THE sharp bite in pineapples doesn’t make it my fruit of choice. Except when it’s in my drink of choice. Malibu with pineapple juice. So, entering a pineapple farm in an obscure town like Parit Sikom in Pontian, Johor, I’m immediately regretting that my trusty bottle of Malibu isn’t packed in my bag, as with all my other “important-stuff-I-bring-whenever-I-go-on-crazy-road trips”.
The giant pineapple effigy with sunglasses that greets me when we halt at the farm’s entrance does nothing to quell my sense of regret. No Malibu, plenty of pineapples — on a bright sunny day when I could use a real drink. Oh, the irony.
Rows of everything that could possibly be made with pineapple greet us in a makeshift shed as soon as we enter the gates of Nictar Farm, a swathe of serendipity tucked away in the middle of the country’s oldest pineapple real estate, where locally harvested pineapples are cultivated, showcased and consumed.
Tarts, cookies, juices, jams and sauces are displayed, begging for our attention (and that of our wallets’ as well). As we walk further in, we’re greeted with spikes of thousands of pineapple plants merging into a grey-green fog over the horizon. Peeking out among the green plant spikes are pineapples, some golden brown, others with varying degrees of green among the golden berry clusters.
PINEAPPLE REAL ESTATE
The word pineapple brings to mind luaus and beach holidays. After all, it’s commonly depicted as an “exotic” tropical island fruit. Pineapple or its scientific name Ananas comosus, is a type of tropical plant believed to have originated from the Eastern parts of South America.
It’s hard to discount Johor’s pineapple connection when there’s a neighbouring town in the Pontian district close to Parit Sikom that’s literally called Pineapple Town (Pekan Nenas). “Pekan Nenas isn’t the pineapple hub despite its name. Parit Sikom is!” declares the affable owner of Nictar Farm, Lim Yong Wah — or Haleem — as he’s fondly called by the villagers in this town.
He’s not wrong. The district of Pontian’s been traditionally known for its pineapple cultivation since the 1940s, making it the oldest pineapple real estate in the country. During the rubber boom of the early 1900s, pineapples played an important role as a cash crop. Compatible for double-cropping, pineapples helped sustain estate owners financially since rubber trees took at least five years to mature.
The fortunes of pineapple and rubber in the early 20th century intertwined, and many Singaporean pioneering businessmen made their fortunes planting pineapples, including “Pineapple King” Lee Kong Chian, the founder of the pineapple-produce giants, Lee Pineapple, which continues to be a flourishing business today.
“Their plantation is over there,” says Lim pointing out to the neighbouring plot in the far horizons beyond his own crop. “The fact that one of the most historical and largest plantation is in Parit Sikom speaks volumes of its long tradition of pineapple cultivation.”
FROM BUSINESSMAN TO FARMER
The 49-year-old plantation owner hadn’t planned on joining the same trade at the beginning. “I was trading in hardware when the financial crisis struck in 1997. The common business practice then was to give credit to our customers, which eventually resulted in bad debts,” he recalls candidly, pointing out that it led him to do some serious soul-searching on moving forward and starting afresh.
“I longed to return to my village life,” he recalls, telling me that hailing from New Village, Muar got him reminiscing about his childhood in the midst of rubber, oil palm and pineapple plantations. “It’s really not about moving towards a completely new direction, but rather it felt as though I was coming home,” he says, adding with a chuckle: “Somewhere buried beneath the businessman I became, was a farmer waiting to get out!”
Unleashing his inner-farmer, Lim and his partners purchased land where they decided to cultivate not pineapples initially, but bees! “We studied the market and found that good quality honey was hard to come by,” he recalls, saying that they went ahead to purchase a total of 10 apiaries (bee yards) comprising Italian Bees or Apis mellifera ligustica.
Back in the heady days of beekeeping, they planted pineapples to supplement the buzzing business, he shares. The bees produced monofloral honey with nectar obtained from the pineapples, resulting in honey that wasn’t just top-grade but similar in taste to the tangy fruit. However, it wasn’t enough to ensure the kind of payoff they were hoping. “The market’s difficult to penetrate because top quality honey has to compete with the lower-grade ones that were sold. It’s difficult to tell them apart, invariably spoiling the entire market,” he recounts soberly.
Undeterred, they shifted their focus to pineapples instead. It was a sweet decision, easy to make — they would grow pineapples and help steer the farm into the future. “The name Nictar referred to the original beekeeping business but when we switched to pineapples, we still kept the name. It’s still an apt name. After all, our fruits are just as sweet!” he remarks, grinning.
SWEETNESS OF LABOUR
Sweetness, however, comes with a price. As anyone who’s ever carried a viciously spiky pineapple home from the shops can testify, the pineapple isn’t an easy fruit to handle. There’s nothing inherently bad about pineapples as a crop, but when cultivated on an industrial scale, they’re arduous to grow and punishing to handle.
He explains that in order to make way for this intensive cultivation, the land has to be cleared of all other trees or vegetation that might get in the way of planting and picking. Unlike other plantations, where workers get some shade and cover from overhead trees, pineapple pickers and planters are exposed to the elements. Most of the time they’re bent double or crouched over the low, spiky pineapple plants when they work.
“It is labour-intensive,” admits Lim, pointing out that workers are hard to come by as the weeding and harvesting are usually done under a blazing sun. The 526.1 hectares require constant monitoring to ensure the farm has a crop to harvest all year-round. It’s not easy work — Lim chips in to do some of the work himself to keep overheads low.
“I’m a smart worker. I work early mornings before it gets hot and then go back again during the cooler evenings to continue!” he admits with a chuckle. Pineapples are picked by hand, but he says he loves the work. “I enjoy this life very much!”
However, Lim confides that he’s not interested in competing with the bigger players out there. With manpower issues always a challenge, it’s not easy scaling up the farm “... so we decided to do something different instead.”
So Nictar Farm opened their doors to the public, educating them on the goodness of pineapples and promoting a holistic approach in cultivating the fruits. “We did a lot of research and decided that ethical farming and providing a place for people to experience the full cycle of planting and harvesting were the way to go,” he explains.
Smiling, he continues: “Of course, there’s a perfect storm of conditions going on: economic downturn, a mistrust of the food industry, environmental and health concerns. This is why our produce is free from preservatives, additives, colouring and artificial flavours. Eventually, we built a name for ourselves and a growing customer base.”
Today, Nictar Farm is open to a steady stream of visitors eager to learn all about pineapple cultivation first-hand from the farmer himself, while sampling and buying the produce from the farm.
PINEAPPLES GALORE
The soil is springy under our feet (peat soil in which pineapples thrive in) when I follow Lim for a tour of his plantation. Enthusiastically, he explains that Nictar farm cultivates four different types of pineapples, namely Morris, N36, MD2 and Josapine varieties.
Which tastes better? I ask. He laughs and assures me that they’re all good. A pause and then he asks: “Do you want to eat pineapple?”
I’m not looking forward to it. But Lim insists, going into the prickly pineapple plants, armed with a small sharp knife. Then he brings both pineapple and reluctant pineapple-eater back to the shed. As he cuts at the skin with easy practiced motions, he waxes lyrical about the fruit’s goodness.
Pineapples, he lectures, contain a rare proteolytic enzyme called bromelain, primarily associated with breaking down complex proteins. Nutritionists would cluck with approval, recommending it not only as a rich source of vitamins and micronutrients, but also for the enzymes, known to promote healing and reduce inflammation.
The piece he offers me is sweet with a fragrance that fills your mouth. Strangely enough, there’s none of that sharp, cutting sensation which unfortunately coloured my past pineapple-eating experience. The fruit’s fibrous flesh is golden and has a vibrant tropical flavour that balances the tastes of sweet and tart.
His eyes flashing with pride, Lim explains that the fruit is more aromatic and less tart because “...it’s the taste of sun-ripened pineapples.” Most farmers, he adds, harvest their pineapples in 12 months or less while he waits for a full 16 months before harvesting. “They harvest early to ensure a longer-lasting fruit because sun-ripened pineapples can only last a few days before spoiling,” he explains, adding that early harvesting causes the fruit to taste more acidic than sweet.
His eyes earnest, Lim concludes candidly: “It’s not difficult planting pineapples. Anyone can grow them. But you’ve got to be willing to get out there in the fields to produce the best kind. As you can see, pineapples thrive under your care. It’s the passion that brings out the sweetness of the fruit.”
As I make my way out to our car, parked by the roadside, I make a promise to myself. Next time, I won’t forget my bottle of Malibu. Forget a beach holiday; I’ll be sitting out here on a deck chair with a drink in hand, cheering Lim and his pineapples on.
Nictar Farm
Jalan Parit Sikom, 82100 Ayer Baloi, Pontian, Johor
Contact : +6012-707 2589