I was born in Kg. Tok Lukup in 1979, a small coastal village that today exists only in memory. By the late 1990s, the village had vanished—slowly claimed by the sea through years of relentless coastal erosion between 1984 and 1996. Though the land is gone, the spirit of Kg. Tok Lukup remains deeply rooted in the hearts of those who once called it home.
Kg. Tok Lukup was a small village of about 20 houses, located roughly 10 kilometers from Pengkalan Chepa and near what is now Lapangan Terbang Sultan Ismail Petra. It was modest in size but rich in relationships. Most villagers were related by blood or marriage, creating a close-knit community where everyone knew one another—not just by name, but by story.
Life in Kg. Tok Lukup was simple and honest. The villagers depended on the land and the river for survival. Paddy fields stretched across the landscape, marking the rhythm of the seasons. Coconuts were dried and processed for oil, a practice passed down through generations. The river provided fish, sustaining families and strengthening the bond between people and nature. There was no rush, no excess—only balance.
What truly defined Kg. Tok Lukup was not its geography, but its sense of togetherness. Neighbors helped one another without being asked. If a house needed repair, hands appeared. If there was a harvest, it was shared. If there was hardship, it was carried collectively. The village lived by values that cannot be eroded—mutual respect, cooperation, and compassion.
The sea did not take the village overnight. Year by year, it moved closer. Homes were lost. Land disappeared. Eventually, the villagers were forced to leave, scattering to nearby towns and beyond. By the end of the 1990s, Kg. Tok Lukup no longer appeared on maps. Yet, for those who were born there, it never truly disappeared.
Kg. Tok Lukup is a reminder that a village is more than land and houses. It is memory. It is identity. It is the laughter of children by the river, the sound of wind across paddy fields, and the quiet strength of a community that lived in harmony.
Though the waves have erased its physical form, Kg. Tok Lukup lives on—in stories told, in values carried forward, and in the hearts of its people. Some places vanish from the earth, but they never vanish from history.
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