In the past, the hillsides and hilltops around Kota Kinabalu city centre - offering views of either the South China Sea or Mount Kinabalu - were prime locations for private residences and government quarters. However, this preference has somewhat diminished over the years, particularly following a series of landslides triggered by heavy rainfall.
On 17 October 2021, during one of our routine morning cycling rides along Istana Road (formerly Harrington Road), we paused at a bend to look at an old, abandoned house. This house had already been deserted long before major landslides began affecting hill slopes in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah. It was once a prestigious government quarters, constructed in the 1950s for British expatriates posted to Jesselton (the former name of Kota Kinabalu) during the colonial era.
I have vivid memories of this house, as my mother once worked there briefly as a housekeeper around 1961 or 1962. She had taken over the job from a friend who needed a short break.
At the time, the house was occupied by a British expatriate electrical engineer named Paul Ravelry, who was attached to the Public Works Department (now known as JKR).
The property featured a lockable garage beside the main road, just large enough to fit a single car. Paul owned a tiny red two-seater sports car, which became something of a local icon. I was told that when the time came for him to return to the UK, he kissed the car and wept before finally parting with it - a heartfelt farewell to his beloved vehicle.
More than sixty years later, the house now lies in ruins, its grounds engulfed by dense vegetation, overgrown trees, and creeping vines. Yet some key architectural features remain distinguishable. The presence of litter and rubbish around the compound suggests the house may have been occupied at some point by squatters or drug addicts after its abandonment.
A concrete staircase connected the roadside garage to the main house, which sat on a flattened platform along the hillside. It was a single-storey structure, likely designed for a single occupant or newlywed couple. What stood out most was the large sliding front door that opened onto a small lawn, and the extended roof that sheltered a long, wide patio painted bright yellow. That patio is forever etched in my memory - it was Paul’s favourite spot to entertain guests over a glass of beer.
Though its elevation didn't afford sweeping sunset views of the sea like the homes higher up Signal Hill, its appeal lay in its proximity to the town centre - just 200m from the town padang and the adjacent commercial area.
After the end of the colonial era in 1963, local professionals gradually took over roles once held by expatriates. I recall that a close friend, Peter Siau, lived in the same house in 1968 when he was a young officer with the Sabah State Ministry of Finance. He was single then, and the house suited him perfectly.
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Part of the wall of the garage is still visible. |
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Concrete stair looking up from garage. |
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Concrete stair looking down toward the main road. |
The frontage of the house with the huge entrance for sliding door and patio are still clearly visible after 60 years!
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Another unique design of the house is the stone-pitched walls for some of the walls. This type of wall common in colonial era is hardly seen these days. This is probably because of the lack of labour skill and high labour cost!
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Almost all government quarters built during the colonial era came with attached or nearby labour quarters for domestic staff. Behind this particular house, just outside the small rear kitchen, a short concrete-paved walkway led to a flight of steps that ascended to the workers’ quarters. The structure was rectangular in shape. It comprised a single bedroom at one end, a small kitchen in the middle, and two cubicles at the other end - one housing a squat-style toilet, and the other a shower-style bathroom.
Our family home in the village was just half a kilometre away. As kids, we loved going to the quarters on weekends, sometimes staying the night. Compared to our house, which then had neither electricity nor piped water (Read here), the workers’ quarters felt like a touch of luxury.
I recently attempted to get a closer look at the old labour quarters, but thick vegetation blocked the way. I did manage to catch a glimpse of what remains. Most of the structure has vanished, but the section housing the toilet and bathroom still stands. The two doorways to the cubicles are still clearly visible - a faint but tangible reminder of a bygone era.

Life indeed takes many unexpected turns. In the early 1960s, I was just a primary school student, while Paul Ravelry was already a graduate electrical engineer working with the Public Works Department (PWD). Fast forward to 1978 - after completing my studies, I joined PWD as a civil engineer and was assigned to supervise the construction of the Kota Kinabalu International Airport.
By then, Paul had transitioned into consultancy work and was engaged by the Civil Aviation Department to upgrade the airport’s runway lighting system. In an interesting twist of fate, we had gone from being worlds apart to becoming professional peers - each contributing to the same project in our respective fields.
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I recall writing about an incidence when I walked home after watching a Dracula movie way back in 1968 close to midnight (
Read here).This house is very near to the spot where a man committed suicide by hanging in a nearby tree!