As the Selective En Bloc Redevelopment Scheme takes effect, Marsiling Estate residents share their cherished experiences in a neighborhood they will soon leave behind.
I find myself at the solitary bus stop serving residents living at Blocks 210 to 218 Marsiling Crescent/Lane. For those who call this estate home, this bus stop is their quickest and most affordable link to the nearest MRT station—the sole gateway to the rest of Singapore.
Recently designated for the Selective En Bloc Redevelopment Scheme (SERS), these blocks will soon be replaced to facilitate the expansion of Woodlands Checkpoint, a project aimed at meeting future traffic demands. As a result, residents must vacate their homes by the first quarter of 2028.
Flanked by Woodlands Waterfront on one side and aging warehouse buildings on the other, the estate exudes a tranquil charm that feels increasingly rare in the bustling cityscape.
If you listen closely, you can hear the low rumble of traffic on the Woodlands Causeway in the distance, occasionally interrupted by the honks of frustrated motorists eager to clear the borders. Few housing estates in Singapore enjoy such a vantage point; here, residents are close enough to see the outlines of Malaysian vehicles and citizens going about their daily lives. The Woodlands Immigration & Checkpoints Authority Building looms just beyond the horizon, a weary grey monolith that will witness the significant transformation of this part of Marsiling in the coming years.
To Be Displaced
Cedric, a 22-year-old undergraduate, has spent 20 years in this housing estate. When news of the en bloc development broke, he felt disappointed but not surprised. “Aunties gossip, and gossip travels far enough for me to hear rumors of a potential en bloc months before it was officially announced,” he recalls, sharing his experience while lingering at the entrance of Lucky Star Eating House, the estate’s main coffee shop.
Living and working on the outskirts of Singapore comes with its challenges. Beyond Marsiling Market, just a few bus stops away, dining options are limited. Lucky Star Eating House caters to estate residents, immigration officers from the nearby checkpoint, and factory workers from local industries.
Anis, a 28-year-old public relations professional, has lived in the estate for 23 years. She reacted to the news of displacement with a mix of amusement and resignation. “I joked about being displaced. Deep down, though, it’s a mixed bag of feelings. I knew this day would come eventually,” she reflects.
Her light-heartedness shifts to a more serious contemplation of legacy. “When I start my own family, it feels strange that I won’t be able to show my kids my childhood home. It just won’t exist anymore.”
This struggle with relocation in the name of progress is not new in Singapore. Residents have long been accustomed to the transition from kampungs to high-rise public flats following the nation’s independence in 1965. Anis and Cedric are simply part of this ongoing trend, moving from one HDB estate to another that has yet to be built.
As part of the SERS scheme, residents are given priority for new Build-to-Order flats, located closer to Woodlands’ heart, complete with a new 99-year lease. This feature is often celebrated in the compensation package offered. Other benefits include a S$30,000 grant to purchase a new flat at a subsidized rate, as well as waivers for administrative and booking fees associated with the replacement flat, resale levies, and removal allowances capped at S$10,000 per flat.
Memories of Marsiling
Yet, no amount of monetary compensation can fully replace the memories tied to this place. Cedric shares that he will miss his weekend morning bus rides to Marsiling Market with his family. He knows the precise path to the bus stop: a sharp left turn through an empty void deck, across patches of grass worn down by footsteps, and along a stone-laden path that leads to his destination.
Can familiarity and nostalgia be quantified? Cedric believes not.
“The estate doesn’t have much longer on its lease. But I’d rather keep this place with a shorter lease than move to a new home with a fresh 99-year lease,” he muses. “Nostalgia and familiarity cannot be measured.”
As we wander through the estate’s void decks, we reach its edges, where the estate stands on a gentle slope leading to the entrance of Woodlands Waterfront, a popular getaway for many Singaporeans looking to escape to Johor Bahru.
During the lockdown, Anis recalls how Malaysians, unable to return home, would park their bikes in the estate and gaze across the causeway. Now, the Causeway bustles with life again, known as the world’s busiest land crossing, with cars and buses inching along in heavy traffic.
Isolated from the rest of the estate is a fitness corner—Cedric’s favorite spot as a calisthenics enthusiast. “I don’t think any other fitness corner in Singapore has a view of Malaysia. It’s peaceful and allows me to focus,” he explains.
Not Your Typical Neighbourhood Notice Board
Nearby, a neighborhood noticeboard plays a crucial role in the community. Anis recounts how it saved her sister’s wedding. “We had to move the wedding to Marsiling Community Club at the last minute due to regulations,” she says. “Thankfully, my neighbor had compiled a directory of residents, and he shared their contact information with us through the noticeboard.”
While it may seem invasive to have personal information publicly displayed, it reflects the community’s trust and openness.
Armed with the directory, Anis’s family was able to inform their neighbors of the changes. As she gazes at the estate’s sprawling open-air carpark—a distinctive feature of older HDB estates—she wonders if the new 99-year lease will compensate for the relocation.
“With a new lease, my parents have a chance to start anew as they enter a new phase of life. Now that they have grandkids, it’s about creating new experiences in a different place,” she responds, her eyes still fixed on the carpark. “Many residents are moving to the new place, so the atmosphere will remain familiar. All you want in a new home is good neighbors.”
A Tale of Two Countries
Despite their differing opinions on the new 99-year lease, both Cedric and Anis agree on one thing: they want to conclude their walk at Woodlands Waterfront. As I carefully descend the slope towards the waterfront, the expanse of Malaysia unfolds before us.
Cedric admits he’s tired of being asked whether he shops for groceries in Malaysia. “I don’t,” he states, but he enjoys celebrating two independent countries. He loves watching the televised parade on Singapore’s National Day and the fireworks from across the causeway on Malaysia’s Independence Day.
“It’s like my own little Marina Bay. But better,” he concludes. While the iconic Marina Bay Sands offers a stunning view, it lacks the allure of another country’s skyline.
A lone blue umbrella rests at the foot of the slope, where lounge chairs face Johor Bahru’s skyline. “People come here to relax, sometimes with food and drinks, to watch the sunset,” Cedric explains as we enter Woodlands Waterfront.
Anis views the gentle slopes as her personal access point to the waterfront. Living so close to Malaysia, she fits perfectly into the northern resident trope. She often crosses the border for groceries or to unwind after work, especially when traffic conditions improve. It’s easy to check the traffic by simply looking out the window.
That said, living in such a unique estate does come with its quirks. Anis often receives visits from journalists asking for quotes or photos of the causeway from her window, estimating about three times a year.
“The weirdest question I was asked after an interview was if I was selling the place. The journalist seemed genuinely interested,” she laughs, pointing out the allure of the view.
Memories Make a Home
As I wait for the bus to take me back to the Woodlands Bus interchange, I reflect on the residents’ strong connection to their home. In land-scarce Singapore, where development often requires sacrifice, the acceptance of impermanence is a quintessential trait. Places change, and most times, that change is welcomed—if one is willing to embrace it.
From disappearing kampongs to the merging of educational institutions, flux is the only constant in Singapore. In many ways, we’re fortunate if the places that hold our dearest memories still stand.
“The memories of this place are ingrained in my mind. Moving to a new location means I’ll have to rebuild those memories,” Cedric remarks as he prepares to leave the estate.
As bus 903 arrives, I take one last photo to remember this place before it transforms. I make a mental note to return to Marsiling Estate one final time before it disappears into the new Woodlands Checkpoint.
