The Lost Islands of Singapore

When I was reading One For The Road by local writer Julian Davison, an island called “Pulau (Malay for island) Damar” was mentioned. Davison used to visit this island with his family.

He recalled wading thigh-deep in the clear waters of the coral reefs and observing all manner of interesting marine life at his feet. A day at P. Damar was like a visit to the countryside. Little inlets, along a palm-fringed coastline led to Malay kampungs, half-hidden amongst trees. One could stay the night in a seaside bungalow fully accompanied by the therapeutic sounds of gently crashing waves and the scent of salty seaweeds.

The more I read, the more intrigued I became. Where is this island in Singapore? Why haven’t I heard of it before? Can I still visit it today?

An online search with Google revealed that “Pulau Damar” is better known as “Pulau Damar Laut” and is located off Singapore’s western coast. It is nothing like what Davison had described it to be forty years ago. Today, it is part of Jurong Port and there are four container terminals and a cement terminal on it.

Above: Photograph of P. Damar Laut taken from Jurong Hill with Jurong Island in the background (Photograph by Loh Kok Sheng).

Despite my initial disappointment at the island’s current state, discovering P. Damar Laut sparked off my interest in Singapore’s other ‘lost’ islands. Remote offshore islands that were once escapades of wilderness, treasure troves of rich biodiversity and playgrounds of island living, where one could get away from the hectic pace of modern life.

Due to development, many of these islands have either vanished from the map, metamorphised into islands of steel and concrete, losing their seaside and natural features, or have simply been forgotten.  “Loss” evokes deprivation and the failure to retain certain essences. Common to these islands is that they have lost something of immeasurable value, both physically and culturally. At its founding in 1819, Singapore had about 70 offshore islands. Today only about 50 are clearly mapped out. The missing islands have mostly been linked to the mainland (as in P. Chichir) or to a bigger island (as in P. Semakau and P. Tekong) or amalgamated together (as in Jurong Island). There is also a unique case of artificial island formation resulting in P. Punggol Barat and P. Punggol Timor.

Above: Map of Singapore (2007) labelled with islands introduced in this article.

Pulau Sakeng and Pulau Semakau

Acclaimed as the last stilted Malay kampung before its redevelopment, P. Sakeng is probably one of Singapore’s most iconic ‘lost’ islands. It was a small island, one kilometer by 200 meters, located six kilometers from the mainland. It would have taken only half an hour to walk leisurely around the island. Yet, for its small size, its significance to Singapore’s heritage is unrivaled.

P. Sakeng consisted of about 100 stilted Malay houses encircling the coast. The graveyard where the village’s ancestors were laid to rest was located on a hill in the middle of the island, shaded by coconut palms. One of the graves belonged to a Malay princess named Kelengking, who was believed to be the founder of the village and by which the island got its name.

P. Sakeng was a delight to many visiting tourists, expatriates, researchers and students who studied Malay culture in the 80s and early 90s. One who was willing to pay for a motorised sampan could head over to the island from P. Bukom and have a taste of life that had not changed much since Singapore’s founding.

Besides being the last water kampung, what made P. Sakeng fascinating was its villagers’ historical ties to the Orang Selat (or people of the Straits), the original settlers who first encountered Sir Stamford Raffles. While researching this article, I stumbled upon a thesis by Normala Manup, a student who graduated from the National University of Singapore in 1983, entitled Pulau Seking: Social-History and an Ethnography. Manup stayed on the island for three weeks followed by shorter periods over three months to study the self-perceptions of the islanders and the socio-cultural organization of the community. Manap noted that Sakeng residents claimed they were the descendents of the indigenous settlers of Singapore.

Above: A Malay stilt house of P. Sakeng in 1993.

Left: The view of P. Sakeng from the main jetty in 1993 (National Archives); Right: Part of P. Sakeng, today, as the Marine Transfer Station of the Semakau landfill (Photograph by Keropok Man).

Twenty years later, when asked what she remembers most fondly about the island, Normala said, “Everything! To name a few, I miss the connectedness on the island, both of the region and in the island. The people had relatives from the Riau islands (Indonesia) who came to visit the island by boat. Everyone on the island knew one another. There was great unity in the community and decisions were made together. When there was a celebration, all were invited.”

“They also had a very different worldview in relation to nature. They believed that all things in nature have spirits. The trees, water and even rocks have spirits and as a result they treat nature with great reverence. They even named themselves after trees, flowers and sea creatures. It’s a pity that people of this generation no longer get to experience these cultures and ways of life that are integral parts of our history and who we are today.”

Just a kilometer west of P. Sakeng is P. Semakau. P. Semakau is a low-lying island of about two square kilometers, and was covered in mature mangrove swamps on its eastern coast, hosting various flora and fauna. Some rare local species that were relatively common in the Semakau mangroves included the Polynesian arrowroot (Tacca leontopetaloides), aquatic ginger (Alpinia aquatica), Combretum tetralophum, hop bush (Dodonaea viscosa) and the Bakau (Rhizophora stylosa). Owing to its location in the Singapore Straits, the Semakau mangroves received water-dispersed seedlings both from the Malaysian and Indonesian coasts.

Left to right: Polynesia arrowroot (Tacca leontopetaloides); aquatic ginger (Alpinia aquatica); hop bush (Dodonaea viscose).

Above: Opening of the P. Semakau Community Centre in 1963 (National Archives).

The habitable parts of the island were home to Malay and Chinese villagers who made a living mainly from fishing. The methods used by the fishermen had been passed from generation to generation such as the use of shore nets. Nets of various sizes were lined along reefs, anchored to the shore by poles during low tide to trap shallow water fish. The catch from such nets often include fishes such as belanak (mullet), timah (ribbon fish), kapas (silver biddies), kekeh (ponyfish), and various crabs.

The need for a landfill site to contain the incinerated waste of a growing nation led to the development of P. Sakeng and P. Semakau into an offshore landfill, collectively known as the Semakau Landfill. After the islanders on both islands were resettled into Housing Development Board (HDB) flats on the mainland, landfill construction began in 1995 and was completed by 1999. Today, it is the only remaining landfill in Singapore and is projected to last until 2040.

The bid to save the coral reefs west of P. Semakau and the convenience of an already existing solid ground for construction of the Marine Transfer Station of the landfill implicated P. Sakeng and led to its annexation to P. Semakau. “P. Sakeng” was hence officially erased from the map of Singapore.

However, not all is doom and gloom, for extensive remediation and replanting works took place during the formation of the enlarged island in order to conserve its biodiversity. The use of innovative technology and engineering, such as silt screens that were implemented during the development phase, have protected much of the coral reefs on the western coast of P. Semakau, while the active planting of a uniform stand of 400, 000 mangrove trees over 14 hectares of the mudflats, replaced those that were lost in the landfill areas.

Above: Aerial image of Semakau Landfill (RMBR).

Today, Raffles Museum of Biodiversity and Research (RMBR) organizes regular nature walks, where trained nature guides take people of all ages and backgrounds to visit the intertidal shores and the mangroves of P. Semakau. Loh Kok Sheng, a RMBR guide said, “I love coming to P. Semakau. It is home to so many beautiful intertidal creatures such as the knobbly sea star, giant clam, pretty nudibranches and flatworms. It’s truly an island paradise!” In addition, several natural areas have been opened up for recreational purposes such as sports fishing, bird watching and stargazing. Though P. Sakeng and P. Semakau have lost their cultural heritage, they still retain their natural heritage. P. Semakau landfill is evidence that development and nature can coexist.

Clockwise from top: giant clam (Tridacna squamosa); Persian carpet flatworm (Pseudobiceros bedfordi); knobbly sea star (Protoreaster nodosus); oval sea grapes seaweed (Caulerpa racemosa); blue dragon nudibranch (Pteraeolidia ianthina); pebble crab (Family Leucosiidae) (Photographs by Loh Kok Sheng).

Selat Sembilan islands

Another group of islands that have undergone unprecedented change are to be found off the southwestern coast of mainland Singapore. Today, reclaimed and collectively known as Jurong Island, these islets used to be separate entities. Located in the Selat Sembilan (Nine Straits), Jurong Island is an amalgamation of ten smaller islands (P. Pesek Kechil; P. Ayer Chawan; P. Sakra; P. Ayer Merbau; P. Meskol; P. Merlimau; P. Seraya; P. Pesek; P. Mesemut Laut and P. Mesemut Darat).

Before reclamation, many of these islands had schools and community centers, and the people led communal kampung lifestyles. Surveys conducted 20 years ago revealed a very diverse and abundant coral reef habitat that was able to support the fishing community, and mangroves provided both goods and services for the islanders. However, due to the growing petrochemical industry and the need to cluster such industries in the western area of Singapore, near the Jurong and Keppel Ports, these islands were reclaimed to form Jurong Island.

The process of land reclamation had disastrous effects on reef habitats, as it involved dredging the seabed and burying coral reefs with the dredged material. Besides directly removing and smothering the corals and the life they supported, the process resulted in increased sedimentation that further affected surrounding coral reefs and the life they supported. Furthermore, a high sedimentation load made snorkeling or diving in Singapore waters less enjoyable with an average underwater visibility of about 1.5 meters.

When news of P. Ayer Chawan’s reclamation was received, a rescue mission, claimed to be the world’s largest, was initiated by the Nature Society (Singapore) to salvage healthy corals around the island and to transplant them to Sentosa. On nearly every weekend from 1993 to 1995, divers, snorkelers and other helpers went out on boats to collect and transfer the corals. A total of 450 volunteers spent around 10, 000 hours underwater shifting the corals.

Although a survey performed a year later revealed disappointingly that less than 11% of the corals survived the arduous journey, there were other more positive outcomes. The exercise had raised the public’s awareness of the rich coral reef life present in Singapore waters. A strong statement that Singaporeans were concerned about the negative impacts of development, and they were willing to make a difference to protect Singapore’s biodiversity was made. Nature enthusiasts and scientists also learnt of the difficulties and complexities of conducting a large-scale coral transplantation. Subsequent reef transplantation projects have been less ambitious and performed with less hype, but were more successful.

Today, the restricted access Jurong Island might appear heavily built up and devoid of island life.  This is, however, not completely true as there are still traces of wilderness on the island. Woon Wei Ling, a process engineer with a company in the oil and gas industry in the Ayer Chawan district revealed, “I often see eagles soaring in the sky here. Jurong Island is also a great place to stargaze in the night and to catch the sunrise early in the morning, as there are no tall buildings to obstruct the view. During the early days of Jurong Island, monkeys used to turn on the valves of the pipes in the factories!”

Left: Islands before development; Right: Built up Jurong Island (JTC).

Top: P. Senang, an island paradise in 1960; Bottom: P. Senang left in ruins in 1963 (National Archives).

Pulau Senang

P. Senang or “the island of ease” is another island with a story to tell. It has a deceiving name, for unknown to many born after Singapore’s Independence, for a while, P. Senang was used as a detention camp for criminals. Pulau Senang Rehabilitation Settlement was perhaps the Singapore Prisons Department at its most adventurous.

From 1960 to 1963, the convicts worked on the forsaken island, transforming it into their living and working quarters. There were dormitories, a canteen, roads, a community hall and terraced vegetable gardens. A jetty was also being built. However, on 12th July 1963, a group of warders retaliated over the regimented treatment received. They rioted and brutally hacked the head superintendent, 39-year-old Daniel Dutton, and set him on fire. They also killed three other unarmed wardens, set the buildings on fire and proceeded to celebrate the ‘victory’.

The island settlement that had taken three years to build was destroyed in 40 minutes. P. Senang afforded the criminals a chance of rehabilitation with a taste of freedom. It was unfortunate that the hardcore secret society members chosen in this pilot experiment had not embraced the opportunity. Today, along with P. Biola, P. Pawai, P. Salu and P. Sudong, P. Senang is part of the live-firing zone set aside for the Singapore Armed Forces.

Other islands…

There are many stories about the other lost islands of Singapore. There are tales about the grand colonial ballroom on Coney (Serangoon) Island, the Second World War fortress at P. Sajahat, the hot spring at P. Tekong, fluorescent algae displays at P. Buloh, the ammunition dump at P. Tekukor and many more. A common thread runs through them – that of the need to appreciate our natural heritage, and the culture and history passed down from previous generations. All these might just disappear one day, as history has shown, if we are not careful.

There is a bittersweet feeling in me whenever I think about many of these islands. Feelings of nostalgia and regret consume me whenever I recognize the difference between what the islands are today and what I imagined they had been before.  We have lost so much. At the same time, I am fully aware that the utilization of offshore islands for various purposes has assisted in the progress of the nation. The best solution to such conflicting needs is probably a compromise to develop sustainably.

There are still many islands that are not lost yet because the government has set aside some for recreation, some for military uses and others as land banks. Given the functions they serve, some have been left pretty much as they were. Others have been transformed into playgrounds or manicured lawns. For example, P. Ubin is still conserved and a great place to visit to experience its charming countryside, bountiful biodiversity and inviting islanders.
May we enjoy them, while we still can!

Acknowledgments

I sincerely thank Normala, Professor Chou Loke Ming, and Associate Professor Hugh Tan for their valuable input. I am also grateful for the comments, photographs and assistance provided by many people, too numerous to name. Special appreciation goes to Dr Peter Todd, for his guidance and for making this article and the numerous resultant experiences possible.

References

1. Josey, A. (1953). Pulau Senang. The Experiment that Failed. Times Books International (Singapore)
2. Manap, N. (1983). Pulau Seking: Social-History and an Ethnography. Thesis. National University of Singapore.
3. Tan, F. I. K. (1966). The Fishing Settlements of Pulau Semakau. Thesis. National University of Singapore.