Town of Giant Prawns

IN the murky waters of Sg Rompin lurks a secret. The instruction from Karim Ismail, an officer with the Rompin District Office, is cryptic: "When you reach Rompin, call this mobile number. Ask for Yusri. He will lead you there."
More than three hours later, we arrive in Kuala Rompin, and actually wouldn't have known it, but for the district office.
It's really not that far from Kuantan, and we could have made it in under two hours. We had stopped for late breakfast in Pekan and again for lunch in Leban Chondong.
Yusri is waiting at a Petronas station. "Follow me," he says, as he jumps into his white Proton. Obviously, he is a man of few words.
We backtrack some 10km out of town to a junction, where a signboard only reads: "Bot sewa di sini (Boat for hire here)."
About 6km from there, stands Kg Merlak - a village of two houses. One belongs to Tok Empat (village headman) Mohamad Rendah, the other to Adam Bidin.
The XC90 parked in a clearing, we walk towards the river following the taciturn. Yusri.
Tok Empat and only neighbour Adam are working on a houseboat.
"Ramai orang Kuala Lumpur datang sini. Nak tangkap udang galah juga ke? (Many people from Kuala Lumpur come here. You here to catch udang galah also?)"
Tok Empat is not convinced we are here just for a story - as Kuala Rompin is also known as Bandar Udang Galah or Giant Prawn Town.
So the secret is not that big a secret?
Well, Kuala Rompin is still largely undiscovered by KL-ites. But for those who have, they would come between November and February, which is when udang galah migrates downriver in huge numbers. Spawning begins during the dry spell after the monsoon floods.
Tok Empat and Adam introduce 30 year old Mohd Firdaus Miko Abdullah or Mat, a Sarawakian who has made Rompin his home. The latter shows us a lam kong, or blue pincer in Hokkien, and says the Rompin udang galah can reach 30cm in length and weigh half a kg each. That's a huge prawn.
Then Roslan Ahmad comes by. He explains that most people fishing for the blue pincers wait for low tide, and offers to take us out on a boat to see how fisherman Pak Itam Li, 39, does it.
Yusri has disappeared.
Pak Itam Li lays his 30m net during low tide, wading in the chest-high water to string the net to poles planted on the riverbank.
The technique is called mengempan. Tapioca pieces are strewn in the water and the net is left there until the next low tide.
"The udang galah will be attracted to the sourness of the water. They get trapped in the net," informs 31 year old Roslan.
On the opposite side of the river, Orang Asli fisherman Cindai is checking his udang galah trap made from strips of tree bark. It looks and operates like the bamboo bubu or lukah. He also puts pieces of tapioca into the water.
The catch of the day is dismal. Pak Itam Li lands about a kg and a half of udang galah, and Cindai half a kg.
But a kg of udang galah can fetch RM50 upwards. "The smaller prawns are cheaper," says Pak Itam Li. He sells his catch to us for RM35 a kg.
On lucky days, Pak Itam Li would find a soon hock or ikan hantu in his net.
The fish is a favourite with Chinese diners, and normally fetches RM80 per kg.
Sarawakian Mat had once sold a whopper soon hock he caught for RM600.
Tok Empat wants to build more houseboats for rental to visitors. He currently lets out only one houseboat, which is old and rickety, for RM50 a night. Another houseboat is used by Mat, Roslan and Adam's children whenever they return to the kampung.
He also has five rental fibreglass boats, rates of which are negotiable, depending on tenure.
Sixty-two-year-old Adam had worked for Lembaga Kemajuan Pahang Tenggara (Dara) as a mechanic until he retired. He owns a house in Bandar Muadzam Shah, about 100km away, but prefers to stay in Kg Merlak. "It's quiet here."
He has been helping to clear the land near the river for a campsite. His wife, 60-year-old Halimah Bakar, enjoys company and looks forward to the time when the houseboat is rented out.
Makcik rasa sayu petang-petang bila tak ada orang (I feel sad in the evenings when there is no one around)," she says. Her 12 children are all grown up and come back to the village only on some weekends. A few are working with the 74-year-old Tok Empat, who is also a contractor in town.
"Now that you know the place, do come again. Next time, you'll find more houseboats. Stay the night, give us a call," he says, as we bid him farewell.
Probably. The 2kg of udang galah in the styrofoam box packed with ice won't be enough for distribution to family members.

Pits Stop

For about 100 years, the stately bungalow on top of the hill in Sg Lembing, about 40km from Kuantan, was the residence of a mining company's general manager.
The European Bungalow 1, or EB1, started out as little more than a shed with roofs of nipah palm and walls of bark.
For a brief period during World War II, the building also served as a Japanese army headquarters.
From the vantage point atop the hill, Sg Lembing spreads out into the distance, a town that Pahang Corporation Ltd (PCL) - as the British tin mining company was known from 1898 to 1906 - built.
For a long while, it was by far the wealthiest mining town in Pahang.
The area boasted the second richest tin deposit in the world, after a site in Bolivia, and operated the world's biggest underground mine. Its mine shafts and subterranean tunnels reach depths of between 450m and 650m - reputedly the deepest in South-East Asia.
The British began digging around in the area in 1898 following an agreement with the then Sultan of Pahang, Almarhum Sultan Ahmad Muazzam Shah I, for a company to set up tin mining operations there.
A 1,000ha concession was eventually awarded to PCL (which changed its name to Pahang Consolidated Co Ltd or PCCL in 1906), for a grand sum of one cent per year.
PCCL's concession was supposed to end in 1968 but after negotiations with the State Government, it was extended for 21 years from July 1, 1965.
In its years of operation, 13 million tonnes of ore which translated into 150,000 tonnes of pure tin worth $2 billion were mined.
During its heyday, Sg Lembing had a population of 10,000 people in the town area alone. It prospered despite facing its fair share of catastrophes: Most of the town's shops were razed in a fire in 1921, and five years later, there was a major flood. Then there was the Japanese invasion, and immediately after the war, the communist terrorist activities.
But it took an economic shake-out to do the town in - the tin market crash in 1985.
Restaurant owner Warisah Yunus has seen her birthplace going from being rich and famous as the state's main producer of tin to becoming a "ghost town" of not more than 1,000 people.
"Dulu ramai orang, sekarang tak lagi (There were many people before, not anymore). I wasn't working then, my husband was with PCCL," the soft-spoken 50-something says over lunch on a lazy Friday afternoon.
Her husband, whom she refers to as Pakcik Din, worked in the company's laboratory. "He analysed rocks and ores from the mine pits."
"He was doing well. Most of the people who worked at the mine were earning good money," she adds.
Five years after PCCL closed, Warisah and her husband opened their restaurant at No. 5, Jalan Besar in town.
Most of the kampung people have moved away, including her parents, she says.
"Dah tak ada kerja lagi di sini (No more work here.) Go into the village and see for yourself the abandoned houses. I've left the kampung house and moved upstairs here," she says, referring to Warisah Restaurant, which sells nasi campur, mee jawa, nasi ayam and kuih-muih.
There is an hourly bus service to connect Sg Lembing with nearby towns. Young men on modified motorbikes race the main street on occasion, breaking the monotony of the day.
She says her restaurant largely depends on the tourist trade, people who come to town to visit the double-storey bungalow, which has since been converted into a museum by the Tourism Ministry.
It houses a fine display of artifacts such as a drilling machine, railway tracks, mine lamps and communications equipment. There are also gems, minerals and rocks, tagged with explanations.
Outside are a few more mining equipment exhibits, and the Mini Mox, a car used by the managers.
Two other old buildings, the sports club and the cinema, are supposedly being rehabilitated as part of a zon bersejarah (historical zone) project.
They overlook the padang where games of cricket and other social activities were held during those bygone years.
The notice board put up by the Tourism Ministry offers few clues on the project, and the local people are in the dark as well.
"Dengar dah lama (heard about it a long time)," says a drinks seller who has his stall opposite the entrance to the museum.
"The museum itself opened only two, three years ago although we heard about it ages ago." The RM1.8 million museum opened its doors to the public on April 1, 2002.
He says he had also heard of plans to revive one of the 23 tunnels in the mine for visits by tourists.
"The mine has been abandoned for quite some time now and certain areas are flooded. Tak tahu lah macam mana dia orang nak buat. Tak nampak macam ada orang kerja pun (Don't know how they are going to do it. I don't see anyone working on it too)."
Warisah is not convinced the state government will proceed with the project although she believes it will create jobs for the town folk.
"A lot of funds will be needed. The mines are in a sorry state. The pits must be flooded now and the structure would no longer be strong."
There was a major flood in 2001, she says. "We were on the first floor of the restaurant. We moved our things upstairs but still the water rose to knee height," she says, showing the water level marks on the wall.
During the war, the British had also "drowned" the pits.
Press reports had said that the RM7 million mine restoration project under the Eighth Malaysia Plan would involve rehabilitating portions of the tunnels and shafts network, the factory, the officers' quarters and a few of the mine's historical components.
About 40m of the mine shafts would be opened for tours by the public.
From the beginning, pit mining was not a favoured method of tin extraction as it was both dangerous and costly. But the tin deposits in the area were so rich that the company found it worthwhile to do so – for nearly a 100 years.
There are 23 levels of tunnels in the mine, each separated by about 30m of rock. The ore was mined by way of drilling the walls and panning. It was the largest and oldest tin mine in the world.
In 1987, then Deputy Prime Minister Tun Ghafar Baba announced in Parliament that a Canadian company would take over the mine. However, the company, Asamera, subsequently dropped the idea, citing among other reasons, socio-economic problems and the tin quota.
The following year, the state government ordered the mine shut.
Further up the road from the museum, passing what used to be PCCL's ore processing factory, several signs can be seen declaring Kolong (underground pit).
We stop at Kolong Pahat, where a rope-bridge spans the river. On the opposite bank, a pathway leads into the jungle where metal tracks can still be found. They were for the carts that transported the rocks and ores to the factory.
Two boys at the bridge declined to serve as guides when asked. "Tak boleh masuk, kak. Tak pernah masuk pun. Mak tak bagi (Cannot go in, we've never gone in. Mother doesn't allow)," one says.
Sg Lembing is today one of the state's billed tourist destinations. The well-paved road from Kuantan that passes new townships and industrial estates bears testimony to the Pahang government's commitment to the town.
Local and foreign tourists are known to hike up Bukit Panorama behind Sg Lembing specifically to catch the sunrise.
"I can hear them arriving in town as early as 3am," says Warisah. "Then, they'll come down, have breakfast and head for the museum." At weekends, they arrive by the busload.
Gunung Tapis and the seven-tier Air Terjun Gagak are also attractions. Other hills surrounding the town have their own peculiar names such as Bukit Segantang and Bukit Enam Cupak, which allude to the amount of tin ore mined per day.
And then there is the mysterious Gua Charas, believed to be a site of human settlement that dates back to prehistoric times - some 250 million years, according to estimates.
Three separate caves make up the Gua Charas complex which covers 92ha. One has since become home to an 8.1m long statue of a reclining Buddha. It was discovered by a monk named Tham Achran Sakatapunya in the 1950s during his journey to find an ideal place of worship.
"I haven't gone there myself but my children have," says Warisah. "They tell me interesting stories. Go check it out."

Masters Of The Sea

CAPTAIN Othman Ali and Captain Abdul Rahman Madon are mariners – seasoned ones. Othman, 58, has been plying the seas for 27 years and sailed round the world 11 times; 40-year-old Rahman, 20 years and four times.
For both, the MV Reef Challenger is their first commission on a "small but specialised ship." They are working together on the same ship for the first time too - as master and commander, respectively.
"The work scopes are poles apart," Othman says on the bridge as the Reef Challenger sails into the Straits of Malacca.
"The working environment is also different, and so are the equipment and instruments. You know, this is also the first time I am in command of a ship with passengers," Othman says.
Like Rahman, he has had experience commanding containers, bulk carriers, tankers and general cargo ships.
Othman served as master-in-command with Malaysian International Shipping Corporation (MISC) from 1988 to 2000. He had joined the company in 1977.
Rahman, meanwhile, was with Perbadanan Nasional Shipping Line for eight years from 1983 before leaving to join MISC until last year.
Halim Mazmin Bhd, the two mariners say, is significantly contributing to efforts to get more Malaysians into the seafaring profession.
"You've probably heard lots of stories about sailors... they drink, they gamble and they womanise. Not everything true. It depends on the individual. But because of these tales, many parents don't like their children to become sailors.
"In addition, sailing takes people away from their families. Also, these days, the ports are located away from main cities," Othman says.
As senior manager of fleet operations for Halim Mazmin Bhd, Othman is in charge of three ships: RV Mahsuri, MV Puteri Mahsuri and the Reef Challenger.
On the Reef Challenger, Rahman is First Officer to him.
"There cannot be two captains in one ship. With some decisions, there is no luxury of a discussion," Rahman explains as the ship negotiates the route to avoid a sand bar in Pulau Pangkor.
The two men's Master Foreign Going Certificate of Competency allow them to be appointed master-in-command of a ship. Both also possess supplementary endorsements from the Marine Department specific to types of ship they are required to command.
While it normally takes about 10 years to become a captain, Othman did so in six.
"I didn't really find the training tough. I felt I was ready. I was a scout as a boy. It helps, especially with the rope work," he says.
Atif Hayat K. Udumansa and Ramesh Raj, both 19, are pursuing a three-year diploma course in nautical studies at the Akademi Laut Malaysia (ALAM) in Malacca.
ALAM is the country's premier maritime education and training institution. It is a one-stop training centre which offers not only courses that lead to professional qualifications, but also various ancillary safety and management programmes.
The courses are all designed not just to meet the minimum standards as stipulated in the International Convention on Standards of Training Certification and Watchkeeping for Seafarers (STCW) 1978 and other relevant international guidelines, but to exceed them.
The boys are on a one-year practical training with Halim Mazmin Bhd.
"I want to be like the two captains... they're cool," Ramesh says during a break from his duties. He is one of five cadets on the vessel, helping out with the Scientific Expedition to the Straits of Malacca.
Sheepishly, he however admits to having suffered from seasickness, and throwing up on the first day of voyage. "I was told by senior crew members not to hold it back. Malu-lah."
The Jabatan Perkhidmatan Awam scholar took up nautical studies after getting to know Atif, whom he met in Port Dickson while attending the same compulsory class for driver's licence applicants.
"It's hard work," says Atif, of his duties on board. Together with the other cadets, he had had to prepare the dinghies which some of the participants of the expedition used to get to shore. They are also the boatmen on these forays.
"Working out in the gym is nothing compared to this. But I'll get used to it."
The cadets are put on a four-hour watch each. At sunrise, they sing the Negara Ku while hoisting the national flag at the stern. Likewise at sunset, they sing the national anthem while lowering the flag.
After a year with Halim Mazmin Bhd, they will return to the ALAM classrooms. Upon completion of the course, they have to submit all relevant papers to the Marine Department and then wait to be called to sit for an oral examination.
"When we pass the orals, we will then be certified as Third Officers. The same process goes on until we make it to be captains. I intend to make it as a master-in-command in less than 10 years like Othman," Ramesh says.

Bug Ladies, Bird Men and Fish People

"THERE are no cliffs on the island," Universiti Malaya Associate Professor Richard Dorall bellows.
"We have to tell JUPEM (Department of Survey and Mapping Malaysia). They have to change the map."
He is referring to Pulau Jarak, the map of which contains symbols that denote cliffs. They are just rocks.
Using the white board in the dry laboratory located on the lower deck of the MV Reef Challenger, Dorall sketches an outline of the island while accessing references on his laptop computer. Assisted by S. Gokilan, he marks out what he believes are boulder corals in the waters off the island.
"I don't know what the brown patch here is. You guys find out," he tells the divers.
Dorall is on the six-day Scientific Expedition to the Seas of Malaysia (Sesma) together with more than 30 other Universiti Malaya scientists and researchers. Their study covers a large tract in the northern part of the Straits of Malacca - Pulau Jarak, the Pulau Sembilan cluster and Pulau Perak (since renamed Pulau Kedah by the Kedah government).
Pulau Jarak is off Bagan Datok in Perak, Pulau Sembilan an hour from Pangkor and Pulau Perak about 60 nautical miles north of Langkawi close to international waters.
Dorall and Gokilan oversee the mapping and GIS (geographic information systems) activities of the expedition. They are able to tell the other participants, among other things, the highest point on an island and the depth of a spot in the ocean.
The scientists prepare to go ashore to collect samples and specimens, their studies being aimed at updating the database on the resources of the Straits of Malacca. They also hope to determine the state of health of the ecosystems.
The findings will be published and be used by the relevant authorities to help devise a more integrated management of this part of the straits.
In all, there are 15 components to the expedition: fisheries and zooplankton, phytoplankton, seaweeds and seagrasses, corals, dragonflies, butterflies, beetles, birds, marine fungi, macrofungi (mushrooms), microbiology, water quality, geology, mapping and GIS, and plants.
With the exception of those undertaking fisheries and zooplankton, microbiology and water quality studies, the others go ashore on the islands.
"I need at least 12 hours, maybe from 7am to 7pm...to set up the traps then collect the specimens," says Associate Professor Dr Fauziah Abdullah, a beetle expert. On most landings, she is the last to leave for the ship.
For all the islands, the first thing Professor Dr Norma Yusof wants to know is whether there are streams or rivers. That's where she finds her dragonflies.
"Bird men" associate professors Dr Rosli Hashim and Dr Rosli Ramli are suitably armed with powerful binoculars, while Professor Dr Sufian Azirun brings nets - the butterfly kind.
Professor Dr Chong Ving Ching and Dr Lee Choon Weng "control" the bow of the ship, where the wet laboratory is located. They collect water samples for the various study groups. Chong also brought two Pulau Ketam fishermen with him to help gather fisheries specimens.
Halim Mazmin Bhd's diver George Charles and Universiti Malaya's Badrul Huzaimi Tajudin, Jillian Ooi and Yong Ai Lin go for day and night dives, bringing along underwater cameras and specimen bags.
The expedition's key focus is on Pulau Jarak and Pulau Perak. Scientifically, little is known about them, the main source of information being materials published in the 1950s.
Pulau Sembilan is easily accessible from the mainland and only three hours away from Pulau Jarak. The voyage to Pulau Perak however takes some 20 hours.
Anchored off one of the Pulau Sembilan islands, Associate Professor Dr Azhar Hussin's walkie-talkie cackles: "We seek your approval to light fireworks... to scare off the pigs."
Pigs? Not wild boars?
"The last time I was here, a few years ago, there were piglets on the island," Badrul Huzaimi says. "Someone from the mainland must have brought them here. They would be fully grown by now."
After an entire day and night of sailing, Pulau Perak comes into sight.
Dorall has discovered that the map's coordinates for the island are wrong, requiring another report to JUPEM.
From a distance, Pulau Perak is just a rock sticking out of the water, with birds as its only obvious inhabitants. There is reportedly a cherry tree on the island but the expedition members can't find it.
There is, in fact, vegetation, including coconut trees, and signs of human habitation - a jetty; and a helipad too, the latter used by the Royal Malaysian Navy in their patrols of the area.
For security reasons, we have to leave before nightfall. The Reef Challenger does so none too soon, as it is contacted by a passing Royal Malaysian Navy gunship, enquiring about our presence.
That settled, it's time to go home - a 30-hour journey, which many of the expedition participants use to conduct briefings and exchange notes.
Universiti Malaya's maritime research centre chief, Professor Dr Phang Siew Moi, says another expedition is planned: "Want to come?"
"On a bigger boat?" I ask.

Hitting The Balak Trail

"There are no rules in the jungle. You go by your instincts," Zamri Othman says. The Temerloh-based army ammunitions specialist should know.
His years of military training have allowed him to acquire a healthy respect for the jungle.
"No matter how much training, there's no guaranteeing one's safety. At best, it teaches you to keep a cool head and to be aware that quick thinking is needed when faced with difficult situations. Of course, it's best to avoid those situations in the first place," adds the 40- year-old father of five.
A briefing for a military jungle reconnaissance? No, only a 4x4 adventure in the heart of Hulu Tembeling in Jerantut, Pahang.
Zamri, together with Md Noor Razali, are easily the most experienced off-roaders in the group participating in the charity expedition organized by K'Dau Adventure.
Both of them belong to Temerloh's "infamous" Enam Jahanam 4x4 Adventure Club, which sports a raging bull as its logo.
Of the two, Noor is the cool head, and Zamri, like the Enam Jahanam's logo, the raging bull.
While Noor - the chief marshall of the three-day, two-night expedition - studiously contemplates the best route for team members in between puffs on his Sampoerna, Zamri is tearing ahead to buka jalan with his automatic transmission sky-blue Suzuki Vitara.
"You park your car illegally in Temerloh and you'll get a summons from the YDP (Yang Di Pertua)," Zamri says, within earshot of the municipal council president Norzan Ahmad, who is also a participant in the expedition.
"You cut down a tree in town, you'll get a fine. In the jungle, it's strictly you and the environment. No municipal council man around," he quips.
"There are rules to observe," Noor interjects, seemingly to mollify the impression created by Zamri.
"In a convoy, for example, it is important to ensure that the car behind yours is always within sight. If he is in trouble, the car in front has the best chance to help. Also, at turnings, we have to wait for the last car. We don't want people to get lost - not in the jungle."
Noor is the one who gives sporadic briefings to first-time adventure drivers, including on how to handle adverse terrain.
There are several villages in Hulu Tembeling, the main ones of which are Kg Pagi, Kg Kuala Sat, Kg Sungai Kuching, Kg Bantal, Kg Mat Daling and Kg Gusai.
Our stops are at Kg Pagi and Kg Kuala Sat.
We had left civilisation and the XC90 at Kuala Tahan to ride with Noor in his Mitsubishi Pajero. He had turned off at a junction - marked "Kg Mat Daling. Pacuan Empat Roda Saja (4-wheel drive only)" - on the main trunk road.
It turns out to be a 40km jalan balak (a dirt track for timber trucks).
Expedition participants had prayed for rain the night before, so as to make the drive more "adventurous". They are not getting their wish - yet. The blazing sun and the soaking humidity are rather taxing.
The drive to Kg Pagi is uneventful. As it is a public holiday, no timber-laden trucks are encountered.
"Here, they rule the road. You have to make way for them simply because they are far bigger than you," Noor says.
The convoy of 16 cars had only to stop once. A crane truck had got stuck while inching up a steep hill.
"There are no traffic lights and road markings. On the way in (to the jungle), we just drive on the ravine side of the road; and out, on the other side," he adds.
If we had taken the boat from Kuala Tahan, Kg Pagi would be the first Malay village we would pass. The ride takes about 45 minutes.
It was said to be three hours by the dirt track but it had taken us close to half a day.
The village has some 400 people living in 64 houses. They are mostly farmers.
Finding a place to set up camp for the night was not too difficult. The scenic Tembeling riverbank beckons.
The drive down the hill to the riverbank is easy enough, but some participants decide to park their cars up on the slope. (Wise decision as a couple of those who got down to the bank had later to be winched out as their 4x4s' "caterpillar" tyres dug too deeply into the sand.)
Some die-hard anglers lost no time in casting a line in the river, even before setting up tent.
And in the night, the rain came - in torrents. Many of the tents offered little protection, while some drivers were prompted to move their cars to higher ground in the middle of the night as water gushed down the hill.
"We have to be careful with what we wish for," Norzan tells his 19-year- old son, Eddy, the youngest driver in the convoy.
Morning breaks, with breakfast out of the way, it's time to head for Kg Kuala Sat. But because of the rain, Noor has to chart an alternate route through an oil palm plantation. Most of 4x4s would not be able to make it up a steep hill on the original route, he decides.
"The rain would have caused some sections to become very slippery."
Already, the drive out of Kg Pagi is taking longer than expected. Some cars have to be pushed or winched out of the mud.
They also slide from side to side of the road, as the tyres work overtime to get a grip. "If you're not careful, you can slide all the way across," Noor warns as he monitors the other vehicles' progress.
My Clark boots and May's black Reeboks have long become non-recognisable. One thing I quickly learnt is not to try to wash the boots. Just leave the mud to dry and then brush off the caked dirt.
"Leave your Guccis and Pradas at home. Lipsticks? What for? Just bring lots of T-shirts and shorts. Next time, wear sandals which you can strap to the ankle," Zamri advises.
The strap on my Etienne Aigner slippers (yes, silly me) has snapped while May has lost her Japanese slippers in knee-deep mud near the river.
Toilet? Emulate the cat: dig and bury.
Kg Kuala Sat is a small village on the southern edge of the Taman Negara. It is one of the most remote areas of the country. With no handy 4x4 around, it is accessible only by a six-hour boat journey on the Tembeling River.
At a number of villages on the way, we distributed food supplies provided by Nestle, one of the many sponsors of the expedition.
The expedition has not been without casualties. One car has to be towed out of the jungle because of a burst radiator.
Zamri says it's not unusual. Team members have been known to have to leave their cars on the way to their campsite and pick them up on the way out.
"Also, cars have been left in the jungle, to be retrieved later after all team members have safely come out.
"If you think this trip has been rather tame, follow us on a hardcore 4x4 expedition. Are you game for it?" We'll certainly be better prepared.

Halim's Challenge

"Remember Jacques Cousteau?" Tan Sri Halim Mohammad asks. The famed French marine explorer and researcher of the award-winning Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau TV documentaries? The man on a life-long quest to study and protect the planet's largest and least explored frontier? Of course.
In the 1970s, Cousteau took millions of TV viewers around the world to the depths of the oceans with his research ship, The Calypso - in search of sharks, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, octopuses and the most obscure of creatures of the deep.
"I have been waiting to do this for some time now," Halim says, when met at Berth 7A of South Port in Port Klang.
"I love the sea and anything that has to do with it. In my small way, I would like to emulate Cousteau, who did more than anyone in history, to educate humankind on the wonders of the watery world."
For a start, the 53-year-old executive chairman of Halim Mazmin Bhd has acquired his own version of The Calypso in the form of a former Japanese tuna fishing training vessel turned oceanographic and research vessel - the 48-metre MV Reef Challenger.
The Calypso was a converted US-built 42-metre British Navy minesweeper.
It had actually been refurbished to operate as a ferry before Cousteau, in his familiar red woollen hat, came along to make a floating legend out of the vessel.
Halim is understood to have paid RM350,000 for the 16-year-old Japanese vessel Wakatori Maru, and spent another RM600,000 on converting the 426-tonne ship into Reef Challenger.
It may not have a helipad on board or The Calypso's "false nose" (the underwater observation chamber built around the prow complete with eight portholes) but the Reef Challenger is, from day one, designed and equipped for scientists and researchers.
There is a windlass on deck, a lifting device consisting of a crank-driven horizontal cylinder wound with a cable or rope. There are dry and wet laboratories where scientists can conduct in situ experiments and undertake an inventory of the biodiversity of the Malaysian waters.
The Calypso's first assignment was a study of corals in the Red Sea way back in 1951. The ship is now at a dry dock in La Rochelle, France, after having keeled over and sunk at the Singapore port on Jan 8, 1996.
A barge, in the process of being moved, had punctured The Calypso's hull just as it was departing for China for a Yellow River expedition. It took 17 days to raise the ship back to the surface.
The Reef Challenger, meanwhile, embarked on its first assignment early this month. Billed as the Scientific Expedition to the Seas of Malaysia (Sesma), it was a collaborative mission between Universiti Malaya and the Halim Mazmin Group.
"I was extremely excited when I learnt of Universiti Malaya's plans. The expedition offers me an opportunity to contribute towards the protection and preservation of our marine environment.
"I am sure the Reef Challenger will be of assistance to the marine scientists, especially to access the ocean depths, which couldn't be done before. The marine resources, diversity... the eco-system must be protected and regulated, but this could only be done if we know exactly what and how much is out there."
Halim's affinity with the sea is no surprise. He had joined the merchant navy at the age of 18 and has sailed most of the oceans on earth.
"As a sailor, we develop a special bond and love for the sea, not only because we spend more time looking at it than most people but also because we owe our living to it.
"We come to see the sea as a friend. Which means we have to take care of it, keep it clean and respect it. We are duty-bound, particularly, to preserve the resources for future generations," he adds.
There is a more urgent need, Halim says, to explore "our own backyard" than, say, to go study the Antarctica."
"Clean seas are important for everybody - marine creatures included - because clean seas means safe seas."
And there are issues of security to address as well. For example, many areas along the country's maritime borders, off Sabah especially, remain uncharted, he notes.
Halim Mazmin Group operates a fleet of nine vessels with a combined weight of 311,272 dwt. The diversified fleet includes clean product tankers, dry bulkers and container vessels.
Besides the Reef Challenger, Halim has three other training and research vessels - RV Mahsuri, MV Puteri Mahsuri and MV Reef Explorer. "This is only the beginning," Halim promises.

Jale-Jale, Cari Make

"ORE Kelate ko, ore Sia? (Kelantanese or Siamese?)" Tumpat, about 40 minutes' drive from Kota Baru, is where 75 per cent of the Thai community in Kelantan live. "Mek, yang hok makan pulut tu (the pretty lass eating glutinous rice there)," a gentleman points out a Kelantanese, when asked.
Generally, the Thai women wear blouses and long skirts while Kelantanese women prefer their kebaya and kain sarong. The men are not as easily identifiable.
There are 23 Buddhist temples in Kelantan, the three biggest being in Tumpat. They each host a giant statue of Buddha - seated, reclining, and standing.
We ask to see the Poh Than Thit (spiritual teacher) at Wat Phra Buddha Bharaameedharm Chamruslok (which means Temple of the Light of the Buddha's
Dharma Enlightens the World) but are told he is taking a nap.
"You can wait or you can come back tomorrow morning. But there are prayers in the morning, he may not be able to see you," says a 40-something man who is tending to the trees around the temple which houses the sitting Buddha.
"Are you a Thai?"
He just smiles.
"Go find the other temples. The standing Buddha, yang hok tidur pun ada (also the reclining one). Then come back and talk to the Poh Than Thit.
"Remember, when you go in to see him, you have to take off your tudung (headscarf), your cap also... to show respect."
There are others waiting to see the Poh Than Thit.
Kelantan was an administrative region of the Thai kingdom until it was ceded to the British in 1909.
The then Kelantan Sultan had to make offerings of ufti or Bunga Emas to the Siamese Government every three years. The Bunga Emas was crafted by the best goldsmiths of the time.
The reclining Buddha at Wat Phothivihan, located 15km northwest of Tumpat, is one of the largest in South-East Asia. It is 40m long, 11m high and 9m wide. The temple took six years to build and was completed in 1979.
Tumpat's famous beach, Pantai Sri Tujuh, is meanwhile the venue of an annual International Kite Festival, where the wau bulan is a perennial favourite. The festival draws participants from as far away as Europe and Japan.
And the town is also synonymous with traditional boat-building. The master boat-builders pass down their secrets from generation to generation.
In the past, the prows of the boats often took fascinating forms – for example, the shape of a bangau (cattle egret) or a garuda (a demonic birdman, which is a remnant of Hindu influence during pre-Islamic times). These served a talismanic purpose, to ward off evil spirits.
But the Tumpat district is an agricultural region. Small villages dot vast tracts of rice fields and tobacco plots.
The Thais in Kelantan are mostly farmers, and they have been working the land for generations.
Kijau says she is “Kelate belako” (all Kelantanese), probably by virtue of her having been in Kelantan all her life. Her husband's name is Emong, she says, and together they work the tiga keping (three pieces) of land leased from a Chinese towkay for RM10 a year. Each "piece" is about the size of two medium-sized KL bungalow lots.
"Tanam tembakau sikit, kangkung sikit (we plant some tobacco, some water spinach)," she says, as she uproots some weeds from the tobacco plot. The passing mail train breaks the silence of the day.
It is noon but the couple continue to labour in the sun.
"Panas bagus. Kalau hujan, tembakau mati (Hot is good. If it rains, the tobacco will die)," Kijau says. She and her husband have been working since 7am.
They take a break for lunch and return to the farm at about 3pm to work until "bila hari dah gelap (when it gets dark)."
Tobacco farming is not the main crop of farmers in Tumpat, with Grade One tobacco leaves (dried) fetching RM15.80 a kg and wet leaves 80 sen a kg.
"Bila petik, dapatlah 200kg (we can get 200kg per harvest)." The wet tobacco leaves are sold to the towkay.
Leaving Kijau to her tasks, we head towards town - and the marketplace.
Thirty-five-year-old Kak Yah ("nama dalam IC Siti Jaharah," she says) helps her husband, Husin, tend their Sup Perut (stomach soup) stall in front of the market. We are told Husin is a Thai.
A bowl of soup is RM1.50, a bit pricey by Tumpat's standards. The perut (actually cow's udder) is shredded and "tastes like soto without the rice cubes", according to photographer May.
"Dah lama berniaga di sini ... about 20 odd years, (been in the business for a long time)" says the mother of seven. Her youngest child is 11 months old. The oldest, an 18-year-old boy, sells newspapers and magazines nearby.
Husin has lots of harta (property) in Thailand. "Whatever he makes here is sent home," says Kelantanese friend, Wai.
"Go check out the market," Kak Yah encourages. "There are many things there."
Old makcik beckon, addressing us, flatteringly, as "mek". They sell buah keranji (Dialium platyspalum), etok (roasted shellfish), ulam buah kerdas and ubi keling. Most are acquired tastes.
"Mari mana? Cari gapo? (Where from? What are you looking for?)" one asks.
"Jalan-jalan, tengok tempat (walking about, looking at places)," I reply.
"Oh, Jale-jale, cari make," another makcik responds, referring to TV3's Jalan-Jalan, Cari Makan eating out programme.
They burst into raucous laughter: "No one comes here for sightseeing."

Taking The Slow Lane

"Welcome to DTAC - superior network throughout Thailand. Call 1800 for local assistance. Have a pleasant stay!" announces the short message on my cellphone.
Have we wandered into Thailand? Not quite.
The election is over, life has returned to normal and it feels like a good time for a drive-about - in the slow lane. And where better than in Kelantan.
So it is that we find ourselves heading towards Pengkalan Kubor, one of two Kelantan towns at the border with Thailand, when the phone beeped the message from the Thai cellular operator.
The other town is Rantau Panjang, and the twins - by virtue of their being only about 1km from our northern neighbour - have come to acquire a certain attraction among Malaysians from other states. One can take a ferry across the river to Tak Bai from Pengkalan Kubor, or drive into Golok via Rantau Panjang.
The mention of Golok might evoke grins among men, but Pengkalan Kubor
and Rantau Panjang are happy they have evolved into the shopping "capitals" of Kelantan.
Before we left Kuala Lumpur for Kota Baru, Kelantanese friends had warned that retailers in the state maintain three sets of prices for their wares: the local price, the returning-Kelantanese price, and the "orang luar" price.
"The traders can easily tell the shoppers apart. It's advisable to go with a local, if you want the best prices. Just let your friend do all the talking for you," says Wai.
"That aside, haggling is the name of the game, and don't be bashful about it," he adds.
"If she asks for RM10, offer RM5 as that would be the price she'd sell to a Kelantanese. In the end, you'd probably pay about RM7.
"One thing you have going for you is that there are so many shops...shop-hop, by all means."
Shoppers come by the busload
Notice that Wai used "she" to refer to a Kelantanese trader? Well, most, if not all, of the traders in the marketplace or bazaars are women.
Most outsiders assume that Pengkalan Kubor got its name from the Muslim cemetery next to the Malaysian Customs and Immigrations checkpoint. But a more colourful lore of the name's origin is that spirits captured by bomoh and held in bottles were tossed into the river, thereby turning it into a "graveyard".
On weekdays, the little town is a sleepy hollow, where an early afternoon siesta is the only respite from the heat and humidity.
"Kak silap time datang (you've come at the wrong time)," says 25-year-old Zaharah who tends to a "Barbie Doll" and "Spiderman" stall.
Her sister's stall next to hers sells hair accessories but is closed for the day. "Dia tak niaga hari ni. Tak ramai orang (she's not open today. Not many customers)," she adds.
It's different at weekends, she says, as shoppers would descend upon the bazaar by the busload.
"We get people from as far as Johor Baru and Singapore. They may go across to Tak Bai, but things are still cheaper here," Zaharah says, as she leisurely fans herself.
Zaharah hails from Gua Musang. She is married to a local who works in Kota Baru. Pengkalan Kubor is a mere 45-minute drive from Kota Baru.
The Barbie Doll and Spiderman goods she hawks are from South Korea and Thailand. "We tell our supplier what we want and they send it over."
She doesn't have a shoplot at the bazaar as the rentals are too high, she says.
Does that mean her prices are lower? "Tengok keadaan (depending on situation). Sometimes we have to sell cheap because we want to clear the old stock.
"Hok ni berapo riyal kat Kuala Lumpur (How much does this cost in Kuala Lumpur)?" she asks, holding up a pair of embroidered Barbie jeans.
She's selling them at RM35. the same item goes for easily over RM100 at KL's swanky complexes.
Asked about the three-tier pricing, she says: "Sapo dok ghoyat gitu? Harga semua sama (Who told you that? Prices are all the same)".
We offer RM25 for the pair of jeans, which will fit an eight-year-old girl, pointing out that we are also buying other stuff which add up to RM300 already.
She won't budge. "How about RM28?"
"I am not making a profit here. I can give you at RM34," she says, taking the jeans from me and putting in into a plastic bag to signal end of discussion.
I turn to May, and admit I'm really no good at this. And paid up.
Then it is off to Rantau Panjang, about an hour's drive from Kota Baru, where it is reputed to have better stuff at better prices. Of course, there is also the option to drive to Golok.
It is curious to find so many vehicles with Thai-plates all over town. Are there as many Malaysian-plated cars in Golok?
And you can't tell the locals and foreigners apart - unless you are a trader, of course.
"The Thais shop for groceries here. Its far cheaper," says Sabariah, "macam dalam cerita Kassim Selamat tu (like in the Kassim Selamat movie)", referring to characters in P. Ramlee's classic Ibu Mertuaku).
"They drive here, buy the goods and bring them back to Thailand."
Kak Sabariah sells ornamental items like candle holders and potpourri bowls. She sources the goods from Thailand.
"Nampak macam boleh buat bisnes. Akak buka kedai ni lapan bulan dulu (It looks lucrative. I opened this shop eight months ago)," she says.
"If there are many people, say, a tour group, I can give really good deals. I can clear my stock and order new supplies."
But business is slow today.
"Weekends are busy. School holidays even better. And the weeks before Raya, we get many people buying household items for their homes."
The chartered tour buses normally travel overnight and reach Rantau Panjang in the morning.
The tourists then just spend the whole day shopping before hopping back on to the bus for the journey home.
Why Rantau Panjang? Well, it offers shoppers a myriad of stuff – clothes (Adidas, Nike and Levi's), watches (Rolexes and Guccis), sunglasses (Chanel, Dior and Versace), handbags (Louis Vuitton and Fendi), food items and toys - at unbelievably low prices. The catch? They're fakes.
When leaving Rantau Panjang, we are curiously stopped at the Customs checkpoint.
The officer asks how much we had spent for all the things that had filled up the boot of the XC90. The tax to be paid is normally 10 per cent of the value, she says.
"Just pay RM10," she says, "and show this receipt if you're stopped at the police checkpoint up ahead."
The police wave us along. Customs and police checkpoints? Are all people who visit Rantau Panjang assumed to have crossed into Thailand as well?

A Track Unpaved

"THE roosters didn't wake us up. Hawa Ismail did. She beckons us to go get breakfast, quick! Kelik gi doh... nanti habis (Go now or else it will be finished)."
The bilal at the nearby masjid had just called for the morning prayers.
"Bangun doh, Dani (Get up, Dani)," she nudges her 21-year-old granddaughter Nurdania Jamri, one of her 13 grandchildren.
It is not often that Dani is back in Kg Kemubu, Dabong - "somewhere between Gua Musang and Kuala Krai".
True to Hawa's words, breakfast is all sold out by the time - 8am – we arrive at the market. "Hok stesen ado lagih (there's some left at the station)" a lady tending a stall says.
Breakfast is either nasi kerabu, the blue rice with condiments, or nasi berlauk, rice with a choice of a piece of beef or chicken.
There is roti canai, of course, "but who comes all the way to Kelantan for something he can get in Kuala Lumpur, yes?" Dani says.
At the railway station, seemingly the kampung's social centre, she buys four packets of nasi kerabu priced at two riyal (two ringgit) each.
It would be one riyal elsewhere in town. She picks up a loaf of bread and a can of sardines too. Some of us are not used to having rice so early in the morning.
Hawa - known as Mak Nik among the elders and Mak Tengah among the young ones - has lived in the kampung for 50 years.
At 77 ("I am as old as Mahathir [former Prime Minister Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad"]), Mak Tengah no longer moves around as freely as before. "Lutut ni hok jem (The knee is jammed)." She uses a wheelchair.
When her eldest daughter Halimah Awang Seman and son-in-law Mustafa Husain go out to work on the family's orchard, Mak Tengah is left alone in the sprawling four-room house (which is currently undergoing extensive renovation).
She commonly stations herself at the front door, and jokes with Dani that she should be called chairman of the jawatankuasa pintu (door committee).
"She's lonely. She sits there and calls out to people who pass by. Everyone knows everyone else here.
"The womenfolk, the ahli jawatankuasa pintu (door committee members), will drop by and keep her company from time to time," says Dani.
Within hours of our arrival, almost everyone in the kampung is aware that Dani had brought friends from Kuala Lumpur for a visit. Stepping out of a Volvo XC90 didn't quite help us blend in either.
The drive into the village was kind of an adventure. The 10km stretch to Kg Kemubu is still a dirt road. It had seemed endless.
"I am 35 years old. I remember the road being like that since I was 10," school clerk Farid Mustafa says. Farid is Halimah's son and the only grandchild of Hawa still staying in the kampung. Halimah and Mustafa have seven children.
"We've heard countless promises and pledges but we've yet to see it done (having the road paved). And it's just a short stretch," says Halimah, who was only five years old when the family moved here.
It's hard to tell the colour of Farid's Wira (it is blue) under all the red earth.
"My father told mom that we can come here every month if the road is paved," Dani laughs, recalling the tiff her parents had over balik kampung.
Her father has just bought a Naza Ria.
Hawa and her late husband, Awang Seman Yaakob, moved to the village half a century ago. They were among the first to be relocated there.
"Lari dari komunis, kerajae suruh mari sini (Fled from the communists, the Government asked us to come here)," she says.
The village now has basic amenities. When electricity first came in 1974, supply was only from 7pm to 7am. It was 20 years later, the same year Awang Seman died, that the kampung had 24-hour supply.
There's only one Telekom Malaysia's public telephone. "Rosak doh," calls out a passing motorist who saw us fiddling with the telephone. "Panggilan kecemasan sahaja (Emergency calls only)."
And forget your cellphone, there's no signal - except maybe on Gunung Stong, where the kampung's water supply comes from. By the way, the water is refreshingly cool.
Mustafa says he requested for a line a very long time ago but has yet to get any response from Telekom.
"Development projects stop at Dabong. For reasons known only to the authorities, we are forgotten," laments Mustafa.
Dabong is a slightly bigger village. It is about a kilometre from where the highway takes a turn into the 10km dirt road that leads to Kg Kemubu.
Some of the houses in Dabong, including Mustafa's, have satellite TV connection. Those without Astro have TV antennas as tall as coconut trees.
The nearest town is Gua Musang or Kuala Krai, about 98km away. Both are accessible by train too. In fact, most of the villagers use the mail train to get to the towns to do marketing and banking.
If the cost of petrol is any indication, things are a little bit more expensive in Gua Musang than in Kuala Krai and other towns in Kelantan.
It costs a sen higher than elsewhere in the state, which in turn is 3 sen more expensive than in KL.
Dani says her mother and the other daughter of Hawa, Siti Khadijah Awang Seman, used to take the train to school, "but only for a while, before she moved to a school in Pasir Mas".
These days, schoolchildren mostly take the bus. The day's first mail train, No. 84, arrives at 7am, if it is not delayed, says Fauzi, a KTMB staff on duty.
There are six mail train services a day to Kg Kemubu. The last arrives at 5.35pm.
The express train does not stop here but at Dabong, which is about half an hour away.
"Kalau miss trip pagi, kami pergi sekolah naik keretapi. Tapi lambat lah (If we miss the bus, we go to school by train. But we will be late)," a Form Three student tells us.
Kg Kemubu has only a primary school. The nearest secondary school is in Dabong. By bus, students would have to catch the 6.30am service, failing which the next bus comes at 7.30am, and they would be late for school. The ride takes half an hour.
The majority of the villagers are self-employed. "Buat dusun, kerja kampung (estate and village work)," says Mustafa, who tends to his own and his family's durian orchards. He estimates the 400-house village's population at about 1,500 people.
They leave the house for their orchards after the children go to school.
"We'll buy breakfast. It's cheaper to buy than make our own," Halimah explains as to why breakfast is sold out so quickly on most mornings. Those who remain at home are the housewives, young children and the elderly.
Hawa doesn't have any problems if she needs assistance. She has only to holler at whoever passes by, and for a few sen in tips, kampung boys will run the errands.
In the early afternoons when it gets hot, the village children head for the river. They all seem to be very good swimmers, getting to and back from the opposite bank with ease despite the fairly strong current. It is not a short swim.
The people are warm and highly hospitable. Mustafa and Halimah apologise for not being able to provide us with better food. She offers to cook us lunch of ayam kampung before we set off for Kota Baru but we declined, having had a hearty breakfast.
We have an open invitation to visit again, especially during the durian season, which is sometime in August. Will the road be paved by then? For our newfound friends, we do hope so.

The Pioneers

The wooden building, which has obviously seen better days, is as old as the Federal Land Development Authority (Felda) itself. It houses the office of Mohd Imra Mohd Pinni, manager of Felda Lurah Bilut in Bentong, Pahang - the very first of the agency's schemes in the country.
The structure could easily be mistaken for a Klinik Desa although most of such village clinics in Pahang are now pink-coloured double-storey structures.
Outside, the walls can definitely use a fresh coat of paint - even if the only choice is pink. And someone should get rid of that artifact from a different era - the three red buckets (stenciled "API") of sand hanging from a wooden stand, which were virtually the extent of firefighting equipment in many government buildings. Maybe not. They are reminders of simpler times.
Indeed, the office is today almost a museum with its old equipment, photographs and documents all kept in mint condition. Time does seem to have stood still for it - which in contrast is certainly not the case with the scheme that it oversees.
Significant progress and development has been achieved by the 45-year-old scheme, the signs of which include a secondary school - a concrete building erected 31 years ago - in front of the office. There is also a row of shophouses and the Petronas station owned by the scheme's cooperative, while nearby a mosque and two temples - one Chinese and the other Hindu - reflect the multi-racial composition of the scheme's participants.
A number of the pioneer settlers and their children are now also proud owners of sprawling bungalow houses, which are a far cry from their first homes when they arrived at the257ha scheme in August and September 1959.
That batch of 400 settlers in the first of Felda's 276 schemes to date were selected from different parts of the peninsula. They came without their families and were put up in long houses.
The road leading to the scheme is now asphalt-paved and well-maintained, no more need for Land Rovers and wagons pulled by tractors, like when Kamaruddin Mat Doaa first arrived.
The scheme's 65-year-old village head remembers well the day he reported as a settler to the office. He had travelled the whole day from his village in Sungai Manek, Telok Anson (now Teluk Intan).
"Nak hidup susah masa tu. Nak makan pun seksa (Life was tough then, even getting enough to eat was hard)," he says, of his early days at the scheme.
"We had to clear the land by hand. And we gotong royong (work together) to put up the living quarters so that we could bring our families to join us."
Kamaruddin was 20 and unemployed when he received a letter, dated Sept 17 1959, informing him that he was successful in his application to become a settler in the Lurah Bilut Land Development programme.
He was asked to report to the new settlement in 12 days, together with 29 other successful applicants from Telok Anson.
Specifically, they were all told not to bring their families until later.
Kamaruddin had not informed his parents, or his fiancee Halijah Montak - then only 14 - of his application or the interview he attended with the Settlers' Selection Committee. He continued to keep them in the dark even after finding out he had been accepted and would soon be leaving the kampung.
"The interview was easy. The panel asked me two questions: whether I could swim and if I could handle an axe. I said yes to both and that was it".
And so among the bare necessities that he was to bring on the journey, he made a point to pack an axe. There was one luxury he allowed himself though: a gambus, the traditional string musical instrument.
"That day, I left the house when my father was performing the Subuh prayers. I didn't want him to know, but he found out somehow and he was there at the train station to see me off," he says.
Kamaruddin and the rest of the group took the train from Telok Anson to Tanjung Malim where they transferred to a bus for the remaining journey that took the rest of the day.
"I had never gone out of Telok Anson before. The others too. It was a very winding road and by the time we arrived in Bentong, we were all sick. Then there was the ride in Land Rovers and wagons into Lurah Bilut."
Launched on Jan 1, 1958, Lurah Bilut was initially managed by the Lurah Bilut Land Development Corporation, which was formed by Felda.
The corporation provided all necessary agricultural equipment to the settlers. It also supplied the building materials for the settlers to build their own houses.
Only when the houses were completed, did the families join them.
Each settler was allocated a little over 10 acres of land - seven to be planted with rubber trees, three for an orchard, and 0.25 for the house.
The records show that Ahmad Hussin, born in Pasir Mas in Kelantan in 1901, was the first settler in the scheme. He arrived at Lurah Bilut on Aug 2, 1959. He died on Feb 10, 1984. Of the 400 pioneer settlers, 60 who are still living.
Today, Lurah Bilut hosts 616 families comprising first, second and third generation settlers - 400 Malays, 169 Chinese and 47 Indians.
When the scheme was first launched, conditions for participation were quite straight-forward: the applicant must be a Malayan between 21 and 50 years of age; does not own land of bigger than two acres; belongs to a big family; is physically fit; and has no criminal record.
Even then, "peraturan tak ketat (procedures were not strict)," Kamaruddin recalls, as he got into the scheme without meeting some of the criteria.
Of the 29 that came from Telok Anson with him, 14 dropped out within weeks and returned home because they found it too tough.
Kamaruddin did return to his kampung - two years later. To get married.
"Actually it was a requirement to be married and that the family must join you. I was only engaged when I came here. The scheme officials were starting to ask a lot of questions as to why my wife had not joined me. So I returned home to get married."
Kamaruddin and Halijah never had their honeymoon. "The henna on my wife's fingers were still red when she joined me to work the land," he says, with a little laugh.
Rubber trees take seven years to mature and there was a lot of work to be done, especially to protect the seedlings from mice. Felda paid each family $2.90 a day until the rubber trees could be tapped.
"It was all an experiment. We were the first, we didn't have anything to go by, all trial and error. The officials were also only former military personnel, not agriculturists."
And the settlement was heavily guarded as it was at the height of the communist insurgency at the time. Curfews were imposed as well.
"You know the buku tiga lima (the `555 notebook')? We bought groceries on credit. There were two cooperatives. You'd see a stack of the buku tiga lima on the counter."
Sugar was 35 sen a kati, flour 25 sen a kati and rice RM1.60 a gantang, Kamaruddin says.
Basic amenities like piped water and electricity came much later. Water was piped into the scheme in 1960 but only to a roadside tap to be shared by several households.
"You'd see reels of hose linking the main pipe to the houses. You get quarrels among families, all fighting for water." It was only in 1964 that water was finally piped into individual homes.
Electricity? Its 24-hour supply came only in 1981.
"We could have gotten electricity earlier but we rejected the proposed 12-hour supply. Why should we settled for that?
"Yes, life was tough, but we had some fun too. For example, the gambus was put to good use in the evenings."
His father was a bandleader, and at Lurah Bilut, Kamaruddin and other musically inclined settlers set up a band called Sri Melor.
"Zaman pop yeh, yeh (pop yeh, yeh era) ... we would perform in small villages. Whenever the late Sultan Abu Bakar visited us and nearby villages, we were asked to perform," he recalls. Kamaruddin also plays the accordion in the band.
Regrets?
"None," Kamaruddin says, adding that he never once considered giving up and going back to his kampung.
"Life in my own kampung was also difficult. At the end of the day, at least I can proudly say the land that I worked on with my bare hands is mine. My most satisfying moment was when I was given the title to the land in the 1980s," he says.
Maybe one.
None of Kamaruddin's four children, born two years apart, has stayed to work on the land with him. Daughter Azizah, 43, is a housewife now living in Cheras, Kuala Lumpur, while sons Roslan, a Universiti Malaya graduate, Rosli and Rosdzi are an assistant headmaster, a policeman and a film production company staff respectively.
Kamaruddin and Halijah have 10 grandchildren, and "none of them also wants to take over from me".
Imra, the scheme's manager, can understand the children's decision. The 15th manager of Felda Lurah Bilut since its establishment, which included two Caucasians and one Chinese - is himself a Felda settler's son.
He was in Standard One in 1965 when his father moved the family from Kelang to Felda Suharto in Tanjung Malim, Perak.
Today, none of his brothers and sisters is interested in managing the family plot, he says. "We hire other people to work the land. We saw for ourselves how difficult it was for my father."
Imra says it's hard for the first generation settlers in that "on the one hand, they want their children to take over but on the other, they don't want them to suffer the way they did".
"They went through such hardship to make a living, they don't want their children to go through the same thing."
These days, Kamaruddin's originally allocated three acres of orchards are planted with oil palm, which takes only three years before the fruits can be harvested.
Most settlers also no longer do the harvesting themselves. The work is contracted out.
"They've become more like landowners," Imra explains.
A kg of rubber (dry form) is currently priced at RM4.82, and latex at RM1.70 a kg. "It's 60:40 - 60 per cent to the contract workers and 40 per cent to the landowner. They (the settlers) come and collect their share from the office."
"Harus pada adat (inevitable), they (the children) will not come back," Kamaruddin says.

Back To The Roots

For the last couple of decades or so, Ahmad Farid Jaafar has watched with disappointment and no small measure of sadness how agriculture has declined as a sector of the economy.
While manufacturing and services go from strength to strength, agriculture has long stopped being considered an "engine of growth" for the country, and therefore not overly deserving of vast resources being devoted to its development.
Hence farms have increasingly given way to factories and golf courses, and farmers' children have moved into housing estates and got jobs in offices and on shop floors.
Even the country's only agricultural university, set up in 1972, has changed its name from Universiti Pertanian Malaysia to Universiti Putra Malaysia.
So when the Ministry of Agriculture was recently renamed as the Ministry of Agriculture and Agro-based Industry to mark a renewed government emphasis on the sector, Farid was excited.
Farid, 40, had written to Nuance and introduced himself as "a vegetable farmer in Raub". That he belongs to a new breed of Malaysians who are working "with" the land - well-educated individuals who choose to live the Malay adage tak rugi berbudi kepada tanah - was immediately clear from his impeccable English, and the fact that he contacted the magazine (on a different matter) via e-mail.
Subsequent correspondences yielded an invitation to visit his "vegetable plot" in Kampung Lepar, 11km outside the former gold mining town of Raub; and revealed that he is a commerce graduate from Australia's University of New South Wales.
Prime Minister Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi's move to make agriculture a mainstay sector once again could not have come at a better time, according to Farid.
It is one thing to note that the agriculture sector was the third largest contributor to the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) last year, and quite another to see that it actually accounted for only 8.431 per cent of the GDP, compared with services' 56.36 per cent and manufacturing's 30.09 per cent.
This was an erosion from between 15 and 20 per cent 20 years earlier, while the country's food import bill has ballooned to as high as RM13 billion a year, compared to exports of only about RM7 billion.
Still, at a volume of RM19.453 billion last year, the sector's total output was a creditable 5.5 per cent increase over RM18.438 billion in 2002.
Farid did not go into farming blindly. He did his research and then about 10 months ago converted 1ha-odd area from the 4ha piece of land he inherited from his grandmother into a vegetable farm.
He invested RM50,000 in the project, the bulk of which went to fencing up the area to keep wild animals out, with monkeys and wild boars being the main pests. He bought seeds from a shop in Rawang, employed two foreign workers to help him.
The plot at the Raub-Benta trunk road is planted with chillies, lady's fingers, long beans and angle loofah (petola), which he supplies to the weekly market in Raub.
Some friends have suggested that he plant fruit trees. Maybe later, he's decided, as the gestation period for that kind of venture can be quite long.
"I was with some accounting firms before, and also worked with my former civil servant father who opened his own construction business. And I dabbled in several businesses myself until I found this," Farid says.
He had come to meet me and photographer May in Raub in a 30-something-year-old red Mini.
"My grandmother left me the piece of land. I had to decide what to do with it. So I did some research, visited some vegetable farms and became convinced that there is money to be made from this."
It was a big decision, given that he wouldn't have had much problem landing a high-flying job in the city.
As explanation for exchanging a plush air-conditioned office with the heat and toil of farm life, this father of three simply said: "I like getting my hands dirty, I enjoy being in the open. Furthermore, it is a business. Whatever I have learned in university can be applied here".
When in school, he had aspired to be a pilot, Farid says, but that was not to be as he wore glasses. Who will doubt his vision now, when he says he sees farmers in Malaysia becoming increasingly well educated, and will adopt modern methods to help bring the agriculture sector to greater heights?
"You have to look at how to maximise utilisation of the land - mechanisation, proper planting techniques, etc. With support from government departments and other support agencies like Fama (Federal Agricultural Marketing Agency), we can make it."
Government agencies have a big role to play, not least in research and development activities, and in the dissemination of information on the latest technologies and techniques in agriculture, Farid adds.
"Of course, the farmers or would-be farmers must themselves be prepared to face the challenges of modern, commercial farming.
"Everybody involved must recognise the demands of the market, and for a start, government agencies have to understand that no programme can be successful if from the point of view of farmers, the activity is not worthwhile, that the returns are not sufficient.
"Only when this is achieved, when the farmers are convinced, will there be the spillover effects, the flow of all the other benefits to society and country."
He is expecting a visit from government officials later in the day: "They've asked to see the operations". Hopefully, he will be able to help put things in a proper perspective for them.
A 1ha plot is fairly comfortable operation for a small family but Farid wants to show that the activity can be undertaken on a larger scale.
He has plans to expand his venture, in terms of plot size as well as crop diversification, meaning going into high-value produce like lettuce and broccoli.
Farid has also started talks with owners of the land adjoining his, and as production increases he has entered into a marketing contract with Fama.
"I need a minimum 20kg per crop and I can sell it to Fama ex-farm price. Fama will market it at the wholesale markets."
The insecticide-free vegetables are ready to be harvested within two months of planting.
"We have not found any need to use insecticide so far. Our problem is actually pests like monkeys. The fence does not keep them out.
"We use firecrackers to scare them off. We've contacted the Department of Wildlife but they suggested that we deal with it ourselves, maybe trap the animals."
As for manpower, two workers are sufficient for now, but when he expands his plot to 6ha, he will need an additional six foreign workers, and he has submitted the application for them to the Immigration Department.
"There is a lot of idle land in the area. The problem is clearing up the area. It is a lot of hard work," says Farid, whose own plot is surrounded by such unutilised land, which is overgrown with jungle-like vegetation.
"It's all private land... with owners. Over there, it's owned by a former high-ranking government official," he says, pointing across the chili field to the rear of the farm.
Farid's venture is also a breakthrough in one other aspect. Vegetable farming is traditionally pursued largely by the Chinese in Malaysia.
Malays in the rural areas, meanwhile, are mostly rubber and oil palm smallholders, and also padi farmers.
Their population seems to be declining as youths leave the villages and family land for jobs in the cities.
Farid hopes that more Malays will follow his example and return to their roots. He now calls Kampung Dong, 4km away from the farm, his home. "The house was my grandmother's too. I live there now with my wife, Azlena Mohd Zain, 37, and two of my children, son Azfar, 7, and daughter Atirah, 5."
Eldest daughter, 10-year-old Farah, lives with her maternal grandmother in Kuala Lumpur.
In between tending the land, Farid does freelance accounting work for friends who own businesses.
The remaining land he inherited from his grandmother is a durian orchard.
"It flowering now. Come back soon and we can have a durian feast," he offers.
For the time being, as a parting gift, he fills plastic bags full of long beans and ladies' fingers for us to take home, and says: "Last night, we had ladies fingers cooked in asam pedas for dinner. It was awesome!"

Cleaners In The Sky

HOW do you keep the world's tallest twin-buildings gleaming bright and clean in the Malaysian sky? Very carefully.
It is 7am. The morning air is crisp despite the more than a hint of haze. Bakhtiar Ahmad and Shahriman Alwi crank open the stainless steel panels on the 88th floor of Tower 2 of the Petronas Twin Towers.
They are in the circular "mechanical room" on the floor that is directly below the pinnacle. Here, the walls are moveable panels, sections of which the two men roll aside to unfurl an awesome panorama of the cityscape that few are privileged to enjoy.
White hard hats on their heads and harnesses around their waists, they however take little notice of the view as they go about manoeuvring two gondolas hanging from either side of the arm of a huge crane which is riveted to the the floor.
The crane's arm extends in opposite directions out of the room and into the open, to dangle the two gondolas more than 400 metres above the ground.
"I may not have much education, but I definitely work in high places," quips Shahriman, a 26-year-old Form Four dropout who hails from Kelantan.
With 65,000 sq metres of stainless steel cladding and 77,000 sq metres of vision glass, the external maintenance of the 452m-tall towers - designed by Cesar Pelli & Associates of the US - must be a nightmare of a job.
Yet, the total of 32,000 glass panes, from pavement to peak, surely represent the pinnacle of the window-cleaning business, the contracts for which have gone to Rotol AMS Bumi Technologies Sdn Bhd for Tower 1, and RM Top Holdings Sdn Bhd for Tower 2.
Bakhtiar and Shahriman, employees of RM Top, work in a four-man team, two to a gondola. They have with them three pails of water and one of detergent, a squeegee and a wiper each, and curiously, pieces of "Good Morning" towels.
Between them, they clean 50 "curtain wall units" a day, Bakhtiar says, and are paid RM10 per unit, or RM250 each for a day's work.
Reasonable remuneration? Well, the hazards aside, one unit comprises two stainless steel sunshades (also called teardrops), one laminated vision glass and painted frame, two stainless steel bullnoses, one ceramic frit spandrel glass, one Sheffield linen-finished stainless steel panel, eight PVDF painted support brackets, structural silicone, glazing gasket and a louvre. Yes, all have to be hand-cleaned.
Then again, it's a steady job. There are 14,873 wall units per tower, not including the 56 units on each pinnacle, 302 units at the Sky Bridge and support columns, and 950 units at the podium facade.
If getting on a swaying gondola high above the city frazzles you, banish all thoughts about trying out for Bakhtiar's job.
Twice a year, he scales the pinnacle of Tower 2 and abseils 73.9m down to its base. A four-sided stainless steel spire, a stainless steel ball ring and 144 units of Sheffield linen-finished stainless steel make up each of the twin needle points that pierce the sky.
There is no gondola from which to clean them.
"Kita abseil," Bakhtiar tells intrepid photographer May, who has joined him and Shahriman in the gondola, hanging from the 85th floor.
There are altogether 11 gondolas permanently stationed at the two towers, five at Tower 1 and six at Tower 2. Besides the two in use this morning, the others at Tower 2 are located at the 44th floor (one unit), 40th floor (one unit each at the "Under Sky Bridge" and "Below Sky Bridge") and one at 43th floor ("Sky Bridge top").
It's by no means "kacang" (peanuts), as Achenese Bakhtiar pushes the envelop on the berani mati (dare to die) attitude.
In any case, his wife and child back home in Indonesia are depending on him.
Bakhtiar says he accesses the base of the pinnacle via a ladder from the 88th floor. He climbs a cat ladder which takes him to the top, where he will secure a rope to a bullring from which to abseil down.
"Pertama kali? Tu lapan tahun dulu, (First time? It was eight years ago).
"Takut kak, tapi apa boleh buat, kerja saya. Company bagi training (Scared, but what to do, it's my job. Company gave training)," he says, laughing.
"I used to work with a jeweler in Kelantan but when I came to KL, I applied for a job to wash windows, only I didn't know I was to wash the windows of the KLCC towers," Shahriman joins in.
"We cover eight floors a day," he says as he suds the glass pane with his squeegee, rinses it with clean water and wipes it dry before going on to work on the panels.
Building manager KLCC Urus Harta Sdn Bhd is very strict on how the curtain wall units are cleaned. "We are very specific as to what they use in the cleaning process and how they do it," says Mohd Ghazali Mohd Rashid, the operation and maintenance executive of Tower 1 and Special Areas.
The two contractors are given a detailed list of dos and don'ts. All surfaces are to be washed with a neutral detergent and scrubbed with a soft 3M nylon pad. Scrubbing must be done in the direction of the grain of the surfaces, which is vertical. Drying is with soft lint-free cloth (which explains the "Good Morning" towels).
The cleaners have also to remove excess silicone glue or gum on the glass surface, if any, with scrapers. They also undertake inspection of the curtain wall units and have to report all abnormalities to the building manager.
The towers' glass panes are not "self-cleaning". Some skyscrapers elsewhere use panes that have a special coating to absorb sun's ultra-violet rays for the purpose of detaching dirt from the surface, which is then washed away, by rain.
Ghazali says the towers' glass panes are manufactured by Malaysian Sheet Glass and are of varying thicknesses.
Each tower takes five months to clean, which is undertaken twice a year.
Cleaning hours are from 7am to 11pm for the towers, and 7am to 6pm for the
skybridge and columns, the Suria KLCC links, and the podium. That for the frontage area is from 10pm to 6am.
The hot sun is not a problem but when it rains or if winds build up, the KLCC Urus Harta safety officers and RM Top supervisor have to decide if a stop-work order will be issued. The contractors, who have been given a work schedule for up to April 2007, also must ensure that the equipment used are approved, and constantly checked. Obviously, no one takes safety for granted in the business.
For this visit to the 88th floor, the KLCC Urus Harta safety officers and a member of its emergency response team were present all the time.
We also had to attend a 45-minute safety briefing the day before which covered emergency evacuation procedures. Those contracted to work in the KLCC premises have to attend the same compulsory briefing every six months.
The emergency procedures allow for the two towers to be evacuated within 31 minutes. It takes only about 90 seconds by the utility lift to get from P1 (Parking Level 1 at the Suria KLCC side) - where the building manager of Petronas Twin Tower 2, Raj Dorairajah, has his office - to the top of the tower.
The cables for the gondolas on the 88th floor of both Tower 1 and Tower 2 are long enough to lower them down to the ground, but Raj says that this mode of transportation has never been used to date.

Out of the Trenches

FOR about a year after assuming the helm at Bates Malaysia, Ahmad Shukri Rifaie kept a very low profile. He cocooned himself in his Level 11 office at Menara IGB in Kuala Lumpur.
Yes, it was a difficult period - not just for his company, but for the whole industry, and globally. It was 2003.
But the man wasn't in hiding. As uncertain as things were with the Cordiant Communications Group having just been taken over by WPP, Shukri was hard at work charting and preparing Bates Malaysia for its emergence into a new era.
Bates Worldwide was the main brand in the Cordiant Group, and rumours were rife that its Asian operations would be wound down, like WPP had done with Bates in the US and Europe.
But happily WPP, the world's largest marketing and communications services group, has since decided that Bates Asia - which Bates Malaysia comes under - would continue to operate as a WPP-owned stand-alone regional agency.
Bates Asia is now being re-launched, seemingly with a different focus, if its new logo featuring grains of rice, the region's staple food, is anything to go by.
Bates Malaysia has taken this one step further, by complementing it with icons of nasi lemak to give a distinctly local flavour to the image.
At the back of Shukri's calling card are five tiny boxes lined up to feature each stage of the nasi lemak preparation process: the nasi lemak in a wooden steamer; the rice being spooned on to a wrapper; addition of condiments; the wrapper being folded; and finally the familiar pyramid-shaped packed product ready to be served.
"This, in five tiny boxes, is what Bates Malaysia is all about. We understand the importance of providing relevant and insightful work. We believe in addressing micro segments of a market instead of cloning a cure-all global solution.
"Our new positioning will appeal to clients who are looking for the best local solutions with strong, world class insight and communications skills.
Shukri was appointed chief executive officer of Bates Malaysia in January 2003, 16 months after he joined the company as director of client services. The office environment, with its emphatically Balinese resort feel, looks inviting.
"This is not my doing. It was already like this when I joined," Shukri pre-empts the question as he eases into a rattan armchair.
"My former superior felt that since we spend so much time in the office, it's only right that we make the environment as pleasant as possible. Furthermore, we are in the advertising industry: we are the creative people - we dare to be different."
That seems to be the central philosophy of this 45-year-old advertising man who has spent almost half his life servicing clients, starting with his days as an account executive with the then PTM Thompson Advertising Sdn Bhd.
Joining PTM Thompson-the country's biggest advertising agency then – was actually what he had hoped for when he graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in Mass Communications (majoring in advertising) from Universiti Teknologi Mara (UiTM) in 1983.
PTM Thompson, he says, gave him very good exposure. He was in the team responsible for the re-design and relaunch of Malaysia Airlines' corporate image and logo. His brief also included Tourism Malaysia, Nestle Malaysia and McDonnell Douglas Inc.
Six years later, he moved to Bozell Sdn Bhd as senior account executive responsible for, among others, Shell Malaysia, MUI Bank, Sunkist Growers Inc and India's tourism board.
This time he stayed only a year, then moved on to McCann-Erickson – a company that employs some 6,000 people worldwide - and in the next 12 years worked his way up from account manager, account director, to senior account director and finally group director in charge of four account directors who collectively managed jobs worth over RM50 million in advertising expenditure.
His tasks then included developing market and communications strategies,
as well as designing and implementing programmes for clients.
Shukri apparently performed very well, for in 1995 he was described as a
rising star in the industry by Hong Kong-based MEDIA Magazine. He was
also in the 50-member McCann-Erickson Worldwide Chairman Circle, a scheme
which provided high potential employees with special recognition as well
as career attention and development.
It was not surprising, therefore, that the company would sponsor his
participation in Princeton University's Leadership Development Programme
in New York.
So why did he leave the company for Bates Malaysia?
"After 12 years, it wasn't challenging anymore. I didn't think I could achieve what I wanted to do if I continued with McCann.
"Don't get me wrong. I wasn't hard up for the chief executive's post. In fact, I joined Bates Malaysia as director of client services. I was simply no longer enjoying what I was doing (at McCann)."
However, memories of his time at McCann are fond ones, especially during the time when he was handling Levi Strauss (M) Sdn Bhd and Coca-Cola Far East Ltd, two of the agency's top accounts.
For Levi's, Shukri revived the "501" brand and so successful was the campaign that the client achieved its four-year targets within eight months of its new image launch. This was despite a ruling by RTM back in 1992 that didn't allow denim blue jeans to be promoted on national television.
"We wanted someone who was `universal', someone who had nationwide acceptance among all the races. We saw that in (singer) Zainal Abidin. He was our talent and we used his songs for the commercial. If you recall, Zainal was in black jeans.
"Following that commercial, Levi's 501 black jeans were selling like hot cakes."
It was not unexpected, then, that when he moved to Bates Malaysia, Levi Strauss asked to follow.
"I didn't ask them. In fact, I didn't broach the subject with them at all. They asked me."
As for Coca-Cola, Shukri was responsible for the company's international television ommercial in 1998, which was created for airing during the fasting month of Ramadan.
"We (McCann-Erickson Malaysia) were up against an advertising agency from United Arab Emirates for the job. I went to Istanbul and Jakarta while another team went to Cairo and Bahrain to research similarities among Muslims around the world in breaking fast. We then put together a commercial called Charity and presented it to Coca-Cola at its headquarters in Atlanta."
It was aired in 20 Islamic countries including Malaysia, Indonesia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, the UAE, Turkey, Egypt, Lebanon and Morocco.
In the commercial, a young boy and his mother go to an orphanage bearing gifts; the mother has with her a rug and a basket of food while the boy carries a bottle of Coca-Cola. The boy makes friends and plays football with some of the orphans. Later, the boy scampers back to the orphanage to break fast and share the Coca-Cola with his newfound friends.
The commercial ends with a tagline "Dengan Tulus Ikhlas. Pastinya Coca-Cola (Always in good spirit. Always Coca-Cola)".
Still, Shukri says he and his Malaysian colleagues are frequently viewed in somewhat less than good light by prospective international clients. "Some think that locals don't have the creative capability to bring a brand to the international level, especially those `in your face' type of clients. Most of the time, we just have to hang in there."
Shukri doesn't see anything special in the way he handles his clients. He doesn't practise what he calls the "conventional way" of taking care of clients; which is to say, he doesn't do pubs or karaokes.
"Mostly, I just meet them over lunch. I keep my relationship with clients at a professional level. There is this understanding between us."
His good looks could easily land him jobs as a "talent" and in fact he has turned down several offers. "I work better behind the scenes, not in one."
On his university days, he says it was a matter of elimination when it came to deciding on a major.
"There were four majors to choose from: journalism, broadcasting, public relations and advertising.
"I struck out journalism because my English wasn't that good. I didn't choose broadcasting because back then, there was only RTM and so the job prospects were limited. As for PR, I thought it was only for beautiful girls," he laughs.
"So that left advertising," says Shukri, who was nicknamed Panjang by college mates because of his 186cm frame.
Today, this Kampung Bukit Bayan Lepas lad is understood to be one of only two Malays heading an international advertising agency in Malaysia. The other is Khairudin Rahim of Lowe & Partners Sdn Bhd.
Shukri says Bates Malaysia is ready to move forward, having put behind it the takeover exercise.
"When I joined the company, we were facing SARs and the Iraq war. I was facing the same issues as other CEOs in the advertising industry but I also had to handle the uncertainties associated with the takeover.
"It wasn't easy but I was confident enough not to start exploring other options. People said I was on a sinking ship but I didn't bail out. None of my people bailed out on me too.
"Yes, we lost some business to companies within the WWP group but we're still OK," says the father of daughter Nauwar, 11, and son Ahmad Haikal, 8. His wife is University Malaya language lecturer Dr Kamila Ghazali.
In 2002, Bates was positioned sixth in Malaysia in terms of total revenue. With over 85 employees, Bates Malaysia offers a full service discipline covering integrated marketing communications programmes, strategic planning, account management, and creative, specialised design as well as production and media services.
When he joined the company, apart from Levi Strauss, he also landed Dockers Khakis, Parkson Corporation, F & N Sarsi and BenQ Marketing Services as clients.
"Our new corporate identity represents the new optimism and renewed focus on Malaysia." says Shukri. "Spread the word, we are here to stay."

Expedition: Antartica

DR Azhar Hussin took so long to abseil down the 130m cliff-face that the South African Army and Air Force boys thought there had been a mishap. But the geologist was only taking his time; maybe lost track of it a little, even.
"It was my chance to study the rocks up close and I wasn't going to blow that away," he chuckles.
He made frequent stops along the way to photograph the surface of the rocks using his Canon A300 digital camera.
"It showed different things at different heights. Getting that close to a specimen allowed us to be conclusive in our findings."
It was Azhar's first stab at abseiling at that height, in fact, and that he chose to do so, of all places, in Antarctica, tells a lot about the man and his studies.
The Universiti Malaya associate professor actually even elected to be the first in the party to go down the cliff. "They (the Army and Air Force personnel) were arguing among themselves on who should go first. So I volunteered. It was great. The view all the way down was simply astonishing."
Azhar was one of 63 participants in the IV South African National Antarctica Expedition (SANAE). The only other Malaysian in the expedition was Amirrudin Ahmad, a fisheries lecturer with the University College of Science and Technology (Kustem). Their trip was sponsored by Akademi Sains Malaysia.
For his studies while at the icy bottom of the world, Azhar focused on the geographical links and similarities between Asia and Antarctica. Geologists have determined that the two continents were a single land mass about 150 million years ago.
In all, he and Amirrudin spent 42 days in Antarctica - from December 28, 2003 to February 7, 2004 - easily establishing a record for the longest stay by Malaysians on the icy continent.
During the time, Azhar got to accomplish quite a lot, with the weather being reasonably cooperative. The SANAE research station is located at Queen Maud Land, not quite the most touristy part of the continent. The six-year-old, very modern station can accommodate about 120 people, with indoor temperature maintained at a pleasant 18 degrees Celsius compared to -20 degrees Celsius outside.
Apart from abseiling, participants were given quick instructions on snowboarding, skiing and tobogganing. These were conducted in the hangar at the base camp until weather conditions allowed the activities to be taken outside. Hiking and crevassing were also organised.
Azhar was determined from the outset that nothing would stop him from carrying out his studies. So he also took lessons on operating the Skidoo, a motorised toboggan.
"Riding a bike is easy, but operating the Skidoo and on different terrain from area to area is another thing altogether. Still, I needed to use it to do the field work."
The Skidoo is fast and versatile but the rider is exposed to the elements. A crosswind of just 15 knots will push the temperature below –40 degrees Celsius.
"It's bitingly cold, the side of the face to the wind is numbed and can quickly get frost-bitten. You also lose vision even with the snow visor on."
Azhar was aware of the importance of being physically fit for the expedition, and had prepared for it. But only when he took his first walk outside the base camp did he realise how physically challenging it would be.
"I started with morning walks of up to just 1.5km, rest and then head back to camp. I gradually increased the distance to 15km and took on the undulating terrain little by little, under various weather conditions, with short rests in between."
At the research station, recreational activities include table tennis and pool or snooker in the games room. There are also two television lounges with a video library of some 500 titles, most of which are movies of the 1980s and 1990s.
"There is a 16mm projector as well, which screens movies from the 1940s to the 1960s, and whenever these movies are screened, popcorns are made available like in the old theatres. Quaint and fun," he says.
In the field, Azhar and his field operator Rick Lewis have only their RM25,000 tent for shelter. It can withstand cold of up to -70 degrees Celsius and winds up to 110 knots. It takes an hour to pitch it.
Wherever they set up tent, Azhar and Lewis have to be within radio communication with SANAE, as required by search and rescue procedures. "We have to report on the radio at least twice a day, at 8am and 8pm. As long as any team is away from the base camp, the air force is on standby for SAR operation."
On such forays, he wakes up at 4.30am for breakfast (there is no night in the Austral summer) and starts travelling at 5am. He returns only when fuel is low or when it's time to report to the base camp on radio.
One thing that Azhar hates is being cooped up at the base camp or in a tent when a snowstorm hits. "That's the most boring time. We cannot go out. Visibility is bad. You have to keep yourself occupied. Out in the field, temperatures were about -25 degrees Celsius and we had winds of 60 knots."
Food was not a problem as the base camp had a good chef. And before leaving Cape Town, Lewis had bought some Asian food for Azhar and Amir too.Azhar turned chef twice at the research station, cooking dinner comprising chicken curry with rice, beef in soya sauce, satay and sambal kacang. On each occasion, after dinner he made presentations - the first on Malaysian islands, and the other his findings in Antarctica.
"I'm used to cooking for myself," says the 50-year-old adventurer-academic, "so whipping up the dishes was not a problem."
The expedition team brought enough supplies of fresh meat and vegetables for themselves and the station's take-over and "year" teams. There is also enough canned food to last for two years, provided the stock is managed properly with the items being consumed in order of shelf-life.
Or they could dig up areas at former campsites where chances are they would find food supplies that were left behind.
"When we set up our tent at a site used by previous scientists, Lewis found meat dated as far back as 1948-49 and he ate it. It was still good. Antarctica is one giant refrigerator. Fresh produce does not have a shelf-life there."
Participants on the expedition are also given duties to ensure smooth operation of the research station. A skivvy duty means participants, in a group of six, will have to undertake menial duties such as cleaning the corridors, toilets, and doing the laundry... once in six days.
And there is the "smelly" duty, which is not what one might think it is, but only means melting snow and ice into water.
A group of six would shovel snow and ice into the "smelter", located 50 metres from the main research station building.
"Filling up the smelter takes 20-30 minutes. Three different groups are on duty daily to ensure that there is sufficient water supply for everybody. Each participant is on smelly duty every second day," Azhar says.
On the supply ship SA Agulhas, when approaching the continent, Azhar and Amir had to go through an initiation ritual as new passengers and crew.
Together with a number of other team members, they were lined up bare-chested on the helideck and made to lie flat on their backs in presenting themselves to "King Neptune", the ship's captain. Various "charges" are read out, with Azhar being found guilty of stowing away on the ship. His sentence was five dips in Antarctic waters.
"Six men, three on each side, lifted me high and dipped me into a large tub of freezing sea water. Then I was covered with eggs and flour!"
Azhar recalls that fortunately the sun was out that day, but still the water temperature was 0 degrees Celsius and the air a couple degrees higher.
Amir was charged with illegal fishing and received similar treatment. "All in all, it was the best fun we had on the ship and the evening was spent having a braai (barbecue)."
And a birthday party Antarctica-style?
A snowbath! A bath tub-like hole is dug in the snow and at midnight, the birthday boy strips to his underwear and lie himself down in the hole while others heap snow on him.
"Once he is buried, they pop a bottle of wine and offer the birthday boy a drink. He downs that to keep warm, and then is pulled up, and everybody goes back indoors for the party proper."
In Antartica, you are basically only allowed to leave footprints. Waste, even human waste, is taken back to the ship. "There is an environmental officer on each expedition and his job is to make sure that such procedures are observed. They are very particular about this (environment)."
And the first thing he did when he arrived back in Cape Town? "Look for a bank. That's civilisation for you."
Depending on funding, Azhar is planning to go back to the continent in December. The South African authorities have indicated interest in undertaking joint research with Malaysia on the new area that Azhar had charted.