The Plantation

by Di Morrissey

  ‘This is the administration block, and over there are the research and development buildings, the seed nursery and staff area. The processing plant, refinery and factory are down that way and what we call the town centre is also over there,’ said Shane.

  ‘Town centre?’ said Julie. ‘This is a whole town?’

  ‘There’s a Hindu temple, staff shop, bakery, the school, as well as a medical clinic. There’s also the recreation and sports area, including an indoor badminton court. And down by the river we have also built shophouses,’ said Peter, adding, ‘We have six thousand people working here.’

  ‘We’ll show you around tomorrow. We brought you in by the front entrance to give you a sense of the place. Normally we come in over the hill the back way through the jungle reserve, it’s quicker,’ said Shane.

  ‘The family compound is on the original holding and separate from this, but it’s only a fifteen minute drive away,’ said Peter.

  Julie was silent as they drove past buildings, rows and rows of oil palm divisions, and then through the housing estate of neat white, identical, two-storey terrace homes set in blocks of four.

  ‘They’re very neat and modern,’ said Julie, quite surprised.

  ‘Yes, things have changed since grandfather and great grandfather’s day,’ said Shane. ‘Providing a stable and supportive community has been a way to get the best from our workers. We have a lot of the women working for us, too, in the laboratory and plant nursery. Others work as cleaners and shop assistants, all kinds of things.’

  ‘They’d hardly need to leave the estate,’ said Julie, thinking that while it appeared rather paternalistic, almost colonial, the conditions probably suited the workers as much as the owners. ‘I see quite a lot of people own cars,’ she commented, seeing small cars under carports in some houses.

  ‘Yes, since Malaysia started producing its own car, the Proton, more people can afford to own one. So we’ve had to add carports to a lot of houses,’ said Shane.

  ‘Slim River is close by here and is quite a large market town,’ said Peter. ‘Utopia’s not as isolated as it looks.’

  ‘Times are changing, though. As the younger generation receives a better education and goes to university and that sort of thing, the young don’t want to come back here to work. They prefer the towns and cities and the opportunities there. Now most of our field workers come from Indonesia, not India,’ said Shane.

  Peter continued, ‘However, what we would like to do is to provide an opportunity for those with an education to work here, as their parents did, but as staff in the offices, supervisors in the factories, working in R&D, that sort of skilled work. I guess that these changes to the plantation staff and the old family connections are inevitable, just a natural development.’

  They finally arrived at the main house, which was set at the end of a narrow red dirt lane. The house was screened by large shrubs and a pretty garden. The car swept under a high portico to the big front door.

  ‘Come inside and have a cool drink, then we’ll take you to your guesthouse,’ said Shane.

  Ramdin smiled at Julie as he held open the car door. ‘Enjoy your visit, mem.’

  Shane led the way through the house to a screened sun-room that overlooked a garden and a modern swimming pool. Julie’s first impression was of high ceilings and fans and rooms full of heavy furniture that looked as though it had been in situ for generations. There were, however, some contemporary touches. The furniture in the sunroom was covered in bold Scandinavian-style prints and the pot plants and flowers were placed in large, bright ceramic Chinese pots. A shy, dark-skinned Malay woman carried in a tray with a jug of fresh lime juice and glasses and placed it on a table. She gave Julie an interested glance.

  ‘This is a lovely room,’ said Julie.

  ‘Yes, we screened it properly,’ said Shane. ‘Martine has done some decorating, but the house is furnished pretty much as Grandfather and his father had it. Come and I’ll show you Great Grandfather’s pride and joy.’

  Julie followed her cousins down the corridor and into what was not only the study but the trophy room. On the walls were the mounted heads of boars, deer and some animal Julie couldn’t identify. On the floor was a tiger skin. She looked about her in fascinated horror.

  ‘Not very PC now, is it?’ said Shane. ‘But different times, different customs. Grandfather was a keen hunter, too. He shot that tiger.’ He pointed to the floor. ‘I believe it was in Tampin, near Malacca. Anyway, he was rather proud of it.’

  ‘And Peter, where do you live?’ asked Julie, thinking that while she loved her grandmother’s things around the house in Brisbane, Caroline had somehow made the décor look fresh, airy and modern. Eugene’s home, by contrast seemed dark and a little depressing, even without the dead animal’s heads on the walls, though she supposed the drawn blinds and curtains kept it cool as well as dark.

  ‘I live in Grandfather Roland’s house, where my father was born,’ said Peter. ‘Our grandmother must have pret-tied it up somewhat when she married Grandfather, so it’s still full of family keepsakes.’

  ‘But Grandfather’s war memoirs are here, aren’t they?’ Julie reminded them.

  Peter smiled. ‘We haven’t forgotten.’

  Within a few days Julie had familiarised herself with the layout of Utopia and discovered the joys of the bakery near the general store. Peter told her that a colleague of their grandfather’s had come from Holland on a business trip and stayed at the plantation. When Roland had lamented the lack of good bread, Grandfather’s colleague had come to an arrangement whereby a Dutch baker came from Amsterdam, complete with a special brick oven, to set up a basic bakery. The baker became enamoured of a pretty Malay girl, loved plantation life and decided to stay. As the years went by, the bakery grew larger and larger, turning out breads, pastries, Indian breads and savoury treats for everybody on the plantation and the nearby villages, and now it also supplied bread to Slim River.

  ‘We’ve had offers to sell Utopia breads in KL,’ said Peter. ‘But we can only just meet local demand and we’re not really in the bread business. Come and try the best curry puffs in Malaysia and also the coconut cream pies made with our own coconut. Coconut is very healthy for you, you know. In fact, a lot of the baking is done with our coconut oil.’

  ‘Healthy? I thought it clogged your arteries,’ said Julie walking into the spotless bakery that smelled of warm bread and spicy cakes.

  ‘Not at all. We are developing some big coconut plantations here. Coconut oil’s had bad press, which has been put about by the soya bean companies,’ said Peter. ‘But that’s been proved to be wrong.’

  At the weekend Peter and Shane invited several of their friends for lunch and to play tennis and meet Julie.

  ‘Tennis parties are a family tradition. Father loved them, and so did Grandfather,’ said Shane.

  Julie hadn’t brought anything suitable for tennis but Peter spoke to Siti, the housekeeper at the guesthouse where Julie was staying. She took Julie to a room that was filled with boxes, trunks and an overflowing wardrobe and flung back the doors. ‘You look, in here, mem. Many sports things.’

  ‘My gosh!’ laughed Julie. She lifted out a heavy wooden tennis racquet. ‘This could have belonged to my grandmother! Ah, here’s something more modern. And shoes, I’m sure I can find a pair to fit me. Look at this! Old swimsuits, paddles, fishing rods, a croquet set!’ She found a pair of tennis shoes and a reasonable tennis racquet, and went to her room to change into shorts.

  Julie looked around her. She couldn’t believe that she was staying in a large, three bedroom bungalow, which she had all to herself. It was a contemporary design and she supposed that it was built for businesspeople and friends who came to stay. The bungalow was fully air-conditioned as well as having ceiling fans. These whirled slowly all day and evening.

  Each morning, Siti prepared Julie’s breakfast and set it out in the sunroom that looked over an enclosed garden where banks of orchids grew up old trees and whe
re a faded hammock hung on old ropes. On the other side of the house, was a large kitchen garden and a comparatively modern kitchen was separated from a dining room by a swinging door. This domestic area was obviously the domain of the staff, for when Julie had picked up her empty breakfast plate and taken it into the kitchen Siti looked surprised and a little offended.

  ‘No, no, mem. My work. Siti do.’ And she hustled Julie from the kitchen. Julie never set foot in there again.

  Julie was pleased to find that the tennis party was more social than tennis. The original tennis court was surrounded by a large fence completely smothered in vine that hung with bunches of flowers like pink grapes. It was almost a foot thick, screening the court and sheltering it from any wind. There was a large pavilion at one end of it, housing the change rooms and an entertaining area, where a refrigerator was stocked with cold drinks. One of the houseboys poured the drinks and brought out trays of snacks from the kitchen. An elderly Indian gardener enjoyed himself acting as the ball boy.

  Julie found Peter and Shane’s friends to be a fun group. They comprised of two English couples, both in their thirties, a German couple, an Australian, the same age as Shane, and two other single men. One was Chinese, the other of Scottish descent, who, like Shane and Peter, had grown up in Asia. All of them were intrigued by Julie’s connection to Shane and Peter and Utopia.

  ‘You’ve waited a long time to visit,’ said Cynthia, one of the English women.

  ‘It’s a bit of a long story. But I’m planning on making the most of this trip,’ said Julie.

  ‘Will you be here when Martine gets back? We’ll have to have a big party then,’ said the other girl.

  ‘She’ll be back any day,’ said Shane. ‘A party would be wonderful.’

  ‘Is she seeing her family in France?’ asked Cynthia.

  ‘Yes, as well as the children in England,’ said Shane.

  Everyone was friendly and well travelled, and either ran their own business or were connected to the palm oil industry in some way. Christopher Nichols, the Australian, was a good friend of Peter’s.

  ‘And are you in the palm oil business, too?’ Julie asked him.

  Christopher shook his head. ‘No, I’m the ring in. I’m in the Royal Australian Air Force, following a family tradition. I’m at Butterworth here in Malaysia.’

  When Julie looked blank, he added, ‘Butterworth Air Base. Near Penang. It’s now run by the Malaysian Air Force, as a training facility there. My father was stationed there in the sixties, and I’m there now.’

  ‘Oh. I see,’ said Julie. ‘You do have a connection to this country then.’

  While most of the group lived some distance from a major city, they seemed sophisticated and well-to-do. It was stimulating to be around people different from those she mixed with in Brisbane. After they finished playing tennis, they walked over to the big house and settled themselves into cane chairs on the verandah. A drinks trolley was waiting. As the houseboy lowered the chick blinds against the late afternoon sunlight, everyone chatted over some fine French wine, a beer or a gin and tonic.

  ‘Do you get Australian wines here?’ asked Julie. ‘They’re exceptionally good, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do know that but my wife’s family owns vineyards in France,’ said Shane. ‘So they ship their wines out to us.’

  ‘Maybe we should support our grandmother’s country and order some Australian wines,’ grinned Peter. ‘Stir up your in-laws a bit, eh, Shane?’

  On Sunday the boys took Julie by speed boat upriver for a picnic. As they sped past the jungle thickets at the water’s edge, Julie had her first hint of the wilderness that surrounded the plantation.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ she said, getting out onto a small jetty where a recently mowed lawn swept down to the riverbank. A picnic table and barbecue were set up under a shelter beneath the shady trees. All around them was forest and Julie could see a track leading into it.

  ‘Do we swim in there, where the netting is?’ asked Julie, looking at the wire mesh strung between strong poles. ‘It looks like a shark net.’

  ‘The crocs here must be as old as the pagar so we thought it was time to replace it with something stronger,’ said Shane.

  When Julie was dropped back at the guesthouse after their swim and barbecue, Siti handed her a scrap of paper with a phone number on it.

  ‘Message for you, mem.’

  ‘Oh dear, a message? I wonder what’s up,’ said Julie.

  ‘Is KL number.’

  ‘Really? I don’t know anyone in Kuala Lumpur.’

  ‘He say he your friend,’ said Siti. ‘You take coffee? Cold drink?’

  ‘Some of that fresh pineapple juice would be lovely. Can I use the phone?’ asked Julie, wondering who would know this phone number to call her.

  ‘Hi Julie. How are you enjoying Utopia?’

  ‘David? Is that you? Where are you?’ said Julie, recognising David Cooper’s voice. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’m in KL. Your parents send their love. Saw them a couple of days ago. So what do you think?’

  ‘About Utopia? My cousins? Malaysia? It’s all good,’ she said quickly. ‘How are Mum and Dad? Anything new with the council bypass?’

  ‘Still very quiet. My guess is that the council has retreated, licking their wounds to reassess. But your mother and her committee are having war cabinet meetings, just in case.’

  ‘And Dad?’

  ‘Missing you, but otherwise fine.’

  ‘Are you coming here?’

  ‘No, that’s not why I rang. You said you wanted to get out into the jungle to see the orangutans.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Well, I’m heading to Sarawak in a couple of days and I thought you might like to come and see some really wild country. I’m travelling with a zoologist and a photographer.’

  ‘I’ll have to talk to my cousins. I am their guest.’

  ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. It would be a great opportunity to see another part of Malaysia.’

  ‘You’re right, it would be. I’ll talk to them. What are you doing in Sarawak?’

  ‘We’re meeting with some Iban to talk about the problems they’re having with their land being reclaimed and the enforced government resettlement. The Iban way of life is disappearing fast and I want to record what I can of it, before it all goes. I’m sure your cousins would be happy for you to experience traditional life in the longhouses.’

  ‘You’re right, it does sound interesting, and it would be a wonderful opportunity for me. Let me get back to you. How long will you be away in Sarawak?’

  ‘Initially only a week or so but after I return you to Kuching we’re planning to move much further inland, and could be gone for some weeks. It’ll be pretty casual, but I’ll talk to you more about the gear you should bring when you ring me back.’

  ‘You sound very confident I’ll go into the wilds of Borneo with you,’ said Julie.

  ‘You’d be crazy not to! I’ll look after you, Julie, I promise. This will be something special, believe me,’ he added sincerely.

  ‘I’ll talk to the boys.’

  Shane and Peter were immediately enthusiastic.

  ‘It’s a marvellous opportunity, Julie!’ said Shane.

  ‘This David seems to know all kinds of people. He’s an interesting fellow. And you say he has a team with him? You’ll be quite safe with them,’ said Peter. ‘Is he a good friend of yours?’

  ‘Oh, no. Well, what I mean is, he’s become a family friend. He’s helping my mother with a campaign at home to save our neighbourhood.’ Julie was slightly flustered that they thought David might be her boyfriend.

  ‘He knows a bit about Great Aunt Bette. If you find out any more you can share it with us,’ said Shane.

  ‘I don’t think he knows anything more about her than the book she wrote. I wonder if he’s going anywhere she went.’ Julie was suddenly keen to go along on this expedition.

  ‘It will be
an adventure. And when you come back Martine will be here with us. I feel badly we are not entertaining you enough. Martine will show you around more. You’ll like her,’ said Shane.

  ‘You could take Julie to KL with you when you go to get Martine. Then Julie can fly from there to Kuching,’ suggested Peter.

  ‘That would be great. I’ll call David back and make arrangements. I was wondering what I should take with me,’ said Julie.

  ‘We’ll get you kitted out. As you’ve seen, there’s everything here. From tennis racquets to tents,’ said Peter.

  Shane and Peter seemed relaxed and happy about Julie going off with David for a week into Sarawak. She got the feeling they were pleased that she was a guest who could look after herself.

  David Cooper met Julie at Kuala Lumpur airport and surprised her by greeting her with a big hug. ‘Hey, it’s great to see you. And so far from home!’ He shook Shane’s hand. ‘Very nice to see you again. This trip has worked out very well.’

  David introduced them all to Matthew the zoologist who was a quiet, thin Englishman in his late thirties with a strange arrangement of hair shaved into a thin, dark line around his chin and upper lip, and Barry who was recording the trip on video. Barry was an Australian, in his forties, living in Bangkok where he worked for a photo agency.

  ‘You been up-country before?’ asked Barry.

  ‘No, I’m looking forward to it,’ said Julie.

  ‘Hope you’ve come prepared. We’ll be camping in a longhouse for a few nights,’ said Matthew.

  ‘Yes, my cousins have given me more than enough gear,’ said Julie. She turned to Shane. ‘Thanks so much for driving me here. I’ll be in touch when I get back from Sarawak.’

  ‘We’ll take good care of her,’ David assured him, putting an arm around Julie’s shoulders.

  ‘Thank you. And Julie, when you get back we’ll send Ramdin to pick you up. Have a good time,’ said Shane.

  The flight to Kuching was brief. As they approached the coast of the large island of Borneo, the South China Sea below was dotted with sampans and the sails of small fishing boats. Behind the mangroves and mudflats was dense jungle that wrapped the contours of the peaks and valleys like a crocheted green blanket. Occasionally a trickle of muddy water was visible making its way to the brown sea. Clinging to the coast were small villages on stilts. Dugout canoes, tied up in front of the houses, were the sole means of reaching the world beyond the rainforest. But in some places, like an unhealed scar, was bare earth, a hole gouged through the green blanket. Matchsticks of piled logs lay on the red earth. Then Julie saw the shining silver of tin roofs, a road with dots of vehicles, and then thatch and red tiles indicating a little town. Shortly afterwards, the plane began to circle the small city of Kuching.