In the late 1970s, I moved out of Hill Street near the
Singapore River, and settled at Maude Road by the Rochor River. I lived there
for five years before moving on to Tampines. Almost without noticing, I have settled
in Tampines for more than four decades.
Back then, my final National Service posting was at Beach
Road Camp. I used to walk home after work. I often strolled along the Rochor
River to admire the unforgettable sunsets. Those quiet walks, framed by water
and fading light, calmed me down and planted the earliest layers of my personal
connection with the rivers that flow into Kallang Basin.
Kallang roar
I came to learn more about both the Rochor and Kallang
Rivers. These two waterways converge at the Kallang Basin before meeting the
sea. Long before it became today’s polished sports and recreational precinct,
Kallang was already deeply woven into Singapore’s collective memory. I was a
regular at the old National Stadium, built in time for the 1973 SEAP Games, and
later the site of Malaysia Cup matches, National Day Parades and musical
concerts. It was there that the famous “Kallang Roar” was born.
Yet before stadiums and spectacles, Kallang Basin had been a
trading post, a site of early industrialisation, and home to Orang Laut
communities. Much of this past now survives only in fragments, memory and
imagination.
Early trade and settlement
As early as the 16th and 17th centuries, the Kallang Basin
is believed to have functioned as a busy maritime trading port. Traders moved
spices, textiles, and other goods through these waters, well before the
emergence of modern Singapore. Among them were Bugis merchants who helped
establish the island as a key node in Southeast Asia’s regional trade network.
The basin was also home to the Orang Biduanda Kallang, part
of the wider Orang Laut community. Their ancestors traced their roots to the
Riau–Lingga Archipelago and Bangka Island.
As settlement expanded, the British administration mandated
the use of permanent building materials in 1822. Brick kilns, sawmills and
boatyards soon appeared along the Kallang and Rochor rivers, marking
Singapore’s earliest steps toward industrialisation.
Abundant mudflats and sand in the Kallang estuary supported
small-scale brick kilns set up since the 1830s. In later decades, the basin
became home to Kallang Gasworks and Kallang Airport.
Another transformation followed in the 1960s and 1970s, when
sand excavated from the hills of Toa Payoh was used to reclaim land in the
basin. Today, this reshaped landscape is branded as “The Kallang”.
Sar Kong and Mun San Fook Tuck Chee Temple
Many Chinese settlers employed in the brick kilns lived in a
kampong known as Sar Kong (沙冈),
meaning “sand dune” in Cantonese. The village revolved around the Mun San Fook
Tuck Chee Temple (万山福德祠) founded
in 1861 and recognised as one of the oldest Cantonese temples in Singapore.
Located at the junction of Lorong 17 Geylang and Sims Drive,
the temple was far more than a religious site. For working-class villagers and
newly arrived immigrants, it provided shelter and a sense of community during
their earliest days in a foreign land.
Shipbuilding along the Kallang River
Kallang was once a major hub for shipbuilding and repair. As
early as 1822, Captain William Flint, Singapore’s first master attendant, had
established a shipyard at Tanjong Rhu. From the 1880s to the 1950s,
flat-bottomed wooden tongkangs and smaller twakows crowded the Kallang River,
ferrying raw materials upstream for processing and re-export.
Tongkangs, larger and seaworthy, transported timber from
Indonesia and rice from Thailand, Myanmar, and Vietnam. Twakows, smaller and
motorised, operated mainly within coastal waters, linking riverside godowns
with cargo ships anchored near Telok Ayer Basin. Wooden boatbuilders and repair
sheds lined the riverbanks.
The construction of the Merdeka Bridge in the 1950s
prevented tongkangs from sailing further upstream, forcing them to relocate to
anchorages at the mouth of the Kallang River and around Tanjong Rhu. By the early 1990s, most shipyards, once
clustered around Jalan Benaan Kapal and the Geylang River, had either closed or
moved to Jurong, leaving behind a maritime legacy largely invisible today.
Lee Rubber Factory
Singapore lacked the land to become a major rubber plantation.
Despite that, rubber processing, packing and milling for export were once a
vital industry. Lee Rubber Factory sat on the present site of Kallang
Distripark at the upper reach of the Kallang Basin.
The factory at Lorong 3 Geylang functioned as a
self-contained industrial complex, complete with processing facilities,
warehouses, smokehouses, a training centre, research laboratory and workers’
lodging. Its riverside location allowed tongkangs to deliver raw rubber
directly to a small jetty, integrating river transport seamlessly into
industrial operations.
Kallang Gasworks: Fire City
Established in 1901, the Kallang Gasworks, nicknamed 火城 (Fire
City) by the Chinese, supplied gas for industrial, commercial and household
use. While it brought undeniable convenience and improved living standards, it
also caused fear. Gas explosions and the constant smell of gas were persistent
anxieties for residents.
At its peak, the gasworks supplied around 70 per cent of
Singapore’s gas needs. Operations ceased in 1998 after Senoko Gasworks assumed
full responsibility the year before.
The Kallang Industrial Estate
After Jurong, the Kallang Industrial Estate became
Singapore’s second-largest industrial park. Light and medium industries
transformed the basin’s landscape. Factories produced garments, electronic
components and toys, while multinational corporations such as Texas Instruments
and General Electric established operations here.
For many school-leavers in earlier decades, these factories, established under the nationwide industrialisation programme, offered employment, shaping livelihoods and aspirations across generations.
Song Lin Saw Mill and a wartime escape
Song Lin Saw Mill (松林火锯厂),
established in the early 20th century, relied on the Rochor River to transport
timber and finished products in the early years. When I just moved to Maude
Road, I visited the mill to purchase plywood for my family’s metal beds. A friendly
supervisor showed me around, giving me my first glimpse into sawmill
operations.
Years later, I learned from retired architect James Liaw (廖元虎) about
his father, Liaw Chin Sing (廖清醒).
A barber from Foo Chow, he was deeply involved in fundraising for China’s
anti-Japanese war effort and played a key role in the Second Special District
Relief Branch, headquartered on Foch Road.
After the fall of Singapore, Liaw was detained by the
Japanese at Song Lin on Syed Alwi Road. Three days later, exploiting the
military police’s fear of infection, he escaped by supporting a comrade whose
festering wounds were swarmed by flies. It is a small human story hidden within
a vast and brutal history.
New Singapore Ice Works
Sungei Road was known to the Cantonese and Hakka communities
as 淡水河 (fresh
water river), while the Hokkien and Teochew called it 结霜桥 (frozen bridge). The latter name was
derived from the New Singapore Ice Works, established in the 1930s and renamed
in 1958.
Before refrigerators became common, the ice factory played an
important role in daily life. Hawkers, wet market fishmongers, fishing boats and
restaurants all depended on its ice supply. Ice was insulated with sawdust and
covered with rice sacks, a simple yet effective method. Sawdust from the nearby
Song Lin was perfectly suited for this purpose, an early example of practical
recycling.
The White Crocodile of Kallang River
In Southeast Asian folklore, the white crocodile (buaya
putih) symbolises mystery, power and protection. Stories of guardian crocodiles
often serve as omens or protectors of sacred waters.
Crocodiles were occasionally sighted in the Kallang River
until the mid-1980s. Among the Orang Laut and Chinese communities, tales
circulated of a white crocodile guarding the river. The Orang Biduanda Kallang
were said to make offerings to it, while some Chinese believed it lived beneath
Chwee Kang Beo (水江庙), a
rare riverine temple in Singapore. In reality, the temple had no connection to
the legend, but the story endures.
Today, as the manicured riverbanks and stadium lights
dominate the skyline, it takes effort to imagine tongkangs, brick kilns,
sawmills, ice production and other lost scenes. Yet beneath the modern surface,
Kallang Basin continues to carry stories of quiet resilience.
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