The writer (left) visited a rubber smallholding in Dalat, Vietnam, in 2004. Photo: Yeo Teng Tay
In the olden days, I was known as Ah Hoe. I was born in the rural farming area of Tanjong Minyak, Melaka.
My father was a rubber smallholder, a taxi driver, and later a one-ton lorry driver, until a road accident in 1972 shattered his windscreen. He had nine children – four boys and five girls.
As my parents were involved in rubber cultivation, I want to describe my life through the three phases of rubber cultivation, starting from the early 1960s and extending into the 2020s.
Before the 1960s, my grandfather gifted my parents a piece of swampy land – four lots totaling 12 acres (4.85ha). That land was eventually sold in the 1990s for 30 cents per square foot after my father became unemployed following the tragic loss of my eldest brother in a road accident in January 1975.
Before my father became a taxi driver in the early 1950s, he cleared jungles to earn a living, sometimes camping for months with workers to clear large areas using only parang and chainsaws. He was renowned for his hard work, and one landowner was so impressed that he offered to sell my father a piece of jungle land in Ayer Salak, Melaka, for just $200 at the time.
Both my parents firmly believed that land was a valuable asset. With this mindset, my mother using her hard-earned savings from rubber sales, bought another piece of land from an Ang Kim Swee in 1971, putting it in my and my eldest brother’s names.
(From left) The writer's uncle, father Yeo Boon Chai and mother Chan Chew Watt.
We planted rubber on the first piece of land, a gift from my grandmother, as well as on the hilly jungle land in Ayer Salak. Everyone in the family was involved in the rubber replanting process. We handled everything from weeding with cangkul, manuring, and controlling termite and white root disease, to sourcing tappers and managing the maintenance of the rubber holdings.
Rubber tapping typically began at 5am when the cool air allowed the trees to exude latex. The latex was collected by midday, processed into crepe rubber sheets, and then hung in a smokehouse for drying.
In addition to rubber cultivation, my parents raised pigs, goats, buffaloes and cows. My siblings and I helped with weeding and foraging for yam leaves and banana saplings, which we chopped and cooked to feed the pigs. Livestock prices were excellent in those days, providing additional income.
The writer (standing, fifth from left) with other family members at the wedding of his sister Siew Hong and brother-in-law Looy Pok Loh. Photo: Nancy Looy
My father believed in the importance of education. Despite our rural lifestyle, he made sure all his children attended English-medium school in downtown Melaka. We lived far from the main roads, so we cycled to Cheng (now a thriving suburb) to catch the bus. My mother woke us up at 5am, and my eldest sister prepared fried rice and black coffee for breakfast. Each of us received 20 cents for lunch.
My father was equally strict about our school performance. If he saw a poor report card, we’d get a caning on the spot.
Back then, we had no electricity, and at night, I was responsible for lighting the kerosene gas lamps so my siblings could study. After school, we often helped our father with rubber-related tasks, like buying budded rubber stumps or grafted seedlings to replace dead plants, and carrying bags of fertiliser to the trees. This exposure fostered my deep love for plants and inspired my passion for agriculture.
After I had completed the OSC (Overseas Cambridge School Certificate) and MCE (Malaysian Certificate of Education) exams in 1968, my father encouraged me to study agriculture at Serdang College of Agriculture. Although I failed to get admission on my first attempt in 1969, I was successful in 1971.
The principal, the late Dr Rashdan Hj Baba, noticed my proficiency in Malay, which helped me pass the interview. In those days, few Chinese students dared to sit for the challenging Malay paper, but I took the risk and earned a credit, which also landed me a temporary teaching position at Woo Seg Hwa Secondary School (SMJK Seg Hwa) in Segamat, Johor, in early 1971.
Our university education was financed using the income from our rubber trees.
During the second phase of rubber cultivation (1990s to 2015), most smallholders sold latex in liquid form or as cup lumps (sekerap), where formic acid was added to coagulate the latex.
At this stage, my elderly parents managed the rubber holdings, with my assistance whenever I was on leave. Income from rubber continued to support our family’s financial needs, including the education of my younger siblings.
In the third phase (2015 onwards), Risda (Rubber Industry Smallholders Development Authority) recommended new precocious clones, which were bred for both timber and latex yield. I was closely involved in planting and maintaining these crops.
Having experienced three generations of rubber cultivation, it’s unlikely that we – the third generation – will live to see the fourth continue this work. Due to the strenuous labour and poor diet in the past, my parents and two sisters have passed away. They left behind a valuable legacy: Our inherited agricultural land and a work ethic for future generations to cherish.
This story of perseverance and dedication to the land serves as a reminder to my descendants that our family's agricultural legacy is built on hard work and sacrifice. They must always remember and be grateful for the foundations laid by those who came before them.
