WHEN a client asked me in 1992 to do a study on the supply of cocoa beans in Sulawesi and Maluku, I wasted no time in getting started.
Accompanying me was Yeong Chye, a thin young man from the marketing department, called the Commodities Trading and Marketing of Sime Darby Plantations. He had big eyes that noted everything, spoke frankly, and would not mind offending anybody. He was the head of the cocoa desk, having risen fast because of his insightful view of the market.
The client was a logging and sawmill owner who wanted to develop cocoa plantations in the Maluku islands. The study had been done and it had taken me to Ambon and further to the Bacan, Mandioli and Kasiruta islands.
From my earlier visit, I had seen clove trees growing behind houses and on the gentle slopes of Ambon. I had read that in earlier years, the Portuguese, British and Dutch had fought over the spices. However, now it was a scene of clear waters and sailing boats, and the sound of keroncong music in the air, along with songs by the incomparable Broery Marantika.
The plan for the plantation was easy – the client would first conduct logging and then plant cocoa. Now, he wanted to know if he could add another part to his business by buying and marketing cocoa beans from the village growers.
The plan for the visit had to suit Yeong Chye, and he had asked that it start in Kendari, in Sulawesi Tenggara and ride across the land to Kolaka.
The hired van took us on a journey that stopped at cocoa farms, where Yeong Chye would ask questions and check the golden cocoa beans drying on woven mats in the sun.
Many growers had worked in Sabah on cocoa plantations. The conditions were not as good as on big plantations. We did not see much crop.
Yeong Chye asked how they sold their cocoa beans. But he was quiet and did not give his views, even when we were at breakfast at the hotel in the small town of Labuha on Bacan Island. The main crop there was copra, with coconuts growing near the seaside villages. I had time to ask him about his background.
“How did you get into the cocoa trade?”
“The department gave me the job. I had to learn on my own.”
“Did you make a lot of mistakes?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Such as?”
“Once we had an associate in Singapore, who was supposed to give me data. I don’t know what was the reason, but I got angry and shouted at her on the phone. She shouted back to say it was my mistake. I could not forgive her and flew into a rage. I booked a flight to Singapore to scold her again. When I saw her, I fell in love immediately. She is now my wife.”
Cocoa was a small crop in Bacan Island, so we got on the plane to Ternate Island, flying over clear water that made the copra boats look like they were floating on glass. It was a short flight and we soon saw Mount Gamalama, a volcano that had erupted a few months earlier. The slopes over the town were still weeping with black lines of lava.
Yeong Chye had used his contacts, and a trader met us at the airport. He was a young, stout Chinese Indonesian who greeted us warmly. He hosted us for dinner, bringing along his wife and three-year-old son.
The trader answered questions while I enjoyed the fresh seafood and watched his young son enjoying himself too, and being forced to eat by his mother.
The trader continued: “We came from Surabaya after we got married, to take over from an uncle. We trade mainly in clove, nutmeg and copra. Now we have started buying cocoa beans, including from Kendari.”
“And where do you send them to?”
“Sometimes to Ujung Pandang. My older cousin is in charge there. He has a bigger operation. But mostly to Surabaya. An uncle is the head of the business in the country.”
I was not sure if Yeong Chye enjoyed the food. He was listening to every word.
The next morning, we were out before the sun came up, and below the slopes of the mountain and by the sea near the port, I remember walking behind the trader to his warehouse. He was in shorts and slippers, and his son was playfully running on the sand bare feet. Both seemed not to have a care in the world.
When he opened the lock and swung the big doors open, the heady fragrance of nutmegs hit me. I can never forget that. Inside, we walked among the heaps of cloves and bags of nutmeg, mace and copra. He had a small section with small bags of cocoa beans.
“I am sending more boats to go to the islands to buy the beans.”
The young trader certainly had a job that I would have loved to do: the sea in front of me, a nice place to bring up my children and the allure of the heady smell of spices.
It was a short flight to Menado, which
could connect us to our return flights. It was a big town. The girls had a special beauty. The songs were different, with tunes reminding me of the South Pacific. I was pleased with what I saw and the music I heard.
We flew to Ujung Pandang in South Sulawesi and met the trader’s cousin, and indeed he ran a bigger warehouse, with many workers.
On the plane to Jakarta, I was happy that I had a wonderful trip.
I asked Yeong Chye at last for his opinion.
He turned his bare palms upwards a few times. It was his way of saying it was hopeless. He looked at me, his eyes wide.
He put it in a few words.
“That young trader and his uncles and cousins, they have cornered the market. Friend, there is nothing left for your
clients here.”
He did not stop staring at me. He made me feel like I had wasted his time.
The writer has extensive experience in the management of oil palm plantations. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
