Tucked quietly within the bustling planning area of Kallang, Kampong Bugis remains one of Singapore’s most underappreciated urban enclaves. While much of the city-state is associated with gleaming towers, rapid development, and surgical urban precision, this modest subzone retains a layered narrative—one that stretches from seafaring Buginese migrants to grand visions of a car-lite, riverside future. It is in this intersection of heritage and transformation that Kampong Bugis finds its complex identity.
At first glance, Kampong Bugis might appear as little more than a transitional space, hemmed in by major roadways like Nicoll Highway and Sims Avenue. Yet, for those willing to look deeper, the area offers a compelling microcosm of Singapore’s larger urban and cultural tension: how to respect the past without being shackled by it, and how to build for the future without erasing what came before.
A Forgotten Name with Deep Roots
Names in Singapore are rarely accidental. The name "Kampong Bugis" recalls a chapter of Singapore's migrant history that predates even the colonial settlement of Raffles. It commemorates the Buginese people of Sulawesi, who were forced to flee Dutch oppression in the early 19th century. Their arrival in Singapore was not incidental—it was strategic, tied to trade routes, sea power, and resistance. After early settlements near modern-day Raffles Hotel and Bugis Street, the community established a larger, more permanent kampong along the Kallang River.
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| Image source: Wikipedia |
This community was more than a place of residence. It was a statement of resilience, a refusal to be extinguished by colonial violence. The Buginese settlement at the mouth of the Kallang River wasn’t merely a village—it was a testament to a people’s will to survive, to regroup, and to thrive in exile. The name “Kampong Bugis,” preserved in a road and now in a subzone designation, is a thin but persistent thread connecting modern Singapore to that defiant past.
That the village burned down in the 1950s is a tragedy few today remember. Yet, this forgotten fire marks more than the destruction of homes—it signaled the erasure of a people’s visibility in the national memory. Kampong Bugis is a name without its namesake village. It lives on as a placeholder, an echo of something deeper that once was.
The Ghosts of Landmarks Past
Though the original kampong is long gone, Kampong Bugis is not without historical significance. Landmarks like the Kallang Gasworks and the Kallang Airport complex continue to whisper stories of Singapore’s industrial and aviation past. These are not incidental relics. The Kallang Gasworks, for example, was crucial to powering early Singapore. Now, it stands dismantled, with only fragments left to suggest its former importance. Likewise, the Kallang Airport, Singapore’s first purpose-built civil airport, has been conserved—but not fully celebrated.
One cannot discuss Kampong Bugis without mentioning the former Gay World Amusement Park. In its heyday, it was one of the three “World” parks—alongside Great World and New World—that offered working-class entertainment, live performances, and boxing matches. Its demolition marked not only the end of a physical space, but also the conclusion of a certain kind of communal, analog leisure that defined a generation.
That all three of these places—gasworks, airport, amusement park—have been mothballed, demolished, or frozen in time, suggests a curious relationship to the past. The state is neither eager to erase nor eager to revive. They sit in an in-between status: recognized but not integrated. It is emblematic of the broader identity crisis that Kampong Bugis seems to face.
A Car-lite Utopia in the Making?
In recent years, Kampong Bugis has been identified as a testbed for urban planning innovation. The Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) has earmarked a significant plot of land bounded by Kallang Road, the Kallang River, and Rochor River for residential development. The goal: to create a sustainable, car-lite riverside community that integrates green living with modern urban convenience.
On paper, this is a compelling vision. Who could argue against more green spaces, pedestrian-friendly design, and fewer cars? In an era of climate anxiety and urban alienation, such goals feel urgent and necessary.
Yet, the plan’s very ambition risks undermining the soul of the place. Turning Kampong Bugis into a high-concept "eco-town" might produce award-winning architectural models, but it also threatens to sterilize the emotional and cultural texture of the area. A community designed from scratch—even with the best of intentions—rarely captures the accidental beauty of organic urban growth. The challenge here is not just design but memory: how can a new neighborhood remember the old, especially when few traces of the old remain?
Furthermore, Singapore’s car-lite aspirations must contend with the realities of habit, heat, and hierarchy. Will people truly walk or cycle in 34-degree humidity? Will car-lite living become a mark of elite virtue, accessible only to those who can afford to live where everything is within reach? These are questions Kampong Bugis might soon answer—not just for itself, but for the whole city.
The River as Witness
Kampong Bugis sits at a confluence—both literal and symbolic. The Kallang River and Rochor River frame its geography, and in doing so, become witnesses to its evolution. These rivers, once arteries of trade and migration, have seen boats give way to bicycles, and fishermen replaced by joggers. The Kallang Riverside Park, which now hugs the banks, is a quiet yet vital green lung, offering both solace and symbolism.
The park’s trails are well-used but never crowded, shaded by matured trees and cooled by river breezes. From here, one can see the city skyline in the distance—a reminder that even within the heart of progress, there are pockets of pause. This contrast, this tension between pace and stillness, gives Kampong Bugis its unique charm.
But the rivers also raise another tension: the line between beauty and vulnerability. As sea levels rise and climate change intensifies, areas like Kampong Bugis are at risk. Flood resilience will need to be engineered into the landscape, subtly and securely. The challenge will be to do so without turning the waterfront into a fortress, or worse, a gated enclave.
Between Margins and Centre
In the broader imagination, Kampong Bugis is rarely central. It is not a nightlife hub, a shopping district, or a tourist magnet. Yet its very marginality is what allows it to preserve a certain rhythm and humility. It is a place of bus terminals and service roads, of utility buildings and quiet riverbanks.
This is not the romanticism of neglect, but the realism of unnoticed importance. Lorong 1 Geylang Bus Terminal, for example, is far from glamorous, but it serves as a vital node in the island’s public transport system. Likewise, Merdeka Bridge, often driven across without thought, bears a name that speaks to a region’s post-colonial aspirations.
That these elements exist side-by-side—a crumbling airfield, a park named for freedom, a terminal few stop to admire—reveals the layered paradox of Kampong Bugis. It is at once remembered and forgotten, functional and symbolic, marginal and strategic.
The Risk of Over-Curation
Urban redevelopment in Singapore tends to be precise—sometimes to a fault. The risk in Kampong Bugis is not that it will be neglected, but that it will be too carefully curated. If the future development becomes a designer village, with uniform façades and lifestyle slogans, then something essential will be lost.
Authenticity cannot be retrofitted. It must evolve, be allowed to gather dust, to make room for the unpredictable. The best urban spaces are those that carry the fingerprints of those who live there—accidental corners, makeshift gardens, odd juxtapositions of old and new.
If Kampong Bugis is to succeed as a residential neighborhood, it must resist the urge to aestheticize itself into sterility. It must leave room for memory, for messiness, for the things that don’t quite fit.
Final Reflections
Kampong Bugis is more than a dot on the planning map. It is a place where rivers remember migrants, where parks speak to quiet dignity, and where past and future stare each other down without quite resolving their gaze. In a country where space is scarce and change is constant, such places are increasingly rare.
The opportunity here is not just to build well, but to remember deeply. To see Kampong Bugis not as a blank canvas, but as a palimpsest—one where new lines can be drawn without fully erasing the old.
Singapore’s genius has always been its ability to reinvent without collapsing into chaos. Kampong Bugis offers a chance to prove that genius again—but this time, with a gentler hand.