During Eid ul Adha, our family gathered at our village, a time for tradition and connection. Over breakfast, my knowledge-holder uncle, a retired land officer with vast experience, brought up a significant matter: our Matriarch’s wish to sell a 7-acre parcel of land. Her desire was to secure funds to contribute to the family’s well-being and to take on the responsibility of maintaining our beloved village home. This land, a visible landmark on a hill several kilometers from our house, became the focus of a long and fascinating discussion. My uncle explained the intricacies of the land’s ownership and proposed an ideal solution: selling it to someone inside the family. This approach, offering a generous price for internal family, would allow our Matriarch to achieve her goal while ensuring the land remained a family asset. My uncle further explained the inherent value of a palm oil estate, highlighting its potential to be a significant source of income. He shared that an acre of mature palm oil land can potentially generate a tonne of fresh fruit branch per month! It was a revelation for many, sparking a shared understanding of this intricate family issue.
That day, the conversation lingered in my mind. Could I be the one to buy the land? Living abroad presented a challenge – I’d need a trusted local manager. After several days of deep discussion with various family members, one close relative generously agreed to step into that role. Two weeks later, driven by a desire for a deeper understanding, I visited my uncle. In true Malay hospitality, our conversation began with delicious food and tea before delving into the details. He laid out the complexities: outdated papers from the land office, an old map showing the scattered lots, and the informal, yet dedicated, care of ‘The Existing Caretaker’, an extended family member who had overseen the palm oil estate for years. He also showed us an expired agreement between the Caretaker and our Matriarch, which had officially lapsed four years ago. This meant that for four years, the land had been managed purely unofficially.
The prospect of meeting the Caretaker, however, was uncertain. The relationship had become strained; he hadn’t paid the lease fee to our Matriarch for several months. Despite this, when we finally met him, he proved to be incredibly kind and possessed a pleasant demeanor. He gave us a comprehensive tour of the palm oil estate, openly sharing his deep knowledge of its operations and his understanding of the land boundaries. It was immediately clear there wassignificant potential; despite the need for further bush clearing to make it truly manageable, palm oil fruits were visible, a promising sign of what lay beneath the current disarray.
His management, while invaluable, had always been an informal arrangement with our Matriarch. This initial immersion gave me a clearer picture of the land’s condition and its current status. Now, the decision rests with me: to accept my family’s offer to buy the land at a generous price. The risk, however, is clear. Without proper formal management, the true costs and profitability of the land are unknown. There’s a real possibility it could become a liability. Yet, time is pressing. Our Matriarch is getting older, and her wish weighs heavily. I cannot let this situation remain unresolved. This informal arrangement served its purpose for a time, but as the 9 Acre Revival Project moves towards a more ambitious, systematic approach to optimizing the land’s potential, a more formal and structured management framework is clearly necessary to unravel these complexities and unlock the land’s true potential.
