Written by Nina, Beyond Editorial Team
On 28 June, a small group of volunteers, neighbours, and new friends gathered in Jalan Bukit Merah for a Learning Journey. It wasn’t meant to be a tour. It was an invitation to see the neighbourhood through the eyes of those who live there, to walk alongside those who call this place home, and to witness how community grows when people build it for themselves.
Ali* was among the community guides leading my group that day. Sixteen and soft-spoken, he mostly kept close to Madam Sita*, an older neighbour who had known him since he was a child. Madam Sita and Ali’s mother were always volunteering together, lending hands wherever they were needed.
Over time, it became second nature for Ali to trail after them, until Madam Sita felt like family. Now she was the one giving Ali playful nudges, telling him he was ready to lead too.
At the multipurpose hall, Madam Sita’s eyes lit up as she recalled a time when a youth choreographed a dance for the children. Parents gathered to watch, then slipped off to the coffeeshop nearby to talk deep into the night. When the performance finally aired at Radin Mas CC for National Day, it stitched a pride into all their hearts that still hasn’t come undone.
They moved on to the market, where Madam Sita described how they held their annual iftar. No one needed a sign-up sheet. Some neighbours cooked trays of food, others brought drinks, kids organised noisy games, and the uncles sorted out tables and chairs. It was warm, messy, and deeply theirs.
By the corner block, she pointed out the senior centre and explained how many elderly there lived alone. Neighbours kept watch gently, noting who hadn’t appeared at their usual bench, checking in if a door stayed closed for too long.
“That’s just how it is here,”
she said with a shrug, as if caring was the most ordinary thing.
This Learning Journey was never meant to be just a walk. For visitors, it was a chance to adopt a strength-based view and see a public rental neighbourhood not as waiting to be helped, but already woven tight with unseen acts of care.
For the guides, it was a way to grow in confidence, to stand a little taller while telling the stories of their own community.
Ali began the afternoon half-hidden behind Madam Sita’s shoulder. But slowly, as people listened – truly listened, without rushing to provide solutions – his voice began to steady.
By the time they gathered for the debrief, he was speaking up about how neighbours here are always ready to support each other. Madam Sita sat beside him, beaming with pride.
That was when Alia* appeared. Just four, Ali’s niece was on her way home with her helper when she spotted the group. Deciding this was where she wanted to be, she slipped in and made herself comfortable, ignoring every gentle attempt to steer her back home.
By the end of the session, she was toddling from one adult to the next, pressing bright stickers onto palms and shoes. It was almost her way of saying, you belong here too.
Maybe that’s how stronger communities are built: not by imposing solutions, but by walking together long enough that even the quietest among us dares to speak, and the smallest among us teaches us how easy it can be to belong.
If you’d like to support more community-led efforts like this, consider making a contribution to help neighbourhoods continue growing on their own strengths and stories.