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Wednesday, January 26, 2022

When greed takes over

In 2014, my friend Ute M from Germany, arrived in Malaysia. We had been working together for quite some time and agreed to embark on a new project called World Magazine.

World Magazine was a documentary project where we gathered stories with good content from around the world, seen from children’s perspectives. With great material like child slavery in the Middle East, the war in Syria and daily life in Africa, it was my turn to pitch a story from Malaysia.

Our documentary revolved around Sutera, a 12-year-old girl from the Temiah tribe, living in a village called Kampung Kelaik in Gua Musang, Kelantan.

Sutera’s village is situated near a 130-million-year-old rainforest, among the oldest in the world. Her family have been living there for many generations. As such, they have developed a special bond with the land.

Upon arriving at Kampung Kelaik, Sutera’s uncle called Angah and a few villagers took us to a palm oil plantation surrounding their village. It was massive. As far as my eyes could see, there were hundreds of acres of oil palm trees.

For a second, I felt proud knowing our country was the second-largest producer of palm oil. But Angah knocked some sense back into me when he told me the area once used to be a forest reserve full of trees, plants, animals, insects and many other forms of living species. Now all that was left was acre upon acre of oil palm trees.

After visiting Sutera’s house and collecting some stories from her family members, we were then presented with flower garlands on our heads and invited to join the villagers for a glorious lunch prepared by the Orang Asli women.

Just as we were about to help ourselves, I noticed that some of the villagers had a bad rash on their legs and bodies. Their skin had turned dark and was cracked and peeling. It wasn’t a sight that complemented the display of good food before my eyes or the audible growl of my empty tummy.

“It’s the water from the river,” said one of the elderly men who observed my stare.

Angah then explained that the chemicals from the pesticides used in the oil palm plantation got washed down into the river during heavy rains.

“Our water source is only from the two rivers running into our village. One is polluted with palm oil pesticides and the other is polluted with the rusty water from the Chinese mining factory nearby,” said Angah as he took a bite of the fish they caught in the same river.

I looked at Ute. All of a sudden, we both lost our appetite. While Ute refused to touch the food, I had to show some old-fashioned Malaysian courtesy and forced myself to push some brown rice down my throat.

“Even the rice in our pot turns brown because of the polluted water,” laughed one of the elderlies just as I was about to take my second scoop of rice.

Unexpected visitors

Later that afternoon, as Ute and I continued interviewing Sutera and the villagers, a few cars entered the village and a few Chinese men in suits invited themselves to join us.

They were quite uncomfortable to see Ute and me there and requested not to be filmed.

A translator then informed the villagers that the “bosses” wished to inform them that in a few days there would be trucks and lorries coming through their village to get to the other side of the hill where the forest still existed.

Citing the safety of their young children, the villagers calmly refused to give permission. The Chinese men then stood up and uttered a few words in an almost threatening manner.

“We are not asking for your permission. We are informing you. This entire area belongs to us. Even the land you are living on belongs to us. Show some gratitude.”

Ute and I were dumbfounded. The land belongs to them? The forest reserves belong to companies from China? Who sold the land to these people? Whatever happened to the Aboriginal Peoples Act 1954 which entitles the Orang Asli to their ancestral land?

When the Chinese men had left, Ute and I decided to seek clarification from Angah and the villagers.

“We make many trips to the state government office to meet officials, but we seldom get to meet them. Most of the time we are made to wait for hours before being asked to leave. No one respects us. We are, after all, invisible,” said Angah.

“We do not know what the future will hold for our children. Our home is no longer our home. We have lost everything. We have no animals to hunt. All our fruit trees are chopped down. Not many fish live in dirty water. And our vegetables don’t grow much nowadays.”

Forcing a smile, he looked at my untouched coffee and added, “Do you think we do not know that we are surviving by drinking poison water? But what choice do we have?”

As we drove out of Kampung Kelaik after our two days, I continued to see trucks and lorries going in and out of the forest reserves at different junctures. Amidst them, we passed by a signboard that read Hutan Khazanah Negara (Forests Are Our National Treasures). What an irony.

Today, when I read about government officials and politicians defending logging activities, I am reminded of my trip to Gua Musang, Kelantan some seven years ago. I do not know the state of Sutera, Angah and the villagers of Kampung Kelaik today, but I do hope they are surviving.

Kelantan’s Forestry Department director recently claimed that logging was “good for the population of tigers” as the emergence of new plants would lead to an increase in the animal population.

How I wish the Kelantan Forestry Department would have thought of what’s best for the people in the state instead - especially the Orang Asli.

On second thought, maybe their support for logging has different reasons altogether. - Mkini


FA ABDUL is a multi-award winning playwright and director in the local performing arts scene, a published author, a television scriptwriter, a media trainer and a mother. Her ultimate mission in life is to live out of a small suitcase.

The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.

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