As a nation, we have become skilled at remembering places after they have changed. A former kampung becomes an archive. An island becomes a caption beneath an old photograph. A shoreline becomes something seen through maps, models, exhibitions, and official histories. These forms of remembrance matter. They can protect histories that might otherwise be lost.

But remembrance can also come too late.

When heritage is only activated after transformation, communities are left to make meaning from what remains. They are asked to preserve memory after the conditions for living that memory have already been reduced.

This concern has become more immediate following the announcement that several of Singapore’s Southern Islands may be merged into a new Western Island. Singapore must plan for its future. But the question is not only whether a community’s story can still be told after a place has changed. It is also whether the people connected to that place have a meaningful role in deciding what happens to it.

A future cannot be fully inclusive if communities are recognised only after their possibilities have narrowed.

Recognition Should Not Stop At Representation

At this year’s National Day Parade, Orang Pulau and Orang Laut stories were included as part of Singapore’s shared history. For many in the community, it was meaningful to see island histories acknowledged on a national stage.

Recognition matters. It affirms that Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities are part of Singapore’s past and present.

But recognition creates a responsibility too. It should not end with a performance, exhibition, or account of the past. It should also shape how communities take part in decisions about the islands, coastlines, and waters that continue to hold their histories, practices, and identities.

There is a difference between being visible and having a say. A community can be recognised in a national story while remaining outside the conversations that determine its future.

For Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities, relationships with the sea are not simply inherited stories. They continue through water routes, fishing grounds, weather, kinship, work, and the everyday rhythms of coastal life.

A photograph can preserve an image. It cannot sustain a relationship.

When Knowledge Has No Place

Meaningful participation is more than an invitation to comment.

It is not a form completed after the main direction of a project has already been decided. It is not a consultation where people are asked to choose between different versions of an outcome that has, in substance, already been set.

Participation means that knowledge can change outcomes.

It means that people connected to the Southern Islands can share what matters to them before decisions become irreversible. It means that memory, local knowledge, and present-day relationships with the sea are considered alongside technical, environmental, and economic studies.

Communities may understand a place differently from planners, engineers, economists, or visitors. That should not be treated as a problem. It is knowledge that can improve planning.

The language used to describe a place also shapes what can happen to it. If an island is seen only as future capacity, it becomes easier to imagine replacing it. If water is seen only as space between land parcels, it becomes easier to fill it. If a community is seen only as heritage, it becomes easier to consult it after the fact.

Planning differently begins by recognising that these descriptions are incomplete.

Ecological Connections Do Not End at a Boundary

The Western Island proposal concerns waters that form part of a wider marine environment in Singapore’s south. The Southern Islands include coral reefs, seagrass meadows, mangroves, intertidal shores, and fishing grounds. These habitats support marine life and are connected through tides, currents, sediment movement, and the movement of species.

For Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities, these connections have never been only ecological. The sea is also a place of knowledge, livelihood, kinship, movement, and memory. Knowing the waters has meant knowing where fish gather, how tides shift, which routes are safe, how weather changes, and how one island relates to another. This is not separate from ecology. It is a way of understanding ecology through long-term relationship and lived experience.

A project may be drawn as a defined area on a map, but ecological processes do not stop at its boundary. If reclamation proceeds, it may disturb or remove seabed, reef, and intertidal habitats, while dredging and infilling can increase suspended sediment in nearby waters. Sedimentation linked to reclamation, dredging, and coastal development has long been recognised as a significant pressure on Singapore’s coral

The detailed footprint and construction methods for the Western Island have not yet been publicly confirmed. This makes early, site-specific, and transparent ecological studies important. These studies should consider not only the area that may be reclaimed, but also water movement, habitat connections, nearby ecosystems, and the combined effects of future activity over time.

They should also make room for the knowledge of people who have lived with and used these waters across generations. Scientific surveys, habitat maps, and environmental monitoring are essential. But they can be strengthened by community observations of changing shorelines, currents, fishing grounds, access routes, marine life, and seasonal conditions. Indigenous and local knowledge is not an optional cultural addition after environmental decisions are made. It can help build a fuller understanding of what is at stake before those decisions become fixed.

There is also a wider material question. If reclamation proceeds at scale, it may require substantial quantities of fill material. Globally, sand extraction from riverine, coastal, and marine environments can affect sediment movement, seabed habitats, water quality, fisheries, and shorelines. The impact depends on where and how materials are extracted, and on the safeguards in place.

Singapore has stated that reclamation-sand importers are expected to comply with relevant laws and environmental requirements in source countries. Still, the materials needed for a project are part of its environmental footprint, and it is reasonable to consider how they are sourced and managed alongside impacts within Singapore’s waters.

The question is not only whether a new island can be built. It is whether planning can bring ecological science and the knowledge of communities connected to these waters together.

A Different Measure of Progress

Singapore’s future will require difficult choices. No community expects the country to stand still.

But progress cannot only be measured by what is built, how much capacity is created, or what an area can be made to produce. It should also be measured by what remains possible: access, connection, stewardship, learning, and belonging.

The next generation should not inherit only a carefully curated account of the sea that once surrounded Singapore’s islands. They should inherit the opportunity to know it.

They should be able to encounter a shoreline that is more than infrastructure. They should understand that heritage is not simply an object from the past, but a relationship that must be lived in the present.

This is why the conversation about the Western Island matters beyond the Southern Islands themselves. It asks whether Singapore can plan ambitiously while recognising that living heritage, ecological relationships, and community knowledge are part of the country’s long-term resilience.

A Future Made With Communities

Singapore should not stop planning for its future. But its future should be planned with the people and communities who will live with its effects.

This includes Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities, as well as fishers, boaters, divers, marine workers, researchers, nearby residents, and others who use, care for, learn from, or remain connected to these waters. People experience the Southern Islands in more than one way. They support different forms of work, recreation, knowledge, heritage, and everyday connection to the sea. Local fishing communities in particular have long relied on Singapore’s southern waters as fishing grounds and places of practice.

Meaningful engagement should reflect this range of relationships. It should begin early, while the project’s direction and alternatives are still open for discussion. It should provide clear information about what is being considered, create space for different forms of knowledge and concern, and explain how public feedback has shaped decisions.

This is not about giving any one group the power to decide alone. It is about making sure that those directly affected are not brought in only after key decisions have been made.

There should be room for questions before outcomes are fixed. What will change? What will remain? Whose access may be affected? How will fishing grounds, routes, coastal activities, and ecological connections be considered? What alternatives are still genuinely open?

Singapore’s future should make space for the communities that have long lived with, worked on, and cared for these waters.

They should be heard while there is still something meaningful to decide.

Read our official response below:

We would also like to thank the South China Morning Post for taking the time to listen to Cik Hamzah, a former resident of Pulau Sudong, and to hear his reflections on the recent development plans.

What We’ve Been Up To in July

This month, we were honoured to spend time with students and young people across schools and universities, sharing stories of the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities and the histories that continue to shape Singapore’s islands and coastline. Through discussions, activities, and open conversations, these sessions became spaces for curiosity, care, and connection. We were grateful for the warmth and openness of each group, and for the chance to introduce these narratives in ways that felt grounded, accessible, and meaningful.

West Coast Park with All Hearts

We would like to thank All Hearts Metta School for entrusting us with the opportunity to share more about Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities with their students. We spent time together at West Coast Park, where it was a joy to see how thoughtfully the students engaged with the discussions and activities. Their curiosity and openness made the session especially meaningful, and we were grateful for the chance to introduce these stories in such a warm and welcoming space.

Asian Undergraduate Symposium (AUS) with NUS College

We were grateful to work with NUS College in hosting a three-day learning journey for the Asian Undergraduate Symposium from 7 to 9 July. It was heartening to see students from across Asia come together, share their experiences, and draw connections between their own contexts and the wider coastal communities of Southeast Asia.

Throughout the journey, we reflected on Orang Laut experiences within Singapore’s urban development and coastal transformation, heard directly from community members about life on the islands and the changing coastline, and considered how memory, lived knowledge, and cultural practice continue to shape social and climate resilience. We also spent time thinking about ground-up Indigenous advocacy in Singapore through Orang Laut SG’s journey, as well as the shared experiences of ASEAN communities across the region and the importance of community-led work for coastal futures.

Coastal Walk with Boys’ Brigade

On 18 July, we were glad to share a Coastal Walk with Boys’ Brigade, inviting students to learn more about the history of the Orang Laut and Pulau community in Singapore, and the ways their culture and identity continue to be shaped today.

Together, we reflected on the impact of urbanisation and displacement, the traditions and values of islander communities, and how these ways of living may offer inspiration for more sustainable approaches today. The session also opened space to consider the role students can play in preserving culture and heritage, and in supporting diverse communities in Singapore through active care and advocacy.

Coastal Walk with SMU Master’s Students

On 26 July, we were pleased to spend time with SMU Master’s students in a Coastal Walk that created opportunities for connection, reflection, and shared experience. Through experiential activities and open conversations, participants built trust, supported one another, and strengthened their sense of community.

It was especially encouraging to see how the session invited reflection on the relationship between heritage, community voices, and policy, and how urban planning and governance might be made more inclusive through this lens.

National Day Parade with Orang Laut SG

We would like to thank the National Day Parade organisers for including us in this year’s celebrations. It was meaningful to see Orang Laut representation on such a prominent national stage, with performances that highlighted the community’s enduring heritage and contributions to Singapore’s story. We are especially grateful to Cikgu Asinda for her powerful performance of Aok Diko, an original song in the Orang Laut dialect that speaks of coastal identity and belonging. Hearing her voice fill the National Stadium was a proud moment for the community, and we hope it encouraged more Singaporeans to recognise and celebrate the living cultures and histories that continue to shape our islands and coastline.

We appreciate Rice Media for capturing our moments and thoughts at the National Day celebration.

Thank you to all the schools, institutions, and partners who welcomed us this month. Your support has allowed us to bring these stories into classrooms, learning spaces, and onto national platforms, highlighting the ongoing narratives of islander communities in Singapore. From school visits and university symposia to community dialogues, this month reminded us how much can be carried forward through education, relationship, and shared reflection.

As these conversations continue, we remain committed to ensuring that the voices, knowledge, and heritage of Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities are not only seen and celebrated, but meaningfully included in conversations about the future of Singapore’s islands and waters.

The future of the Southern Islands will shape more than land use. It will shape marine habitats, access to the sea, cultural relationships, and what the next generation is able to inherit and experience directly. Planning for that future must bring scientific understanding and community knowledge into conversation early, while decisions and alternatives remain open.

We are returning with another round of Coastal Walks. They are an invitation to slow down, listen, and consider what the sea holds: memory, knowledge, livelihood, culture, and living connections between people and place.

Click the button below to join us by the sea

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As conversations about the proposed Western Island continue, it is important that the future of these waters is shaped by more than maps, boundaries, and plans. It should also be shaped by the people who know, use, care for, and remain connected to them.

For updates on the Western Island proposal and Orang Laut SG’s upcoming activities, follow our Telegram channel.

If you have thoughts, concerns, or questions about the proposal, you are welcome to share them through this REACH survey.

See you soon,

Firdaus

How redevelopment feels from the shore

Every few years, Singapore gets a new set of renderings. Glass towers where kampungs stood. Boardwalks where jetties used to be. Old names folded into new branding, places called “rejuvenated,” “unlocked,” “reimagined,” as if they’d been waiting, empty, for someone to notice them.

Redevelopment has become Singapore’s background rhythm: steady and confident, even when the people who know these shores best are missing from the score. Most of the time, the logic is presented as common sense: land is scarce; the city must adapt.

But follow these plans along the coasts, forests, and islands, and a different picture appears. Communities who have lived with these places for generations are often left watching their worlds get redrawn, in a language with little room for them.

For a long time, these shores and islands weren’t leisure backdrops or future “assets.” They were places of work, dwelling, and kinship, known in detail by people who read the weather, the seasons, and the shifting ground as a matter of survival. Among them were Orang Pulau communities, whose lives were bound closely to the sea and the islands around Singapore’s coasts.

Today, almost all Orang Pulau descendants live on the mainland. Relocation and reclamation moved families inland and reshaped the shoreline behind them. Some former island homes are now industrial zones; others were folded into tourism stories; still others, like Pulau Seletar, sit quietly on planning maps, waiting their turn.

So the question isn’t really whether Singapore should redevelop. It’s how. Whose knowledge gets drawn on, and what kinds of relationships to land and water we’re willing to recognise as real.

The masterplan as a way of seeing

The Greater Sentosa Master Plan is one way of seeing, not the only example of redevelopment, but a clear case study of how these projects tend to get framed. On paper, GSMP promises “next-generation experiences,” “reimagined” coastlines, and a more “nature-centric” destination (Sentosa Development Corporation, 2026).

Brani, in this framing, becomes one of the largest sites for “game-changing attractions.” Pulau Seletar sits inside the Simpang planning area, tied to the futures of Sembawang or Yishun. Islands rarely get presented as repositories of history and culture in their own right, or as nodes in older regional networks across the Nusantara. They show up as assets to be optimised, sorted into categories never built with them in mind.

Coastal and Indigenous communities appear, if at all, as a brief nod to “earliest inhabitants.” Their knowledge of how these places flood, erode, and recover isn’t treated as central environmental data but as heritage material, documented after decisions have already been made.

It’s time to put the S in EIA (Environmental & Social Impact Assessment)

From the top down, it’s easy to focus on phasing, budgets, and visitor numbers. From the ground, a different set of questions comes into view.

What does it mean to redesign a shoreline, or clear a forest, without seriously involving the people who once lived on that land? What happens when impact is measured mainly in engineering and ecological terms, while overlooking those who’ve watched a bay silt up, or a patch of woodland become home within a single lifetime?

You can see this tension at Maju Forest and Gillman Barracks. At Maju, near Sunset Way, about 15 hectares of regenerating secondary forest have been earmarked for housing. HDB plans to keep part of the forest and a freshwater stream; nature groups have welcomed those safeguards, while noting what’s lost when decades of growth get treated mainly as a constraint to be trimmed elsewhere.

At Gillman, at least 10 hectares are expected to be cleared, with mitigation including ecological corridors and a retained stream linked into the Southern Ridges. Groups like the Nature Society call these steps in the right direction, while warning that a narrow corridor cannot replace the complexity of a larger forest.

For Orang Pulau families, Gillman and Telok Blangah carry another layer of meaning. In the 1960s, many were relocated from the southern islands into HDB flats there, and the neighbourhood became a place where island communities tried to re-root themselves: carrying sea knowledge into high-rise life, memories of coasts and kampungs into stairwells and corridors. When these forests are reshaped, the impact isn’t only ecological. It touches a social landscape too: the estates where former islanders rebuilt the community, the routes between blocks and hill paths, the gathering spots that helped people adjust to life away from the sea.

Singapore already has a tool that could bridge this gap: the Heritage Impact Assessment framework. On paper, it asks public projects likely to significantly affect heritage sites to undergo deeper consultation with URA and NHB, commissioning independent studies, engaging stakeholders, and publishing findings for feedback.

Used well, that could be powerful: a heritage study asking who lived here, what social life unfolded, whose memories will be affected, not one that simply lists facades and dates. Too often, though, heritage gets treated as a shell: a staircase, a plaque, a conserved structure folded into a new development, while the life that once filled it becomes a paragraph in an appendix.

A truly social assessment would reverse that order, starting from the people and relationships that made a place matter, then asking how much can be carried into whatever comes next. Whether jetties on islands, forests at Gillman, or blocks in Telok Blangah, the value was not only in the physical features but in the lives that grew around them.

A wider pattern

Pulau Brani and Pulau Seletar aren’t isolated cases. They sit inside a larger pattern of how Singapore’s islands get imagined and slotted into future plans, showing up first as a planning unit assessed for its potential uses and its role in a wider strategy.

Look at these places only through that lens, and something falls away. For Orang Pulau families and other coastal communities, islands were never simply “land parcels.” They’re where boats were launched, kin were visited, seasons were read; repositories of history, parts of a broader Nusantara world. The same is true of many small islands and green spaces sitting at the edges of planning documents, listed in zoning tables but rarely named in the public story.

None of this is to say development is, in itself, some kind of villain. Many of these families understand better than anyone that change is constant. The problem lies in the method and pace, and in the assumption that technical and economic logic alone are enough to chart the future of these places.

What community-based sustainability could look like

If we are serious about sustainability, development needs to change how it relates to the people who know these places best. That starts with seeing coastal, forest-edge, and Indigenous communities not just as cultural stakeholders, but as environmental partners, whose insight belongs in restoration and risk assessments from the outset, not stitched on afterwards as a gesture of inclusion.

Community memory is a form of data, too. When someone says this cove used to be deeper, that’s information about change, belonging alongside the maps and models, not behind them. Participatory mapping, oral histories, and community-led monitoring aren’t soft extras. They’re part of what serious, climate-resilient planning should look like.

Listening together, acting together

Changing this narrative isn’t an abstract exercise. It begins with how we listen and continues with what we actually do.

Some of that action is already visible around Gillman, Telok Blangah, and Maju Forest. Residents have been submitting feedback on HDB’s studies through its appeal form and signing petitions calling for these forests to be conserved and for agencies to prioritise existing brownfield sites first. A community Telegram group has formed to coordinate this work:

• Telegram group: https://t.me/telokblangahmajuforest

• Public appeal form: https://form.gov.sg/69f078611d94834b4d48a308

• Petition, Gillman and Telok Blangah Forest: https://c.org/2KHnKwmKNm

• Petition, Maju Forest: https://c.org/5d2r7Q9DxN

The appeal form closes on 6 August. If this matters to you, it’s worth submitting before then.

Beyond this, residents can raise these questions at Meet-the-People Sessions and public consultations. MPs can push for earlier, stronger engagement with affected communities, not just feedback on a nearly finished draft. Agencies can set aside real budget for community-led work and publish how local knowledge shapes their designs.

Coastal, forest-edge, and Indigenous communities were never meant to be a slogan on a placard or a footnote in an impact assessment. They belong at the centre of any serious conversation about redevelopment, whether that’s Pulau Brani, Gillman, Telok Blangah, Maju Forest, or the many other places sitting quietly at the edges of our maps.

Masterplans will keep getting drawn. What remains open is whose knowledge they carry and whose futures they leave room for. That’s not only a question for planners. It’s a responsibility that belongs to all of us who care how these islands and these forests live on.

What We’ve Been Up To in June

June brought many chances for us to gather in different ways, from quiet afternoons in the garden and conversations with youth organisers to walks along the coast and moments of recognition shared over a meal. Across these gatherings, we returned to how stories, relationships, and learning take shape through community, whether in the classroom, by the sea, or around the table. Together, these moments reminded us that the work of holding memory and place is carried not only through programmes and events, but through the people who show up with curiosity, care, and a willingness to listen.

Some Friends Stopped By

We would like to thank Laina Greene from Angels of Impact and Timmy Smith, a Māori artist, for taking the time to visit us at our heritage garden in West Coast Park. It was a pleasure to welcome them into space and to share a quiet afternoon together by the sea. We appreciated the chance to reflect on how sea and land connect us all, and how these landscapes continue to hold our stories, relationships, and responsibilities to one another.

Our conversation about the importance of community that extends beyond the borders of our waters stayed with us, and we are thankful for the insights, care, and encouragement they brought into the garden that day.

A Youth Symposium & Hackathon

Orang Laut SG and The Black Sampan had the opportunity to be part of CTRL+HERITAGE, a Youth Heritage Symposium & Hackathon organised by Bridging Generations. The gathering brought together heritage advocates, creative practitioners, and cultural thinkers who are exploring new ways of telling and holding stories.

Across the programme, artists, researchers, and community practitioners shared how heritage can be understood, reimagined, and carried forward. It became a meaningful space to reflect on what it means to stay close to our roots.

We were especially encouraged by the many young people who joined us, who were curious, thoughtful, and keen to learn more about the work that we do.

Coastal Walk with Ngee Ann School of Design and Environment

We were happy to host students from Ngee Ann Polytechnic’s School of Design and Environment for a coastal walk where we reflected together on space and belonging. Over the two day event, we spent time with community members, listening to their memories of island life and thinking about how these stories might be carried into future spaces.

Through this programme, students were invited to understand Orang Laut experiences within Singapore’s urban development and coastal transformation, and to hear directly from community members about life on the islands, relocation, the changing coastline, and the continuation of traditional crafts and knowledge. The sessions also opened up conversations about ground-up Indigenous advocacy in Singapore by tracing Orang Laut SG’s journey, strategies, and challenges.

Alongside these discussions, we explored the importance of ethical engagement with the community and how students might begin to shape meaningful frameworks for their own practice. Many left reflecting on how lived knowledge, memory, and cultural practice can be carried forward through participatory design research, and we are grateful to everyone who joined us for these walks and conversations.

Makan with friends at Singapore Heritage Fest

We would like to thank Singapore HeritageFest for inviting us to their appreciation dinner and for presenting us with a certificate in recognition of our programmes “Bubu and the Big Catch” and “Pulau to Table.” It was meaningful to gather with others who have been part of the festival’s journey.

Their ongoing support has made it possible for us to run these programmes over the past three years, and we are deeply grateful for the trust and care they have shown us.

A Special Shout-out!

We are deeply moved by Cikgu Asinda Daud’s National Day Parade performance, which highlighted the importance of the Orang Pulau community's culture and language. Hearing the words “Aok Diko” on the national stage was incredibly meaningful, a powerful reminder of the resilience and enduring presence of these communities. Check out the full Straits Times article!

https://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/community/ndp-2026-orang-laut-song-pays-tribute-to-spores-coastal-communities-in-parade-show

As June comes to a close, we are mindful of all the conversations, stories, and quiet moments that have shaped this month. Each encounter, whether by the water or in shared learning spaces, has deepened our sense of how the sea, islands, and rivers continue to live in people’s memories and daily lives. We look forward to carrying these threads into the months ahead, and if you would like to be part of what comes next, you can find updates on our Instagram page.

We’re back with another round of Coastal Walks! Walk with us to hear what we have been up to and meet our Orang Laut community members 🐠

Click the button below to join us and see you soon! 🐠

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See you soon,

Firdaus

There are moments when a film does more than document injustice. It names it plainly and, in doing so, asks us to confront what power looks like when it is exercised over land, livelihoods, and the people who live with its consequences. Pesta Babi is one such film. It shows that extraction is not only about resources. It also takes shape through state projects, corporate expansion, and the treatment of Indigenous land as if it were available to be taken.

For communities in Papua, this is not a debate to be held at arm’s length. It is the reality of watching 2.5 million hectares of land marked for deforestation under the Indonesian government’s National Strategic Project for Food and Energy. It is the reality of military protection for corporate interests, of forests being cleared for rice, sugarcane, and palm oil, and of land concessions drawn up in offices far away from the people whose lives depend on them. It is the reality of being told, over and over again, that others know better.

The film follows Indigenous voices who refuse that story. Through the testimonies of Yasinta Moiwend, Natalis Buer, Vincen Kwipalo, Hendrikus Franky Woro, and Wilem Kimko, Pesta Babi makes one thing clear: these are not communities without knowledge, nor are they people without rights. They know what is being lost. They know what is being taken. And they know exactly what it means to defend what remains.

Land, food, and the right to remain

Yasinta Moiwend’s account makes the cost of extraction painfully clear. In the Illwayab district, where she works as a vegetable farmer, the forest and swamps that sustained her community were decimated when government projects entered the land without consultation or permission. The land was treated as if it were empty. But for the people who live there, it is the opposite. It is where food grows, where livelihoods are made, and where memory stays rooted. When the forest is cleared, the damage is not only environmental. It is social, cultural, and immediate. Food disappears. Income disappears. The ground beneath everyday life begins to give way.

That is why the question of consent matters so much. Communities are not obstacles to progress. They are the people who bear the cost when decisions are made without them. To enter a place as if it belongs to no one is to repeat an old habit of power, now dressed in the language of development. The film does not let that language stand unchallenged.

For Natalis Buer and other Marind and Awyu community members, the loss is also felt in what the land once provided. Sago is not just food. It is kinship, history, and continuity. It is a connection to ancestors and to a way of life deeply tied to the swamp and forest. When the land is damaged, the loss reaches into the everyday practices that hold a community together. Even the attempt to impose rice cultivation, in place of the crops and knowledge that already sustain people, shows how easily outside power dismisses what communities already know.

What the film reveals in Papua also resonates with pressures experienced across the wider Malay Archipelago. For the Orang Seletar community in Johor, the loss of mangrove forests and waterways represents not only a loss of resources but also the erosion of ways of life, knowledge systems, and kinship networks that have long been rooted in coastal environments. For the Orang Suku Laut in Bintan, industrial expansion has similarly transformed ancestral sites, coastal spaces, and the ecosystems that have sustained community life across generations.

In this sense, Pesta Babi asks us to reckon with forms of extraction that extend beyond physical displacement. They can disrupt memory, unsettle relationships to land and water, and reshape the social and cultural worlds that communities have carefully maintained over time.

These questions are not confined to Papua, Johor, or Bintan. They also invite reflection on Singapore’s own changing coastal landscape. The Greater Southern Waterfront project, which seeks to transform 30 kilometres of the southern coastline, presents an opportunity to consider the histories and enduring connections that Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities have with these waters. As the coastline continues to evolve, some of the remaining spaces associated with former island and coastal lifeways take on added significance. Beyond their physical presence, they serve as important touchpoints for memory, identity, belonging, and intergenerational connections to heritage.

Recognising these histories and relationships does not stand in opposition to development. Rather, it offers a way to ensure that Singapore’s evolving coastal future is understood not only through the lens of transformation, but also through the communities, memories, and cultural connections that have long shaped these shores.

Resistance is not abstract

What the film shows, and what should not be missed, is that resistance is already happening. Hendrikus Franky Woro and the Awyu community have responded to the threat of oil palm plantations by placing red crosses and customary blockades across their land. These are not symbolic gestures without weight. They are clear declarations that the land is not free for the taking. The crosses stand in sacred spaces and sago groves as a mark of refusal, a line that companies cross at their own peril.

There is strength in that kind of resistance because it comes from within the community itself. It is not waiting for permission to exist. It is not asking to be recognised as legitimate by those who have already caused the harm. It is asserting a different authority altogether, one grounded in custom, memory, and the right to protect what has been inherited.

The same is true of Wilem Kimko and the Muyu people, whose pig feast, Pesta Babi or Awon Atatbon, is not simply a cultural event but a way of preserving land, kinship, and ecological balance. Preparing for the feast takes years. Pigs are raised freely, the forest is cared for, and the event becomes part of a wider system of reciprocity and protection. In this sense, the feast is also a refusal. It says that land is not just a resource to be extracted. It is something lived with, tended to, and honoured.

Vulnerability does not always mean that a community needs to be saved by outsiders. More often, it asks something else of us. It asks us to listen, to stand in solidarity, and to recognise the strength that is already there. The communities in Pesta Babi are not passive victims of development. They are fighting, they are speaking, and what they are saying carries more force than any excavator.

The violence of being made to disappear

The film is also difficult to watch because it shows how violence gathers around these projects. The state says it is protecting food and energy resources, but the reality on the ground is something else. Military presence far outweighs the number of people living in the area. Families are displaced. Rivers become unsafe. Women give birth alone in the forest. People are told to accept what has been decided for them, even when the price is their own survival.

That is why the words of Vincen Kwipalo cut so sharply. “I will not raise the red and white flag,” he says, because a flag means little if the people beneath it are not protected. His refusal is not about rejecting belonging. It is about refusing a form of belonging that asks Indigenous people to surrender their land and dignity in exchange for promises that are never kept. For the Yei people, and for many others across Papua, the choice is not between progress and backwardness. It is between survival and loss.

For a Singaporean audience, it is worth sitting with the fact that these are not distant issues. They belong to a wider regional story in which Indigenous and coastal communities are repeatedly asked to absorb the costs of investment, infrastructure, and growth. Singapore is not outside that story. Our own histories of land transformation, resettlement, and industrial expansion are set within the same regional landscape, where some communities are expected to move, adapt, or disappear for the sake of progress.

And the story is not only historical. Across the region, foreign capital, special economic zones, and large-scale industrial projects continue to reshape Indigenous territories in ways that are presented as inevitable. Yet other possibilities do exist. Different outcomes become possible when communities hold meaningful control over their lands, when consent is taken seriously, and when cultural and environmental values are treated as central rather than peripheral. What is being contested, then, is not simply development itself, but who gets to decide what development means, and who is expected to bear its costs.

What the film asks of us

Pesta Babi is not only a film about loss. It is also a film about the people who continue to insist that they are still here. It insists that Indigenous communities are not silent victims waiting to be saved. They are already speaking. They are naming what is happening to them. They are refusing to let others decide the meaning of their land, their food, their forests, and their lives.

That is what makes the film so important. It does not treat Indigenous struggle as a spectacle. It treats it as a living reality. It reminds us that vulnerability is not weakness. Vulnerability is often what power creates when it enters a community’s land, takes what it wants, and expects gratitude in return. But the film also shows that communities can answer that violence with memory, custom, and collective force.

In the end, Pesta Babi is a reminder that extraction is not only about resources. It is also something people live through, resist, and survive. And if we are willing to listen, the people most affected are already telling us what they need: not pity, not interpretation from afar, but the right to remain, protect, and define their own futures.

What We’ve Been Up To in May

May has been a full month for us, with many chances to come together through music, food, stories, and time spent by the water. Across these gatherings, we kept returning to how community, memory, and place shape the ways we understand Singapore’s coastal and island histories, and how these connections continue to be carried through dance, cuisine, craft, and shared learning.

Jom Joget Dangkung

On the 2nd May, we had the joy of hosting Jom Joget Dangkung alongside the screening of Dara Duka at the Malay Heritage Centre as part of its reopening celebrations. With the support of Novi Asti Lalasati and Ibu Sita Rohana, the evening became a space for gathering, remembering, and celebrating through story and dance.

One of the most memorable moments was listening to Mak Dare share her wisdom and stories with such an attentive audience. There was something deeply moving about seeing her words held with such care, and about witnessing how storytelling can carry warmth, memory, and connection all at once.

Dancing together afterwards made the evening feel even more special. We were glad to be part of a gathering shaped by culture, remembrance, and shared joy, and to spend that time with so many people who entered the space with openness and generosity.

Bubu and the Big Catch

Thank you to everyone who joined us for Bubu and the Big Catch. Through this family-friendly programme, we welcomed children and families into the maritime world of the Orang Laut through stories, hands-on activities, and moments of discovery.

As the session unfolded, participants were invited to engage with these traditions in ways that felt playful, accessible, and connected to everyday learning. It was lovely to watch children explore with curiosity, ask thoughtful questions, and respond so creatively to the stories and activities they encountered.

There was a real sense of openness and excitement throughout the programme. We were pleased to share these traditions in a way that felt gentle, grounded, and rooted in lived experience, and we are grateful to everyone who spent the day with us.

Pulau to Table

We were grateful to Singapore HeritageFest for the opportunity to share the food traditions surrounding the Orang Laut community. With a collaboration with Chef Azfar Maswan, we presented contemporary interpretations of dishes and flavours rooted in the past, while sharing stories of the islands and the memories carried through food.

It was lovely to gather around these conversations and to reflect on how cuisine can hold history, place, and community in ways that feel both intimate and lasting. We were happy to share these stories with everyone who joined us and spent time with us around the table.

We would also like to thank The Dutch Colony for their hospitality and collaboration. Their support helped shape a space that felt especially warm and welcoming, and we were glad to share this programme together.

Dragon Sprint @ The Kallang

We were glad to work with The Kallang on a series of programmes as part of their three-day Dragon Sprint event. It was important for us to bring forward the histories and lived experiences of the Orang Kallang that still resonate along the Kallang River.

Across the different workshops and activities, we shared stories, explored vessels, and spent time with the wider community, offering a glimpse into the river as a place shaped by memory, movement, and connection. It was encouraging to see participants respond with such openness and curiosity.

We remain glad for the chance to hold space for these histories in the very place from which they first emerged. Moments like these remind us how much a river can carry, even in a landscape that has changed so much over time.

Life by the Tides with Orang Laut SG

We were pleased to be hosted by the Asian Civilisations Museum as part of their Children’s Season programmes. The session offered a chance to gather with children and their families for storytelling centred on memories of the sea, island life, and the relationships that continue to shape these histories.

We are especially grateful to Syakirah for sharing her family’s stories of Pulau Sekijang Pelepah (Lazarus Island), and for bringing into the session the traditions, memories, and connections to the sea that have been carried across generations. Her storytelling brought a deeply personal quality to the programme and stayed with many of us.

Thank you to everyone who joined us for our programmes in May. Your continued support has enabled us to share the stories of Singapore’s islands and rivers while continuing to highlight the community's rich, ongoing narratives. From cultural celebrations and family programmes to community conversations and riverside activities, this month reminded us how deeply memory, place, and relationship shape the ways stories are carried forward. If you’d like to keep up with what we’re doing next, do have a look at our Instagram page for upcoming events.

A Passing in The Community

Before we close this week’s newsletter, we want to acknowledge the deeply saddening news that Cik Hasimah Bte Akop, wife of Cik Hamzah, has passed away after her battle with cancer.

Both Cik Hamzah and Cik Hasimah are from Pulau Sudong, and we came to understand how much her presence meant to the people around her. In quiet but important ways, she helped connect people and support the community, and her encouragement also helped Cik Hamzah grow more confident in sharing his knowledge and memories of bubu fish traps and island life.

Our hearts are with Cik Hamzah and his family as they move through this time of grief and mourning. We hold them in our thoughts and prayers, and extend our deepest condolences to their loved ones. Salam Takziah 🤍

If you would like to support Cik Hamzah and his family during this time, you may do so by contributing here:

Save our Sampans

See you soon,

Firdaus

This question sits at the heart of wider conversations about voice, authority, and the right to self-definition. Communities may be documented, consulted, and written about, yet still left with little control over how they are seen or understood.

For communities such as the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau, this is not an abstract concern. It shapes who gets to tell community stories, whose knowledge is treated as credible, and who is given the authority to define lived experience. More than inclusion alone, meaningful representation requires space, trust, and the power for communities to speak on their own terms.

Lived experience as authority

Knowledge is not separate from life for the Orang Pulau and Orang Laut. It is carried through memory, practice and relationship to nature. It is lived, passed on, embodied, and continued. To take lived experience seriously is not to romanticise it or freeze it in time. It is to recognise it as authority.

This understanding was one of the reasons Mengkaji Dengan Hati came into being, as a toolkit on research ethics grounded in community realities, designed to help return power to the people whose stories and lived experiences are so often interpreted by others. Grounded in community realities, it begins with a simple but important reminder: the knowledge carried through everyday life, community ties, and inherited practices is not secondary to other forms of knowledge but is vital in its own right. In this sense, the toolkit is also an effort to return greater authority to the people whose stories and lived experiences are so often interpreted by others.

Our thinking on this was also deepened through conversations with Dr Vivienne Wee, who introduced us to the idea of cultural capital and encouraged us to think more carefully about how authority is assigned. It helped us see how some forms of knowledge are more easily recognised as valuable, not necessarily because they are more meaningful, but because they already fit institutions' expectations.

Knowledge shaped through the right language, credentials, and formats is often trusted more easily, while knowledge carried through oral memory, community practice, and lived experience is more likely to be seen as informal or in need of explanation. In this way, cultural capital helps us see how certain voices are recognised from the outset, while others are still asked to prove their value before they can be heard.

The problem with being spoken for

For the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities, this tension is especially visible. “Orang Laut” itself carries histories and limitations from colonial systems of classification, and can remain a complex and contested term. But the answer is not to replace one rigid definition with another. These identities are fluid, layered, and lived. They hold ancestry, kinship, memory, and changing political realities all at once.

Stories are gathered, memories are recorded, and experiences are turned into reports, exhibitions, and academic writing. Yet the people whose lives gave meaning to that knowledge are too often left as unnamed sources behind someone else’s interpretation.

What this means in practice

If lived experience is to be honoured, then communities must be recognised not as participants at the margins but as people with the right to shape how their stories, knowledge, and histories are engaged with. Consent matters, but so does the ability to set terms, ask questions, refuse what feels harmful, and decide what meaningful collaboration should look like from the outset. Participation is never something that should be assumed. It has to be grounded in trust, clarity, and the recognition that communities have the right to determine how they wish to be approached.

This also means moving beyond extraction towards genuine co-creation. Communities should not be brought in only after key decisions have already been made. They should be part of shaping a project from the beginning, including its aims, access, outcomes, and the resources attached to it. If a project concerns a community, then that community should have a real say in what it becomes, how it is carried out, and what it leaves behind.

At the centre of this is the right to self-representation. Communities must be able to speak on their own terms, to name themselves in ways that reflect lived realities, and to appear not as anonymous sources behind someone else’s narrative, but as speakers, contributors, and authors of knowledge in their own right. Taking lived experience seriously is not only about listening more carefully. It is to recognise community authority, and to make space for that authority to lead.

The empowerment of self-representation

What is at stake is larger than the method. Too often, the origins of knowledge are overlooked, and the people who have carried its weight are left out of its interpretation, sharing, and remembrance. If this is to change, it cannot rest on language alone. It has to involve a real shift in who is trusted to speak, to define, and to represent community realities on their own terms.

When communities are understood only through outside narratives, a single story begins to take hold. The richness of lived experience is flattened into something easier to explain, teach, and contain. But understanding has to begin closer to the ground. It has to begin with the world as people actually live it, through the places, relationships, memories, and histories that shape everyday life. This is also why self-representation matters. It allows communities to speak from within their own lived realities, rather than being continually interpreted from the outside.

When communities are made to fit expectations shaped from the outside, there is little room left for contradiction, multiplicity, and self-definition. For communities like the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau, that danger remains whenever lived knowledge is forced into categories that were never built to hold it. Self-representation offers another possibility: one in which communities can name themselves, carry forward their own histories, and shape how they are understood in the present.

The question, then, is not only whether communities are invited into the conversation. It is whether they are trusted to lead, define terms, refuse what is harmful, and shape what comes next. Without that shift, inclusion can too easily leave existing structures untouched. To support self-representation, communities must be recognised not only as participants in discussion, but as authors of knowledge in their own right.

To be heard, not spoken for, is not a symbolic request. It is a demand for recognition, dignity, and authority.

Lived experience is not supplementary to knowledge.

It is knowledge.

What We’ve Been Up To in April

April gave us many opportunities to gather with others through conversation, learning, and shared reflection. Across each programme, we were reminded of the importance of creating space for lived histories, cultural memory, and the ongoing presence of communities whose relationships to land and sea continue to shape the world around us.

NTU Film Society Ancillary Programme

We joined the NTU Film Society for an ancillary programme held alongside a screening of Jumana Manna's Foragers (2020).

The programme invited participants to consider the close relationships Indigenous communities hold with land, memory, and nature, even in the face of ongoing attempts to sever those ties. Through our foraging workshop, we shared perspectives from the Orang Laut community and reflected on how knowledge, cultural practice, and attentiveness to the natural world remain deeply connected.

It was meaningful to be part of a space where film, conversation, and embodied learning could come together in such a thoughtful way. We were thankful for the chance to join NTU Film Society in reflecting on memory, nature, and our connections to place.

Sharing Session with Sengkang Secondary School

On 2nd April, we spent time with students at Sengkang Secondary School for a sharing session on the stories, cuisine, and cultural knowledge of Singapore’s Orang Laut.

We spoke about life on the islands, displacement, oral histories, and the ways memory continues to shape the community today. Students were also introduced to Indigenous plants and the traditional and contemporary uses of local flora and fauna through sensory activities with herbs, plants, and siput.

It was a pleasure to share these stories and experiences in a way that felt grounded, welcoming, and connected to everyday relationships with land and sea.

Sharing Session with Singapore American School

We were grateful to the Singapore American School for once again welcoming us to share with their students.

The session introduced the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities through our histories, heritage, and the ways identity continues to be carried and kept alive today, while also exploring how the move from the islands to the mainland reshaped everyday life for families long connected to the sea.

It also opened up conversations about how urban development and land changes in Singapore have affected the community, as well as the importance of fairness, inclusion, and respecting cultural heritage in a fast-changing society. It was encouraging to see students engage so openly with these ideas and to consider the role they can play in caring for the histories and communities that shape where they live.

Coastal Walks: Food and Stories

On 19th April 2026, we welcomed participants to Coastal Walks: Food and Stories as part of the Culture Pass programme. Held at West Coast Park, the session introduced participants to the community’s ongoing presence in one of the last remaining spaces where the Orang Pulau can still dock their sampans and practise Indigenous maritime crafts.

Through shared anecdotes, site tours, and conversations with former islanders, participants learned more about the history and identity of the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau community, our advocacy for cultural preservation, and the sustainable practices that have long guided life along the coast. Participants were also introduced to the cultural significance of the jong, explored the heritage garden through native plants and edible tastings, and enjoyed food prepared by community members.

It was especially heartening to witness such thoughtful engagement throughout the walk. We remain appreciative of the opportunity to share these stories and practices in a way that felt grounded, communal, and alive.

Malay Heritage Centre Re-opening

We were honoured to be part of the Pecah Panggung Parade in celebration of the reopening of the Malay Heritage Centre. Joining the wider community in marking the return of a space that holds deep cultural significance made the occasion especially memorable.

While many of us may be broadly recognised as Malay, our communities also carry distinct identities such as Orang Laut/Orang Pulau, Javanese, Minang, Baweanese, Banjarese, Bugis, and many others. It was heartening to take part in an occasion that made room for these layered histories and highlighted the richness and diversity that continue to shape our cultural life today.

Roundtable Conversation: Biocultural Methods for Future Pasts

We were grateful to the Max Planck Institute for the invitation to participate in the Roundtable Conversation: Biocultural Methods for Future Pasts, moderat moderated by Lisa Onaga. The discussion brought together panellists from across history, art, and environmental practice, including Michael Stanley-Baker, Head and Associate Professor of History at NTU School of Humanities; Veronica Ranner, Assistant Professor at NTU School of Art, Design and Media; and Novi Asti Lalasati, Documentary Filmmaker and Environmental Advocate. It was enriching to be part of this conversation and to share space with others reflecting on culture, knowledge, and the ways communities carry memory across time, while considering how the past is understood and how the future might be imagined with greater care.

The Future of Land in Asia Workshop

We were thankful for the opportunity to attend the workshop, The Future of Land in Asia: Decolonial Perspectives on Agriculture, Food Sovereignty, and Conservation, held at the Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore. It offered a valuable space to join a broader conversation about land and community. We also appreciated the opportunity to engage thoughtfully with others, consider these significant issues, and reflect on how discussions surrounding land, memory, and lived experiences evolve.

Thank you to everyone who joined us across our programmes and events in April. Your continued support means a great deal to us and helps create space for the stories, knowledge, and ongoing presence of the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities to be shared more widely. We are deeply grateful for each opportunity to gather, reflect, and learn together. Do keep an eye on Orang Laut SG’s Instagram page for upcoming events and future programmes.

See you soon,
Firdaus

Upcoming Events

Dragon Boat Sprint @ The Kallang (22-24 May)

We are excited to be collaborating with The Kallang for the very first time on a series of programmes! We were invited to connect the histories and lived experiences of the Orang Kallang to the present-day Kallang River. Across a series of workshops, storytelling sessions, and riverside walks, with stories and memories contributed by the Orang Kallang community, we hope to create space for participants to learn about and reflect on the layered histories of the Kallang River and the communities whose lives have long been shaped by it.

Join us at The Kallang from 22 to 24 May. More information on each session, along with registration details, is available at the link below! Slots are limited.

Register here

Calling all youths! Join the next heritage movement: CTRL+HERITAGE (13-14 June)

Orang Laut SG and The Black Sampan are grateful to support CTRL+HERITAGE, a Youth Heritage Symposium & Hackathon organised by Bridging Generations, featuring heritage advocates, creative practitioners, and cultural thinkers who are redefining how stories are told and remembered. Featuring artists, researchers and community practitioners, this is a chance to learn all about heritage and how we can connect with the heart of our roots. Do check out our other advocates and experts for their insights behind the scenes!

Register by 31 May 2026
13 & 14 June 2026, 9am-6pm
Glass Dome at China Street
Open to Singaporeans and PRs aged 18-35

Register Here

When we think about Indigenous communities, there is a persistent tendency to imagine them as fixed in time: unchanging, even disappearing.

The Orang Laut identity has never been static. It is fluid, continually shaped by shifting socio-political realities, environmental change, and development pressures. Far from being a relic of the past, it is lived, negotiated, and affirmed in the present. As scholars of identity have long argued, communities are not timeless artefacts but are continually formed through history and experience, rather than inherited unchanged (Benedict Anderson).

From Maritime Power to “Pirates”

Until the 19th century, the Orang Laut were both feared and respected, renowned for their seafaring expertise across the Riau-Lingga Archipelago. They were not peripheral actors but central to the region’s political and economic order, playing a vital role in the rise and maintenance of maritime empires such as Srivijaya and the Malacca-Johor Sultanate.

Their intimate knowledge of the sea enabled them to guard shipping lanes, fend off adversaries, and guide traders safely to port, functions essential to the survival of these kingdoms. Historians have shown that such maritime networks depended not only on rulers and ports, but on mobile sea peoples like the Orang Laut, whose labour and knowledge underpinned regional trade and power (Anthony Reid; Leonard Y. Andaya).

This position was fundamentally disrupted with the arrival of the Dutch and the British. Seeking to control the region's lucrative trade routes, colonial powers dismantled long-standing patron–client relationships between the Orang Laut and Malay rulers. In the process, they recast the Orang Laut not as protectors, but as “pirates”.

This reframing was not incidental. As historians have noted, “piracy” in the Malay world was often a political label, deployed to justify imperial expansion and to neutralise existing maritime powers that stood in the way of colonial control (Nicholas Tarling). Through this shift in narrative, the Orang Laut were not only displaced but also criminalised.

Yet, despite these efforts, Orang Laut communities have endured; adapting, persisting, and maintaining their presence across the land and sea they have long called home.

Development, displacement, and adaptation

If colonialism marked one rupture, post-independence development marked another.

In Singapore and Johor, land reclamation, industrialisation, and environmental transformation reshaped the very seascapes on which Orang Laut livelihoods depended. For some, such as the Orang Seletar, this meant migration to Johor, where they continued their maritime way of life while adapting to new, more sedentary conditions. Mussel farming, while it is not a traditional way of life, has been adapted to sustain livelihoods amid ecological decline.

Such adaptations are not departures from identity, but expressions of it. As anthropologist Cynthia Chou observes in her work on Orang Laut communities, mobility and responsiveness to changing environments have long been central to their way of life.

For Singapore’s Southern Islanders, however, development took a more dislocating form. State-led projects, including land reclamation, resettlement, compulsory citizenship, and tightening maritime borders, compelled many coastal communities to relocate to the mainland and assimilate into dominant societal structures.

Detached from our ancestral islands, the markers of Orang Laut identity have necessarily evolved. Today, identity is often grounded less in geography and more in lived experience; in memories of life at sea, knowledge of marine practices, ancestral lineage, and, crucially, the continued pride in identifying as Orang Laut.

Siti Nur Aisha’s thesis, which draws on extensive consultations with community members, suggests that one may be considered Orang Laut if they have experienced living in aquatic dwellings, possess proficiency in marine-related practices such as fishing, maintain a strong affinity with the sea, are able to trace their maritime origins, and, most importantly, take pride in identifying as Orang Laut.

So, who gets to define identity?

At its core, identity is political.

When imposed by authority, whether through colonial labels like “pirates” or contemporary classifications that subsume Orang Laut within broader racial categories, identity becomes a tool of governance. It simplifies, flattens, and ultimately controls how communities are understood. As Edward Said argued, such representations are never neutral; they are bound up with power.

Researchers, too, play a role in shaping these narratives. Without careful and ethical engagement, research can become extractive, taking knowledge without accountability and speaking about communities rather than with them. Indigenous scholars such as Linda Tuhiwai Smith have long cautioned against such practices, calling instead for approaches grounded in collaboration, consent, and reciprocity.

Yet identity extends beyond what is imposed or documented. Across the region, indigenous communities are actively reclaiming the right to define themselves. Initiatives such as Hari Orang Pulau, as well as efforts to recognise and sustain traditional knowledge, from fishing practices to craft, are not merely acts of preservation. They are acts of authorship.

Importantly, identity is not only claimed; it is recognised. Our encounters with Orang Laut communities in Bintan and Johor often affirm this, where Singapore-based Orang Laut are acknowledged as part of a wider, transboundary community. Such moments of recognition, grounded in shared ancestry and kinship, underscore that Orang Laut identity is relational, extending beyond the borders that now divide them.

A living identity

What it means to be Orang Laut today is not what it was in the past, nor what it will be in the future. Identity is not fixed. It is lived, negotiated, and continually in motion.

Ultimately, the authority to define Orang Laut identity should not rest with the state, nor with researchers, but with the community itself — a principle affirmed globally in the recognition that indigenous peoples have the right to determine their own identity and belonging (United Nations).

The Orang Laut story is not one of disappearance. It is one of continuity through change — a reminder that identity, like the sea itself, is never still.

Updates on the Orang Suku Laut in Bintan

On 17th March, we visited our friends in Bintan to support the cleanup of their community burial grounds. Upon arriving with Asti, we joined Johanes and members of the community as they carefully tended to the graves and cleared overgrowth from their newly demarcated land.

Johanes invited us to pay our respects and take part in a ritual honouring the ancestors. As part of this, we offered cigarettes in place of the traditional rokok daun (Nipah leaf cigarettes), due to the declining availability of Nipah palms in the area.

After several hours of work, we gathered to share a simple meal and Asti's teh tarik. During this time, community members demonstrated how rokok daun is traditionally made from Nipah leaves, offering us a glimpse into practices that are becoming increasingly difficult to sustain.

Johanes also updated us on several developments regarding the burial grounds:

• The land has been formally measured in collaboration with the local authorities, and concrete posts have been installed to demarcate a 30m by 20m plot.

• The community is currently in consultation with the local government to obtain Tanah Wakaf status for the site. Once granted, the land will be legally protected from sale or commercial use, ensuring it remains for the community’s benefit.

• The local government has indicated plans to install fencing around the perimeter, establishing clear boundaries for the Orang Suku Laut cemetery.

  

Following the cleanup, we visited Nenek Kancil’s home to hand over a portion of the crowdfunded donations to Johanes. After discussion, the funds will go towards:

• Installing signage at the entrance to clearly identify the land as the Orang Suku Laut Kawal cemetery, affirming their longstanding presence and connection to the area.

• Building a small storage structure to house items needed for rituals and offerings.

• Procuring essential ritual materials such as charcoal and kemenyan.

We extend our deepest thanks to everyone who has supported the Orang Suku Laut in Bintan, whether through donations, legal assistance, or raising awareness. These collective efforts reflect how solidarity can safeguard ancestral spaces and cultural continuity.

Update on the Orang Seletar Fire

On 2nd March, we received concerning updates from Jefree Salim regarding the temporary housing arrangements for the Orang Seletar following the recent fire. The proposed relocation to the People’s Housing Programme (PPR) in Johor, intended as a 2–3 year interim solution, presented significant challenges.

Community members reported that some units lacked basic utilities, such as electricity and water, while others were in poor condition, with issues including flooding and animal droppings. Beyond these conditions, relocation away from the coast poses deeper challenges for the Orang Seletar, whose way of life is closely tied to the sea. Distance from the coastline limits access to livelihoods and disrupts long-standing socio-cultural relationships with the maritime environment.

On 18th March, we visited the affected community in Kampong Teluk Jawa, Masai, Johor, together with Jefree. There, we witnessed many families working steadily to rebuild their homes using salvaged wood and discarded construction materials. Their efforts reflect both resilience and a strong commitment to remaining in a place deeply connected to their family histories.

Through conversations with community members, we also learned about the impact on children. Some have experienced lingering fear following the fire, while many expressed a deep sense of loss for their homes. Yet, even amidst this, we saw moments of resilience as children continued to play and support one another.

We further understand that the land they currently occupy was acquired by a developer without prior knowledge or consultation with the community. This information only surfaced through discussions with local authorities after the fire. For many, this land is not just a place of residence, but one tied to generations of lived experience, memory, and identity. There is a strong hope that future generations can continue to grow up in this environment, maintaining their connection to both land and sea.

While they have been informed that the current arrangement may last for two to three years, there remains uncertainty about what will follow. Community members have expressed a desire for secure, formally recognised coastal spaces where they can sustain their livelihoods. Above all, they hope for clarity and assurance in writing regarding their future.

To support ongoing rebuilding efforts, we distributed the funds raised to procure essential building materials. On 28th March, the community received a delivery of wooden posts and planks to support the reconstruction of their homes.

Future distributions of donations will support the community's efforts to rebuild its homes. Thank you for supporting the Orang Seletar during these arduous times!

What have we been up to in March?

School Programme at Singapore American School

On 5th and 6th March, our team headed to Singapore American School to facilitate a programme exploring the Orang Laut’s perspectives on Singapore’s early colonial period. Through our sharing, we invited students to consider how different communities experienced this period of change in distinct ways.

Following the session, we conducted small-group discussions to unpack themes such as governance, identity, and the evolving relationships between Indigenous communities and state structures. It was a meaningful experience engaging with such thoughtful and inquisitive students, and we appreciated the opportunity to share more about our culture and lived histories.

School Engagements at UWCSEA

On 11th March, we hosted a booth at UWCSEA’s Zero Discrimination Day fair, showcasing our culture and ongoing work. Students were introduced to the important flora and fauna of our community through an interactive game and had the chance to experience elements of our maritime heritage, including a bubu trap with preserved pufferfish skin.

It was heartening to see so many students engage with curiosity and openness, taking the time to learn more about Singapore’s Indigenous coastal communities.

Coastal Walk at West Coast Park is back!

This month, we conducted our Coastal Walk programmes in collaboration with NUS CiRe Lab and Raffles Institution (RI). Participants joined us at West Coast Park, where we shared our community’s narratives and perspectives on the transformation of the coastline and surrounding islands over time.

They also met our resident ICH Expert, Cik Hamzah, who generously shared his knowledge of bubu fishing and weaving, along with stories from his earlier experiences setting up kelongs with his brother. A highlight was his handcrafted mini kelong model, which offered a tangible glimpse into these practices.

We concluded the programme with a shared meal prepared by former Pulau Semakau islanders, in collaboration with NUS CiRe Lab. Our session with RI ended on a thoughtful note, with many insightful questions and reflections from the students.

For schools or organisations interested in similar programmes, feel free to reach out at hello@oranglaut.sg. We would love to connect with more of you.

We will also be conducting a Culture Pass programme, Coastal Walk, Food & Stories, on 19th April. We hope to see you there.

Book your tickets here!

Bubur Lambuk Distribution

This March, we continued our annual Bubur Lambuk distribution, preparing our savoury Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri alongside our friend Chef Azfar’s sweet Bubur Sum Sum. We distributed these at Jurong on 11th March, and in Kampung Glam on 14th March with our venue partner, The Black Book Studio.

Now in its sixth year since 2021, this initiative remains our way of giving back to the wider community that has so generously supported us. This year felt especially meaningful with Chef Azfar’s contribution, and it was a joy to see so many of you enjoying what we prepared with care.

Under One Atap

At The Black Sampan, we hosted the final edition of Under One Atap, a youth-focused extension of Atap Assembly at City Sprouts (West Coast Park) on 26th March.

We were honoured to have Seni Sini, Annsiang Sounds, and Labour Block as panellists, sharing their experiences in building and sustaining communities in Singapore. The space then came alive with an art trade area where creatives exchanged works, alongside an art jam and a drum circle flow session.

It was inspiring to witness participants fully immersed in creating, sharing, and connecting through art and music. If you’re looking to collaborate on community-driven activations, we encourage you to reach out to these incredible creatives.

Thank you to everyone who joined us across the four editions of Under One Atap. From conversations of the mind to expressions of the body and spirit and the building of community, these sessions have been deeply meaningful. We hope to gather again soon, so do keep an eye on The Black Sampan’s Instagram for future events.

See you soon!
Firdaus

Over the past year, we have been fortunate to be able to work more closely with our friends from the Orang Seletar community, particularly Jefree Salim, Nek Leti and Kak Anti, who visited Singapore twice in January to lead Anyaman (weaving) workshops at our Rumah Laut installation for the Light to Night festival.

They taught us words in their native Kon language, such as “kocang”, for the grasshoppers they expertly wove from nipah leaves and handed to eager children. They also recounted the places they once frequented in Singapore while the borders were still porous, including Pulau Seletar, their namesake island, now inaccessible to the public despite housing some of the community’s sacred burial sites.

The Orang Seletar have a storied history in Singapore, deeply intertwined with other Orang Laut subgroups.

As researcher Tan Zhi Xuan notes, it is difficult to locate the Orang Seletar in early British or Dutch records, as colonial writers often treated the Orang Laut as a single homogeneous group. However, the community’s social memory today affirms a presence that extends far beyond formal documentation. Some elders, for example, speak of an ancient gravesite near present-day Pulau Golf Resort dating back to a time “when men had tails”, a story shared in interviews conducted by Ilya Katrinnada, Chan Kah Mei and Ruslina Affandi during research for the play Air.

Prior to 1819, researchers suggest that the Orang Seletar held distinct roles under Malay rulers, including collecting forest products such as gutta-percha (gum resin). The present generation still recounts stories of elders singing, dancing, and gathering mangrove products for the sultans of Johor, and at times accompanying them on hunts. In 1819, a population of about 200 Orang Seletar was described as roaming the northern creeks of Singapore. Later records and oral histories corroborate their presence across northern Singapore and southern Johor, loosely bounded by the Pulai River in the west and Kota Tinggi in the northeast.

One of the earliest relocations occurred in the 1850s as the Johor Strait grew busier. Some Orang Seletar retreated deeper into mainland Singapore’s smaller creeks, such as the Seletar River, while others assimilated into coastal populations. Around that time, they were also asked by the Temenggong to settle permanently in one place, but the community appears to have held on to its nomadic lifestyle, continuing to live in and travel by pau kajang (houseboats) along the strait’s rivers.

The pau kajang is known for its thatched woven roof that provided both shade and shelter in the harsh tropical weather. As found by researcher Ilya Katrinnada, the Orang Seletar had a distinct way of weaving mengkuang (screw pine) or pandan leaves, which differentiated their boats from those of other Orang Laut groups. Each wooden boat usually housed families of up to six; beyond serving as a mode of travel, the pau kajang was also where they cooked, played, and slept, with elders like Nek Leti having even been born on the boat.

In 1923, most of the Orang Seletar in Singapore were once again moved by the Johor ruler to the Pulai River, when the Straits Settlement government in Singapore acquired over 600 acres in Seletar to construct an airbase.

Then came the Japanese Occupation from 1942 to 1945, which scattered the community across the region. Some fled into the forests, others headed north to Kuala Lumpur and Selangor, and still others went south to Indonesia. Although they lived in fear and hiding from the Japanese soldiers, the community is said to have emerged relatively unscathed, sometimes attributed to the protective spells the traditionally animistic community had cast. Some Orang Seletar even adopted and raised Chinese babies whose families had entrusted to them for safekeeping.

The Orang Seletar only began leading a more settled lifestyle during the Malayan Emergency from 1948 to 1960. According to Juma’at Misman (as cited by Tan Zhi Xuan), to curb communist influence, the colonial government had restricted the community to the Kuala Sungai Redan area. A curfew was imposed; travel by pau kajang was banned, and fishing was permitted only between 6am and 6pm. In response, some families built wooden homes over the river’s mudflats, returning to them after fishing each day.

When the Emergency ended, the Orang Seletar were relocated again, this time with greater autonomy. Some wished to settle closer to Johor town to trade their catch, a move supported by the Department of Orang Asli Affairs. Eight villages were subsequently established along the rivers and southern coast of Johor: Kampung Simpang Arang, Kampung Sungai Temon, Kampung Bakar Batu, Kampung Telok Jawa, Kampung Kuala Masai, Kampung Pasir Putih, Kampung Telok Kabong and Kampung Pasir Salam.

At the same time, some Orang Seletar returned to Singapore, establishing a temporary village on Pulau Seletar. From the 1960s to the 1980s, Orang Seletar on both sides of the border could move freely without passing through immigration, sometimes using a secret passage beneath the Causeway that they had helped build in the 1920s.

Besides Pulau Seletar, they frequently docked around Kranji, Sungei Kadut, Choa Chu Kang, Jurong, Punggol, Pulau Ubin, Pulau Tekong, Tuas and Lim Chu Kang. Some travelled seasonally, coming down to Singapore every October and November when the winds were stronger.

In the 1980s, however, borders became more strictly enforced after an Orang Seletar individual was exploited to smuggle illicit goods and subsequently arrested. Post-independence Singapore was also becoming an increasingly difficult terrain. Catches dwindled due to coastal development and maritime traffic, and many feared arrest due to a lack of documentation. By the 1980s, further development projects pushed the remaining Orang Seletar back to Johor villages, while others assimilated into coastal settlements in Singapore, such as Kampong Irau, Kampong Punggol and Kampong Wak Hassan.

Researcher Mariam Ali has also found that several Orang Seletar today have Orang Selat ancestry, reflecting intermarriages between the two groups when descendants of the Orang Selat once lived along the southern coast of Johor before moving to Punggol and later returning to the southern islands of Singapore.

For decades, the Orang Seletar in Johor have fought to retain their traditional ways of life, continuing to fish and forage in the mangroves surrounding their homes, with some turning to mussel farming to supplement their income.

They continue to pass down their unique customs, beliefs, and language to the younger generations. While they were here with us, Nek Leti and Kak Anti showed us several videos of the distinctive ceremonial dances and songs sung in a mix of Malay and Kon - living traditions that they spoke of with a quiet but unwavering pride. Some snapshots of their daily lives have also been poignantly captured through Jefree Salim’s photography.

But for the community, the continuity of their culture and identity has felt increasingly fragile over the past decade, as climate change and land reclamation disrupt the marine environments so intimately connected with the Orang Seletar way of life and livelihoods. For example, Orang Seletar fishermen report that their catches have declined by more than 70 per cent over the past decade due to diminishing sea life, increased marine traffic, and more frequent heavy rains and strong winds.

In 2017, the Orang Seletar of Kampung Sungai Temon, led by Eddy Salim, launched legal action to halt developments affecting their village. After five years in the Johor High Court, the government agreed to provide financial compensation and newly gazetted land to replace their ancestral territory. While considered a hard-won victory, it remains bittersweet. When we met Nek Leti at The Ocean Collective conference last year, she shared that construction appeared to have stalled, suggesting that she held on to a glimmer of hope that relocation might yet be avoided.

On 12 February this year, we received an urgent voice message from Jefree Salim.

“Banyak barang musnah, pakaian diorang pun. Bot pun terbakar, enjin pun terbakar. (So many things were destroyed — clothes, boats, engines.)”

A fire had broken out in Kampong Teluk Jawa in Masai, Johor, where some of his extended family live. “Semua habis,” he said. Everything is gone.

Some 30 homes were completely destroyed, with several others badly damaged. Thankfully, all residents managed to evacuate. However, most families did not have time to gather any of their personal belongings and were left with only the clothes on their backs. Boats, engines and fishing equipment — essential to their livelihoods — were also lost in the blaze. In total, 143 individuals were directly affected.

Recognising the gravity of the situation, we shared about the situation on Instagram and launched a crowdfunding appeal for emergency aid. We are deeply grateful that 635 of you contributed a total of SGD 36,264.65 by the time we closed donations on 14 February.

On 15 February, our team travelled to Johor to meet affected families and better understand their immediate needs. The cause of the fire remains under investigation, and we respect the authorities’ ongoing process. Local agencies, including Polis Diraja Malaysia (PDRM), Jabatan Kebajikan Masyarakat (JKM), Angkatan Pertahanan Awam Malaysia (APM), Kementerian Kesihatan Malaysia (KKM), Jabatan Kemajuan Orang Asli (JAKOA) and other organisations, are actively assisting the community.

Families have been temporarily relocated to Dewan Muafakat in Johor, where they are living in tents. While this provides immediate shelter, the emotional toll of displacement is significant. Some shared their uncertainty about whether they will ever get to return, particularly as their former kampong had already been gazetted for relocation.

In consultation with families, Orang Laut SG focused on practical items to ease daily living and support eventual relocation. We purchased durable storage boxes, electric fans for each tent, extension plugs, hot water flasks and new undergarments in various sizes.

Looking ahead, we will continue to support the community through the longer-term recovery phase. The funds we have collected will be directed towards assisting families as they rebuild their lives. As we understand that the local government will play the primary role in constructing new homes, our efforts will complement this by supporting critical household essentials, such as bedding, basic furniture, and key appliances like refrigerators.

During our visit, some residents spoke openly about the challenges they now face. Despite the hardship, children continue to attend school with transport support from local authorities, and community members have spoken of their desire to return to sea and rebuild their livelihoods.

Orang Laut SG remains in close contact with community members, and will continue working alongside them to understand and support their evolving needs. As recovery efforts continue, we will be calling for volunteers in the near future to support the community in meaningful and practical ways.

We thank you again for standing with the Orang Seletar. Your solidarity has made a tangible difference, and we hope you will continue walking alongside the community in the coming months as they rebuild.

What our team has been up to in February!

Coastal Walk with National Arts Council

On 6 February, we hosted the National Arts Council at West Coast Park for a Coastal Walk as part of their team bonding programme. We brought them through the park and community space, sharing our maritime crafts and the perspectives of the Southern Islanders, before bonding over a meal prepared by former Pulau Semakau residents. We had a lot of fun engaging with such an eager and curious group!

For organisations interested in similar team bonding, CSR or DEI initiatives, feel free to drop us an email at hello@oranglaut.sg. We would love to meet more of you!

Out to Sea with Cik Am

On the fourth day of Ramadan, we had the privilege to witness the practice of Bubu fishing by our ICH expert, Cik Am, as part of a research trip. We left the community space on Cik Am’s humble blue boat early at 7:45 am. With 6 of us on the boat, Cik Am navigated our way to the first terumbu (a reef, rocky shoal, or sandbank that is typically submerged and only visible or exposed during low tide). We encountered many waves, getting drenched in the process, as bigger ships moved past us, going about their port activities in the morning. As Cik Am mentioned, the increase in maritime and port traffic around the community’s fishing grounds has become a significant source of disruption, destabilising the ecosystem upon which the community depends.

As we arrived at the first spot, Terumbu Pandan (now named Cyrene Reef), located between Pulau Bukom and Jurong Island, Cik Am lined up his boat according to physical landmarks such as the buoys and the buildings at West Coast Park behind it. With decades of experience under his belt, he then dove into the Singapore straits in search of his bubu, placed a week ago.

Swimming a few metres swiftly in one breath, Cik Am was able to locate his bubu within seconds and was even able to see if there were fish in the trap. To our amazement, he could even hear the presence of fish when the waters were murky. While some bubu yielded abundant catches, others contained relatively few fish. After pulling up a few bubu, Cik Am and his son accumulated many fish on his boat — ikan libas, ikan dingkis, ikan temenggong, ikan pari mengkek, ikan gelam, amongst many others.

We then went to see the expansion of Pulau Sudong to witness the effects of land reclamation. The government adds sand to the terumbu to increase the land area of the Southern islands. This process not only reduces the space for fishing but also alters currents and increases sedimentation, making the water murky. These effects make it more difficult for Cik Am to catch fish. This was seen firsthand on several occasions when Cik Am dived to retrieve the bubu but chose not to pull it up because the catch was insufficient.

To end off the research trip, we visited Pulau Hantu, recounting stories we had heard from community elders and Cik Am’s time living on Pulau Sudong. In the past, Pulau Sudong was only a quarter of its current size - it was an island surrounded by extensive reefs. Cik Am recalls that he would have to swim back to the island if he went out to forage when the tides were low. Pulau Sudong's reef has since been reclaimed to pave the way for a military airstrip. Now, Cik Am can only see his island from afar as it has been closed to the pubic for military use since 1982.

Just across Sudong, Semakau has also seen drastic changes. It was joined with Pulau Seking by land reclamation and has been a landfill since the 1990s. Similarly, Pulau Busing, now a heavily industrialised island with oil and chemical facilities, was founded on reclamation that joined four islands - Pulau Busing, Pulau Ular, Pulau Bukom Kecil and Pulau Bukom Besar. Evidently, the Southern Islands have undergone extensive state-driven transformation, forever changing the land and seascape of the islands, leading to the disappearance of some of them from our collective memory.

The video above shows a 1943 map superimposed on the current map of Singapore.

With the expansion of the Southern Islands, it is unclear how much longer this rich historical tradition can be sustained. The government has gazetted the terumbus, which the community relies on for fishing, as potential reclamation sites. If land were to be reclaimed on these terumbus, not only would the ecology and currents be forever altered, but the practice of Bubu fishing too.

Under One Atap: The Spirit

For The Black Sampan, we hosted our third Under One Atap session (a youth-focused spinoff of Atap Assembly) at City Sprouts (in West Coast Park) on 13 February. We were extremely excited to welcome our traditional arts practitioners to the space — Jodi (Southeast Asian shadow puppetry), Tedja Timur (Wayang Kulit), and Faizal (Guzheng). They delivered incredible performances, including an absolutely beautiful collaborative piece that they improvised for the night. We were completely in awe, and got to learn so much about these precious art forms through their sharing as well. Thank you to all who joined us that evening! <3

Our Under One Atap sessions are designed to open conversations on matters close to all of our hearts. We have one last session coming up this month, spotlighting community-builders. Stay tuned for more updates, or join our Telegram channel here!

Mengkaji dengan Hati (Research with Care): Launch of our Research Ethics Toolkit!

To wrap up the month, we are honoured to have launched Orang Laut SG’s very first publication! We have been working on this Research Ethics Toolkit with our friend and researcher, Chia Jie Lin, since 2024. A true labour of love, this first edition was written with the generous input and expertise from community members, as well as academics and experts who share our same goal of creating more equitable and beneficial models of community-based research.

We are especially honoured to have been joined by Dr Vivienne Wee and Ilya Katrinnada, our esteemed panellists, and 80 of you lovely people for our launch event - we are so grateful for all of your support.

You may click here to download a free digital copy of the Toolkit or purchase the physical copy on our Ko-Fi page.

Check out the Toolkit here!

Marking the month of Ramadan with Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri and Bubur Sum Sum

As part of our yearly tradition since the start of Orang Laut SG six years ago, we will be sharing our community’s special Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri at two locations this month, on 11 March and 14 March. This time, we will be joined by esteemed chef and content creator at nOm, Azfar Maswan. We are excited to meet you!

See you soon,
Firdaus

On 27 Jan 2026, the Orang Suku Laut community was informed by workers near their ancestral burial grounds in Kampung Masiran that action would be taken at the cemetery within six days. The burial grounds, established in 1970 and currently housing 22 graves, are vital to the spiritual heritage and intergenerational continuity of the Orang Suku Laut community. The community, with whom we have remained in contact over the past few months, reached out in great distress at the prospect of losing these burial grounds. In response, Orang Laut SG and our Bintan counterparts posted on social media to draw public attention and support.

On 28 Jan 2026, the Sekretaris Daerah (Sekda) Bintan, a top-ranking civil servant for the local government, contacted our Bintan counterparts over video call and invited them to an in-person meeting to clarify the situation.

The meeting, held on 29 Jan 2026, was attended by our Bintan counterparts, representatives from the Orang Suku Laut community, the Sekda of Bintan, district and village Leaders, and representatives from PT BAI.

We would like to share the following updates as discussed by the community:

1. Damage to the sacred Nipah palms

   The government and PT BAI representatives explained that the dredging around the Nipah Palms was meant to demarcate the land area belonging to PT BAI. However, we note that other markers have been used throughout the area, including concrete stakes labelled “BAI”. As such, we question the intention of the dredging, which we understand has caused damage to the Nipah palms, which are sacred to the community. We were told that no consultation had been carried out with the Orang Suku Laut community present, particularly regarding the cultural significance of flora and fauna in the area, including Nipah palms.

   

2. Orang Suku Laut burial grounds

   During the meeting, PT BAI representatives verbally stated that there is no written instruction or company policy regarding the relocation of the Orang Suku Laut burial grounds. They explained that the proposed land use in Kampung Masiran involves the development of a temple and/or religious site, and that the burial grounds would therefore not be relocated. At the same time, the seven Orang Suku Laut members present at the meeting acknowledged receiving verbal messages about the cemetery’s relocation from individuals working on site.

   
   While the explanations given during the meeting provided some reassurance, the Orang Suku Laut community emphasised the importance of formal legal certainty in written form. The community was advised by the authorities to independently secure Tanah Wakaf status for the cemetery grounds, to formally register the site to be used for religious or ceremonial purposes.

   
   Currently, we are ensuring that the Orang Suku Laut is fully supported in the legal process to secure the cemetery grounds, and we are thankful for the help of pro-bono human rights and environmental lawyers.

3. Coastal homes, mangroves and marine ecosystems

   The government representatives also clarified that they had not asked any Orang Suku Laut in Kawal to relocate from their coastal homes. However, the community shared that three families had moved from the village to live on land, following impacts on their fishing livelihoods linked to land reclamation, sedimentation, and restrictions on access to mangrove and marine ecosystems; however, this was described by government representatives as a “voluntary” decision. With ongoing development activities near the Orang Suku Laut coastal homes in Bintan Regency, the community remains concerned about the potential relocation of their coastal homes, the ecological health of the mangrove and marine environments they rely on, and the long-term sustainability of their way of life and livelihoods in the area.
   

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The outpouring of support in response to our initial post has been tremendous. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. In total, we have received $5,006.82 from 85 supporters, which will go directly to the Orang Suku Laut to be used as they deem necessary. We are working closely with Johanes and his community to ensure they receive the protection, support, and legal recourse they urgently need. As the community continues to navigate the challenges associated with industrial development in the area, we have identified several key areas that the funding will support:

• Travel costs and administrative fees for the Orang Suku Laut as they go through legal proceedings

• Visitations to other Orang Suku Laut community leaders in Mapur, Air Glubi, Numbing, and Malin Island, who have supported the Kawal community

• Restoration of awnings and large wooden structures within the burial grounds

• Upkeep of burial grounds and future logistical costs

Latest updates on the Orang Suku Laut’s burial grounds:

To begin, the Orang Suku Laut community in Kawal, together with friends in Bintan, organised a clean-up at the cemetery on 3 Feb 2026. About 50 community members from different islands gathered at the burial grounds to care for the graves and clean up the surrounding areas. The funding helped cover simple but essential needs such as food, drinks, and car transport for the community.

At the same time, we are still cognisant that the Orang Suku Laut remain in a precarious position. For one, there is the staggering scale of environmental degradation the community has had to contend with in recent years.

Coastal reclamation and industrial infrastructure have degraded not only mangrove forests but also seagrass meadows and the once-abundant seas, which were sources of livelihood for the community.

Additionally, for the Orang Suku Laut, daily visits to the cemetery are meant to be preceded by ceremonial practices involving the harvesting and smoking of parts of the Nipah palm. The destruction of the last Nipah palm stand near the cemetery is one example of how the impacts of industrial activity extend beyond its ostensible boundaries, affecting the continuity of the community’s way of life, culture, traditions, and identity.

Based on our understanding, Indigenous land rights in Indonesia are potentially contentious. Under Indonesia’s Agrarian Law 1960, any land or territory without a land title or land certificate is deemed state property, thereby automatically overriding Indigenous claims to ancestral lands without formal documentation (Chairul 2024). The ILO Convention 169 is an international treaty that mandates governments to respect and recognise the rights of Indigenous communities over their ways of life, including their ancestral lands. These lands (and their sacred uses as cemeteries or places of worship) cannot be separated from the transmission of cultural identity to future generations. Loss of ancestral land could have also jeopardised the Orang Suku Laut community’s recognition as an Indigenous Law Community (Masyarakat Hukum Adat, MHA), further marginalising their participation in development decision-making processes.

It is therefore concerning that significant environmental changes have occurred in areas surrounding the Orang Suku Laut, changes that the community has had little choice but to contend with. During the meeting held on 29 January 2026, the local government asserted that it did not intend to resettle the community and instead highlighted plans to improve livelihoods through investments in cultural tourism and infrastructure, such as the construction of a jetty.

While these intentions were presented as beneficial, we remain concerned about the extent and depth of consultation and agency that the community has been afforded to date. In this context, and in relation to any future impact assessments or planning processes, we question:

1. In the context of the Galang Batang National Strategic Project (PSN) in Bintan, how will consultation processes with coastal communities be designed and implemented to meaningfully identify, address, and limit potential environmental and cultural impacts?

2. As plans are discussed to improve accessibility through infrastructure such as a bridge, and to position the community space as a tourist attraction, how will the Orang Suku Laut community be involved on an ongoing basis in shaping these decisions, particularly in ways that prioritise their wellbeing, priorities, and long-term needs?

As our friends and Indigenous neighbours, we will continue to stand with the Orang Suku Laut and advocate for the community’s rights and wellbeing. We are immensely moved by the care and solidarity that you have shown the Orang Suku Laut and us over this past week; these efforts have amplified the voice of the Orang Suku Laut and empowered Indigenous communities to stand together. We will continue to share updates on the situation as it unfolds and invite you to remain engaged.

On the other side of the straits…

Back on our shores, West Coast Park (WCP), along with Singapore’s greater Southern Waterfront, is on the cusp of redevelopment. As the National Parks Board (NParks) seeks to reimagine this stretch of coastline as a destination park, many ideas are floating around about what it could become.

This moment presents a rare opportunity. Through NParks’ Southern Parks Enhancement Plan survey, one of the few avenues for public input to shape long-term planning, we invite you to lend your voice in support of our recommendations. Your response can help ensure the space is recognised as a permanent, community-led space for cultural practice, learning, and sharing.

According to NParks, the destination park seeks to honour the rich maritime history of our coastal areas. For generations, the Orang Laut and other Southern Islander communities have shaped Singapore’s maritime identity. Their knowledge, skills, and values – passed down through the years – are part of our living heritage, and can teach us lessons on resilience, care for the environment, and belonging.

In this context, WCP is a significant location that holds meaning and many memories for our Southern Islanders. Historically, while they were still residing on the islands, WCP served as a key landing point where islanders brought their catch to sell to the mainlanders and villagers who had settled along the shores of Pasir Panjang.

If you’ve ever walked along the water breakers at West Coast Park and noticed a fenced-off area with boats by the shore, you might have wondered what it was. That space is made up of simple shacks and shelters, hand-built over time by former Southern Islanders as a special space to gather and reconnect.

Our community members call this space tepi pantai (by the beach) – a small space by the coast that still carries the everyday heritage of Singapore’s Southern islander communities.

It is here that community members continue to practise and pass down ecological knowledge and skills such as bubu trap weaving and fishing. These living practices have recently been recognised as part of Singapore’s Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH), following our nomination of Cik Hamzah. Today, fewer than 10 Southern Islanders continue to practise this craft.

The space not only allows the community to maintain access to the sea but also provides an avenue for intergenerational knowledge transfer, ensuring that these maritime traditions, ecological knowledge, and cultural practices continue to thrive.

Furthermore, for the community, having a dedicated physical space to come together is also essential to sustaining social bonds.

As one former Pulau Sudong resident shared with a researcher, when asked what he missed about the island:

“Miss? There is nothing to miss. What is the point of missing anyway? I miss the people most, and when we gather, that feeling goes away.”

When asked if he would return if given the chance, he replied:

“Of course I would. I would leave in a heartbeat. Ask anyone here, and they will tell you the same.”

The upcoming redevelopment presents a critical opportunity to reshape the space in ways that can better serve the community and support the revitalisation of this lesser-known heritage.

Over the past years, our team has gathered community perspectives and conducted research on how WCP could house a more secure, accessible space for Orang Laut communities.

From this work emerged a longer-term vision.

Our hopes for Singapore’s first Indigenous Learning Centre (ILC)

Almost a year ago, mainstream media recognised Hari Orang Pulau as a celebration of Singapore’s Indigenous people. This recognition affirmed the importance of acknowledging Singapore’s Indigenous maritime communities and their continued presence within our national story.

Building on this momentum, we hope to establish Singapore’s first Indigenous Learning Centre (ILC) – a dedicated space for the history, living knowledge and practices of our Orang Laut communities. While Singapore’s constitution and other cultural institutions recognise Malays as Indigenous to Singapore and the wider region, we wish to create a space to focus on Indigenous maritime communities through this ILC. Alongside the ILC, we advocate for protected and permanent mooring spaces for boats manned by community members, essential for maintaining maritime traditions and intergenerational knowledge transfer.

Our heritage garden, Tanah dan Air, currently serves as a pilot for this vision. Through public programmes - including native plant showcases, cultural workshops, heritage walks, oral history sharing, and research projects - we have demonstrated both the relevance and demand for an Indigenous Learning Centre. These efforts have also supported capacity-building within the community itself.

However, as a ground-up organisation, our work remains constrained by limited manpower and financial resources.

With a formally recognised heritage site, stable funding and appropriate infrastructure support, an ILC – guided by Orang Laut Communities* and allies – can become a sustainable, accessible space for heritage education. With increased financial and manpower capacity, the ILC could:

• Support other community groups and individuals advocating for Singapore’s coastal heritage, like Asnida Daud, Wan’s Ubin Journal and the Brani project

• Lead ecosystem restoration: Community-led coastal planting, conservation, and documentation initiatives in partnership with environmental organisations and researchers

• Offer immersive learning experiences for schools, public institutions, and government agencies

• Serve as a public resource centre for students, researchers, educators, policymakers, and the wider public

• And most importantly, ensure the community retains autonomy over how their heritage, histories, and knowledge systems are presented and shared

*Singapore’s Indigenous communities include the Orang Selat from the Southern Islands, as well as other Orang Laut groups such as the Orang Gelam, Orang Seletar and Orang Kallang.

Internationally, Indigenous cultural centres in neighbouring countries like Malaysia, Laos and Indonesia (as well as further abroad in New Zealand and Australia) demonstrate that sustained public investment in Indigenous heritage spaces strengthens national narratives, supports community livelihoods, and contributes to tourism diversification. An Indigenous Learning Centre would similarly bring Singapore closer to its goals of heritage preservation, inclusive growth, and social cohesion.

Equally crucial to this vision is the protection of mooring spaces. Current regulations make it difficult for Orang Laut families to sustain maritime practices across generations. Mooring spaces are personal-to-holder; upon the death of a licence holder, the space is automatically terminated, and successors must source new moorings independently.

As operating a sampan and going out to sea is integral to Orang Laut culture, these processes disrupt the continuity of maritime traditions and create barriers - especially for younger generations.

How you can support

While navigating differing needs among multiple stakeholders, public support matters. By participating in the NParks Southern Parks Enhancement Plan survey, you can help ensure that redevelopment meaningfully includes Orang Laut communities and their living heritage.

Our recommendations for NParks to include the Orang Laut community in this Southern Parks Enhancement Plan are to:

• Recognise and preserve West Coast Park as an Orang Laut community and heritage space

• Protect and maintain mooring spaces for Orang Laut communities’ boats

• Work with Orang Laut SG to build Singapore’s first Indigenous Learning Centre (ILC)

By being part of the conversation, your voice strengthens ours.

We invite you to take part in the NParks Southern Parks Enhancement Plan survey and share your thoughts on the future of West Coast Park. If these hopes resonate with you, we encourage you to reflect them in your response to show public support for recognising living heritage, Indigenous communities, and community-led spaces.

Share your thoughts here!

Support our recommendations

Thank you for your support in 2025!

On 14 June 2025, we organised our inaugural public festival, Hari Orang Pulau. What began as a hopeful idea turned into a truly unforgettable day, with an estimated 5,000 people joining us. We held various showcases, activities and talks during the festival, bringing to light our rich narrative and culture. The turnout exceeded anything we could have imagined, and we were deeply grateful for your presence. It was heartwarming to see islanders and the public alike enjoying their time together on this day!

That same day, Minister Desmond Lee announced the formation of a working group by the Ministry of National Development, together with URA, SLA, MPA, and NParks, to better support the Orang Laut community. It was encouraging to know that our voices are finally being heard and included at the policy level, and we will do our best to continue to steward our community’s priorities and aspirations meaningfully.

We were also honoured to share a meal with President Tharman and First Lady Jane Ittogi, alongside former islanders Mak Ni, Mak Ani, Cik Am and Kak Asnida. The meal included our homemade bubur lambuk ikan tenggiri, lovingly prepared by Mak Ni and Mak Ani, which marked a meaningful step forward for our community!

We also expressed our culture through the arts, using diverse mediums to centre our narrative and make it accessible and engaging for wider audiences. While many moments have been meaningful, a few stand out for the connections they fostered and the stories they shared. We performed Ikut Arus with Zarina Mohammad as the opening/closing performance of Sama-Sama, an exhibition that brought together 60 artists to reflect on Singapore’s evolving history and cultural identity. We also launched a publication, Jemput Lagi, with Shooshie Sulaiman at our garden. In the spirit of community, one of our interns and her friends even hosted a garden music fundraiser, Meriah Bersama!

The past five years have been filled with moments of coming together - through walks, conversations, and shared gatherings. These experiences have reminded us how important shared spaces are for staying connected, especially as the landscapes around us continue to change.

Our outreach events have brought us closer to more people and helped grow our community of allies. More to come this year (with some on Culture Pass too), promise!

Working with different schools has also been especially rewarding, as it allows us to share Indigenous knowledge and values with the next generation of Singapore. One particularly special memory was leading a trail at West Coast Park with over 300 students from Hua Yi Secondary School, who have been working with us to pilot and refine programmes for secondary school students. Together, we explored the area and participated in activities such as identifying native plants important to our community.

If you’re interested in working with us on school or corporate programmes, we’d love to hear from you :-) drop us an email at hello@oranglaut.sg. Through these outreach and educational initiatives, we can continue to share our food, culture, and stories in ways that are engaging, meaningful, and thoughtfully tailored to different audiences.

Finally, we also had the privilege of meeting with other Indigenous communities, including the Orang Suku Laut in Bintan, the Orang Seletar in Johor, Māori youths, and various Indigenous groups at the 2nd Southeast Asia Regional Forum 2025: Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Climate Change in a Digital Era in Bogor. These exchanges enabled us to connect, learn from one another and build solidarity across Indigenous communities.

We would not have achieved so much without the dedication of our volunteers and organisational partners. We are deeply grateful for your support, which keeps our programmes running and allows us to continue advocating for the Orang Laut community.

We also extend our heartfelt thanks to our readers, event participants, and supporters. Your interest, presence, and care strengthen our work and give momentum to our community’s stories; we are truly grateful for a network that keeps our heritage alive and fuels our movement.

Thank you, and here’s to even deeper connections in the year ahead. We look forward to seeing you soon!

As our car rumbles onto a long dirt road, the landscape sharpens: stretches of bare earth surround us, punctuated by stark white buildings. In the distance, cranes loom over construction pits. Asti, our friend and guide, explains that we are entering the Galang Batang Special Economic Zone (GBKEK). Much of this land is now claimed by PT Bintan Alumina Indonesia (BAI), a bauxite processing firm that has come to dominate Indonesia’s industry.

You can hardly pass a couple of meters before spotting a concrete stake stamped with the letters B-A-I. A red banner flutters in the wind, announcing: “Congratulations to Bintan Chemical on the start of the first phase of the chlor-alkaline project,” written in Bahasa Indonesia and Mandarin Chinese. From his post, an armed officer eyes us closely.

All of this, Johanes says, used to be mangroves.

He shares that while the Orang Suku Laut were never formally ordered to relocate or work for PT BAI, the company’s developments have upturned ecosystems central to their livelihoods, culture, and sense of place. Fishing grounds have been disturbed by mining and reclamation, leaving few alternative sources of income. Many from Johanes’ village have since taken up employment with PT BAI, moving into company-provided quarters.

Environmental changes have also altered water flow and raised water levels in certain areas, including the community’s ancestral gravesite. The site, where generations of Orang Suku Laut have been laid to rest, sits on the edge of PT BAI’s land, yet activities just outside the boundary have left the graves increasingly exposed.

Stands of nipah and pandan trees once provided a natural buffer against rising waters. Nipah trees, in particular, are important for offerings and rituals connecting the community to their ancestors and the land. In the last few years, however, many of these trees have been cleared to make way for PT BAI’s activities. The remaining trees are some of the last few in the district.

Galang Batang has been designated as a SEZ since 2017, and by 2018, PT BAI was appointed its primary manager, overseeing a newly built port, steam power plant, alumina refinery, and transportation network, most of these on land once occupied by the Orang Suku Laut. The company is almost entirely foreign-owned, with shares tracing back to Shandong Nanshan Aluminium Co. Ltd., a leading Chinese metals group, through a chain of Singapore-based subsidiaries.

To many Southeast Asian governments, SEZs are a bargaining chip in courting foreign investment. Within them, firms like PT BAI enjoy investment facilities, financial incentives, and broad authority to develop land according to industrial priorities. Through policies such as expanded SEZs, Indonesia attracted $12.8 billion USD in Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) nationwide in the first quarter of 2025 alone. Top contributors include Singapore, China, Hong Kong, Japan, and Malaysia.

In other parts of Bintan, famous tourist sites like its sand dunes and uncannily blue lakes are remnants of past mining activity by other foreign-led companies; a concentration of contaminants in the waters gives these lakes their striking appearance.

Nearby in Pulau Rempang, Indigenous communities continue to resist eviction for the construction of a quartz sand processing factory, intended to supply solar panels to countries including Singapore. Following violent clashes with law enforcement and attacks targeting residents of the area, they continue to demand for recognition of their ancestral village, wanting only to “live peacefully on their land”.

A silk road, a silk rope

Many of the SEZs in our region are part of a wider map linked to China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), a central pillar of Chinese foreign policy aimed at strengthening trade connectivity and China’s global influence. As of last year, participating countries accounted for nearly three‑quarters of the world’s population and more than half of global GDP. While governments and businesses welcome these investments for their promise of growth and infrastructure development, the influx of foreign capital also raises serious concerns about social and environmental impacts, particularly for marginalised and Indigenous communities.

As a maritime region, coastal areas in Southeast Asia are especially sought after for qualities such as their easy access to shipping routes. Too often, coastal communities suddenly find themselves in the shadowy grip of foreign business, who have set sights on their homelands from afar. Because sea and foreshore rights are rarely formally recognised, their vulnerability is further heightened.

Just across our causeway, the Orang Seletar face similar threats of displacement as major projects like Danga Bay encroach onto their homes in the Johor Strait. These developments are part of the Iskandar Malaysia SEZ, built to leverage its proximity to Singapore. Announced in 2006, much of the initial SGD $87 million investment came from Singapore, though Chinese developers such as Country Garden (the firm behind Forest City) have taken the lead.

For some, this new island rising from the sea represents opportunity: speculative investment, for instance, a waterfront property, or space for experimental enclaves. Months ago, patrons of the Network School, a techno-utopian compound where “crypto and tech entrepreneurs are building software, chomping down Australian prime ribeye, hitting the gym – and getting schooled in a radical blueprint for creating new sovereign states from scratch” arrived in hordes on the reclaimed island.

For the Orang Seletar, this development marks a second relocation within a few decades. The first occurred when they were moved from Singapore’s northern shores in the mid-1900s. Elders spoke of the pain of seeing people and machinery bulldoze their sacred spaces, as they first learned about the projects only when construction workers began clearing ancestral gravesites over a decade ago.

At the same time, the community has fought fiercely to maintain their livelihoods and cultural practices, holding their ground in legal disputes with remarkable strength and determination. Led by Eddy Salim, the Orang Seletar of Kampung Sungei Temon filed a stop-work action in 2013 at the Johor High Court. In 2017, the court recognised that they had customary rights over their claimed territories. Five years later, in a landmark ruling, the Johor government agreed to provide not only monetary compensation, but also newly gazetted land to replace their ancestral territory and allow the community to continue their livelihoods.

This outcome is significant, especially compared to earlier cases involving the Orang Asli in Malaysia. For example, in the Sagong Tasi case (2002-2005) led by the Orang Temuan of Selangor, the High Court recognised Orang Asli native title for the first time, affirming their customary rights over ancestral land, though the Orang Temuan received only financial compensation, and were not given any new land.

The Orang Seletar ruling represents a notable step forward, combining monetary support with replacement land. However, it still falls short of granting full control over their ancestral territories; in Malaysia, customary rights are limited in practice as the state retains ultimate ownership of land, and Orang Asli rights are largely restricted to occupying and using it. Under the Land Acquisition Act, the government can still relocate communities or allow development on their land, provided compensation is offered.

By contrast, international standards, such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), go further. UNDRIP recognises Indigenous peoples’ rights to own, use, control, and develop their traditional lands, and requires that states obtain free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) before approving projects or relocations.

This framework acknowledges that native title carries deep cultural, spiritual, communal, and economic meaning that cannot be reduced to market value. It also gives communities the power to fully manage economic, cultural, and environmental use of their territories.

For investments to truly benefit Indigenous people, this ability to exercise meaningful control over their territories is crucial. While research shows that foreign investment near Indigenous lands often leads to land loss, environmental harm, and social conflict, there are few exceptions. In Australia, for example, the Philippines-based ACEN Renewables partnered with the Yindjibarndi people of Western Australia to jointly develop renewable energy projects.

A key strength of the arrangement is that the Yindjibarndi chose ACEN as their partner and retain approval rights over all proposed project sites. The agreement also provides for Yindjibarndi equity of between 25% and 50% in each project, preferred contracting for Yindjibarndi-owned businesses, and training and employment opportunities for community members.

These examples suggest that different outcomes are possible, but only when land tenure is secure, agreements are fairly negotiated, and cultural and environmental values are treated as central rather than peripheral. Such conditions are often absent in Southeast Asia, yet they demonstrate that development need not come at the expense of Indigenous lives, livelihoods, or heritage.

In Singapore, our own history is not disconnected from these regional experiences. The relocation of the Orang Pulau from the Southern Islands was partly triggered by the establishment of the Shell refinery on Pulau Bukom in the early 1960s, alongside other development projects in the decades that followed. Although the Southern Islanders have long since been resettled, Singapore’s economy remains intertwined with contemporary processes of displacement taking place just beyond our borders.

For communities like the Orang Suku Laut and Orang Seletar, the future is still uncertain. Industrial expansion keeps pushing into their lands and waters, even as their efforts to protect ancestral sites, livelihoods, and ways of life grow more urgent. But these communities are far from passive. They continue to assert their presence, share their histories, and fight for the right to live with dignity on their own terms. As neighbours, we stay in touch with both the Orang Seletar and the Orang Suku Laut, and with local partners, are exploring ways to support them through visits, documentation, and advocacy.

If you have experience working with Indigenous communities facing similar pressures, or insights into ways to safeguard the rights of neighbouring coastal communities, we would be grateful to hear from you.

What have we been up to in the last few months

As the year comes to a close, we want to give a quick shout-out to the communities and organisations we’ve connected with over the past couple of months. These relationships are what give meaning to our work and keep us motivated to push for social impact. We’re grateful to each and every one of you!

Meeting Orang Seletar @ The Ocean Collective Summit (3 Oct)

We participated in The Ocean Collective Summit organised by The International SeaKeepers Society Asia. Through Dr Jarina’s coordination, we were joined by Nek Leiti, Pak Jahan and Anti from Kampong Sungei Temon, Johor. They shared about their displacement from their coastal village and the loss of access to ancestral seas. Their songs and stories offered a direct and personal insight into the lived experiences of the Orang Seletar community. This session grounded the summit’s conversations in real human experiences behind environmental and cultural loss.

Coastal Walks (with Culture Pass!)

On October 11 and November 22, we hosted another two Culture Pass coastal walks, introducing participants to the maritime histories of Singapore’s southern shores and the heritage of Orang Laut communities. Participants shared that it was their first time learning about the cultural and ecological relationships held by coastal communities here. These walks continue to be a useful way to familiarise the public with lived heritage on-site.

Nikko AM Global Awareness Series (15 Oct)

We were also invited by Nikko AM’s Sustainability Group and Global Racial Equality Group to share about the Orang Laut communities as part of their internal global learning series. Previous talks in the series included the Buraku community in Japan and the Māori in New Zealand. Our session was conducted live in the Singapore office and broadcast to teams in Japan, New Zealand, and other regions. Thank you to the Nikko AM team for welcoming us into your office and learning more about Singapore’s Indigenous Peoples, we hope you enjoyed the food!

Jemput Lagi! with Singapore Art Museum & Shooshie Sulaiman (17 Oct)

We hosted Shooshie Sulaiman and the Singapore Art Museum team at Tanah dan Air in West Coast Park. It has been about a year since establishing the space, and this gathering served as a check-in and re-connection. We were happy to welcome back Shooshie Sulaiman into our space, and celebrated with an evening of gathering, storytelling and food, a spread specially prepared for SAM’s crowd!

We had space to hear the Orang Laut community practitioners and members, with Faizal, Cik Am, Mak Noni and Mak Ani present on the panel. Shooshie reflected on how beyond documenting, representing, it is of upmost importance that we take to practicing traditions, knowledge and to partake in building these crafts by their own- to truly understand what the community has been through.

Learning Journeys with Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy (5 Nov) and Raffles Institution (18 Nov)

In November, we embarked on Learning Journeys with students from the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy and Raffles Institution, using the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau experience as an entry point to discuss development, indigeneity, and advocacy in Singapore. Through these sessions, students engaged with lived experiences of displacement, adaptation, and community-led work. For RI students, the session placed particular emphasis on Project Work (PW), encouraging intimate discussions on how these insights could be thoughtfully applied to their own advocacy and research projects in a way that is grounded, ethical, and community-centred.

Programmes for the staff of Guangyang Secondary School, Hua Yi Secondary School, and ACMI

We were also happy to welcome the staff from Guangyang Secondary School, Hua Yi Secondary School, and the Archdiocesan Commission for the Pastoral Care of Migrants & Itinerant People (ACMI) to West Coast Park in the past month. For Guangyang, the programme was part of their strategic planning for the year, and we shared a buffet set as they reflected on the year ahead. Hua Yi staff joined us for a range of hands-on activities to bond, including a cooking demonstration with Mak Noni and a jamu-making workshop with Sue from Dapur Cahaya. With ACMI, it was insightful for us to hear about the work they do with migrants and have open conversations about roots, identity, and supporting communities.

Looking ahead

We have some exciting plans for the start of 2026 and are looking forward to sharing them with you! If you’re interested in creating a programme with us, or just want to chat about ideas, feel free to drop us a line at hello@oranglaut.sg. :)

See you soon!

Their stories are a vital part of our intangible cultural heritage (ICH), which anchor us (and hopefully, future generations) to our environment and kinship ties in the region.

Bubu fishing — our Indigenous ICH

When Cik Am and some fishermen from the Southern Islands return to sea over the weekends, their sampans are sometimes loaded up with these handwoven wire mesh traps that can be larger than the men themselves.

Every bubu maker has a signature – Cik Am uses siku (hooks) to secure the tulang (skeleton) of his trap to the hexagonal wire frame in front; each trap is furnished with a small door near the roof to easily reach the fish inside. This craft is not simply an object, it is a living practice intertwined with the sea, coupled with a sensitivity and familiarity to the environment developed over decades. At seven, Cik Am began fishing with bubu traps with his father, rowing their sampan to the bountiful reefs surrounding Pulau Sudong, their ancestral island. Having just turned 70, Cik Am has been making bubu traps for about half a century.

Through visits to our community space at West Coast Park, Cik Am has humbly shared with us the know-how behind bubu trap fishing. In the expanse of glittering blue sea, the Orang Pulau keep track of exactly where each bubu trap is placed in relation to landmarks such as islands, reefs, and locations on the mainland like Bukit Timah Hill. One person free dives into the sea to secure the trap onto the reef with large rocks, while another mans the boat, keeping an eye out for any shift in the currents or winds. With a large catch and a large bubu trap, the fish alone could weigh up to 70 kg, and require both fishermen to lift together. For the most part, one person is enough to retrieve the fish and carefully brush off stray pieces of seaweed and debris before returning the trap to its original spot. “A bubu is like a home,” Cik Am often reminds us. If it does not look nice and clean, the fish would not want to enter it.

The bubu is a type of passive trap, allowing fish in but making it difficult to escape. It is a light-touch, sustainable tool as it does not damage marine habitats or involve large bycatch. Cik Am also shared that he believes it can be more effective than methods like net fishing, which may require fishermen to stay out at sea for long hours. With bubu fishing, fishermen can retrieve traps during the day and return home by evening.

As a shared traditional craft that has sustained families and livelihoods among Indigenous coastal communities of the Nusantara for generations, it is also a vessel for maritime knowledge and wisdom – like how our winds and currents flow, where fish gather, and the rhythms of the reefs.

We’re hence excited to share that our team nominated Cik Am as an expert ICH practitioner last year, and the nomination has been accepted! Soon, Bubu Making and Fishing will be added to our ICH inventory, which will also serve as documentation for some of Cik Am’s knowledge relating to the weaving of bubu traps and their use.

We are so happy to see Cik Am’s craft receiving official recognition, and this is also the first time that an aspect of Singapore’s Indigenous cultural heritage has been included in the ICH inventory.

Many of the community’s practices are place-based, reflecting a rootedness with our surrounding land and seascapes. Being relocated from the Southern Islands threatened to sever such ties, as former islanders suddenly faced barriers to continuing their age-old traditions. For instance, fishermen like Cik Am have to take their sampans much further out to sea to access traditional fishing spots, many of which are closer to the Southern Islands than mainland Singapore. These longer trips require more fuel, in addition to having to shoulder additional costs like boat motor upkeep and operational licenses. Compounded with a dwindling catch impacted by the increasing developments in Singapore’s waters, some islanders have had little choice but to give up or sell off their boats and associated licenses.

More than a survival skill or source of sustenance, these traditional fishing practices are part of our living heritage, carrying stories of resilience, belonging, and deep connection to the sea. To help safeguard them, we have launched a dedicated donation fund to support the community in maintaining their sampans and continuing maritime traditions like bubu fishing. Every contribution goes directly towards sustaining sampan upkeep, licensing, and the passing on of these crafts to future generations.

Save Our Sampans

Thank you for supporting our Orang Pulau fishermen!

The music of our islands

Another Pulau Sudong islander we are so proud to see making waves in the media recently is the phenomenal Cikgu Asnida Daud (who is also Cik Am’s niece)! If you’re lucky, you may have caught her at one of our past Orang Laut SG events, on television, or perhaps even in your classroom. Cikgu Asnida is an educator with the Malay Language department at MOE Headquarters, and also a talented artist, performer, and proud Orang Laut descendant. We’ve always been in awe of how her words and music so powerfully capture the heart and soul of what it means to be Orang Pulau.

Recently, she shared with Channel NewsAsia how her music continues to carry the rhythm of the islands, recalling:

“My childhood was filled with music, and everyone around me sounded fantastic.

With her voice, she not only shares her family’s stories, but also lights the way for other descendants, showing what it means to reclaim our heritage loudly, beautifully, and unapologetically.

As part of the Singapore Night Festival earlier this month, we had the privilege of bringing together Cikgu Asnida and other former islanders for a panel discussion on the lesser-known celebratory traditions of Singapore’s island communities — from music and dance to storytelling. Held at the Oldham Theatre in the National Archives of Singapore, Rentak Pulau, Bunyi Hati (Island Rhythms, The Heart Echoes) featured Cikgu Asnida alongside Cik Nasir, a musician from Pulau Samulun, and Cik Kasmun, a joget dangkung dancer from Pulau Sudong, in a conversation moderated by Firdaus, their riveting stories bringing to life the vibrancy and richness of Orang Pulau culture.

As a young teen on Pulau Samulun, Cik Nasir first encountered the ghazal — a genre of traditional Malay music common across the Nusantara. The melodies drifting across the island stayed with him, and to this day he continues to play ghazal with Orkes Melayu Mutiara, an ensemble led by former islanders and descendants of Pulau Samulun. He spoke about the joy of playing through the night with a full ensemble of gong, percussion, violin, singers, and dancers.

Meanwhile, Cik Kasmun shared his experiences as a joget dangkung dancer, performers who were sometimes called “angels” among the community, known for traveling between islands to enliven festive occasions. Despite the joy they brought, dancers sometimes also faced stigma for their unique updo, yet they carried this tradition with pride as part of the islanders’ celebrations.

Space enough to grow

You may observe that the backdrop to both Cik Am and Cikgu Asnida’s stories is our community space at West Coast Park, a precious strip of beach nestled between the park’s wavebreakers, where many former Southern Islanders still dock their sampans. Along the sandy shore, they built shacks by hand, originally meant as shelters for friends and relatives to gather and rest while the fishermen were out at sea.

The space faces the Southern Islands, though views of the community’s former homes are now blocked by large ships and developments like the Royal Singapore Yacht Club. Yet it remains one of the last places where maritime crafts — from weaving gillnets to making bubu traps — are actively practised and passed down to younger generations. These traditions rely not just on knowledge, but on having physical space and access to the sea.

Initiatives like the Malay Heritage Centre’s short video series for ICH are helping spark interest among young people in these traditions. But nurturing that interest requires more than storytelling — it also needs support in the form of dedicated spaces, hands-on opportunities, and resources so that this engagement can be sustained.

Recognising this, our team has been advocating for the preservation of this community space. On our Coastal Walks, Food and Stories, we also hope to bring more people to visit the space and learn directly from community members like Cik Am. As a ground-up organisation, attending our walks helps to sustain Orang Laut SG’s programmes and initiatives. If you are a Singaporean above 18 years old, our walks are under Culture Pass, and you can redeem your credits at checkout to join us :)

Our next walk will be on October 11, Saturday. If you are lucky, you might even get a peek at the freshest catch of the day, as Cik Am goes out to sea on Saturdays!

Take a walk with us~

That being said, the community space is primarily cared for and used by the Orang Pulau, and public entry into this space is by invitation only. While we are grateful for the growing support and attention to the stories of the Orang Laut, we encourage visitors who are curious to learn more about the Orang Laut community practices to write to us, before attempting to interview, record, or photograph the space or the community. You may get in touch with us via our email hello@oranglaut.sg or our Work with Us form for collaborations, interviews, or learning opportunities.

We thank you for your understanding!

September Snapshots

• Cooking Demonstration @ Geylang Serai Heritage Gallery (GSHG)

To celebrate the opening of GSHG, we held a session exploring some of the historical connections that Orang Laut communities have with significant neighbourhoods in the east of Singapore, like Geylang and Kallang. Mak Noni and Mak Ani, our homecooks from Pulau Semakau, also led a cooking demonstration where they shared stories of some of the native flora and fauna used to flavour the traditional cuisine of the Southern Islanders.

• Bubu & The Big Catch @ Children’s Museum Singapore (CMSG)

For the September School Holidays, we were invited by CMSG to introduce bubu trap fishing and other traditional maritime crafts to a group of lovely kids and their families. With the team at the museum, we ran a craft activity at their new maker’s space, where the kids made their own sea creatures, absolutely delighting us with their curiosity and the creativity of their handiworks!

• Meriah Bersama, a fundraiser for Orang Laut SG at Tanah dan Air

We were so grateful to see the community come together for Meriah Bersama, a fundraiser hosted by our ex-intern Aqilah, who has supported our work for several years. She performed with her band Nosedive, alongside other local artists Bluebonebroth and Everythingusalright. Guests also enjoyed Beans & Beads, a coffee stand run by Anaqi, and a booth by Athena featuring handmade accessories.

It was such a beautiful evening of gentle music, crafts, and community spirit. Our hearts were full seeing everyone lounging on the City Sprouts lawn, soaking in the acoustic sets with loved ones and friends, new and old. Adding to the experience, we displayed a bubu fishing photo exhibition in the garden and shared warm bowls of bubur lambuk ikan tenggiri (spiced mackerel porridge) with attendees.

We’re deeply touched by the generosity of these talented young artists and everyone who joined us — thank you for supporting the Orang Laut community!

If you’re an artist or creative who feels connected to our work, we’d love to hear from you too, as we’re planning to host more of such gatherings very soon - DM us on Instagram @oranglautsg :)!

October highlights — what’s next for us!

Almost exactly a year ago, we held our first ever public event at Tanah dan Air – an intimate dinner and conversation between our community elders and Malaysian artist Shooshie Sulaiman, who kicked off the session by planting two pokok pisang in our garden. Over the months, the trees have shot up (literally bursting through our garden roof)! Shooshie will be concluding her residency with Singapore Art Museum (SAM) this month, and we are happy to be hosting her again at City Sprouts on 17 October (Friday) for her publication launch. For the evening, you’ll get to join Shooshie and the islanders for a delicious dinner of homemade Southern Islander cuisine, watch a kamishibai (traditional Japanese street theatre) performance, or mix some nature-based pigments with Wild Dot. Keep a look out on SAM and our socials for sign-up details!

This month, we’re also excited (if a little nervous) to share something new with you — a toolkit we’ve been developing with our friend, Jie Lin, a researcher from the University of Hawaii. The toolkit looks at ethical ways of engaging with communities, especially those who are vulnerable. Drawing from our own experiences advocating for our community, as well as conversations with elders, researchers, and media practitioners, we’ve put together a set of guidelines that we hope will be useful for researchers or storytellers who may feel unsure about navigating the sometimes complex dynamics of working with underrepresented or marginalised communities.

As part of the Creating Narratives for Change Festival with our neighbours at Common Ground, we will be soft-launching the toolkit through an interactive session with real examples and reflective prompts to help anyone who has ever wondered: how can research and storytelling truly support the communities we work with? We’d love for you to come learn and share with us at this session!

See you soon!

Being a relatively young island nation, Singapore’s early nation-building projects often focused on creating a shared identity and sense of what makes us ‘uniquely Singapore’.

Much of what is celebrated today as heritage in Singapore seems to be tied to modern-day amalgamations of identity, everyday living, and preserved landmarks - with Peranakan motifs around Sentosa, the Botanical Gardens being celebrated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site of Singapore, and our pride and joy - hawker centres - recognised for their Intangible Cultural Heritage. From waves of Straits-born Chinese blending cultures into the region, to remnants of colonisation in the 1800s – these are important and undeniable parts of what shape Singapore’s cultural landscape in the current day. Nonetheless, our public representations of culture and heritage still seem to trace back to relatively recent products of history, as opposed to the rest of our Southeast Asian neighbours.

Obscured by vague ethnic categories and a blurred recognition of our origin stories, we, as a nation, have yet to fully honour the deep historical shapings of the 14th century and beyond, from the great battles of the Kingdom of Singapura to the communities that came before them. Even less have we anchored ourselves in a native understanding of the land, the waters, and the relationships that tie us to the wider region, the nuances of knowledge our ancestors once held, grounded in this island archipelago.

Our recent expedition to Indonesia revealed what it could mean to truly respect and value sacred domains, while legitimising generations of ancestral knowledge.

We went to Bogor for the International Indigenous Peoples' Day

Orang Laut SG was honoured to be invited to the 2nd Southeast Asia Regional Forum 2025: Indigenous Peoples’ Rights and Climate Change in a Digital Era, held from 9 to 11 August in Bogor, West Java, Indonesia. Not knowing quite what to expect, we were warmly welcomed and taken on a three-hour journey by van into the heart of Kasepuhan Guradog, where communities had gathered to celebrate Hari Internasional Masyarakat Adat Sedunia (HIMAS) 2025.

In the midst of the Sumatran mountains, hundreds of Indigenous Peoples from 7 regions of Indonesia’s archipelago came in a roaring celebration of their cultures. The sound of snapping rattan whips, black paper horses and a Ngarengkong rice harvest ritual demonstration were paired with strong messages against the deprivation of Indigenous Peoples' rights. HIMAS also invited indigenous peoples from all over Southeast Asia, who were adorned with amulets crafted by their own artisans and traditional garments, dyed or woven.

The Elders of Guradog and Citorek opened the gathering with solemnity and pride, beginning with a prayer, followed by the national anthem, and then an Indigenous song – celebrating the dignity of their Indonesian, religious, and Indigenous existence. As a symbolic act that affirmed respect for elders, headwear was wrapped around the community protectors and leaders.

During HIMAS, one message was clear: the Indigenous movement is already happening, and solidarity is growing stronger each day.

For generations, Indigenous peoples all over the world have sustained resource management systems that protect food security and biodiversity. These systems have survived because they are rooted in deep knowledge, respect for the land, and collective responsibility. Yet today, in Indonesia, they face the painful irony that state-led “food estate” programs are destroying Indigenous lands. If we are to truly ensure food security, we must support Indigenous communities so they can continue their traditions, preserve sisterhood and brotherhood, and maintain the unity of the nation.

The Kasepuhan leaders recognised that their movement is guided by “our kolot” (the Sundanese word for elders) who remind us that separation from the land is not just damaging, but life-threatening. Many indigenous attendees shared this strong sentiment – describing the destruction of their land as “similar to having their wombs ripped apart.” They have lived with the land since they were very young; if nature is gone, then their survival is destroyed, and the sacred connection to their life source is severed. Thus, the National Strategic Projects are a great and imminent threat to their lives and risk the extinction of their communities.

Today, Indigenous peoples are no longer isolated. We are convening with experts, collaborating with officials, and calling for the respect of our right to self-determination. For us, our food systems were not merely about having enough to eat. It is a living system of knowledge passed down from generation to generation, practised through mutual cooperation, and guided by community deliberation. (Tim Redaksi, 2025)

Much of the work is led from inside the community, where Indigenous journalists and researchers report, clarify and assert the recognition of Indigenous territories across Indonesia as a source of local food and act as a vanguard for biodiversity protection.

In Indonesia, Article 18B(2) is a constitutional mandate that recognises Indigenous peoples’ rights to their land and territories. However, according to data released by Badan Registrasi Wilayah Adat (BRWA) or the Ancestral Domain Registration Agency during HIMAS, only about 18.9% have been legally recognised by the state.

BRWA has been doing the groundwork in guiding Indigenous groups in mapping their own territories, collecting spatial data of forests, rivers and seas. The evidence was visualised and illustrated — and screened unapologetically in front of the Marine and Affairs and Fisheries, Agriculture, and development authorities to see.

Through indigenous-led, district-level mapping, a staggering 33.6 million hectares of customary territories had been mapped and registered with BRWA, encompassing thousands of indigenous communities spread across the Indonesian archipelago. Customary territory maps are a manifestation of the spirit of self-determination that indigenous peoples have in protecting and managing their customary territories.

The basis of good governance is to protect its people, and Indigenous peoples are calling on their governments to honour the knowledge systems that have sustained life for generations. The courageous and unwavering voices on the ground spoke with clarity to the officials on stage – Indigenous peoples are not a threat, we do not seek to establish our own country. What we seek is simply to fight for our rights. Our struggle is not about separation, but about recognition: the right to live with dignity, to protect our lands and waters, and to carry forward the knowledge and traditions that have sustained us for generations.

The Asia Indigenous Peoples Pact (AIPP) states that 200 million of the world's approximately 370 million Indigenous Peoples live in Asia, and we are bound together by trade, kinship ties and the environment we live in.

In our ancestral domains, many indigenous communities face removal and extraction, and the Forum was a platform for them to come down to consult and collaborate on these challenges.

On the Maluku Kei Islands, the scale of exploitation is staggering. Within just ten months, more than 140 square kilometres of the Kei Besar Island have been subcontracted under the National Strategic Project (PSN). Limestone harvesting and other exploitative activities have taken place, described by locals as outright stealing.

We recall our research trip to Bintan, where our friend, Johanes, from the Orang Suku Laut community, brought us to his community space. There, we listened and witnessed first-hand the upturned landscapes that have affected the community’s connection to their land and sea. Under the banner of the National Strategic Program (PSN), PT Bintan Alumina Indonesia (BAI) has been rapidly expanding into Orang Suku Laut spaces, which Johanes sees as a way to extract resources, encroaching on homes, sacred sites, and even ancestral graves. The situation is complex and fraught with many challenges. In time, we hope to share these stories to a greater extent, in solidarity with our cousins and fellow sea peoples just across the straits.

The way forward seems wrought with impending challenges, but by gathering at the Forum, we were motivated by the existence of multi-institutional collaboration networks that support Indigenous Peoples, such as Aliansi Masyarkat Adat Nusantara, BRWA, Burung Indonesia, the Nusantara Fund, Samdhana Institute and more. It was insightful to learn from various frameworks out there, and we look forward to renewing our approaches and improving capabilities as a self-organised group.

Unfortunately, traditional wisdom is not enough to address the new, introduced problems of today, such as the rapidly changing climate affecting food systems, and the plastic that washes up on shore, which disrupts coastal livelihoods. To truly bolster sustainability with Indigenous Peoples, there should be measures taken to implement local wisdom to guide the stewardship of marine and land resources, to work with local authorities, businesses and the tourist sector to adopt a co-responsibility approach.

Learning From Our Neighbours and Friends

We have many, many takeaways from our time in Bogor, and now must look to returning our learnings back home.

For the many Indigenous people and communities we met, there was a radiating pride that they held in being at the forum. They honoured the connection to their ancestral homes and values, a stark contrast from how we do it back home. Our newfound friends drew strength from their indigenous identities, their communities’ customary practices held in high value, and they carried themselves with the responsibility of representing their community's voices.

In Singapore, our Indigenous identities are often relegated to the past, absorbed into narratives of urban development and assimilation. The Indigenous cause feels fragmented, and it is hard to maintain that ingrained sense of agency when we have lost our ancestral spaces. Other developmental priorities take precedence over the intangible values and knowledge offered by communities.

The Nusantara is a collection of places with traditional wisdom. More work has to be done to educate the general population to decouple the colonial view of native indolence in Singapore, and as Syed Hussien Alatas writes, to build a tradition of revisionary history, which has yet to happen in our country.

Moreover, our environments and generations of knowledge have been changing, and our natural landmarks are increasingly forgotten. We recently visited Pulau Sekijang Bendera (St John’s Island) with Mak Noni and Mak Ani, looking for a specific medicinal tree, only to find that only an empty plot remained, as it had been removed recently.

If it is inevitable that everything makes way for development, what will remain for generations after us?

In Singapore, the notion of becoming Indigenous to the land or sea does not easily translate, as land tenure and ownership are centrally regulated by the state. This structural reality differs markedly from many regional contexts, where customary and communal claims to land continue to be recognised. When we attempted to explain this condition to our regional peers, it came as a surprise to them - and to us, a reminder of how deeply these frameworks shape our assumptions about belonging and identity.

In Singapore, the work often takes the form of resisting cultural amnesia and holding on to fragments of memory. For other Indigenous communities in the region, it is a struggle tied directly to their survival and continued existence. What unites both, however, is the effort to ensure that generations of knowledge and lived experience are recognised as valuable, even within systems that tend to privilege what can be quantified or monetised.

We hope that more people will recognise that Indigenous Peoples are uniquely positioned to serve as environmental and cultural stewards, preserving ecosystems, sustaining traditional food systems, and leading projects supported with appropriate documentation and resources, grounded in generations of knowledge and experience.

Tumbung Nio - Our Closing Ceremony

Our last Nio Workshop was a much-needed closure to the busy first half of the year. As we entered August, we welcomed our dear and trusted friends, Zarina Muhammad and Hafiz Rashid, to talk about the lesser-known motifs and non-human beings, acknowledging the legends and allegories that populate our understanding of nature and history. We were reminded that beyond human agency, there were the tides, the earth, and corals that speak to us, and to respect our natural instincts. In masks, they held a performance that left us without words. Under the stars, we connected to what was around us, leaving calm and recalibrated for the new month.

Thank you, Kontinentalist, CNA, & The Guardian

We’ve been working with the lovely team at Kontinentalist, our research partner, for a community mapping project over the past few months. If you attended Hari Orang Pulau, you may have stopped by their booth, Air Pasang Surut, perhaps drawn in by their map of Singapore’s 77 islands (often left out of our spatial imagination), or by the stories being shared of our first homes.

We’re deeply thankful for the team’s care, dedication, and insight at every stage of the collaboration. You can read more in their latest newsletter, and in this beautiful note by Samira, who reflects on how our waters persist in connecting us through time, place, and memory, despite efforts to reclaim them.

We’re also grateful to have been featured in a Channel NewsAsia article about how minority ethnic groups in Singapore sustain food heritage through home-based businesses. For us, each meal is a labour of love, to share not only our food, but our community’s stories and traditions. We’d also love to band together with the other small businesses to learn about each other’s cultures in greater depth!

This month, we were also humbled to be a part of an important feature in The Guardian on how development has affected Orang Laut communities in Singapore and today threatens the way of life of the Orang Seletar, a community for whom displacement is, sadly, all too familiar. They once called the northern straits of Singapore – places such as Pulau Seletar, Yishun, and Sembawang – home, before urbanisation pushed them across the border. Though they have kept their traditions and cultures alive in kampungs along the Johor coast, development projects are once again encroaching on their homes.

Closer to home, some highlights

We were honoured to be invited to share about Singapore’s Orang Laut and Orang Pulau at Expedia Singapore, as part of their diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts, which include programmes dedicated to empowering Indigenous communities and inspiring allyship globally.

We also had the pleasure of hosting a programme for TIYA 2025, a regional youth conference organised by the Tzu Chi Humanistic Youth Centre, at West Coast Park, where we met many passionate young people actively shaping conversations and projects around sustainable development in the region.

These opportunities to share our stories and exchange ideas have meant a great deal to us, and we look forward to building more connections with corporate and educational partners. If your organisation would like to explore a programme with us, do reach out at hello@oranglaut.sg — we’d love to hear from you :)

A trip with Mak Noni, Mak Ani, and the students of Hua Yi Secondary School

On a breezy Wednesday last week, we took a ferry down to Pulau Sekijang Pelepah (Lazarus Island) with HYSS to learn about the Indigenous flora and fauna of our Southern Islands, guided by Mak Noni and Mak Ani, who were born and raised on the island. We discussed the historical significance of the island to the Orang Laut, and its uses over the years as it changed hands under the colonial government, Singapore authorities, and the Sentosa Development Corporation. The ecotourism gem that it is marketed as today appears rather detached from the stories of the Orang Pulau who once called the island home, but it is also one of the few remaining Southern Islands that are still publicly accessible. We were so thankful to have Nak Ani and Mak Noni with us to bring these stories to life – especially as they shared their traditional knowledge of animals and plants found on the island, such as the pokok pelampung, used by islanders to relieve congestion (buang angin) after childbirth.

Congrats to the SUSS team for running The Sea Trail!

These past few months, we’ve been mentoring a group of students from Singapore University of Social Sciences (SUSS) to organise an Amazing Race-style programme for kids at West Coast Park, in support of Orang Laut SG. The Sea Trail began with an introduction to Singapore’s Indigenous communities and identity as a nation of islands. Activities included knot-tying (a foundational skill for a life at sea), boat-building with coconut husks (a craft taught to us by Uncle Shukor, who used to race these as a child on Pulau Tekong), a treasure hunt around City Sprouts (our venue partner), and finally, a storytelling session by our incredible friend Hafiz Rashid, who captivated the energetic kids with a tale from the Riau Islands. Kudos to the SUSS team for their hard work and enthusiasm in learning and sharing the narratives of the Orang Laut, and a huge thank you to all the families who took their Saturday afternoon to join us! Till next time :)

Coming up next!

We’re kicking off the month with a family-friendly educational booth at the National Archives of Singapore on 5 Sept. Join us in games to learn about the unique dialect of the Orang Pulau or sharpen your senses by identifying Indigenous plants and molluscs – Jom Kenal Pulau!

We’re also excited to be bringing together three familiar faces from Hari Orang Pulau once again for Rentak Pulau, Bunyi Hati (Island Rhythm, The Heart Echoes) — a special panel sharing on Saturday, 6 Sept.

This session will explore the celebratory traditions of Singapore’s Islander communities, from music and dance to storytelling. Joining us are:

• Asnida Daud, veteran artist, educator and Pulau Sudong descendant,

• Cik Nasir Abdullah, a talented musician from Pulau Samulun, whose music accompanied the Joget Dangkung performance at Hari Orang Pulau, and

• Cik Kasmun, who in his youth was part of the Joget Dangkung troupe that travelled across the Southern Islands to enliven festive gatherings with their distinctive attire and spirited presence.

Register here to listen to memories and stories that remind us how vibrant, expressive, and full of life the islands’ traditions continue to be.

For those with little ones, we’ll be at the Children’s Museum on 13 Sept (Saturday) for Bubu and the Big Catch: Stories of the Southern Islands to share more about sea creatures that can be found in Singapore’s waters and traditional fishing techniques used by the Southern Islanders in this hands-on session.

And yes, we are on Culture Pass!

We will be holding our Coastal Walk, Food & Stories programme at West Coast Park this month on 12 Sept (Friday) and 27 Sept (Saturday). As some of you may be familiar with, West Coast Park is a special place for our community, as it is where the sampans of former Southern Island residents who are still active today are berthed together.

Through this experience, you’ll get to visit the community space, hear first-hand stories from former Southern Islanders and descendants, and take part in hands-on activities that offer a deeper understanding of the community. To close the programme, we’ll share snacks prepared by former islanders from Pulau Semakau.

Running programmes greatly supports our work at Orang Laut SG! <3 We invite you to join us if you are interested in knowing more about Indigenous culture, sustainability, and cultural preservation efforts in Singapore.

For Singaporeans above 18 years old, tickets can be purchased using your $100 Culture Pass credits. We look forward to sharing this journey with you!

Support us with Culture Pass!

In many ways, Pulau Sudong reflects Singapore’s broader developmental story. Told constantly how scarce our land is, we smother our reefs with sand, building entire towns on bloated coastlines; swathes of land are acquired and buildings demolished, almost feverishly, only to be rebuilt taller and narrower.

No doubt land is important to any city. But in this anxiety to reclaim, redraw, and reorganise the map, what do we risk overlooking? For the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau community, Singapore has always been a nation of islands, shaped as much by the land as it is by sea. More than an absence waiting to be filled or an economic opportunity, the sea is a living space full of meaning and memory. On the mainland, spaces for the community have also been carved out as places to gather, share stories, and pass down ways of life that have been otherwise eroded.

Much of our land and seascapes have already been reshaped over the decades, and at the end of last month, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) released the 2025 Draft Masterplan, which lays out the proposed plans for further developments over the next 10 to 15 years, including where potential housing, green spaces, or heritage sites might be.

This Draft Master Plan is based on the broader Long-Term Plan, which looks ahead 50 years. Unlike the Long-Term Plan, the Master Plan will eventually be legally binding, setting zoning rules that determine what can and cannot be built in each area. As the current draft is open to feedback, we’ve been following the thoughtful responses shared by others on what this plan means for the places that are significant to them and would also like to reflect on four parts of the Draft Master Plan we’re watching closely — and why they matter to our community.

The future of West Coast Park

As some of you may know, West Coast Park holds special significance to our community. Historically, it was an embarking point from which both the Orang Pulau and mainlanders would travel by sampan to and from the Southern Islands. Following relocation, many Orang Pulau resettled to areas near Pasir Panjang, such as Telok Blangah, hoping to stay close to the Southern Straits and Islands deeply familiar to them. Former Islanders who held onto ownership of their sampans and associated licenses obtained permission to dock along a strip of beach at the park, although some eventually sold their boats due to upkeep costs or difficulties passing on their licenses to younger family members.

Today, approximately 30 sampans belonging to former Southern Islanders remain docked at the space. It has also become an important gathering point where community members can meet old neighbours now scattered across the mainland, or practice fading maritime traditions like weaving bubu fish traps. With each other, they speak a form of Malay with a distinct sing-song quality. This dialect includes a myriad of terms to describe species of fish and molluscs, some which may appear nearly identical to outsiders, but are distinguished by subtle differences only those familiar with island life can recognise.

The depth of this culture and knowledge can never (and should never) be fully captured in archives or museum displays. It is embodied and experiential, nurtured through time spent with one another, in close relationship with the surrounding land and seas. A shared space is crucial for stories to surface naturally, where hands can learn by doing, and where younger generations can observe, ask, and grow into their heritage. Without this space, much of this culture risks slipping away.

Currently, the community space is leased under a Temporary Occupation License (TOL), and the number of active fishermen from the community dwindled slowly due to difficulties in transferring mooring spaces to younger folks. In the past, there have also been complaints that the boatel appeared “unsightly” and marred the park’s image, and Orang Pulau boatmen have on occasion been asked to move to other boatels as far away as East Coast Park.

The hard truth is that development plans have rarely boded well for the community. With the Greater Southern Waterfront — a massive project spanning 30km from Marina East to Pasir Panjang — on the horizon, our team has been anxious to ensure that the community space will be recognised, conserved, and potentially even expanded. We have been in talks with the Ministry of National Development (MND), particularly Minister Desmond Lee, who formerly led the Ministry and continues to serve as the MP for West Coast GRC, who affirmed during Hari Orang Pulau in June that an inter-agency work group will be set up to support heritage conservation plans for the community.

In the Draft Masterplan, we are (cautiously) heartened to see that West Coast Park has been designated as a “Destination Park” with a focus on maritime heritage, as this presents a crucial opportunity to support the continued presence of Orang Pulau culture along this coastline.

We hope to continue conversations with MND, other Ministries and the wider community to shape recommendations for the park’s future. Here’s some of what we hope to see:

• Recognition of existing community space as a permanent site dedicated to the Orang Pulau, ensuring that this culturally significant site continues to serve as a living hub for future present and future generations

• Heritage markers: Interested Orang Pulau community members could be consulted for the development of signboards, markers, or installations across the park to share the deep history, stories, and traditions of the community and recognise their role and long-standing presence in the area

• Spaces for lived practice and intergenerational learning: Areas where skills and practices such traditional crafts, fishing techniques, or boat building can be demonstrated or taught, especially to younger Orang Pulau descendants

NParks is currently collecting public feedback on the future of West Coast Park as part of the Southern Parks Enhancement Plan. If you share our beliefs and would like to show your support for the community, we invite you to do so here.

Land reclamation along Changi’s coast

We also share the concerns of environmentalists about plans to reclaim 193 hectares off Changi to build a future aviation park. The area is home to a rich intertidal ecosystem that draws visitors hoping to spot nudibranchs, octopi, sea anemones, and other marine life. In a widely supported petition, Neo Xiaoyun and Julian Paul Lee called for the project to be scaled down and for the protection of this ecologically sensitive coastline. Alongside their environmental concerns, they questioned the use of non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) that limited access to environmental impact assessments (EIAs) and discouraged public dialogue.

While HDB and URA have since responded to clarify that the commonly visited intertidal zones at Carparks 6 and 7 won’t be affected, and that NDAs are only used to address national security considerations, Xiaoyun pointed out in a follow-up article that confidentiality agreements are ultimately worded in such a way that “creates a chilling effect that dissuades meaningful civic engagement”. Her words echo those of experts in the field of environmental law, who explain that public consultation is meant to be a central part of the EIA process, ensuring that decisions reflect diverse viewpoints to better safeguard our natural heritage. EIAs bound by confidentiality agreements run counter to this intention, as it becomes hard for communities to take part meaningfully. Ideally, EIAs should be shared early, written in plain language, and made available in different languages so more people can understand and take part.

Beyond the Changi coastline, land reclamation and sedimentation can have far-reaching effects across marine ecosystems. In the past few decades, for instance, fishermen from the community have observed how various port and coastal developments have contributed to a shrinking catch. We support calls for greater transparency and consultation processes with local communities who are deeply familiar with and depend on these spaces for their livelihoods, culture, or traditions. Their knowledge and concerns should not be an afterthought but built into the heart of environmental and urban planning.

Island hopping (and more?) in the Southern Islands

The Draft Masterplan also spotlights a few of the Southern Islands, which will soon offer ecotourism experiences: Pulau Subar Darat (Little Sister’s Island), Pulau Subar Laut (Big Sister’s Island), Pulau Seringat and Sekijang Pelepah (Lazarus Island). Additionally, plans for a new marine park at the Lazarus South-Kusu reef aim to protect the marine environment while offering opportunities for nature-based activities.

These islands make up part of the Southern Islands Planning Area, which has long been earmarked for development, as planners lauded qualities such as its “unspoilt natural environment”, “island ambience, free from vehicular traffic”, and proximity to the mainland’s city centre. The 1996 Planning Report also details strategies to, for instance, “provide Singaporeans with an alternative lifestyle by establishing high quality waterfront communities” and to “optimise the opportunity for future coastal development through strategic land reclamation”.

These early analyses emphasise the need to keep land uses “sympathetic to the natural character of the existing environment” and briefly acknowledge the cultural significance of islands like Kusu Island, which is a popular pilgrimage destination. However, there was a jarring lack of recognition for the coastal communities who once called these islands home.

Research from scholars like Dr Hamzah has traced the presence of these communities, such as the 251 residents who lived on Pulau Sekijang Pelepah, as recorded in the 1957 census. Oral histories from Orang Pulau recall about 40 Malay families – many with ties to the Indigenous Orang Laut living there from the 1950s to 1970s. Similar communities existed on neighbouring islands like Pulau Semakau, Sudong, and Seking.

Today, while we appreciate the natural beauty of these islands, it can be painful for former islanders to see places filled with memories of daily life and community painted only as “idyllic getaways”. Moreover, some Orang Pulau continue to fish in the surrounding waters, and in some cases, their activities are deemed illegal when they enter marine protected zones – zones drawn over the same spaces their families have depended on and taken care of for generations.

Instead of alienating these communities, we wish to see the opening up of these islands to the public as an opportunity to intentionally and actively include the Orang Laut community. With their deep knowledge of the islands, reefs, biodiversity and cultural heritage, they are well positioned to offer valuable perspectives on the stewardship of these spaces. Their insights should not only be respected but also valued in ways that create tangible returns – through, for instance, opportunities to share their stories, shape programmes, or earn a livelihood from their expertise, should they wish to do so.

A city that cherishes – whose past?

One of the themes of the 2025 Draft Masterplan is “A City that Cherishes its Past”. For the URA, there is a focus on built heritage and how certain buildings “illustrate the nation’s story across different themes of Economy, Housing, Social and Defence”. It is accompanied by a timeline of significant sites, but it only begins in the 1800s, charting Singapore’s development as a British colony onwards.

What determines what is conserved and redeveloped? Our national authority on heritage protection is the Preservation of Sites and Monuments (PSM) division under the National Heritage Board, guided by the Preservation of Monuments Act. Prior to 2021, only buildings and ruins were eligible to be considered as a “monument”, before an amendment was made to expand the definition to include “any site”, such as open spaces or inland waters.

While this shift is promising, we hope to also see recognition of our island’s deeper history – one that stretches far beyond the 1800s lives on through our stories, spaces, and people today. As decisions are made about what is worth protecting for future generations, we hope that the living histories of our community can be meaningfully supported and included in our evolving cityscape.

What we’ve been up to:

This month, we were invited to participate in the inaugural Regen Asia Summit (RAS) 2025, held from 4 to 5 July at the National University of Singapore. This youth-led summit gathered changemakers, industry experts, and students from across Southeast Asia - many proudly dressed in vibrant ethnic wear - to explore the theme “Intergenerational Collaboration for Regeneration.”

Orang Laut SG co-led a workshop alongside Sophia Aye Aye Aung, Co-founder, Shecreates Myanmar and Kokkoya Organics - titled “Inheriting the Future: Youth, Culture & Creative Renewal,” which delved into how youth innovation and creative storytelling can regenerate cultural heritage.

At the NUS-AUN Summer Programme 2025, we piloted our Ethical Research & Storytelling workshops at the Asian Undergraduate Symposium on Interconnected Communities. Heritage & Culture, Diversity, Equity & Inclusion, and Environment & Sustainability all closely aligned with the work we do, we took the students through our approach to community-based research - where the students would come up with an ethical approach on how to respectfully engage an underserved community. The students did an amazing job, pulling insights from their own experiences and diverse contexts to contribute to the board!

We hope to be able to conduct our Ethical Research & Storytelling workshops again to various partners in education, corporate or non-profit sectors. Do reach out to us if you wish to bring our workshops to your organisation! :)

We also went on a day trip to the intertidal zone of Pulau Jong!

Pulau Jong is a tiny little island, where the intertidal area extends more than 5x the size of the island itself. Off the coast you see Pulau Sebarok and Pulau Semakau, both of which are restricted areas.

It is one of the last remaining natural islands in Singapore, and we were able to witness a teeming reef with a great many of sea anemones, nudibranchs, the infamous Bobbit Worm, and even a black tip reef shark! We also saw many siput lolak, umang-umang, burung pekaka, and a few monkeys on the small island.

Pulau Jong was colloquially called "Tengah-Tengah" by the community, being triangulated right in the middle of Semakau, Seking and Sebarok. Stories were shared among us, over how we heard the islanders foraged for food, and lived on the islands. With the stillness and proximity of the islands, some of us remembered a story of how when one pulau was celebrating, the music would dance over the waters, inviting the islanders from other pulau to sampan over and join the party.

What’s up next for us!

This weekend, join us for the revival of the Jong Regatta on 2–3 August at the National Sailing Centre - free and open to all!

The Jong Regatta is led by Cik Fawzi, who grew up on Pulau Sekijang Pelepah (Lazarus Island). The Jong is a miniature, wooden, unmanned racing boat, modelled after the “Kolek”, which is still practiced in islands adjacent to Singapore- in the Riau Archipelago ancient maritime traditions brings to life the rich heritage of the Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities through traditional boat races, storytelling, and culture.

Alongside the Pesta Sukan Jong Regatta, Orang Laut SG will be adding on more aspects of the Orang Pulau culture - exploring the heritage and stories of Orang Laut and Orang Pulau communities in Singapore. The session will be accompanied by a short interactive activity involving ingredients that are culturally significant to the community.

Sign up here to soak in the breeze, stories, and flavours of the islands!

For those with little ones, we have been mentoring a group of SUSS students to put together an exciting family-friendly programme at West Coast Park — perfect for little ones aged 6-11!

This hands-on session is all about getting curious, having fun, and diving into the rich heritage of the Orang Laut. Kids (and grown-ups too!) can learn to tie seafarer knots, craft their own mini boats from coconut husks, and discover island life through interactive activities designed to spark imagination and learning.

Explore with us!

Lastly, if you’ve always wanted to taste our islander heritage, we’ve opened up orders for Mak Ni’s lovingly prepared Southern Islander cuisine again, every weekend.

Come Makan!

Dear friends,

We’re still glowing from the joy of hosting our very first Hari Orang Pulau. What began as a quiet dream, shared over conversations, hopes, and countless planning sessions, finally came to life in the most beautiful way. To see it all unfold, after years of imagining what it could be, felt nothing short of magical.

Set against the wide blue sea at West Coast Park, the festival was more than an event – it was a homecoming. This space, so important to our community, became a living, breathing celebration of our stories, culture, and kinship. From sunrise till sunset, the grassy lawn was alive with energy and laughter.

We packed the day with something for everyone: conversations that moved us, performances that lifted us, games that delighted, and hands-on workshops that brought generations together. If you joined us and stayed through the ebb and flow of it all, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

On 14 June 2025, we had the honour of welcoming our Guest of Honour, Minister for Education Desmond Lee, not just as the MP for West Coast GRC, but also as someone who has previously taken the time to listen to our community and expressed his support for uplifting our stories and presence.

We deeply appreciate Minister Lee’s acknowledgement of our community space as a “very special place”, where Orang Laut and Orang Pulau still gather, dock their sampans, practise maritime crafts, and share stories with the next generation. These words hold great significance for us.

For years, this little corner of West Coast Park has been a quiet lifeline, our last remaining communal space on the mainland. And while recognition is necessary, the reality is that the future of this space remains uncertain. It's currently held under SLA’s Temporary Occupation License (TOL), and many of our community members continue to face challenges, especially when it comes to passing on mooring spaces to younger generations.

At the event, Minister Desmond Lee announced that an inter-agency working group that includes NHB, NParks, URA, SLA, and MPA will be formed to collaborate with initiatives like ours, to strengthen support for community-led efforts. “We are going to come together and work hand in hand with you... to see how we can further the initiatives, further the community building.”, says Minister Desmond Lee. He shared that as Singapore moves forward, having a deeper understanding of our roots will give us confidence in our identity, and that this diversity is what makes our nation unique. Importantly, he spoke about ensuring that communities like ours have the support we need to connect with our past in order to shape a shared future.

For us at Orang Laut SG, this marks a major milestone. It’s something we’ve quietly and persistently worked towards for years, guided by the footsteps of our elders, and sustained by the strength of those who walk this path with us today. We hope this will open new doors: where community voices are not just invited, but heard; where the Greater Southern Waterfront can hold space for Indigenous histories; and where this last kampung corner of West Coast Park can remain a living, breathing home for those who still carry the sea in their bones.

Speech by Minister Desmond Lee at Hari Orang Pulau, 14 June 2025:

"I visited the community area at the west coast beach last November and this is the photograph that we took. It’s a very special place because the community gathers there - their boats and sampans are there. They tell their stories, they carry out their traditional craft like the making of bubu fish traps.

And they opened up to the community to visit, and share stories of a time in the past, of the stories of the islands, and also shared the language of the islanders and I’m very glad that many people continue to celebrate these memories and keep heritage alive. Because heritage doesn't just live in the museum or on a storyboard. They live through stories that are passed down from generation to generation. And it’s only when people carry the torch and pass the torch from one generation to the other that you keep heritage alive and it doesn’t become history. It’s heritage because it’s living in the community.

We feel its important because as Singapore moves forward, a deeper understanding of our roots, where we came from, where our parents and grandparents came from, our stories, our traditions - these give us greater confidence in our identity. And I think that strengthens the diversity that makes Singapore's story very unique. And I want to make sure that we all have the support that we need to be able to deepen our understanding of the past, in order to have confidence in the future of this island home we call Singapore.

In that regard, we have been discussing with Firdaus and team and we are setting up a small workgroup with Orang Laut SG, with many representatives of Singaporeans who call the islands their heritage, as well as with partners like NHB, NParks, URA, SLA, MPA. We are going to come together and work hand-in-hand with you in the ground up initiative, supported by agencies to see how we can further the initiatives - further the community building.

We all are Singaporeans but we all can trace back our roots, wherever we came from in the past and we just enrich this identity that we call Singapore. "

Some of the day’s highlights:

While planning Hari Orang Pulau, one thing became clear early on: “Joget Dangkung mesti ada!” - “There must be Joget Dangkung!” the islanders told us. Back on the islands, no celebration was ever complete without it. The moment that familiar dang-dang-kung rhythm kicked in, the whole island would be on their feet - young and old, dancing together late into the night.

We knew we had to bring that same spirit to West Coast Park. And when the music started… wah, our makciks and pakciks did not hold back! The joy, the memories, the movement - it was as if the islands had come alive right there on the grass.

Many of the islanders who came to Hari Orang Pulau were invited through quiet, informal networks - relatives, old neighbours, or even new friendships sparked by a simple question: “Mika dari pulau?” (“Are you from the islands?”). It reminded us that community mapping has always been there in the background—subtle, organic, and deeply rooted in connection.

Since there has never been a proper census of the Orang Pulau community after our relocation from the islands, this kind of mapping has become even more significant. That’s why we’re working closely with our research partner, Kontinentalist, to gain a clearer understanding of who we are today, where former islanders and their descendants now reside, and how our lives have shifted and evolved through resettlement. It’s about tracing not just names or addresses, but stories, memories, and kinship.

If you and your family have ties to our islands, we’d love to get to know you better! Please help share our survey below if you know any former islanders or descendants.

we'd love to get to know you!

Amidst all the buzz and excitement at the Main Lawn, we also wanted to create space to slow down - space for listening, reflecting, and learning from one another. The four conversations held earlier in the day offered just that, opening up rich and meaningful discussions around stories that matter deeply to our community.

In “Diving Deep: Living History of Singapore’s Southern Islanders”, we were taken back to islands like Pulau Seking and what is now Jurong Island, places once filled with life and community, but now closed off to the public. Because so little is documented about these islands and the people who once called them home, it felt like a rare privilege to learn from researchers who have dedicated years to uncovering these hidden histories and tracing how both shorelines and social worlds have shifted over time.

“Ke Laut: Exploring Intercultural Connections” brought together researchers across disciplines to reflect on the sea as more than just water; it’s a connector of cultures. Waterways shaped our movements, our diets, even our languages. From maritime migration patterns to a shared love for dishes like satay beehoon (Charlene Tan, our panelist, even brought some paste to share!), it was a tender reminder of how deeply our region is intertwined.

In light of growing global concerns around climate and sustainability, “Waves of Change: Culture, Nature and Sustainability” grounded the conversation in Southeast Asian contexts. Our speakers, both researchers and community organisers, shared how islanders have long read time through the monsoons or the sun’s path, and how sustainability is more than just a trend; it requires rethinking productivity, shifting systems, and educating future generations in ways rooted in local wisdom and lived realities.

And lastly, but perhaps most intimately, we heard directly from members of the Orang Seletar, like Jeffree Salim and the Orang Pulau communities, memories of growing up by the sea, the heartbreak of resettlement, and the quiet strength of cultural resilience. For many in the audience, this was the first time hearing such stories firsthand. It was a deeply special moment, one that brought Indigenous voices to the centre, allowing them to speak, be heard, and be held with care by the wider public.

We’re deeply thankful to all our speakers and moderators who brought such honesty, insight, and warmth to the conversations. They reminded us that knowledge doesn't only come from books or formal education, it lives in people, in the stories shared over meals, in the hands that build boats, cast nets, or tend to coastal rhythms. We were moved to see so many open, curious minds in the crowd. There is so much to learn from how our elders lived, the practices they’ve kept alive, and how communities across the region relate to nature, memory, and one another. These ways of knowing are vital. They deserve to be recognised, respected, and carried forward.

Behind the scenes, the team was in constant motion, checking sound, wrangling cables, chasing shade, and keeping the flow smooth. It was our first time hosting something of this scale, and honestly, we weren’t sure how it would all come together.

One of our team members, Aqilah, was the stage manager for the day, right at the centre of the action. And like many of us, she took it in stride, fuelled by adrenaline, trust, and a deep love for the work. We leaned on each other, our amazing volunteers, and the wider community who showed up ready to help, guide, and dance.

By sunset, when the stage was pulsing with music and the lawn was full of laughter and movement, a quiet thought settled in all of us: Maybe next year, we need an even bigger space.

Over at Tanah dan Air and City Sprouts’ Community Hall, our team and volunteers were holding down the fort with a full slate of workshops that kept the energy flowing all day. Stories were exchanged over food always the best way to connect. One highlight was the cooking demonstration of Mak Noni and Mak Ani’s beloved Gulai Nenas Ikan, recently featured in a video by nOm, alongside host and friend, Azfar Mazwan. As the fragrant steam filled the air, people leaned in to learn and to taste. By the end of it, every last drop of that golden gravy was gone. Plates scraped clean, hearts full.

Southern Islander cuisine is deeply rooted in the Nusantara, but what makes it so special here is the way it honours simplicity and place. Using ingredients that can be found or foraged around Singapore’s islands, like buah kuini, daun sebaru, and fresh catch from the sea, these dishes allow the ingredients to speak for themselves.

If you’d like to experience the magic of Mak Noni and Mak Ani’s cooking for yourself, we’re keeping the spirit alive with a weekend menu you can order from. Come and taste the stories. Support these ladies through the link below! 😊

taste our heritage

Our work has always been about centering the cultural value, lived wisdom, and deep expertise of our community. That’s why we were proud to feature multiple islander-led workshops, each one rooted in heritage and heart.

We had an Introduction to Southern Islander Cuisine led by none other than Mak Noni and Mak Ani of Pulau Semakau, custodians of taste and memory. Then came Cik Am from Pulau Sudong and Faizal Sani, a descendant of Pulau Semakau, who guided participants through maritime skills passed down through generations. And of course, our one-man dynamo Fawzi Nasir, who grew up on Pulau Sekijang Pelepah, ran the Jong Workshop with such passion it felt like we were right back by the kampung shoreline.

Psst—if you missed it, there’s more coming: Cik Fawzi is organising a Jong Regatta this August! Follow @true_northfr on Instagram to stay updated. Next time, ke laut~!

Meanwhile, over at the Malay Heritage Centre’s Tales of Nusantara, the little ones were swept into magical coastal worlds. The best part? They got to meet Jefree Salim, an Orang Seletar, and hear stories from someone who truly grew up by the sea. It was so heartwarming to see families gathered, listening, learning, and laughing together.

Coastal Elements had folks walking away literally glowing, after creating vibrant colours from natural materials sourced from the land itself.

And if you heard some satisfying pounding going on nearby, it was probably Mich from Mudrock Ceramics’ Batu Lesung workshop, where participants made their own traditional mortar and pestle from scratch, connecting hands to heritage in the most tangible way.

We were also incredibly honoured to host a jamu workshop by Sue from Dapur Cahaya and Siti of Siti Flower Power, both fierce advocates of traditional healing. Their knowledge of herbs, flowers, and plant-based wellness practices runs deep, and yes, the workshop looked as good as it tasted. There were even jamu gifts lovingly prepared for participants!

A shoutout as well to the Pulau Brani community for the heartfelt screening of Brani: Isle of the Brave. It was so affirming to see fellow islanders and descendants telling their own stories, in their own words, on their own terms. That’s what heritage care should look like.

Now, managing eight workshops in a day? That was a whole new level. We’re used to running one at a time with a small team, so juggling back-to-back sessions, resetting spaces, and braving the garden heat was no small feat. But everything ran smoothly, start to finish. No injuries, no tech drama, just a little (controlled) chaos and, we hope, a lot of meaningful moments for everyone who joined.

And finally, big love to the boys from The Blackbook Studio for the stunning graffiti piece they created for our garden. You can feel the soul in every stroke. What a gift to have something so bold, beautiful, and rooted now living in our space.

Thanks a million and more

We are deeply grateful to our friends in the media who came alongside us to shine a light on voices that are often unheard. To see elders like Cik Nasir, the heart behind Orkes Melayu Mutiara and the pulse of our Joget Dangkung, grace the pages of The Straits Times and CNA, moves us profoundly.

Once, Cik Nasir softened his story, telling others he grew up by Jurong Shipyard instead of Pulau Samulun, to hide the quiet weight of being Orang Pulau. But today, his pride sings clear: “Now, we have a day for island people, so everyone knows where we come from.”

Hari Orang Pulau stands as a living testament, Singapore’s first festival to honour the Orang Pulau and the Indigenous Orang Laut. It is a gentle yet powerful reminder that these communities are not just echoes of the past, but vibrant threads weaving our shared tapestry of home, identity, and belonging.

For our team, it’s words like Cik Nasir’s that make every sleepless night and every moment of exhaustion truly worth it. Even when we joked about escaping to another pulau ourselves, seeing everyone come together to eat, dance, sing, and celebrate with such pride reminded us why we began this journey. It fills us with deep gratitude for everyone who helped bring this vision to life.

As a ground-up initiative, none of this would have been possible without the heart, time, and tireless effort of our community partners and volunteers. Whether you were helping us prepare months in advance, navigating the busy day alongside us, or simply showing up with your energy and belief, thank you. Culture and heritage don’t survive in isolation; they thrive when people unite, roll up their sleeves, and say, “Let’s do this.”

We also want to send a special thank you to those who made the day even more special with their generous support:

• National Heritage Board (NHB) and Our SG Fund, for their invaluable grants that helped make Hari Orang Pulau possible.

• Potato Productions, for their generous sponsorship and steadfast belief in our cause.

• City Sprouts, our venue partner, for welcoming us so warmly to their space at West Coast Park.

• Kontinentalist, our thoughtful partners on the community mapping journey, for their care, insight, and dedication.

• nOm, our media partner, for cooking, eating, and even venturing out to sea with us - thank you for capturing the spirit of our community.

• Ageless Bicyclists, our neighbours at West Coast Park, for lending us adaptive bicycles and championing inclusive cycling for all abilities.

We’re truly touched by the incredible response to Hari Orang Pulau. For our ticketed programmes, we wish we had space for every single person who reached out – thank you for your enthusiasm and patience when slots filled up so quickly.

But jangan risau, Hari Orang Pulau may have ended, but we’re already busy dreaming up new, meaningful, and enriching activities for everyone to learn, experience, and connect with the rich heritage of our communities.

If you attended Hari Orang Pulau, please take a moment to fill out our post-event survey. Your feedback means the world to us and will help shape future workshops and programmes that truly reflect the spirit and stories of the Orang Pulau and Orang Laut communities. Plus, you’ll be the first to hear when the next event is coming! We have so many exciting things on the horizon and can’t wait to share them with you.

Jom, onward to the next chapter!

To our passionate volunteers, this one’s especially for you! We’ll be hosting another santai di pantai soon, a casual get-together to say thank you. Come makan, karaoke, and chill as we celebrate the heartwork that made Hari Orang Pulau possible. If you’re interested in volunteering with us in the future, just drop by. Check our Telegram channel for more details. And if you’d like to continue supporting us, you can get Hari Orang Pulau keepsakes from our Ko-fi shop. We can’t wait to see you all again! 💙

Get Hari Orang Pulau Merch!

It’s been a long time coming.

When we first started Orang Laut SG, we dreamed of bringing our stories back into the light—stories of the sea, of life on the islands, and of community. We didn’t want to just preserve these stories. We want to live them, share them, and celebrate them together.

Two years ago, some of you joined us for a gathering at The Projector for Panggilan Anak Pulau, which was a small but powerful step towards those goals.

This year, we’re going bigger — come 14 June 2025, we’ll be hosting Hari Orang Pulau, a full-day cultural festival dedicated to the voices, lives and legacies of the Orang Pulau (Islanders) of Singapore.

This is the first time a cultural festival of this scale will be held on mainland Singapore, celebrating our community. Hari Orang Pulau is more than an event. It is a long-overdue homecoming for former Islanders, their descendants, and all in Singapore who wish to reconnect with their islander roots.

Here’s a rundown of all things happening on 14 June 2025, at West Coast Park

From 10am-9pm, there are many kinds of activities for all!

@ The Main Lawn (West Coast Park):

• In Celebration of Island Life

At 10am, the festival will open with a traditional Malay dance performed by Tak Takut Kids Club. Performances will pop up throughout the day, including a powerful Silat Gayong demo by Silat Seni Gayong Nagabura, showcasing a martial art form originating from Pulau Sudong. You won’t want to miss the performance by Asnida Daud, an artist and musician who weaves the rich oral traditions of Pulau Sudong, her ancestral island, into a living tribute of the island’s voices, memories and rhythms.

Ask any Islander, and they will probably tell you that they can’t wait to Joget Dangkung. The traditional communal dance has its roots in the Southern islands and the Riau Archipelago; it is often featured at festive events like weddings, where large groups of dancers create a lively sense of community and celebration. At the islands, it was common for the dance to continue into the early hours of dawn; for a slice of island life, come dance through the evening with us at Hari Orang Pulau.

Our Joget Dangkung will be accompanied by live music by Orkes Melayu Mutiara, an intergenerational ensemble comprising islanders and descendants from Pulau Samulun, led by Cik Nasir Abdullah, who was born and raised on the island.

• Conversations

From 11am to 3pm, there will be a series of four conversations that explore the cultural, historical, and environmental legacies of Singapore’s sea and island communities. We’ve gathered an inspiring group of speakers, including respected researchers like Dr Vivienne Wee, and cultural storytellers like Ilya Katrinnada, who has been working closely with Orang Seletar communities in Johor.

These aren’t just academic talks—they’re deeply personal stories, reflections, and knowledge-sharing moments from our speakers, including Orang Pulau and Orang Seletar elders. We hope that Indigenous knowledge can shape the way we care for our culture and environment today.

• Traditional Games

Represent a pulau in a game of Tug-of-War and give it your all! Kids (and the young at heart) can enjoy lighthearted games like mini sampan racing, sepak raga, and more. These games are inspired by those once played by children on the islands, and they’re run by a group of awesome SUSS students we’ve been mentoring, and they’ve poured a lot of heart into it. It’s all about playing together, having a laugh, so come relive the island spirit with us!

• Guided Walk

There are three sessions journeying through the oral histories, sustainable ways of living, and reflecting on how development has shaped—and continues to impact—Orang Pulau communities. These walks will bring us to the last remaining community space at West Coast Park, where traces of this maritime heritage still live on.

• Film Screenings

We have curated a special screening of films that showcase culture and livelihoods of coastal communities in the region, including a touching short documentary on Mak Dare, the last female leader of a Joget Dangkung troupe in Tanjung Pinang. This traditional island dance is still alive today, and the film captures its spirit beautifully—stick around after for a chat! Later on at 7pm, wind down your evening with the classic Malay folklore film Bawang Putih Bawang Merah (1959).

• Mini Photo Exhibition

We gave film cameras to three of our community fishermen, such as Cik Hamzah and Faizal, who captured a glimpse of their daily lives out at sea. Stop by the main lawn to take a look at a mini-exhibition featuring images captured by the islander community.

• Jong Display

Cik Fawzi, a Jong enthusiast, will be setting up a Jong display on the open lawn for visitors to admire and appreciate the beautiful display of handcrafted boats and colourful sails. For a hands-on exploration of traditional maritime sports, you can also join in his Jong Workshop at the community hall!

• Community Booths

Hari Orang Pulau is wholly organised by island descendants, volunteers, and our amazing community partners. We’re so happy to have their booths set up right at the main lawn! Do check out Islander-led booths like Wan’s Ubin Journal and Forest Child. The Island Foundation, who are based in Bintan, where they work with Orang Suku Laut communities, will also be making a trip down to join us. Kontinentalist will also be running a community-mapping project of islanders and their descendants. Potato Productions, whose kind support has made this festival possible, will have a booth sharing all about the work they do. Plus, there’ll be an islander food booth and a drink stall to keep you fueled for the day’s festivities.

Don’t forget to swing by the Orang Laut SG booth to grab exclusive Hari Orang Pulau swag like shirts, totes, and postcards :D !!!!!

@ City Sprouts: Community Hall and Tanah dan Air

We’ve brought together some of our dearest workshop partners — folks we’ve worked with closely and friends we’ve made along our journey as OLSG. Each one brings something special to the table, sharing knowledge and skills that are really close to our hearts. For food lovers, we have a Traditional Southern Island Cuisine Workshop led by women from Pulau Semakau, as well as Nusantara Flavours Workshop with Dapur Cahaya and Siti Flower Power, exploring native plants and their role in food across the region.

If you’re feeling creative (or just curious to try something new!), come join our Batu Lesung (Mortar & Pestle) Making workshop with Mud Rock Ceramics, or dive into Coastal Elements as Natural Pigments with Wild Dot. It’s a fun, hands-on way to connect with the islands through art and craft — no experience needed, just bring your curiosity!

Those looking for a hands-on way to connect with traditional sea life, cannot miss these workshops taught by the islanders themselves. Learn Maritime Skills like bubu (fish trap) weaving from Cik Am, a practising fisherman and former islander of Pulau Sudong.

The Jong Workshop is led by Cik Fawzi Nasir, an expert in traditional maritime sports like Jong and Kolek racing from Pulau Sekijang Pelepah. It is an introduction to the history, significance, design and the craftsmanship of the Jong. Sign up to learn the intricacies of this craft and participate in building a Jong together!

All our activities and programs are family-friendly, but we’ve got something extra special just for the little ones too—Tales from the Nusantara! Running in collaboration with the Malay Heritage Centre, it is an immersive storytelling session about the Orang Seletar and their magical encounters with the sea! Photographer Jefree Salim will also join us to share his work documenting the lives of the Orang Seletar community.

A special film screening of Voices: Pulau Brani, Isle of the Brave follows Azman Abu Bakar as he returns to his island home of Pulau Brani. Stay for an intimate conversation with former Pulau Brani islanders and their descendants, as they share personal stories and reflect on the legacy of island life they continue to carry forward.

Entry to the festival and most activities are free, with workshops being ticketed.

For registration, see our Eventbrite page. Our workshops tend to fill up really quickly, so jangan cakap tak jemput (don’t say never jio)!

All in all, it’s been a busy year planning this festival—gathering stories, reaching out to community members, coordinating with partners, and weaving together all the moving parts that make Hari Orang Pulau what it is. But we do it because it means something deeply important to us, and hopefully, to many others as well. It’s about keeping the jiwa laut alive, honouring the people who came before us, and sharing that love and knowledge with anyone who wants to listen and learn.

Listen to some of the community’s stories here.

Hari Orang Pulau is our community’s call to remember, reconnect and reclaim.

We warmly welcome anyone who feels a connection—or wants to build one—to the islands and the sea.

If you're an elder who carries memories of life on the islands, we’d be honoured to have you share your stories with us. If you’re a descendant of islanders, come honour your roots and reconnect with your jiwa laut (spirit of the sea).

This gathering is also for all who are curious to learn more about the parts of Singapore's story that often go untold. Whether you have a direct connection to the sea or are simply drawn to the culture, the history, or the kampung spirit—it’s a day for everyone.

We had lunch with President Tharman! (& other happenings)

This month, we had the honour of being hosted for lunch at the Istana by President Tharman and Mdm Jane Ittogi, together with fellow community members and Dr Imran bin Tajudeen from the Malay Studies Department at NUS. It was a meaningful opportunity to share about Hari Orang Pulau and to reflect on the identity and history of the Orang Laut in Singapore through our conversation.

As part of the meal, Mdm Nooraini, the heart and hands behind Orang Laut SG’s food, prepared our family’s special bubur lambuk ikan tenggiri (spiced mackerel porridge) as a starter, which was graciously received by the President.

We are grateful to be able to share a piece of our culture with the President and heartened to have leaders who value and engage with the diverse histories and communities that make up Singapore, and hope that such connections can support us in keeping our stories, flavours, and traditions alive.

As part of Singapore HeritageFest (SHF), we welcomed people from all walks of life to West Coast Park for Langkah Laut, a guided coastal walk. Yes, even a 2-month-old baby joined us in Tanah dan Air!

The tide was especially low that day, revealing abandoned boats that are usually hidden beneath the water’s surface. These boats once belonged to former islanders who have since passed on, which makes it difficult to keep the space maintained. Despite the challenges, other members of the community do their best to reach out to the families of these islanders. Some even take on the maintenance themselves, often at their own cost.

Cik Am showed us how to assemble a Jong—a small, unmanned wooden racing sailboat modeled after the traditional Kolek from Singapore, Riau and Malaysia.

Originally used to carry food to the spirits, Jongs are now raced in exciting competitions. Back in the 90’s, for example, they were a fixture of Pesta Five S, a sea sports festival linking Singapore’s five southern islands: Pulau Sekijang, Seraya, Semakau, Sudong and Seking.

These boats face Singapore’s challenging waters, making races both thrilling and steeped in tradition. Around Pulau Brani, they even use three sails instead of two, showing how local conditions shape this beautiful maritime art.

Our Jong named Awang Pantas (Fast Boy) was made by Pak Iskandar, a Riau islander, using pulai wood. We had raced it during the 2024 Jong Regatta at East Coast Park, and we’re glad to welcome our Jong to be a part of our guided walk.

Foraging for local medicinal plants has always been a part of daily life for our community. In our walks, we spotlight Pokok Dukung Anak, also known as the gale of the wind. Many see it as just a weed, but it holds healing properties. In a way, it's like how our Orang Pulau community is often overlooked––even seen as weeds needed to be uprooted––but full of valuable knowledge that should be shared.

Recently, we had the privilege of visiting two offices in Singapore to share the richness of our community's heritage through food and storytelling — Macquarie Bank, where we were joined by our dear friend and supporter, Pollyanna Rayappan, and SS&C.

During both sessions, we shared fruitful discussions about cultural memory, identity, and how industries and organisations can contribute to heritage conservation, as well as foster greater inclusion and equity within their spaces.

As food is our vessel for storytelling, we were glad to be able to sit down with the teams for a meal specially prepared by former Southern Islanders, bringing a unique taste of history to the table as we shared stories of our community’s past, present, and future.

We are proud to collaborate with organisations fostering deeper understanding and heritage awareness across sectors. If you’re interested in hosting a similar session with your team, whether for team building, DEI initiatives, or simply to create a meaningful shared experience, we’d love to hear from you — drop us an email at hello@oranglaut.sg.

Thank you everybody and see you @ Hari Orang Pulau !

More details here :)

See you soon!
Firdaus

“In times of crisis, they [our leaders] tell you: “Don’t worry, we are in this together. We are in the same boat. My friends, we are on a sampan, and they are on a mega yacht.”

This line hits close to home for the Orang Laut community, mirroring the reality of what many community members feel — and see— on a daily basis. At West Coast Park, the mega yachts grow larger and more ostentatious each year, creeping into the waters of our community space where our sampans are docked.

Every election stirs up familiar emotions — like solidarity, frustration, or cynicism. Yet, one reason we still find ourselves refreshing the news and combing through manifestos is that, for many in Singapore, the chance to vote carries with it a renewed sense of hope — for the changes we want to see, and the future we long to shape.

This election, the cost of living and housing are once again hot-button issues. These are deeply familiar concerns for many families in our community, especially those who moved into one- and two-room flats upon relocation to the mainland.

Separated from their environments, traditional livelihoods, and support networks, many families struggled to adapt. With little support provided to help islanders transition to life on the mainland, some continue to face difficulties finding stable employment even today. For low-income families, the squeeze of economic pressure remains all too real. While there is limited data on the socio-economic impacts of relocation, we witness these issues play out every day through the lived experiences of our community members.

While reading through manifestos, we paid particular attention to other issues close to the heart of Orang Laut SG, such as community, arts, culture, elders, and the Malay population. We wish to respond to relevant policy proposals through the lens of our community, which has long been treated as a marginal population. In doing so, we hope to ensure that the voices and interests of the community are represented, grounded in what our organisation stands for: Indigenous voices, Community, and Cultural continuity.

At a glance:

While immediate bread-and-butter issues are crucial to address, we also urge political parties to take a more holistic view and deepen their emphasis on community and care. We hope future policies reflect a broader, less myopic vision of Singapore’s future: one that goes beyond economic priorities, but also supports lived experiences, community building, and cultural continuity.

We see cultural richness in some of our neighbours, with whom we share historical ties. Yet, here in Singapore, our colonial past seems to have distanced us from our own heritage. We’ve been told we’re merely a nation of immigrants, or that our elders came from “sleepy fishing villages” with little to offer — a narrative often reinforced by neoliberal agendas that trivialise local traditions.

While the realities of a neoliberal economy are hard to escape, pragmatism should not come at the cost of identity, community, or belonging. We have grown economically wealthy but risk being culturally starved. We've neglected our regional ties, cultural spaces, and wisdom passed down through our traditions — stories that younger generations deserve to inherit.

Though young Singaporeans are finding it increasingly harder to envision a future here, we believe we can find our footing by digging deep into what Singapore truly is, and by rekindling the connection we have to our land and waters. We wish to see a national identity that goes beyond hawker culture and colonial-era CMIO (Chinese, Malay, Indian and Others) categories, which is a reductive simplification of cultural identities. Singapore may be rich, but our lives and communities would be richer with a fuller understanding of who we are, where we came from, and how we have cared for one another for centuries.

We’re not here to divert attention from pressing issues, but to add to the conversation: With a fading history, declining mental health, and our ageing population, what does true progress look like for all? What would Singapore be without its money — and how can we make space to thrive collectively — to cultivate and sustain communities, not just efficient economies?

As we head to the polls this month, we would like to ask Singaporeans: In the midst of rapid development and a relentless economic focus, will our new elected government protect what truly matters? Our cultural heritage runs deeper than 60 years. How can our environment, our communities, and our people, truly thrive?

On May 10, we invite you to explore these themes with us at Langkah Laut, a coastal walk at West Coast Park. As part of Singapore HeritageFest, this experience will share stories, traditions, and food from the Southern Islander community — a reminder that our histories are still alive, and why they must be preserved.

come walk with us!

A little update on Hari Orang Pulau

Since March, our team has been deep in planning mode, and we’re thrilled to announce that more content on our first-ever festival is on the way!

In case you missed it, Hari Orang Pulau (Islander’s Day) will take place on 14 June 2025 — a day for former islanders from Singapore’s Southern Islands to come together and celebrate their stories, livelihoods, and cultural heritage.

This is our most significant attempt to conserve and honour what remains of these rich traditions. Through this festival, we want to amplify the voices of the people who shaped Singapore long before the skyline rose — to let their stories live on.

As we busy ourselves with tasks such as securing licenses, building our website, and finalising the programme lineup, we’re especially grateful to all who have responded to our call for volunteers. In March, we hosted an Iftar Karaoke Night to introduce volunteer opportunities for Hari Orang Pulau — and were touched by those who joined us at Tanah dan Air (with a potluck so generous it became a full buffet!). The karaoke night was perfect to end off the day and surprisingly unveiled who was naturally gifted with a set of pipes, and who was gifted with a lot of confidence :P

If you are interested in being a part of Hari Orang Pulau but haven’t been able to attend one of our volunteer briefings, we’d still love to have you on board. Just fill in our Volunteer Form, and we’ll be in touch. For a community-led festival, every helping hand makes a difference, and we are thankful for all the support that has been shown to us thus far!

A look back on Ramadan & Hari Raya

In the spirit of giving back to our community, we were also happy to serve our family's much-loved Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri this Ramadan. Bubur Lambuk is a spiced rice porridge, typically made with beef or mutton and traditionally served by mosques during Iftar. As islanders, the staple of our bubur was ikan tenggiri (mackerel), alongside other coral fishes. Our bubur recipe is precious to us, passed down through generations from our ancestors from Pulau Semakau. Back on the islands, the warmth of bubur would be shared freely among the community – a tradition we wish to continue today in mainland Singapore.

The cooking of bubur lambuk is never a solitary effort. This year, our extended family came together in full force, preparing over 600 bowls across two distribution drives. The scale of the task hardly daunted our head chefs, Mdm Nooraini and Mdm Rohaini, who rallied their trusty little minions — the family — to help bring it to life.

This year, we distributed our bubur at two locations of significance.

First, our family gathered at the plaza of Block 45 Telok Blangah Drive, the very first HDB flat that Tok Rani and Nenek Ninah moved to from Pulau Semakau in 1977. We felt drawn to return to this community and neighbourhood, home to clusters of one- and two-room rental flats. The estate may not be the most affluent, but neighbours cherished deep bonds with each other, especially among fellow Southern Islanders, who were also resettled to the area.

More than a century ago, Telok Blangah was also one of the first places the Orang Laut had been relocated to. In the 1800s, when the British first arrived in Singapore, they instructed a settlement of Orang Laut living near the Singapore River, close to Masjid Radin Mas, to move to Telok Blangah.

Our day-to-day work space is based in Bedok, an area relatively inland today. But the its history is also firmly rooted in coastal traditions. Bedok is one of the few native place names recorded early on, first appearing in a map by Manuel Gomes de Erédia, a Bugis-Portuguese writer and cartographer, in 1604. The name ‘Bedok’ comes from the Malay word ‘bedoh’, referring to a type of slit drum used in Malay culture. Known for its abundant seafood and fertile soil, Bedok was an ideal settlement for early inhabitants.

Today, there are several heritage markers near Bedok Mall shaped like boats, one of which mentions that “The (Bedok) area’s inhabitants originally included the Orang Laut, […] later joined by people from Java, Sumatra, Bawean, Riau, Sulawesi, and Borneo.”

The culture and maritime practices of the Orang Laut becomes evident when we look to Bedok’s original coastline — in particular, Bedok Beach. A 1962 newspaper article describes the Termasha Sukan Laut, a sea sports festival with over 1,500 spectators from the village and surrounding islands of Riau, Johor, and the Southern Islands flocking to Bedok Beach.

Bedok’s rapid urbanisation began in in 1963. Villages around Bedok Point were cleared for HDB flats, and the pilot East Coast Reclamation Scheme commenced. The original coastline was lost as part of Singapore’s "Great Reclamation" project in 1964, which was the largest land reclamation project in the country at the time. In the 1980s, sea sports races were still occasionally held, but as access to the shore became more restricted, traditions like kolek racing faded.

Are you or your family former islanders or Orang Laut communities?

Much of the documentation regarding where the Orang Laut settled comes from colonial or official records. Unfortunately, detailed findings on the locations of the original settlements are scarce. However, through our work, we have met and spoken with many Southern Islanders and their descendants, who shared stories of their families’ relocation from the Southern Islands to various housing blocks in Telok Blangah, West Coast, Henderson, Clementi, Bukit Merah, and Taman Jurong. We know that 20 families from Pulau Sudong moved to Clementi in 1978, as documented in the book Fishermen in Flats. However, the exact numbers and locations of other Orang Pulau families remain unclear, as there was little info on official census on their relocation.

In light of this, we want to reach out to former islanders, their descendants, and anyone who may know of the Orang Pulau. If you are a former islander or have connections to the community, we would love to hear from you. Please get in touch with us through this form, as we seek to expand our network of islanders, trace connections, and understand the generational impacts of relocation. This initiative is part of what we hope to explore further at Hari Orang Pulau, where we aim to better understand how the islands' history continues to shape our communities today.

let's get in touch :)

If you follow us on Instagram, you might recall a reel we posted in January, where we had the privilege of speaking with anthropologist Dr Vivienne Wee. She shared valuable insights on this vibrant history and the idea of indigeneity in Singapore—something we’ve been reflecting on deeply: What does indigeneity mean in the context of Singapore? Who does it include? And do we have the rights to use this term?

By definition, Indigenous communities are descended from the earliest known inhabitants of a place, especially one that was later colonised. Indigeneity is not always tagged to land, but rather rootedness in a specific place, including river or seascapes. In Singapore, the Orang Laut are recognised by researchers as Indigenous “people of the sea”, while Malays as an ethnic group are considered Indigenous to the wider Nusantara. When Raffles arrived in 1819, there were several suku-suku (groups) of Orang Laut living in Singapore, including the Orang Biduanda Kallang, Orang Gelam, Orang Seletar, and the Orang Selat. Historical records typically describe these groups as distinct from smaller communities of Malays and early Chinese immigrants.

But indigeneity isn’t just about being the “earliest inhabitants”. It also speaks to rich, enduring connections with the land and sea— ways of life shaped by, and shaping, the environment for centuries. In a webinar hosted by RIMA, Dr Vivienne Wee explained that Maritime Southeast Asia only emerged as we know it today when the sea levels rose thousands of years ago. Before that, Singapore was part of a larger landmass known as Sundaland.

Amid this shifting geography, the Orang Laut came to prominence with their unmatched knowledge of the seas and its numerous islands, islets, and shoals. Their expertise in navigating these waters was indispensable to trade and travel in the region, which was known for being treacherous to foreign sailors.

After some of the Orang Laut, such as the Orang Selat, settled on the islands surrounding Singapore, coming to be known as Orang Pulau, they continued to nurture cultural beliefs and practices that reflect an intimate relationship with the environment. Certain animistic beliefs stem from a reverence for nature; for instance, there are sacred spaces on the various Southern Islands, like a tree on one of the Southern islands thought to be a sacred portal. When fishing or foraging, it is a core principle to only take what is needed, ensuring balance with the environment. Today, former islanders and descendants who still go out to sea carry an inherited knowledge of these waters.

Globally, similar worldviews are expressed by other Indigenous peoples. Increasingly, there is recognition that Indigenous knowledge systems – built on reciprocity, adaptability, and respect for the natural world – hold great wisdom, especially in discussions on sustainability and environmental change. As Potawatomi writer Robin Wall Kimmerer explains,

“Becoming indigenous to a place means living as if your children’s future mattered, to take care of the land as if our lives, both material and spiritual, depended on it.”

At Orang Laut SG, we embrace the term “Indigenous” to honour the deep, living connections that these communities maintain with the surrounding land and waters. It is also a rejection of colonial-era terms like “early migrants” or “settlers”, which downplay both these long-standing ties and the impacts of displacement and urban development. Acknowledging indigeneity affirms the Orang Laut’s place in Singapore's heritage, their historical role in the region, and the losses that came with relocation.

Upon sharing our Instagram reel of our conversation with Dr Vivienne, we were moved by the outpouring of solidarity and support. Many people commented on the lack of dialogue around pre-colonial history in Singapore, and other descendants reached out, relating to the stories and places Dr Vivienne brought up. The response reinforced how much these narratives matter—and how important it is to continue creating spaces for them.

In just four months, we will be holding Hari Orang Pulau, a day-long festival celebrating the culture, heritage, and stories of Singapore’s islander community, including descendants of the Indigenous Orang Laut. If you’ve ever contemplated the idea of indigeneity in Singapore, or how we can better understand our island’s identity and the diverse coastal communities that shape it, we’d love for you to be part of the conversation. Come share, learn, and celebrate with us — on 14 June 2025, West Coast Park. As a ground-up initiative, any and all contributions also go a long way in bringing this festival to life. We are still working hard to meet our fundraising goals!

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We’re grateful for the opportunities we’ve had to explore similar themes with some of you through our recent events. Here’s a little recap of what we got up to in February!

We started the month with a talk at Raffles Girls’ School (Secondary) as part of their Mother Tongue Language fortnight, and a sharing session for the Secondary 1 and 2 cohorts at Holy Innocents’ High School. Thank you for having us! It’s always a joy to share stories with students and spark conversations about Singapore’s island heritage, and we’d love to continue these exchanges with more educators and schools.

At Tanah dan Air, we hosted Isi Nio, the third of our Nio Series. Dr Anthony Medrano took us on a deep dive into the cultural and culinary significance of the coconut in the Nusantara, while culinary content creator Azfar Maswan explored traditional ways of using the coconut’s various parts. Azfar led a cooking demonstration of coconut-based dishes like Javanese urap, flavoured by ingredients lovingly “ulek-ed” (hand-ground) by our participants. Cik Nooraini and Cik Rohaini, former islanders from Pulau Semakau, shared a special dish of gamat (sea cucumber) topped with kerisik (toasted, grated coconut), bringing a taste of the islands to the table (and tikar).

Last week, we welcomed two lovely groups for our Coastal Walk, Food & Stories sessions. Together, we strolled through West Coast Park, sharing stories of the Southern Islanders, explored the community space, and set up the jong (traditional miniature sailboat) along the coast. Over a shared meal of Southern Islander cuisine, we also got to taste local fruits traditionally foraged by the Orang Laut / Pulau, such as buah sentul and buah cermai. A huge thank you to everyone who has visited our garden and made it feel like a home – our hearts are always warmed by your presence.

On 1 March, we are running a special tour at West Coast Park in collaboration with the National Museum of Singapore, as part of their Amazônia exhibition. The exhibition features stunning images by Sebastião Salgado, offering a glimpse into the lives of Indigenous communities in the Amazon. If you’d like to join us, tickets are available but going fast - get yours here!

Later in the month, we’re also planning to organise our annual Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri (spiced mackerel porridge) distribution and host an Iftar night for our volunteers. All are welcome – keep an eye on our Instagram and Telegram group for updates.

Say Hi on Telegram!

As always, thank you for being part of this journey with us, and Ramadan Kareem to all our Muslim friends :) Stay safe!

Firdaus

Since the Southern Islanders were relocated to mainland Singapore in the late 1970s, these festivals have faded, with one of the last recorded Pesta Five S hosted by Pulau Sudong in 1975.

50 years later, we hope to rekindle that spirit with Hari Orang Pulau (Islander’s Day).

Hari Orang Pulau will be a celebration of the culture, stories, and livelihoods of Singapore’s Orang Pulau, comprising coastal communities from multiple ethnicities, and especially, the descendants of Indigenous Orang Laut groups. The Orang Laut have navigated the waters around Singapore for centuries, forging a deep connection to the land and the sea, and a vibrant culture integral to the wider Nusantara story.

Happening on 14 June 2025 at West Coast Park, this event is for former islanders, their descendants, and anyone who wants to connect with Singapore’s island history and the diverse communities that shape our identity. Entry is free and all are welcome!

What’s happening at Hari Orang Pulau?

We’ve curated a full day of events, including:

• Cultural Performances: These will spotlight art forms rooted in Orang Pulau culture, such as Silat Gayong, a martial art originating from Pulau Sudong.

• Traditional Craft and Cooking Workshops: Learn how to weave a bubu trap, assemble a jong, whip up dishes inspired by coastal flavours, and create your own batik masterpiece.

• Panel Discussions: Gain insights from conversations with researchers and historians, and community members, who will share personal stories, knowledge and experiences.

• Guided Walks: Explore West Coast Park, a place close to heart for many Orang Pulau, as it is home to the last remaining community space in Singapore where former islanders dock their sampans and practice maritime skills and crafts.

• Joget Dangkung: A lively social dance and shared tradition among the Southern Islanders with roots in the Riau Archipelago. It is traditionally performed on special occasions, and the community’s elders fondly recall visiting nearby islands to join in the dances and celebrations. Many told us that they hoped to see the dance revived on Singapore’s shores again.

To make Hari Orang Pulau a success, we need you!

As exciting as it sounds, the reality of holding a large-scale public event is: it requires significant resources. Recently, we had the privilege to attend the First International Symposium of Sea Nomads in Sulawesi, Indonesia, where strong institutional support created a meaningful platform for communities like the Sama-Bajau, Moken/Moklen, and Orang Laut to share knowledge and experiences, strengthening efforts to keep these cultures alive. In Singapore, this will be the first time a festival of this scale dedicated to the Orang Pulau community is held. To build this festival from the ground up, we need your support.

Our biggest challenge thus far is the sheer cost of hosting an outdoor event for thousands of attendees. Our projected budget of $100,000 covers essential costs like:

• Event Logistics: These include venue rental, permits, manpower, sound systems, stage setup, tents, and other infrastructure.

• Community Engagement: Outreach efforts, transport support for former islanders and community elders, engagement fees for workshops and activities that foster cultural exchange and hands-on learning, and honorariums to acknowledge experts and community members for sharing their knowledge and skills.

• Content Creation & Documentation: Producing high-quality promotional materials, and visual and written documentation to preserve and share the islanders’ narratives beyond the festival itself.

• Cultural Performances & Displays: Supporting artists, craftsmen, and cultural practitioners to ensure traditional practices are authentically represented and compensated.

So far, we’ve raised about $50,000 — halfway there! — thanks to a National Heritage Board grant we successfully applied for, and the generosity of our community through our Ko-fi fundraiser and other individual contributions.

As we work towards to remaining $50,000, we are opening up avenues to work specifically with corporate organisations. While funding a festival like this may be unchartered territory for businesses in Singapore, we believe there’s a meaningful connection to be made. The rich culture of the Orang Pulau spans centuries but is at risk of being lost and erased today. With each passing year, the urgency to preserve this heritage grows. Supporting Hari Orang Pulau isn’t just about funding an event — it’s about ensuring that the stories of those who came before us continue to be shared, understood and appreciated for generations to come.

If you share our vision, we’d love to have you on board!

There are many ways to get involved:

As a Businesses

• Be a corporate sponsor for Hari Orang Pulau: We welcome both monetary support and in-kind donations (venue sponsorship, equipment, logistics, etc.).

• Engage us for guided walks, sharing sessions, and cultural programmes: Perfect for team-building or staff enrichment, especially if your company has a cultural coordinator or Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives.

• Work with The Black Sampan: Our team handles digital marketing, content creation, and event organisation (we’re the hands behind Orang Laut SG).

If your organisation values history, community, and culture, let’s work together! Reach out at hello@oranglaut.sg.

As an Individual

• Join us for our public tours of West Coast Park — we have two upcoming programmes on February 23 (Sunday).

• Purchase merchandise proudly designed by descendants of former islanders.

• Make a donation on our Ko-fi page. (No amount is too small; if each of our Instagram followers contributed just $1, we would surpass our public fundraising goal by 150%!)

Support us here

• Spread the word: Even if you can’t contribute financially, sharing our message helps us reach more people. We appreciate your efforts!

A recap on our past event: Panggilan Anak Pulau

Some of you may remember Panggilan Anak Pulau (Calling From Island Descendants), our pilot event at The Projector two years ago. The sold-out event showed us how eager many in Singapore are to connect with the Orang Pulau community, and community members shared how meaningful it was to them to be able to embrace their islander identity with pride.

This response encouraged us to work towards Hari Orang Pulau. But, as you can imagine, a bigger event brings bigger challenges. Beyond funding, our lean team is working hard to ensure everything runs smoothly. We also want this festival to be as inclusive as possible, bringing together Singapore’s diverse coastal and islander communities—from the Southern Islanders to the people of Kampung Pasir Panjang, and maritime groups like the Teochew and Bugis.

Our history is deeply tied to the seas, and our connections extend beyond our shores—to the Orang Seletar in Johor and the Orang Suku Laut in Bintan. Recognising this, we’re reaching out to different communities create space for their voices at Hari Orang Pulau. Naturally, this adds to the logistical challenges, but it’s a challenge we’re determined to overcome.

At times, these challenges have taken its toll, and we’ve even questioned if the costs of hosting Hari Orang Pulau outweigh its benefits. But each time, we’re reminded that this festival matters because the community’s stories matter. As Asnida Daud, a Pulau Sudong descendant, said at Panggilan Anak Pulau:

“We have a rich maritime heritage. We need to tell everyone. We need to let everyone feel proud as an islander. Even though the coastlines are fading, our history—we shall not forget. We will not fade away.”

We’ve come this far because of the strength of community—and you have always been a part of ours. Through sharing our stories, attending our events, or simply showing up with words of encouragement, your support has made all the difference. As we take this next step, we’d love for you to continue this journey with us. Together, we can make Hari Orang Pulau happen.

See you soon!
Firdaus

This year, our final adventure led us to Luwuk in Central Sulawesi for the inaugural Temu Raya Sama-Bajau conference. Symbolically aligning with the dates of the Lipu Celebes Festival, it was both a celebration for and a commitment to the rich maritime heritage that the Sama-Bajau community holds. The festival opened with the arrival of two sandeq boats accompanied by over a hundred lepa boats. The sandeq sailed from the shores of Marjene, visiting thirteen Bajau communities before ending at the Bay of Lalong, honouring the sea pathways their ancestors took.

As festivities continued, we were warmly welcomed by the people of Jaya Bakti, considered to be the most densely-populated Sama-Bajau village in the world. They were previously displaced by government projects constructing cargo ports, forcing them to relocate to the opposite side of the island. For that day, the locals reclaimed the space along the waters with their colourful banner-decorated lepa. Having gained world recognition for their freediving skills, it was exciting getting to witness a breath-holding competition between the locals!

The conference gathered community representatives from over 14 Indonesian provinces including South Kalimantan, East Kalimantan, Central Sulawesi, South Sulawesi, North Sulawesi, Maluku, West Java, Central Java, East Nusa Tenggara, and West Nusa Tenggara, as well as community representatives from Malaysia and Philippines. We are so honoured to have been invited alongside distinguished international delegates like Associate Professor Dr. Narumon Arunothai, who has been researching and advocating for Indigenous communities and their knowledge systems for many years.

Discussions explored the varied experiences and challenges faced by Sama-Bajau communities across different regions, including restricted access to fishing areas due to conservation policies, economic hardship from fishing tool bans, and the risk of illegal practices. Despite this, they lead coral reef conservation efforts, though often without government recognition. These conversations serve as a foundation for collaboration among various stakeholders, including policymakers, conservationists, and community leaders. Ultimately, their goals are to ensure the sustainable preservation of marine resources integral to the Sama-Bajau way of life while simultaneously advocating for their cultural traditions to be formally recognised as intangible heritage on a regional scale within Southeast Asia.

Even the terms used to identify them(selves) were examined; the Sama-Bajau, known to outsiders as Bajau or Bajo, identify themselves as Sama with variations like Same in West Nusa Tenggara. By understanding their geographical distribution throughout Southeast Asia, we can see cultural links between different regions that formed via sea. An oral history performed at Jaya Bakti narrates the migration of the Sama-Bajau ethnic group, believed to have originated in Johor, Malaysia. The legend tells of a princess who went missing, prompting villagers to search for her. Failing to find her, they felt too ashamed to return to their homeland and instead dispersed across various regions, eventually forming the Sama-Bajau communities known today.

This story varies by region, and although the exact origins of the Sama-Bajau remain unclear, these connections reveal shared history and traditions that go beyond national boundaries. It is then important to them that they unite as one Sama people. For the Sama-Bajau, the sea is more than a path; it is their "home," "garden," and "life." It provides sustenance, serves as a spiritual connection, and shapes their identity from birth to death. Many Sama-Bajau describe the sea poetically: “The sea is my mat; the waves are my pillow.” In true santai fashion, we found ourselves swapping stories after dinner as if we were catching up with long-lost relatives - sparking excitement when we stumbled upon similar terms in our languages.

The congress concluded with the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) among Sama-Bajau representatives and the Indonesian Ministry of Culture's Cultural Development and Utilisation division. The declaration emphasised the following goals:

1. Recognition of the Sama-Bajau as key contributors to Indonesia’s maritime culture

2. Promotion of sustainable marine resource management based on traditional practices

3. Strengthening regional collaboration to protect Sama-Bajau heritage across Southeast Asia

Back in Singapore, here’s what we’ve been up to in December as part of our outreach and engagement efforts:

1. We met students at Dulwich College

We held a talk for over 140 Dulwich College students on the importance of oral histories and ethical research practices for interviewing their friends. The students were exceptionally respectful and attentive, actively partaking in the presentation and the post-presentation Q&A afterwards. We are looking forward to the next school engagements lined up next year!

2. We met our volunteers and friends – Santai di Pantai

Thank you to everyone who joined us at Tanah dan Air for Santai di Pantai! It was our first time hosting such a gathering, but it certainly won’t be our last. Seeing both familiar and new faces come together, connecting over shared interests and experiences, made our hearts so full. We are also grateful for the generous offers to volunteer or collaborate with our team. As a ground-up organisation, your support means the world to us - we are excited to start 2025 with new projects and opportunities to journey together with you!

3. We participated in a Jong Regatta in Singapore!

To end the year, we participated in Pesta Sukan Jong Regatta 2024, a three-day event led by Cik Rahmah and Cik Fawzi, a former Pulau Sekijang islander. Jong Racers from Johor, Galeri Jong, and Indonesia joined the race alongside teams from Singapore.

The Orang Laut SG team met a couple of friends and competed as part of Team Super Buntal, with friends we met during the Jong Clinic on the Regatta’s first day, some of whom were descendants of the Orang Brani. During the Jong Clinic, Cik Fawzi shared insights into the history, culture and technique of Jong Racing.

For the weekend, the shores of East Coast Beach were dotted with the vibrant colours of the handcrafted sailboats. Passers-by were drawn to the sight of the unmanned sailboats gliding effortlessly across the water and stopped to learn about the boats or to share their own memories of Jong races, recalling a time when they were a popular pastime in Singapore.

Jong Racing is a traditional maritime sport that connects coastal communities across Singapore, Malaysia, and beyond. For us, it is a meaningful reminder of our shared island heritage and identity across the Nusantara. It was a huge privilege to be a part of the sport’s resurgence in Singapore and learn from skilled racers in the region, and we will be practising for next year’s competition :D

4. We set up a support page - Ko-Fi!

We finally got the courage to debut our Ko-Fi page! Since 2020, Orang Laut SG has been self-sustaining as a non-profit, ground-up project. As we shoot for the stars in 2025, we want to ask for our followers' support to raise funds for our largest project yet - Hari Orang Pulau! We are looking to conduct tours and talks with schools or companies to raise funds for a festival for the community. Proceeds from December 2024 to June 2025 will go directly to Hari Orang Pulau 2025.

Our Ko-Fi page also accepts public donations of any amount. You may also donate directly to Orang Laut SG on a one-time or monthly basis. Our lean team appreciates all the support we can get!

We are also excited to share the details for two of our upcoming events in the new year. On 17 Jan, we will be hosting the second session of the Nio Series, inspired by the Tempurung Nio (Coconut Shell), the hardy layer protecting the fruit’s sweet flesh and water. For this session, we have invited cultural advocates who similarly present a resilient front to fight for the causes they care about to explore how change is created, particularly through art as advocacy.

Our speakers, Hafiz Rashid, a specialist in the history and culture of the Nusantara region, and Jade Johnson, of Amis (Indigenous Taiwanese) descent, will share how traditional arts and crafts carry community stories that often go unwritten and unrecognised in official historical narratives.

Inspired by the ground-up nature of these arts to amplify community voices and carry on narratives, Jade will host a weaving workshop, where you can try your hand at traditional Amis techniques. She will be joined by Normini Abdul Aziz, a Pulau Brani descendant who has been practising batik painting after learning the craft from an expert. Normini will share her experiences and relationship with the craft, guiding you to express yourself by creating your own batik works with coastal motifs.

Registration will be open soon, so do keep a lookout for the details on our Instagram and Telegram Channel!

On 19 Jan, we will be joining Tepo weavers from Pulau Omadal for a panel discussion as part of Bentang Tikar: Weaving Communities, Preserving Cultures, at the Singapore Museum. Tepo weaving is a traditional craft of the Bajau Sama DiLaut culture of Pulau Omadal and has, in recent years, become a means of sustainable income and for the community to preserve their rich cultural heritage.

Bentang Tikar invites participants to learn about the intricate maritime patterns and motifs, as well as how unity was fostered among various Bajau communities through the Tikar Reben project, a ground-up project led by Sabahan artist Yee I-Lann. The panel will also discuss similarities and differences between Orang Laut and Bajau Laut communities and how we can support marginalised groups and the conservation of their invaluable cultural heritage. We hope to see you there!

(The Nio Series is brought to you by Orang Laut SG and supported by the National Youth Council and National Heritage Board Young ChangeMakers - Youth Heritage Kickstarter Fund (YCM-YHKF). Any material, information or views expressed are those of the organisers and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any other supporting organisation.)

Thank you all for making 2024 a meaningful one. We look forward to meeting all of you next year!

Support us

Best wishes and happy new year,
Firdaus & The Orang Laut SG Team

Building on this progress, we recently hosted Minister Desmond Lee, along with representatives from NParks, URA, and MND, at the community space last week. There, they spoke to some of our community elders and descendants of the Southern Islands. These conversations brought to life linguistic nuances, maritime crafts, and other unique practices, all shared over warm bowls of homecooked Bubur Lambuk Ikan Tenggiri, our community’s speciality spiced mackerel porridge.

In the past, communities at West Coast Park have been vilified by the public and the media for the “unsightliness” of the shacks and boats, leading to the restriction of the space to a small section of the coast. Notably, not all the fishermen at West Coast Park are part of the Orang Laut/Pulau community, as some of the islanders had sold their boats to fishermen hobbyists due to the high costs of upkeeping. However, the space has been used and cherished by the Southern Islander community since their relocation to mainland Singapore in the 1970s, and it is heartening that its importance is finally being more widely recognised.

As many of the fishermen are also community elders, we hope that the space will swiftly be improved to ensure their comfort and safety—such as protection against rising tides, better storage facilities, enhanced access to electricity, and improved waste removal options.

Beyond these physical upgrades, there is an urgent need to recognise the immense cultural and ecological knowledge they hold that is currently at risk of disappearing in Singapore. Thus, Orang Laut SG has been collaborating with former islanders, descendants, and researchers to develop a comprehensive set of recommendations to share.

These possibilities draw inspiration from international efforts where discussions on Indigenous heritage and identity have been ongoing for much longer. Examples include initiatives like establishing Indigenous learning centres, renaming significant spaces to reflect their original, pre-colonial names, and restoring cultural landmarks—offering a glimpse of what Singapore could consider in our context.

Closer to home, we have been in touch with the islanders of Pulau Rempang, who have been resisting forceful evictions by the Indonesian government to undertake the Rempang Eco-City project since last year. This project attempts to establish an industrial zone for the processing of quartz sand for solar panel production in Batam. Its main investor is a Chinese glass-producing company, Xinyi Glass.

We want to provide an update on the situation written by members of Students for A Fossil Free Future (S4F), who have been working closely with the islanders and hosting fundraisers, which we have shared in previous newsletters:

Pulau Rempang consists of 16 kampungs and over 7,500 islanders, including indigenous Malays, Orang Laut and Orang Darat and others that have lived there for over two centuries. After attempted forceful evictions by the military in mid-2023, residents of Rempang clashed with police in Batam City on September 11th, 2023, leading to the arrest of 34 people. Findings from the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) and preliminary investigations by the National Solidarity Coalition for Rempang revealed that the incident was declared a human rights violation as stipulated in Law No. 39 of 1999 on Human Rights as evidenced by the use of tear gas during clashes. The political prisoners were released earlier this year, with 21 released on 26 March 2024, and 11 released on the 31st of March 2024. According to members of S4F, many of the released islanders were mistreated in prison, stating lack of access to basic necessities such as food and soap.

After the government failed to evict residents from their villages, they offered to relocate the residents to Galang Island, offering land and houses. However, as one resident of Kampung Sembulang stated,

“For us, houses, land, and subsidies cannot compare to the value of our village. These material things will not provide the peace we experience in our lives in this village”.

For the islanders of Pulau Rempang, their histories, cultures, and livelihoods are embedded in Rempang. As one islander shared with a member of S4F who visited Rempang in October 2024, “I was born here, I will die here, my ancestors are buried here, and I don’t want to be buried anywhere else.”

Currently, residents in Pulau Rempang still receive frequent visits from police, citing intimidation and violence. On 17 November, residents witnessed a lorry and three cars “full of hired thugs” allegedly on their way to break down houses in Sembulang Camping, the same week that an Indonesian government official announced it would demolish 44 abandoned houses in Pasir Panjang whose residents have relocated. Sembulang Camping, however, was not engaged in similar negotiations nor was this communicated to its residents.

Despite continued pressure to leave, many residents in Pulau Rempang choose to stay and defend their villages literally by guarding the entrances to their kampungs, but also through new fishing and farming cooperatives that aim to strengthen relationships to the land and sea and also build financial security for them. Read more about these initiatives, along with a breakdown of the funds usage from the fundraiser, on S4F’s Instagram.

Orang Laut SG stands in solidarity with the residents of Pulau Rempang, recognising their resilience and right to their native homes. As a ground-up initiative led by descendants of Southern Islanders, we understand the necessity of preserving ties to land, sea, and culture that define a community, and will continue to support their efforts in our capacity.

As part of our continued efforts to celebrate and sustain the stories, traditions, and livelihoods of the Orang Laut / Pulau communities, here’s what we’ve been working on recently!

We kicked off the month with two visits from the students of Temasek Polytechnic to West Coast Park, where we conducted a guided walk, Cik Am taught them the basics of bubu and jong making, and we all got to enjoy a performance blending music, poetry and memory by the phenomenal Asnida Daud.

To end of each session, we shared traditional snacks prepared by Mdm Nooraini, a former Pulau Semakau Islander; some visiting students eagerly shared the similarities some of the dishes had to their own culture’s cuisine, highlighting how culinary traditions can tell stories of the roots connecting Southeast Asian cultures, which borders cannot erase.

Ikut Arus (‘Follow the Current’) was performed at The Arts House for Singapore Writers Festival 2024 #swf2024. The performance explores the intricate ties that bind water, culture and nature together, while emphasising their symbolic, mythical and social significance.

The spoken word pieces were three original poems written by our Founder, Firdaus Sani, inspired by his grandparents’ mantras, honouring the hymns passed on from generation to generation. To some of the Orang Laut, mantras are often sacred, sometimes religious, and a particular power is evoked from this ancient practice the community often uses for healing and protecting people and spaces.

Firdaus and Zarina were then joined by Fransiskus Tintin (Head of Orang Suku Laut in Bintan) and Courtney Saville for a panel discussion to connect the performance to the lived experience of the Orang Laut communities. The interconnectedness of the Orang Laut groups in Singapore and Riau is clear, with shared cultures, practices, and beliefs that connect our islands by sea, as Tintin explained. Tintin is responsible for all life on land, water, and in the spiritual realm in his community, yet as he speaks on the panel in Bahasa Indonesia, he remains astoundingly humble.

Read the full article here.

This month, we also hosted our first Nio Series workshop at Tanah dan Air. Nio is the word our community uses for coconut, or kelapa, in contemporary Malay. The coconut is a vital resource to coastal communities across the region, with the tree and fruit’s incredible versatility earning it monikers such as pokok seribu guna (tree of a thousand uses) in Malaysia and kalpavriksha (a wish-fulfilling divine tree) in India. Likewise, the Orang Laut / Pulau community have unique uses for almost every part of the nio, reflecting how deeply sustainability is embedded in the community’s culture and age-old practices.

The Nio Series is a four-part workshop series by Orang Laut SG supported by the National Youth Council and National Heritage Board. The themes for each session are based on four different parts of the nio, with the first session, Sabut Nio (coconut husk), inspired by how the Southern Islanders used to collect the light and fibrous material to burn as firewood, fuelling daily life with a resource often overlooked today. For this session, we explored the theme of cultural sustainability and ways in which traditional knowledge may be passed down across generations.

Syarifah Nadhirah, author of Recalling Forgotten Tastes, shared stories about plants significant to the Orang Asli communities she worked with in Malaysia, such as pucuk ubi (tapioca shoots) and bunga jantang pisang (banana flower), key ingredients commonly found in Temuan cuisine. Her reflections reminded us of the rich histories held within the natural world and the importance of listening to the communities who have lived closely with these plants for generations.

Liz and Shirin from Wild Dot also spoke about the concept of “plant blindness”, which describes how urban living can dull our awareness of the plants around us. They invited us to reconnect with nature by foraging for natural pigments from the earth for their watercolour workshop, allowing participants to engage with nature in a creative and grounded way.

At the same time, we remain mindful of the critical role Indigenous communities play in preserving this knowledge, especially since many face urgent challenges, such as the degazetting of the Kuala Langat North Forest Reserve in Selangor. These threats impact not only biodiversity but also the cultural heritage deeply tied to these landscapes.

In future sessions of the Nio Series, we hope to carry on these conversations, dive deeper into traditional wisdom, and support efforts to sustain both cultural and environmental heritage. Thank you to everyone who joined us and we hope you had fun and learnt as much as we did!

We are also grateful to Darcel Anthony and Helmi Yusof, who recently featured our food in this article about Singapore’s edible heritage. For a taste of Southern Islander cuisine, we deliver a small amount of orders every weekend - you may check it out here!

What’s next for us? In December, we will be hosting our first-ever volunteer gathering at Tanah dan Air. Over the past events, we’ve had the pleasure of meeting many of you, and this gathering is an opportunity to connect on a deeper level in a casual, relaxed setting (where we’re no longer busy running around). Whether you’ve volunteered with us before or are new and curious about getting involved, everyone is welcome!

During the gathering, we’ll share more about our upcoming plans for 2025, and we hope it’ll be a chance to learn more about what we do, explore potential collaborations, or simply spend time with like-minded people who share a passion for culture and community. If you’d like to join us, simply indicate your interest via the button below and we’ll share further details soon. We look forward to seeing you there.

Join our tele group

Before we close, we would like to take a moment to share some personal news. We are deeply saddened by the passing of Mdm Ninah Bte Gap, a former Pulau Semakau islander known fondly as Nenek Ninah within the Orang Laut/Pulau community. At 90 years old, she was a beloved mother, grandmother and great-grandmother to many, all of whom she held close to her heart. On 23 November 2024, she departed peacefully in the comfort of her home at Telok Blangah Drive, the very first flat she moved into from Pulau Semakau in 1977. She was surrounded by family and friends, people whose lives she touched deeply with her boundless generosity, kindness, and love, and who will carry her stories and teachings on for generations.

See you soon!
Orang Laut SG

On 16 October 2024, Member of Parliament (MP) for Pasir Ris - Punggol, Mr Shahreal Taha, raised two questions about the cultural preservation of the Orang Laut communities to the Ministry for National Development in Parliament. The MP, who is also an Orang Kallang descendant, asked if the Ministry will include culture preservation for the past and present Indigenous coastal communities, particularly in the upcoming projects: Kallang Alive Masterplan, Greater Southern Waterfront Project, and Pulau Brani-Sentosa Masterplan. 

As part of his speech, Mr Shahreal Taha mentioned Orang Laut SG’s efforts in cultural preservation to reclaim the narratives of Singapore's Southern Islanders and Indigenous communities. 

“The Orang Laut are the seafaring people in Singapore and the Nusantara region that has thrived in Singapore even before 1819. There are many groups of Orang Laut such as the Orang Seletar, Orang Selat (comprising of the seafarers from the Southern Islands) and Orang Kallang, of which I am a descendant of.

The Orang Laut has cultures and traditions that are closely aligned to the sea and there are advocate groups like Orang Laut SG with founder, Firdaus Sani who are trying to keep the culture of the Orang Laut alive through workshops such as Turning Tides and Daun Daun di Pulau - which is leaves of the sea.

To create awareness of the cultures such Bubu trap weaving, and launching of the boats, which the Minister has shared just now, food and searching for gonggong, siput rangga and remis. Can the Minister consider having heritage trails that integrate into the development plans for the Southern Waterfront region, or West Coast Park, or have markers or permanent spaces the public can appreciate the rich culture of Indigenous Orang Laut? Thank you.”  - MP Shahreal Taha, 16 Oct 2024

This is an important milestone not only for our humble organisation but also for our community and nationhood. While we are heartened by this opportunity to work towards better representation and recognition for our community and Indigenous voices, we understand there’s a long road ahead.   

Why is representation so important to us?

We are trying to slowly and steadily chip away at the narrative of Singapore as a fishing village and celebrate the communities that have always called Singapura/Pulau Ujong their tanahair (homeland) before the arrival of colonials. Our country is 59 years young, and we should be represented beyond the CMIO model (Chinese, Malay, Indian, and Others).

Representation can be perceived through recognition. There are many ways communities can be represented, and one way is through the community itself—a community that thrives, having access to its culture and traditions, food, language, beliefs, and community spaces.

Why is recognition in Parliament a huge milestone for us?

When our community’s voices are heard, it helps to address our needs and aspirations better. This was an opportunity to shed light on community landmarks, such as one of the few remaining ones at West Coast Park that may fall within the Greater Southern Waterfront Project. From the 1960s, the Southern islanders were relocated from their homes to mainland Singapore, with many former islanders struggling to adjust to their new lifestyle in the city.

With lesser access to the sea, many community members, especially the younger descendants we know, have lost touch with their identities and our rich cultural heritage and practices. The preservation of space also safeguards vulnerable and intangible assets like identities and a sense of belonging and community. 

Through this, we aim to empower people from our community (and beyond) to advocate for their concerns and interests. At the same time, we hope to play a small role in influencing and shaping policies that may improve the community’s lives and provide better access to resources and opportunities that will let them continue their maritime practices.

What’s to come? 

As a relatively young nation, we can be certain that more land and sea developments will be planned for the future. While we prepare our city for what’s ahead, how do we put our heritage and culture at the forefront so that one day, we may be known as more than a small island nation of Chicken Rice and Chilli Crabs?

Currently, we are working with descendants from varying Orang Laut / Pulau communities to develop a set of recommendations that consider our concerns and future hopes, such as dedicated culture and heritage spaces, support for more public programmes and community initiatives, and more.

As we celebrate this significant milestone, we welcome anyone from the community, individuals, and groups to share their thoughts about these future projects. We are extremely grateful for the support we have received from partners and volunteers over the years, and we would not have been able to do what we do without you. However, there is still more work to be done. We believe in numbers; we can solidify our voices. Following this, we plan to work with relevant stakeholders and government ministries to make our conservation efforts possible. 

Read our latest statement below. 

In October, we organised many programmes for our partners and the public, so here’s a rundown of everything we did. Early this month, we hosted our first-ever public event at Tanah Dan Air. In collaboration with the Singapore Arts Museum (SAM) and artist Shooshie Sulaiman, we ran a four-hour programme titled Bumi dipijak, langit dijunjung.

We started the programme with a private session with Shooshie and the SAM team, where we introduced our medicinal practice of plants featuring the Daun Dukung Anak (gale of the wind), ground with turmeric into a paste, filtered with water and consumed as a tonic.  

Shooshie is a renowned contemporary artist in Southeast Asia whose performances often appropriate the natural elements from trees, soil, and water native to the land. Her work highlights the interconnectedness of humans, nature, and art. As part of her work, Shooshie Sulaiman, an artist who currently lives in Malaysia, commemorates this special connection and moment by planting banana shoots at Tanah Dan Air.

Update: The shoots are growing well!

When the sun sets, the public event begins with a conversation with former Islanders from Pulau Semakau and Sudong, along with Shooshie, about their island narratives, exploring their connections and practices between land and water. 

An event at Tanah Dan Air wouldn’t be complete without a feast. So, we brought together a communal kenduri-style dining experience on our humble tikar mengkuang with a homecooked meal prepared by Madam Nooraini, a native-born of Pulau Semakau. The guests indulged in various dishes, including Ketam Lemak, Sambal Udang and Sotong Hitam. The dishes were served in tingkats (food tiffins) and laid on banana leaves, shared among 40 people. It was a special moment because, to us, sharing a meal is not only communal but also deeply personal. 

We also held other programmes at Tanah Dan Air this month. We hosted a tour with educators from the Singapore University of Social Sciences (SUSS) and a separate event with students from Punggol Secondary School’s talent development programme. In both tours, we guided the guests around West Coast Park, where we introduced the stories and significance of West Coast Park to the former Southern islanders.

We also visited Dulwich College and our neighbour at Bedok, Kampong Chai Chee Community Centre. At Dulwich College, we held three sessions as part of the students’ history, theory of knowledge, and global skills curriculum. We were heartened by the students’ enthusiasm and curiosity about the Southern Islanders’ lifestyle, culture and experiences. 

Our collaboration with the People's Association at Kampong Chai Chee also began with a sharing to introduce the Southern Islands and the heritage, beliefs and cultural practices of the Orang Laut / Pulau communities. Then, we got hands-on with a tasting session of traditional snacks like pucuk ubi with sambal ikan bilis. Participants also tried making a medicinal concoction from local plants, sparking lively conversations on native herbs and food traditions from their cultures.

While October has been eventful, we’re now looking forward to next month’s programmes. We are excited to share that Firdaus from Orang Laut SG will be performing with artist Zarina Muhammad at the Singapore Writers Festival on 10 November for Ikut Arus (Follow the Current). This performance explores the symbolic, mythical and social ties between water, nature and culture. The performance will feature a spoken word piece inspired by the ancestral mantras of the Orang Laut/Pulau by Firdaus. Following this, Firdaus and Zarina will also participate in a panel discussion with Tin Tin, a village chief from the Orang Suku Laut of Bintan, Riau, where they aim to highlight the topic of cultural beliefs and unique coastal practices. We hope you will join us there to celebrate the rich heritage and coastal connections of these communities! 

Get your tickets here!

Other future events:

• Ever wanted to learn more about the bubu traps the Orang Laut / Pulau fishermen use? In collaboration with a group of students from SUSS, our team is organising a workshop spotlighting bubu traps and other traditional fishing equipment from Singapore and around the region. Cik Am will be there to demonstrate his craft and guide participants in weaving part of a Bubu trap. The workshop is scheduled for the evening of 29 November 2024, with registration details to be released very soon, so do save the date to join us there.
  

• Orang Laut SG will also be hosting a booth at Future Forest Festival: The Roots of Regeneration at Vidacity in Pasir Ris on 30 November 2024. We’ll be holding activities focused on indigenous plants and sharing stories about their significance to the Orang Laut / Pulau communities, and we look forward to seeing you there, especially our friends in the East.

Stay in touch with us on Instagram and through our Telegram Channel for updates on upcoming activities and volunteer opportunities. We are always thankful for your support and would love to keep you posted!

See you soon and have a great Happy Deepavali to our Hindu friends!

Orang Laut SG

Wake up. September has ended!

As we planted the seeds of Singapore’s indigenous history into curious minds in the last few years, thankfully, our efforts have bore fruits. Recently, readers have approached us, expressing their support of our cause and wanting to be more involved. We are heartened by the support, which keeps the work we do relevant and remembered. 

We want to announce that we have launched our heritage garden, Tanah dan Air, at City Sprouts, West Coast Park. This project was made possible because of the expertise of the Orang Laut/Pulau community, tireless efforts from our volunteers and Orang Laut SG interns, and support from our community allies who believed in us.

Why West Coast Park? West Coast Park has always been a significant connecting point for the former Southern islanders. Some may be acquainted with the sight of local sampans around the area, where islanders who inhabited the Southern Islands continue to stay close to the sea and their maritime practices. Nearby, native plants blossom quietly in our little heritage garden.

From the outside, you might spot batik pieces hanging in the greenhouse. Upon entering Tanah dan Air, we welcome you to a space designed to pay homage to the lives of coastal communities. Above, a Kajang, woven out of Nipah leaves by islanders in Riau and installed by a former Semakau islander, provides shade from the harsh sun, as the Orang Laut used to do for their Kolek (small wooden boat). 

Below, Tikar Mengkuang lies on the gravel. In some coastal communities, the plain, undyed tikar were specifically used for burial rites, woven with mengkuang (pandan duri) leaves by Riau Islanders. A collection of maritime crafts donated as gifts from the islanders have also made the garden their home. 

Within Tanah dan Air, one would find elements of land and sea, depicting the Orang Laut/Pulau practices and knowledge, alluding to how their lifestyle synergised with the ecosystem around them. In our garden, indigenous flora blooms, which is significant to the food, medicine, and culture of the Orang Laut/Pulau. An example is the Daun Sirih (betel leaf), which is a key ingredient for healing mothers out of labour while being part of Nusantara cuisines such as Nasi Ulam.

Tanah dan Air will be a space for gathering, knowledge sharing, and storytelling by descendants of coastal communities, arts and culture enthusiasts, and community allies. We envision this space as a place for Indigenous craft workshops and community events, creating a living heritage space at West Coast Park.

We would like to cordially invite members of the public to support our upcoming events at our space at West Coast Park, do keep a lookout for future events on our pages!

Orang Laut SG Instagram

Moreover, Orang Laut SG is looking for opportunities to fundraise for our cause, and we are open to discuss sponsorships and fundraising opportunities. Do connect with us through our email: hello@oranglaut.sg. 

Orang Laut SG made several news features this month.

Our founder, Firdaus Sani, was recently invited to speak on the Channel News Asia (CNA)’s podcast, the Daily Cuts, where we detail our aspirations in a podcast with Joel Chua as our host. Immense gratitude to be given this platform!

In addition, The Straits Times did an in-depth interview featuring Tanah dan Air, and we are delighted to be able to share a medicinal concoction made of Daun Dukung Anak (gale of the wind) in this article as well. Thank you for the feature!

Now for a recap of the activities in September!

This month, we hosted Serangoon Secondary School for a tour at West Coast Park. The students were fascinated to learn about the weaving and use of bubu traps from Cik Am, an expert fisherman and maritime craftsman from Pulau Sudong. He taught them about the types of fish caught in the traps, including ikan buntal (pufferfish) and accidentally catching an ikan yu (a reef shark), which was subsequently released. We are always heartened by the curiosity and enthusiasm of the students we work with, and we look forward to educating more youths in the coming months! 

We also had the privilege of showing a group of educators from the Leaders in Education Programme at MOE around West Coast Park and Tanah dan Air. We are grateful that the future leaders in education were genuinely invested in our stories, and look forward to our continuing friendship together.

A launch event at City Sprouts for the Therapeutic Garden recently opened by NParks across from the community garden plots. We ran a craft booth, shook hands with Minister Desmond Lee, and visitors of all ages tried their hands at making prints using indigenous plants and fruit. Check out some of these beautiful cards made by the students from APSN Tanglin School and seniors from SASCO Senior Citizens’ Home!

We will officially debut Tanah dan Air on the 11th of October! Our collaboration with Singapore Art Museum co-creates a knowledge-sharing and dining experience with their Artist in Fellowship, Shooshie Sulaiman. Do sign up in the link below!

https://www.singaporeartmuseum.sg/art-events/events/by-way-of-slowing 

We’re also excited to announce that the team at @indestructibleproject will be screening Hero Borneo, an independent film from Sabah exploring the tension between tradition and youthful aspirations for the fishermen of Borneo. The first (and only screening in Singapore!) will be held on 6 October 2024, 3-5pm at The Projector. As the film highlights the importance of fishing traditions in Southeast Asia, we’d like to invite our readers to attend the screening here and join us in supporting the coastal communities of Sabah.

Our readers get to enjoy a 10% discount using this code: ORANGLAUT , and a portion of the ticket fee will also go to supporting Orang Laut SG’s work. 

Click this link to buy tickets: Hero Borneo (theprojector.sg) 

Hope to see you at our future events!