03/07/2026
Underneath Pasir Ris*
Blocks. A park. A fishing pond people cast lines into on weekends. Looks like nothing ever happened here.
It used to be the coast where the rich spent their holidays. Joseph Elias built his bungalow on this stretch before there was even a proper road to it. His neighbours: a movie mogul, a to***co baron. This was Singapore’s holiday address.
While they holidayed, Kampong Pasir Ris worked. Malay families caught shrimp off this beach and at Sungei Api Api, turned it into belacan and cincalok. Not a village trade on the side — Singapore was the belacan capital of the entire Straits Settlements. Thousands of tons a year, out to Java, India, Siam.
Tigers were real enough that in 1851, people built a temple for a god whose only job was keeping them out — Soon Hin Ancient Temple, 顺兴古庙, for a deity called Ang Sian Kong. The legend didn’t come from China. It happened on this coast.
None of it is standing. The road named after him — Jalan Ang Sian Kong — is gone. The temple merged into another one decades ago. The pond is the only thing still where it always was.
The kampong lasted until the 1980s. One generation back. There are graves near here that never made it into any of this.
This is what a sleeper town actually is. Not empty, not boring — just quiet about what’s still there.