Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri

Solat Aidilfitri at Masjid Temenggong Daeng Ibrahim was especially meaningful for me every year. Located in Telok Blangah, this mosque holds a very special place in my heart because of its deep history and heritage. More than just a place of worship, it stands as a living reminder of Singapore’s rich Bugis-Malay-Muslim past, closely tied to the legacy of Temenggong Daeng Ibrahim and the early story of the community in this area. To return here for Aidilfitri prayers, surrounded by jemaah, friendship, and gratitude, felt like a spiritual homecoming. A moment where faith, memory, and heritage came together in a way that was deeply personal and unforgettable. Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri !

 

The Enduring Legacy of Duit Raya

Sarafian Salleh

21st  March 2026

 

The act of salam, the gentle pressing of an elder’s hand to one’s forehead is the silent opening of a door. In my childhood home during the 1970s, this wasn't merely a ritual; it was a moment of profound emotional exchange. As a young boy, I would stand before my father, Salleh Sariman, and my mother, Noribah Md Sirat, bowing my head to kiss their hands as a sign of deep respect and to seek forgiveness for the year’s shortcomings. I did not really understand much in those early years but as I grew, I could feel a very deep sense of connection and love. It was only after this structural foundation of humility was laid that the Duit Raya would be presented.

 

The expression highlights that true "respect" is not just a gesture but an internal conviction. This deeper understanding only "set in" with maturity, as the individual begins to appreciate the broader cultural and communal importance of the tradition beyond the envelope itself. I was only 3 years old and already knew the weight of monetary gift. Photo by Noribah Muhd Sirat. (Mother)

In those early years, the gift was often simple. I remember the weight of a physical 50 cents coin being dropped into my palm, a tangible token of a parent's blessing. This tradition is rooted in a distant past where, before the advent of modern currency, the Malays would gift traditional delicacies such as cakes or sweets. As our society evolved into a global maritime and commercial hub, money became a more viable and practical medium for this exchange of goodwill.

 For a child growing up in Singapore, Duit Raya was never about the face value of the note or coin. It was a lesson in the community's social fabric. The tradition dictates that adults who have entered the workforce provide these monetary gifts to the younger generation; children and teenagers who are still under the care of their parents. Yet, the circle of generosity extends in both directions; it is also presented to the elderly as a sincere gesture of respect and mutual generosity. In our culture, the act of giving is a reflection of Pessi, a Bugis term for communal empathy, ensuring that the joy of the festival is shared by all, regardless of their economic standing.

As the decades passed, the "packaging" of this tradition shifted. The loose coins of my youth gave way to crisp, new banknotes tucked into colorful green envelopes, reflecting the prosperity of a developing Singapore. Today, we even see the rise of digital transfers and QR-code gifts. Yet, as a researcher of our heritage, I believe the "internal logic" of the practice remains remarkably resilient. Whether it is a physical envelope or a digital notification, the intent is the same: to foster a spirit of sharing and to acknowledge the bonds of kinship.

 The everlasting significance of Duit Raya lies in its ability to bridge the gap between the past and the future. When I give to my own two sons today, I am not just handing over a gift; I am reciting a story that has been told for generations. It is a story of how a community maintains its identity within a rapidly changing urban environment. It teaches the young the value of gratitude and provides the elders a way to practice patronage and care.

 In a fast-paced, high-tech city like ours, these moments of pause, the salam, the seeking of forgiveness, and the presentation of a gift are vital. They remind us that our heritage is not just found in old graves or archival texts, but in the living warmth of a shared hand. The tradition of Duit Raya is a testament to the enduring kindness of the Malay-Muslim heart, a reminder that while our methods of exchange may modernize, the sincerity of our respect must never vanish from the earth.

Warisan Duit Raya yang Kekal Selamanya

Amalan bersalaman, iaitu menyentuh tangan orang tua dengan dahi kita dengan tertib, sebenarnya seperti membuka pintu hati. Di rumah saya pada tahun 1970-an, ini bukan sekadar adat; ia adalah detik yang penuh kasih sayang. Sebagai kanak-kanak, saya akan berdiri di depan ayah dan ibu saya untuk mencium tangan mereka sebagai tanda hormat dan memohon maaf atas segala kesilapan. Walaupun dahulu saya belum faham sepenuhnya, lama-kelamaan saya sedar betapa kuatnya rasa kasih sayang yang terjalin melalui perbuatan ini. Hanya selepas kita menunjukkan rasa rendah diri barulah Duit Raya akan diberikan.

Dahulu, pemberian itu sangat ringkas. Saya masih ingat rasa berat sekeping syiling 50 sen yang diletakkan di tapak tangan saya sebagai tanda berkat daripada ibu bapa. Tradisi ini bermula sejak zaman dahulu lagi. Sebelum ada wang kertas, orang Melayu biasanya memberi kuih-muih atau gula-gula tradisional. Apabila zaman berubah dan Singapura menjadi pusat perdagangan dunia, wang menjadi cara yang lebih mudah untuk berkongsi kebaikan.

Bagi kanak-kanak di Singapura, Duit Raya bukan tentang berapa banyak wang yang diterima. Ia sebenarnya mengajar kita tentang cara masyarakat kita hidup bersama. Tradisinya, orang dewasa yang sudah bekerja akan memberi hadiah wang ini kepada golongan muda, seperti kanak-kanak dan remaja. Namun, kebaikan ini tidak terhenti di situ; kita juga memberi kepada orang tua sebagai tanda hormat. Dalam budaya kita, perbuatan memberi ini mencerminkan istilah Bugis, ‘Pessi’, yang bermaksud rasa empati dan kasih sayang sesama manusia. Ini memastikan semua orang merasa gembira semasa hari raya, tidak kira kaya atau miskin.

Seiring dengan peredaran zaman, cara pemberian Duit Raya juga berubah. Jika dahulu saya menerima syiling, kini kanak-kanak menerima wang kertas baru di dalam sampul hijau yang berwarna-warni. Malah sekarang, ada juga yang menggunakan pindahan wang digital atau kod QR. Walaupun caranya moden, niatnya tetap sama: untuk berkongsi kegembiraan dan mengeratkan hubungan kekeluargaan.

Kepentingan Duit Raya adalah ia menghubungkan zaman dahulu dengan masa depan. Apabila saya memberi kepada dua anak lelaki saya sekarang, saya sebenarnya sedang menceritakan sebuah kisah yang telah disampaikan sejak turun-temurun. Ia adalah kisah tentang bagaimana masyarakat kita mengekalkan identiti di bandar yang serba moden ini. Ia mengajar golongan muda cara untuk bersyukur dan memberi peluang kepada orang tua untuk berkongsi kasih sayang.

Di bandar yang sibuk dan canggih seperti Singapura, detik-detik seperti bersalam dan memohon maaf ini sangat penting. Ia mengingatkan kita bahawa warisan kita bukan hanya ada di dalam buku sejarah, tetapi ada pada kehangatan tangan yang bersalaman. Tradisi Duit Raya adalah bukti kebaikan hati masyarakat Melayu-Islam, mengingatkan kita bahawa walaupun cara kita memberi sudah moden, rasa hormat yang tulus tidak boleh hilang dari dunia ini.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 🎉Book Launch !! 😀 

From the bustling, sunlit kampong kitchens where I grew up in the 70s, right to the modern, diverse tables we set today in Singapore, my story is a journey of curiosity, faith, and, most importantly, flavour.

I’m an engineer by trade, but I discovered that the true logic of life isn't found just in blueprints. It's found in the kitchen. Guided by my grandmother’s hands and my mother’s wisdom, I learned that food, like family, is the enduring binder that connects generations through love and care. This entire life journey, from stacking Lego bricks to organizing spice jars, and from drafting engineering blueprints to mastering family recipes, has been a celebration of the harmony between creativity and purpose.

This heartfelt memoir and recipe collection, Sarafian's Table, is my reminder to you: The legacy of the kampong is not lost. It lives on, in the stories we tell, the authentic food we share, and the core values we keep alive. I am sure the stories in this book is 100% relevant to your growing up years. Its a Singapore story.

You can get a copy from me at $28 inclusive of local postage before the book launch on the 20th December 2025. I will autograph the book with your goodname mentioned. The paperback has 70 pages 'in color' with stories recipies and more.

PayNow / PayLah – 84007564 (Sarafan Salleh)

Please screenshot the payment and whatsapp me your address. Buy now and you will receive the book by 21st Dec 2025

Thank You 😊

Remembrance Day 🇸🇬

Remembrance Day is observed on 11 November each year to honour the soldiers and civilians who lost their lives in war and armed conflict, especially those who fought in World War I. The date marks the Armistice signed on 11 November 1918, which ended the fighting at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. On this day, many around the world pause for a two-minute silence to reflect on these sacrifices.

Kranji War Memorial

Started our day bright and early at 6.30am.

It was a solemn occasion as we brought a busload of our Sembawang West residents to the Kranji War Memorial for the Remembrance Sunday Service this morning. 

Friends of Woodland Galaxy

This meaningful visit reminded us of the bravery and sacrifices of our forefathers who fought courageously against the Japanese occupation during World War II.

After the service, we continued our Heritage Trail to Reflections at Bukit Chandu, where we learned about the valiant defence during the Battle of Pasir Panjang — and the unwavering courage of Lt. Adnan Saidi and his men from the Malay Regiment, who stood firm in defending our land. - (words by Shafiq Arifin, Sembawang West)

Heritage walk on the Battle of Pasir Panjang

I had a hard time searching for my badges and beret when I received a call from Mr Shafiq Arifin to attend the Remembrance Day ceremony at Kranji War Memorial, just before the Battle Tour that I will soon be guiding at Pasir Panjang with residents from Sembawang West, under Woodlands Galaxy. I honestly did not expect to wear these items again, as for years I was only familiar with the Number 4 uniform.

Sarafian Salleh

The red poppy worn on my left chest is a symbol of remembrance, inspired by the poem “In Flanders Fields”, where poppies grew over the battlefields after the war. I am just an ordinary person, but I feel an immense sense of pride every time I wear my military uniform, a reminder that I have served my nation.

#DutyHonorCountry #lestweforget #heritage #history #memorialservice #singapore #rememberanceday #SingaporeArmedForces #TaatSetia #YangPertamaDanUtama #ironranger #SingaporeArmedForces

The Johor Battery in Changi was a major British coastal defensse installation built in the late 1930s using funds donated by the Sultan of Johor. Equipped with three massive 15-inch “monster guns” capable of firing over 20 miles, it was meant to protect Singapore from naval attacks though two of the guns were later turned inland to slow the Japanese advance in Johor Bahru during the early weeks of 1942. 

The three massive 15-inch guns of the Johore Battery were indeed brought into action during the Japanese advance in February 1942 where the two of the guns had their traverse modified so they could fire landward at targets in Johor Bahru and across the Causeway. 

However, their overall effectiveness was limited. These coastal-defence guns were primarily designed to engage enemy ships, so they were supplied mostly with armor-piercing shells rather than high-explosive 'airburst' rounds better suited to land warfare. 

Additionally, the emplacement was orientated towards the sea and the fire-control systems were optimized for naval rather than land targets, making accurate strikes against a rapid moving land-based force much more difficult. 

Just before Singapore fell, the British destroyed the guns and sealed the underground tunnels to prevent their capture. Forgotten for decades, the tunnels were rediscovered in 1991, and the site was restored and opened to the public in 2002. Today, visitors can explore a replica gun, ammunition displays, and interactive exhibits that bring this hidden wartime history to life.

Sharing the story behind “The Nativity,” a mural painstakingly painted by POW internee Stanley Warren, a moving reminder of resilience and hope during the darkest days of the war. His murals were completed under difficult conditions of sickness, limited materials and hardships. With a message of universal love and forgiveness, they helped to uplift the spirits of the POWs and the sick when they sought refuge in the prison chapel.He survived the war and came back a few years later to restore the art to its former glory. 

A heartfelt thank you to Pasir Ris Elias CC for commissioning me to lead this historical tour, which spans the stories of the Prisoners of War in Changi, the Fall of Singapore, and the maritime struggles involving the Dutch and Portuguese who once fought for dominance in this region. In essence, Singapore was an island deeply coveted through the centuries, so strategically vital that the Japanese understood that controlling Singapore meant controlling the region’s trade routes, and perhaps even influencing the world beyond.

 

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.