THE first reason why I left Tanah Merah Estate was that I wanted to get away from the manager, Captain Charles Cook.
He arrived in 1967 from an estate in Perak to replace the manager, Richard Bower, who had worked there for 50 years. It was clear from the start that they did not hit it off.
Bower was set in his ways. He was nearly 70 years old, and he had worked there for most of his life.
I worked with him for two years. Each morning I attended muster for a good reason, knowing he would be there too, facing the row of workers, most of whom he knew by name.
He had a habit of not scolding me directly, but instead, if I was a minute late, he would salute me, and then would shout out that all were present. I did not make that mistake again.
He kept the discipline high and made the rubber industry grow. When he visited each spot in the day to check the work, I would be there too.
His lanky figure would step out of his Mini Moke and he would stay long enough to tell me about someone making a mistake in his work before he went to another division where a more senior assistant was working.
Neither of us had been invited to his house or had a drink over the two years that I worked for him, even when the senior assistant, Brian Cooper, left on a promotion to run an estate as manager.
After a time, Bower let me run a bigger division. I ensured that all the trees were tapped and latex production was high. The latex went to the tanks in the factory, was processed and dried to be turned into clear golden sheets.
Bower also entrusted me with overseeing the rubber factory when the supervisor went on leave. This meant that my days were packed and often extended into late nights during the peak season due to ongoing processing, and all this was without extra pay.
Nevertheless, I gained from the experience, and I got feedback from the staff that even minor mistakes that I made were being noted by Bower.
When the owners, who were his friends, told Bower that it was time for him to retire, he built a house in the village and lived with his Malay wife, son, Hashim, and daughter, Rosenah, who was blonde, tall and pretty. I knew that she still had a year to go before she finished school. On some days, I would see her cycling home.
Her older brother Hashim, who knew all about cars, would often come to my house and lend me copies of his Autocar magazines, but he did not talk about the family.
The handing-over period was short. I organised a welcoming party for Cook but this turned out to be challenging as he and Bower had nothing in common.
Cook, a bachelor, was a former army officer, balding with a military moustache. He obtained his degrees in forestry from Oxford and Cambridge.
It turned out he had big plans. To expedite the process, he summoned contractors from the estate where he had previously worked. He wanted me to prune the rubber trees of the RRIM 623 and the RRIM 501 clones, so that the tall trunks and lean branches could stand strong winds. I have seen storms snapping rows of trees.
Then he got me to build trenches on the slopes so rainwater could be retained during the dry spell, and the trees could give a higher yield.
On his instructions, I spent long hours in the afternoons surveying the low areas using a dumpy level to find a way to drain the water and prevent the trees from having “wet feet”, which could slow their growth.
Sometimes Bower would take a jog in the estate, where he was still a director, and would stop by my bungalow, which he had not done before. He would not sit but accept a glass of water, and would add that things were not as they used to be, and that introducing newfangled ideas would only add to costs.
Cook had a tendency to choose his words carefully when speaking to me, and over time, I could sense that he did not trust me. He knew who had come by.
The second reason I left Tanah Merah Estate was that my three-year contract was soon to expire and it was up to me to find a job in case I had to leave.
However, the job I wanted was in Pamol estate near Kluang. I once had visited my friend and former schoolmate, Maurice Menon, who was working at the Federation Military College. He had a driver and a Volkswagen, and his bungalow had an air-conditioner. However, when I applied, I received a response stating that there were no vacancies.
A few months later, I received another letter inviting me for an interview. As it happened, Maurice intended to relocate to Kuala Lumpur to be with his fiancee, creating a vacancy in his position.
I met the personnel manager, Tim Swynnerton, and the acting manager, Reg Sumner, and they told me that the owner of the property was Unilever.
It did not mean anything to me at the time. Later, I received the news that the job would be mine if I passed the medical test. Strangely, the telegram reached Cook one evening, and he came by to hand me the document through the window of his car.
He said: “Strange how this came to me.”
I also realised that under his guidance, I had learned more about the management of rubber trees, soil conservation and increasing yield on every piece of land. It helped with my examinations on soil and botany.
I scored a distinction in surveying and passed the paper on estate practice, which was largely attributed to my reading of A. T. Edgar’s book, The Manual of Rubber Planting. At that time, I was 24 years old.
However, now it was about oil palm, a new crop to me.
In 1968, the national production of palm oil was below one million tonnes per year for the entire country. Subsequently, the scale expanded significantly, surpassing 20 million tonnes annually. However, during that period, Unilever operated only one estate in Peninsular Malaysia.
I had heard that it had acquired a new area in Sabah. So, in a way, the team was even smaller than the companies that I had left. Competition would be fierce, and I was not sure if I could last.
I arrived at the new place, still uncertain about what lay ahead, excited yet frightened.
Was it a mistake to leave Tanah Merah?
The writer has extensive experience in the management of oil palm plantations. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
