“The durian is known as the King of Fruits for its bold presence – powerful aroma, rich taste and regal reputation.”
– A descriptive line in ‘Malaysia Traveller‘
LET’S take a trip down memory lane, back to a time when the King of Fruits was enjoyed in the simplest, most joyful way of all, when we were kids in our dear homeland.
For those of us growing up in Sarawak in the 60s and 70s, durians were never about pedigree or prestige.
We did not speak of Musang King, D24, Udang Merah or Black Thorn. Such names would have sounded foreign, even absurd. A durian was simply a durian – judged not by labels but by smell, weight and the quiet confidence of the man holding the parang.
In those days, the durian season arrived not by calendar but by scent. The air itself would change. Long before we saw the fruits, we knew they were there – lying beneath towering trees in kampungs, hidden among fallen leaves and damp earth.
For kampung children, and those like me who regularly visited my kampung friends, this was a season of quiet excitement. I joined my friends in following their elders into orchards or village compounds with a mixture of anticipation and caution, warned repeatedly never to linger under a durian tree.
“Wait for it to fall,” they would say, and we listened, because everyone knew someone who had been struck before.
When the durians were gathered, they were piled casually in baskets or on the ground, their spines still damp with morning dew. There was no hurry, no bargaining frenzy.
Visitors to a kampung were waved over warmly – makan saja, jangan malu – and children hovered nearby, eyes wide, already tasting the sweetness in their minds. No one counted how many we ate. We ate until we could eat no more.
Opening a durian was a small ceremony. An uncle would squat, wedge the fruit between his feet, and with a practised twist of the knife, split it open along its natural seams. The thick husk cracked with a soft thud, releasing a fragrance that filled the space instantly.
Children leaned in, noses wrinkling at first, then smiling. We knew the good ones by colour and texture – creamy yellow flesh, firm yet yielding. But we were also warned, because not every durian was a blessing.
There were “bad” durians – overripe, watery or bitter – and children learned early to be cautious. A segment that looked pale or smelled slightly off was treated with suspicion. Elders would sniff, pinch and taste first, declaring it safe or setting it aside. Even so, part of the adventure was learning discernment, discovering that nature, like life, did not always offer perfection.
We ate with our hands, sitting on wooden steps, under trees, or on the bare earth. Rice was sometimes brought out to balance the richness, and water was drunk from enamel cups.
Durians were not luxury items then; they were gifts of the season, shared freely and remembered fondly.
Fast forward to today. Decades after those carefree kampung days when durians were shared freely among friends and neighbours, the durian landscape in Malaysia has changed dramatically.
These days, consumers are spoilt for choice, with a wide array of varieties such as Musang King, D24, Udang Merah, Black Thorn and several newly branded clones.
Most of these are no longer harvested casually from village trees but cultivated systematically in large-scale durian farms, primarily for commercial purposes.
Commercialisation has also brought new challenges. Unlike the past, durians are no longer free or cheap. Premium varieties can command very high prices, often putting them beyond the reach of ordinary Malaysians.
A durian feast for a family of five can easily break the wallet of an ordinary wage earner. A visit to one of the popular durian outlets in Petaling Jaya can set you back about RM700, and that’s quite a tidy sum. Nothing is free here, unlike those we managed to pick up in the orchards during those memorable durian adventures in Sarawak.
Ironically, this season has seen the opposite problem – a glut of durians due to favourable weather, improved farming practices and expanded acreage. With supply outstripping demand, prices have fallen sharply, placing many growers under financial stress.
I was glad to read a news report on Sunday that the Federal Agricultural Marketing Authority (FAMA) has stepped in to stabilise the market and protect the livelihoods of durian farmers.
FAMA, under the Ministry of Agriculture and Food Security, plays a critical role in managing agricultural marketing and ensuring fair returns for farmers. During periods of oversupply, such as the current durian season, FAMA activates several support mechanisms to prevent prices from collapsing further.
One of the most immediate forms of assistance is direct procurement. FAMA purchases excess durians directly from growers at pre-agreed or stabilised prices.
This provides farmers with assured buyers, reduces wastage of unsold fruits, and helps maintain a minimum income level during periods of depressed market prices. By acting as a buyer of last resort, FAMA absorbs part of the surplus that the open market cannot accommodate.
The current durian glut is a reminder that while modern durian farming has created wealth and global recognition for Malaysia’s King of Fruits, it has also exposed growers to market volatility.
While durians may no longer be freely enjoyed as they once were in kampung days, government support through agencies like FAMA ensures that those who toil to grow them are not left at the mercy of market forces alone.
In doing so, FAMA plays a quiet but crucial role in sustaining Malaysia’s durian industry, balancing the interests of growers, consumers and the national economy.
For those of us who enjoyed so many happy adventures with durians in our childhood, let us give thanks to the One Above for His abundant blessings upon our dear homeland of Sarawak, and for granting us loving families, wonderful neighbours and cherished friends who made those moments so memorable.
DISCLAIMER:
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. He can be reached at sirsiah@gmail.com
