature conservation lobbying by the Nature Society (Singapore) back to its origins as the Singapore branch of the Malayan Nature Society. The authors were in the fray of the society's conservation activities in 80's and 90's and provide a very useful background to the Singapore's oldest nature NGO. They also confirm the "courtesy call by the Internal Security Department in the early 1990s." This has been referred to with bated breath in conversations and is here clarified by the recipient of the conversation with relatively unremarkable comment. The article is a critical element in the education of naturalists as it provides a well needed piece in the jigsaw-ed history of the nature conservation scene in Singapore. If anything, the article is too short, but that will encourage its reading!

From the Bird Ecology Study Group blog

Authored by two Nature Society’s insiders who were part of the early struggle for nature areas, the paper details how the society successfully persuaded government to develop a degraded mangrove area that has become the Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve, Singapore’s one and only ASEAN Heritage Park. The society also managed to dissuade government not to develop a golf course in a forested area within the Peirce Reservoir, a gazetted nature reserve. To date, these are the only two successes of the society.

from the nature-singapore mailing list, a comment by Victor Yue.

If you have yet to read this paper, do so now. Tells us a lot about what we the nature lovers have done, especially the few dedicated ones who worked very hard. And yes, there was so much learnt. My conclusion is, it is not enough to have what you know, but also who you know. (^^) An Asian world, but of course. (^^) And therefore, more public awareness work, at all levels, is important. The children of today are the movers of tomorrow. If they don't know or understand, they will not know what to do, and probably learn from it too late. We should do a survey of the school children to see how many of them have been to any of our nature spots. (^^) A new world with many taking to the cyberspace, the Nature Society must take another look to see how it could be an umbrella of these groups. All have the same interests, perhaps, taking different approaches. And well, some routes would be wrought with dangers. (^^)

I personally feel the authors have highlighted many key issues and I whole heartedly agree with their conclusions:

More than ever before, nature conservation needs a strong and united voice, now that there are far fewer nature areas left in Singapore than in years gone by. The experience of Chek Jawa should not be forgotten. Chek Jawa’s success came from the groundswell of public opinion that was garnered through outreach programmes, where the public was totally convinced of the value of the habitat. The effectiveness of the internet was instrumental in garnering this support and this modern medium of communication should be used to the fullest. What this means is that younger activist volunteers should, more than ever, be at the forefront, as these are the people who are net-savvy and most conversant with this new medium. Finally, there is still a need to be professional in conservation work. Many, if not most, volunteer conservationists nowadays are non-scientists who, although passionate about the cause, are not always well versed with the technicalities of the habitat and its associated flora and fauna. Also, the need to work closely with the government agencies and those in academia is crucial.

Links to more

• The Chek Jawa effort before deferment of reclamation: media articles, efforts, articles and more.
• Chek Jawa today information for visitors, later media articles
• Project Noah media articles, blog entries and other comments on the wildsingapore website