Telok Blangah: The Forgotten Bugis Anchorage of Ancient Singapore

By Sarafian Salleh
Author of Tuah Bugis – Chronicles of the Seafaring People of Singapore (2023)

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A Name that Hides an Older Story

The name Telok Blangah has long been accepted to mean the “Bay of the Pot.” This interpretation, repeated across articles and tourist guides, stems from the Malay word belanga, a clay pot used for cooking curry or stew. Indeed, when viewed from the sea, the bay’s curved coastline may resemble a giant cooking vessel.

Yet, behind this familiar explanation lies a deeper and more intriguing story. An old Berita Harian article hinted that Blangah may not be about pots at all, but rather a Bugis word related to anchorage - suggesting that the area could have been a maritime hub far older than the colonial town we know today.

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Reconsidering “Blangah” — From Pot to Port

In Malay, labuh means “to drop anchor,” and pelabuhan means “harbour” or “anchorage.” These words share roots with the Bugis–Makassar term labuang or mallabuang, which carry the same meaning. The phonetic resemblance between labuang and blangah is striking.

It is plausible that over centuries of speech and trade, mallabuang softened through local tongues into balangah or blangah. This linguistic shift is consistent with how maritime place names evolve across the Malay Archipelago, shaped by oral transmission, regional dialects, and foreign transcription.

If that is the case, Telok Blangah would translate not as “Bay of the Pot,” but as “Anchorage Bay.”

My discussion with fellow Bugis authors & academics on the meaning of Telok Belangah in 2019

An Ancient Anchorage Before Empire

Long before Raffles founded a trading post in 1819, the southern shores of Singapore were already frequented by seafarers. Historical records, from the Sejarah Melayu to Chinese and Arab navigators’ logs, describe Temasek as a thriving maritime node between the 13th and 14th centuries.

When Sang Nila Utama (Sri Tri Buana) is said to have arrived in 1299, his choice of anchoring at Telok Blangah would have been guided by its natural features — a sheltered bay, deep waters, and access to inland rivers. These were the same maritime criteria used for centuries by Malay and Bugis sailors when selecting ports of call.

In this sense, Telok Blangah was not a random landing site but a logical maritime choice — a protected harbour ideally suited for large sailing vessels. It may have functioned as an entrepôt, with early administrators such as nakhoda (ship captains), shahbandar (harbour masters), and temenggong (local wardens) overseeing trade and navigation.

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The Bugis Connection

Christian Pelras, in his seminal work The Bugis (1996), described how the Bugis and Makassar peoples from South Sulawesi expanded their maritime presence across the Malay world from the 17th century onwards. After the fall of Makassar to the Dutch in 1669, many Bugis fled to Riau, Selangor, and Johor  establishing coastal settlements, shipyards, and trading outposts.

By the late 18th century, Bugis navigators were already active throughout the Singapore Straits. When Raffles arrived, they were well-known for their trading fleets and sea networks stretching from Sulawesi to the Riau–Lingga Archipelago.

Thus, it is entirely possible that Bugis seafarers had already frequented or even settled at Telok Blangah before the British period. The very name Blangah, if derived from Bugis labuang, could be the last linguistic trace of their early anchorage on the island.

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Clues from the Coastline

Historical maps and colonial surveys reveal several telling clues. The area around modern Harbour Front and Kampong Bahru was historically known as Kampung Nakhoda, literally “Village of the Ship Captain.” Such names were never accidental. They reflected the occupations and status of their inhabitants.

The term nakhoda (from Arabic nakhuda, meaning shipmaster) was widely used among Malay and Bugis traders. Its presence near Telok Blangah strengthens the idea that the bay once hosted a maritime community led by captains and traders, not farmers or inland settlers.

Even in the 19th century, when Bugis traders officially settled along the Rochor River to form Kampong Bugis, many oral traditions still associated the southern coast with earlier Bugis movements. The sheltered bay and its access to the Singapore Strait made it an ideal anchorage for fleets arriving from the Riau and Selayar islands.

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Blangah as a “Matured Estate” of Ancient Temasek

To imagine Telok Blangah as a “matured estate” of ancient Singapura is not far-fetched. Like today’s modern port, it was probably a multi-ethnic maritime settlement, drawing traders, craftsmen, and sailors who lived by the rhythm of the sea.

Arab geographers referred to this region as part of the “islands of Zabag,” famed for gold and spices, while Chinese accounts mentioned Temasek’s bustling harbour. European navigators later confirmed the area’s natural depth and protection from monsoon winds.

The Bugis, being among the most skilled sailors of the archipelago, would have naturally recognised the strategic and navigational advantages of the bay. Their long familiarity with the currents, reefs, and seasonal winds could explain why their linguistic imprint >> Blangah >> remained embedded in the toponymy of Singapore.

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Reclaiming the Maritime Memory

Modern Singapore’s rapid urbanisation has reshaped the landscape, but the sea remains in the nation’s DNA. The name Telok Blangah is more than a geographic label. It is a living echo of the island’s maritime soul.

If we accept the Bugis origin of Blangah, then this place was not merely a poetic bay but a functional harbour, possibly one of the earliest Bugis settlements in Singapore which perhaps predates the arrival of Sang Nila Utama because when the Pelembang Prince arrived Temasek, there was already Telok Blangah as mentioned in Sejarah Melayu. The story invites us to look beyond colonial timelines and recognise the indigenous maritime layers that predate 1819, the networks of Orang Laut, Malays, and Bugis who made these waters home.

In this light, Telok Blangah stands not as a colonial afterthought, but as the original port of Singapura, shaped by centuries of seafaring knowledge, trade, and cultural exchange.

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References

• Pelras, C. (1996). The Bugis. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.

• Andaya, L. Y. (1995). The Bugis-Makassar Diasporas. Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 68(1), 119–138.

• Sopher, D. E. (1965). The Sea Nomads: A Study of the Maritime Boat People of Southeast Asia. Singapore: National Museum.

• Turnbull, C. M. (2009). A History of Modern Singapore, 1819–2005. NUS Press.

• National Library Board Singapore. (n.d.). “Telok Blangah.” Singapore Infopedia.

• Salleh, S. (2023). Tuah Bugis – Chronicles of the Seafaring People of Singapore. Bugis Temasek Publishing.

Ayam Jantan Tanah Daeng

My first visit to Pulau Penyengat was in 2007, in the company of Pak Daing Zainal of Makam Radin Mas. At that time, the island, though beautiful, seemed in need of preservation and renewal. I believed then that Pulau Penyengat had the potential to serve as a focal point for heritage tourism and scholarship, providing a platform to rediscover the cultural and intellectual identity of the Malay world.

The Grand Mosque of the Sultan of Riau was the first sight that greeted us as we stepped off the jetty and onto the island. Its bright yellow and green walls stood out against the blue of the sky, almost as if announcing our arrival to Pulau Penyengat. The Grand Mosque of the Sultan of Riau (Indonesian: Masjid Raya Sultan Riau) stands proudly on Penyengat Island, just off the coast of Tanjung Pinang on Bintan Island, Indonesia. Built in 1844, this mosque is one of the most iconic landmarks of the Riau Islands and remains an important attraction for both visitors and pilgrims. With its striking yellow and green walls and its unique use of lime, sand, and egg whites as binding material, the mosque has stood the test of time as a living symbol of faith and resilience.

During my recent return, I observed significant transformation in how the island presents itself. Pulau Penyengat has emerged as a curated historical centre, inviting both visitors and researchers to re-examine the foundations of Malay identity and its contributions to regional history.

Contrary to the notion of being merely the site of Bugis settlement, Pulau Penyengat historically functioned as a centre of knowledge and culture. From the time of Raja Ali Haji, it has served as an intellectual anchor, shaping the Malay identity across Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia. Its legacy continues to remind us of the shared roots that define the uniqueness of Malay civilisation today.

I was sharing about Pulau Penyengat’s geopolitical story which can be traced back to the anthropological landscape of the Orang Laut who once made their homes along Sungei Carang, where their mastery of the seas and loyalty shaped the fortunes of rulers in the Johor-Riau world; over time.

This seafaring foundation gave way to a more strategic militarisation, most powerfully embodied in Raja Haji Fisabilillah’s establishment of a fire base at Bukit Kursi, a bold assertion of Bugis strength and defiance against Dutch encroachment, which not only guarded the heart of Riau but also announced the island’s role as a fulcrum of power in the region. 

From that martial origin, Penyengat grew into more than a fortress, becoming the beating cultural and intellectual centre of the Malay world, where figures like Raja Ali Haji anchored identity and thought, leaving a legacy that still ties its early seafaring roots, its Bugis heroism, and its flowering as a capital of ideas into one continuous arc of history.

Thank you Raje Farul and your friends, for guiding us.

Penyengat Island itself was once the royal seat of the Riau-Lingga Sultanate, a Malay kingdom that flourished during the 18th and 19th centuries. During this period, the rulers of Riau played a central role in navigating the political struggles of the Malay world, particularly in their encounters with European colonial powers. Though the island fell into decline after the sultanate dissolved in the early 20th century and remained abandoned for decades, efforts in recent years have restored much of its heritage, allowing visitors to reconnect with its glorious past.

Raja Ali Haji bin Raja Haji Ahmad

Among the treasures of Penyengat are the remains of the old palace, the royal tombs, and, most famously, the grave of Raja Ali Haji — a celebrated Malay scholar, historian, and poet. He is best remembered for writing Bustanu’s Salatin and Tuhfat al-Nafis, as well as compiling the first systematic grammar of the Malay language (Kitab Pengetahuan Bahasa) in 1850. His contributions ensured that Penyengat became not only a political centre but also a centre of intellectual and cultural life for the Malay world.

Today, the island stands as both a heritage site and a cultural landmark. The mosque is still in use, drawing worshippers and visitors alike, while the island itself tells a story of power, scholarship, and identity that continues to inspire Malays across the region.

Singapore Tourist Guide - Sarafian Salleh

Today, I’m overjoyed to share that I’ve renewed my Singapore Tourist Board license. The happiness I feel is just as fresh as it was three years ago, when I first passed my exams to earn it.

This renewal marks another three years of joy, responsibility, love, and heartfelt storytelling. Guiding has never been just a passion for me, it is a calling to share knowledge, history, and culture with sincerity and hope.

I look forward to continuing this journey, meeting new friends, and creating meaningful experiences together. Here’s to more stories, more laughter, and more discoveries ahead!

Thank you everyone who have always walked together with me.

Sukadana’s Warm Welcome and the Living Routes of Bugis Trade

My first taste of Kalimantan was in 1997, when I was sent to survey a tender barge at the Mahakam Delta, Balikpapan. I kept returning until around 2009, Samarinda, Banjarmasin, and elsewhere. Across Borneo I’ve worked in Miri, Bintulu, Lutong, Kuching in Sarawak, Kota Kinabalu, Labuan, and Brunei, mostly work, except Brunei where many of our menfolk “pay respects” in Temburong, if you know what I mean. Last year I spoke on Bugis trade in Pontianak; this year the invitation was to Sukadana. I remember when SilkAir flew direct to Pontianak, now it’s via Jakarta.

Sukadana sits on the south of Kalimantan. We ran up Sungai Kapuas in a 45-knot speedboat, normally five to six hours; the slow boat takes more than a day. It can take longer if either of the two big outboards clips a floating log or gets fouled by weeds, old fishing nets, or river garbage. 

The ride was scenic all the way, with a memorable lunch stop at Kubu. We stayed at Hotel Mahkota and from there plunged into cultural events, seminars, and warm social gatherings.

There was even karaoke at Pantai Datok…great fun. A friend in SG texted me after seeing my photos on Facebook: “Wahhh Tuah, you skipped our SG60 but became a guest at Indonesia’s Independence Day!” I was honoured to be invited by the Bupati (Governer) of Kayong Utara to witness the Hari Ulang Tahun ke-80.

The seminar went well. I enjoyed my airtime, sharing the trade networks linking Singapore, Sukadana, and the wider Nusantara. Many friends were the same good people from last year’s event in Sambas, and each session brought fresh insight, untold kingdoms, social cohesion, histories, anthropologies.

 My thanks to Mr. Natsir for organising and for inviting my wife and me, and to Mr. Jumadi Gading for being an excellent host. May Indonesia remain blessed and prosperous for its people, for the region, and for the world.

Assalamaualikum 

Pengalaman pertama saya di Kalimantan ialah pada tahun 1997, ketika saya ditugaskan meninjau sebuah Tender-Barge di Delta Mahakam, Balikpapan. Saya terus berulang-alik hingga sekitar 2009, ke Samarinda, Banjarmasin dan lain-lain. Di seluruh Borneo saya pernah bekerja di Miri, Bintulu, Lutong, Kuching di Sarawak, Kota Kinabalu, Labuan dan Brunei, kebanyakannya urusan kerja; kecuali Brunei, tempat ramai lelaki kita “bayar niat” di Temburong, kalau you faham maksud saya. 

Tahun lalu saya berkongsi tentang perdagangan Bugis di Pontianak; tahun ini pula jemputan ke Sukadana. Saya masih ingat ketika SilkAir terbang terus ke Pontianak; kini perlu melalui Jakarta.

Sukadana terletak di selatan Kalimantan. Kami menyusuri Sungai Kapuas dengan bot laju 45 knot, biasanya lima hingga enam jam; bot perlahan mengambil masa lebih daripada sehari. Perjalanan boleh menjadi lebih lama jika salah satu daripada dua enjin outboard terlanggar kayu hanyut atau tersangkut rumpai, jaring lama, atau sampah sungai.

 Pemandangannya indah sepanjang laluan, dengan persinggahan makan tengah hari yang mengesankan di Kubu. Kami menginap di Hotel Mahkota dan dari situ tenggelam dalam acara budaya, seminar dan pertemuan sosial yang mesra. Malah ada sesi karaoke di Pantai Datok, memang seronok. 

Seorang rakan di SG mengirim mesej selepas melihat foto di Facebook: “Wahhh Tuah, kamu tak hadir SG60 kita tetapi jadi tetamu pada Hari Kemerdekaan Indonesia!” Saya berasa sangat dihormati apabila dijemput oleh Bupati (ketua daerah) Kayong Utara untuk menyaksikan Hari Ulang Tahun ke-80.

Seminar berlangsung dengan baik. Saya benar-benar menikmati masa di pentas, berkongsi tentang jaringan perdagangan yang menghubungkan Singapura, Sukadana dan Nusantara yang lebih luas. Ramai rakan ialah orang baik yang sama dari acara tahun lalu di Sambas, dan setiap sesi membawa ilmu pembuka minda, tentang kerajaan-kerajaan yang jarang diceritakan, jalinan sosial, sejarah dan antropologi. 

Terima kasih kepada Encik Natsir kerana menganjurkan serta menjemput saya dan isteri, dan kepada Encik Jumadi Gading yang menjadi tuan rumah dengan layanan yang baik. Semoga Indonesia sentiasa diberkati dan makmur demi rakyatnya, rantau ini dan dunia.

Honorable Gifts and Appreciations from the Governor and friends.

 

 

 In celebration of National Day, I continued my long-standing tradition of leading a heritage walk for friends and members of the public, a journey through Singapore’s remarkable evolution, from the bustling age of sail to the kampong-spirit we shared during the trials of Covid.

The walk began at Fort Canning MRT station, where a facade replica of Panggong Negara stood proudly, screaming “Fort Canning!” greeted us. Standing there, I couldn’t resist sharing my personal memories of the Van Cleef Aquarium, once beloved landmarks that still hold a nostalgic feel in my heart. I also used to swim regularly at River Valley Swimming pool during my Poly days too!

From that starting point, our steps followed the echoes of history;  from the events in Sejarah Melayu to Raffles, through the trials of the Second World War, the winds of decolonization, moments of unrest, and the visionary leadership of Mr Lee Kuan Yew... leading to the milestones that shaped our independence and the modern nation we take pride in today. It was more than just a walk; it was a celebration of heritage, resilience, and the Singapore spirit. 

Thank you Zaili Mohama Din for the photos. Thank you to everyone who joined and made this National Day walk both memorable and meaningful.

Happy National Day friends. 

Happy National Day everyone. 

Happy National Day Singapore. 

Majulah Singapura!

Ghosts of the Arts House 

“At night, the river hushes and this old house keeps its whispers. Built in 1827 as a residence but used as a courthouse, these rooms once heard verdicts, oaths and the scrape of boots on tiled floors. Some staff swear they’ve felt a sudden chill along the corridor by the old chamber door, or faint footsteps after closing, perhaps only the building settling, perhaps not.

I have always felt a deep connection whenever I speak about the Arts House. Its history is inseparable from the early story of modern Singapore, taking me back to the time of Temenggong Abdul Rahman.

Around 1812, Temenggong Abdul Rahman established his first Istana along the Singapore River. From there, he managed his trading activities, working closely with Bugis, orang laut, and the Chinese communities who lived along the riverbanks. These communities along the Singapore River helped forge local and regional maritime trade, laying the economic foundations of Singapore’s growth.

Temenggong Abdul Rahman remained there until the arrival of Stamford Raffles on 28 January 1819. When Raffles landed, he stepped ashore at the jetty right in front of the Istana. Mistaking Temenggong Abdul Rahman for the Sultan of Singapore, Raffles was corrected: the Temenggong explained that he was not the Sultan, and that the rightful heir was Sultan Hussein.

On 6 February 1819, a treaty of friendship was signed between Raffles, Sultan Hussein, and Temenggong Abdul Rahman, marking a pivotal moment in Singapore’s history. Over time, the site where the Istana once stood came into Raffles’ possession. The plaque outside the Arts House still records that Raffles purchased the land from Temenggong Abdul Rahman and converted it into the Assembly House. The Temenggong relocated to Telok Blangah, where the Bugis settlement was based.

The Arts House today, then the Old Parliament House had witnessed many defining moments in Singapore’s political journey. Here, Chief Minister David Marshall pressed for internal self-government, though his 1956 Merdeka Mission to London failed and he resigned. In 1957, his successor Lim Yew Hock led successful negotiations in London that produced the State of Singapore Constitution (1958) and paved the way for internal self-government in 1959. The Legislative Assembly that met in this building was central to the local debates surrounding these changes.

It was also here that Singapore’s national symbols were unveiled: the national flag, the pledge, and the national anthem Majulah Singapura. From 1955 to 1999, the building now called The Arts House served as Singapore’s legislature, first the Legislative Assembly, then Parliament before the move to the new Parliament House.

For me, the Arts House is not just a building, it is a living monument. Standing there, you are standing where history unfolded; where decisions were made that shaped Singapore into the independent nation it is today. Anyone who knows its story, I believe, will feel the same deep pride I do each time they walk through its doors.

Happy National Day Singapore

9th August 2025

 

Istana Woodneuk - A legacy worth celebrating.

Since news broke about the agreement between the Singapore government and Tunku Ismail Sultan Ibrahim, the Regent of Johor, regarding a land swap near the Singapore Botanic Gardens, I have led nearly 250 participants to step foot into this increasingly forgotten palace ground. My purpose is clear: to share with the public the illustrious history behind these ruins, and to highlight the importance of preserving this priceless heritage.

Under the agreement, Tunku Ismail will cede 13 hectares of his land to the government, while the government will in return transfer 8.5 hectares of state-owned land to him. This development has renewed public interest in Istana Woodneuk, a tangible reminder that Singapore’s hidden heritage still deserves to be known, understood, and safeguarded for future generations.

Once upon a time, this palace served as the private residence of Sultan Abu Bakar of Johor. But today, it stands as a fading memory, weathered by time, overtaken by nature, and nearly forgotten.

Even so, Istana Woodneuk holds immense value in terms of culture, history, and architecture. It is part of the nation’s heritage that rightly deserves preservation. Amid Singapore’s rapid development, efforts to protect such heritage sites are not only important, they must be made a priority.

The Legacy of Istana Woodneuk

Preserving historic sites like Istana Woodneuk is not just about protecting old buildings,  it is about safeguarding the identity and origins of a nation for future generations. Built in the 19th century, the complex history of Istana Woodneuk includes multiple reconstructions and changes in ownership. Located on 36 acres of land within Tyersall Park, it was originally owned by an English trader, Captain John Dill Ross, before being sold to Sultan Abu Bakar in 1860.

Maharaja Abu Bakar was the grandson of Temenggong Abdul Rahman, one of the signatories of the Treaty of Friendship alongside Sultan Hussein and Sir Stamford Raffles. Around the same time, Abu Bakar also purchased another property with an existing house from an English lawyer named William Napier. When he married Wong Ah Gew in 1885, he suggested they live in Woodneuk, as he was planning to build a new palace on the site of Napier's former house. This new palace would be named Istana Tyersall and built specially for his wife. Wong Ah Gew later embraced Islam and took the name Sultanah Fatimah.

Sadly, Sultanah Fatimah passed away in 1891, a year before Istana Tyersall was completed in 1892. The palace went on to become a grand residence for Sultan Abu Bakar and was later inhabited by his fourth wife, Sultanah Khadijah Khahum.

During Singapore's time as the administrative hub of the Straits Settlements, many prominent British officials resided in the city. Abu Bakar played a key role in this growing port town — managing Malay affairs and acting as a key intermediary between the British administration and other Malay rulers across the region. Istana Tyersall served as a royal residence, while Istana Woodneuk was used as a social and leisure retreat.

Lessons from Istana Woodneuk

My journey into uncovering Singapore’s forgotten palaces began in 2015 when I first stepped foot on the ruins of Istana Woodneuk. That visit sparked a deep curiosity about the hidden history behind the site. Since then, I have committed to researching Singapore’s royal residences, including Istana Tyersall, Istana Kampong Glam, and Istana Telok Blangah.

This effort involved extensive research using historical maps, colonial records, and archival documents, which I then matched against the modern landscape through fieldwork, oral interviews, and family stories. As a descendant of Bugis-Malay heritage, this has also been a personal journey to reconnect with my roots and identity.

The story of Woodneuk made me realise that heritage preservation isn’t just about structures, it’s about memories, dignity, and cultural identity. Sites like this teach us about the importance of unity, cross-cultural collaboration, and resilience through changing times.

I didn’t want this knowledge to stay locked in academic circles. That’s why I began organising heritage walks and storytelling sessions to help the public experience the value of this vanishing history. What’s been heartwarming is how many participants have come forward to share their own personal stories, including some who once lived or worked near Istana Woodneuk.

History is not just about the past. It’s about what we choose to remember and how we pass it on.

Don’t Let Woodneuk Be Forgotten

Istana Woodneuk is a heritage site that deserves to be celebrated, not neglected. It holds powerful lessons about Singapore’s identity, history, and cultural richness. By preserving what remains of its glory, Singapore also protects the diversity and depth of its own historical narrative.

It is time for the government, the community, and the wider public to join hands in shining a light once more on Istana Woodneuk. Through conservation, research, and education, Woodneuk can be brought back to life in our collective memory,  serving as an inspiration for a more inclusive and culturally grounded Singapore. Let’s not allow Woodneuk to remain a silent tale hidden in the city’s overgrowth. It deserves a rightful place in our hearts and our national story.

The heritage tours I regularly host do not only focus on Istana Woodneuk. They also paint a broader picture of Singapore’s history, one that didn’t begin in 1819 or even 1299, but goes further back to the days of maritime networks and ancient seafaring.

Hope for the Future

If the proposed land exchange goes through, I sincerely hope that the Singapore government and the National Heritage Board will consider meaningful steps to recognise and preserve the historical significance of Istana Woodneuk and its surrounding grounds.

It’s possible the original structure may have to be demolished due to its severe deterioration. If so, I propose that a faithful reconstruction of Istana Woodneuk be considered, reflecting its original architectural style. More importantly, I hope the new structure will include a dedicated heritage space that tells the story of the Malay royal family, the legacy of Istana Tyersall, and the many layers of Singapore’s rich history.

This is not just about honouring the past, it’s an opportunity to create a living space where history is remembered, experienced, and passed on to future generations.

Thank you Norman Sawi of Berita Harian, Singapore Press Holdings in granting me to contribute this article. Thank you Cheryl Tay for your hand in the group photo shot. Thank you to all my friends whom have walked with me to preserve this national heritage.