Jungle Brother
He gave his life to the land, and - in establishing a protected nature reserve dedicated to preserving the indigenous trees of Malaysia - has left a legacy for the far future
Geoffrey Cooper lived and died in the jungle he loved.
Back in 2010, I was living in Kuala Lumpur when I was introduced at a party to a man they called ‘Farmer Geoff’. We related our shared stories of growing up in Asia, me in British Hong Kong, and him on a plantation in Perak, the Malaysian state north of KL. He recalled his easy-going free range childhood, spent running around the palm trees and between the white-washed bungalows, mixing with the Malay and Tamil staff. At some point, as was frequently the case in those days, he had been sent to the UK to attend boarding school. “When I eventually came home to the plantation, our helper was very upset I’d completely forgotten how to speak Malay," I remember him saying.
As an adult, he spent a decade or so growing tobacco in Zimbabwe and South Africa, before moving back to Malaysia in the mid-1990s to work for his stepfather at United Plantations, and soon became General Manager and Estates Director of their 10,000 hectare (100 square kilometers) plantation in Manjung, Perak, where he spent the next three decades overseeing the harvest of palm oil. But he also fell in love again with the jungle. In 2002, he met James Kingham, a retired planter with a passion for preserving the indigenous plants of the Malay peninsula, and the two eventually bonded over a shared love for the trees that, ironically, their profession had helped to chop down.
Six years later, having agreed on the need to preserve the unique vegetation of the jungle, Geoffrey presented Kingham with 20 hectares carved out of his plantation, which eventually became the Cooper-Kingham Reserve. As well as a slice of nature, representing how the jungle once looked before commercialization, the area also serves as a gene bank for endangered jungle plants. However the early days weren't easy, as Geoffrey recalled in a 2012 interview with Malaysian newspaper The Star.
“All the good soil had been taken and this was a very degraded area. We tried to grow small coconuts. We couldn’t. With just the subsoil left we were able to restore the area and now timber trees like meranti are thriving here. With information from James, we were able to grow a lot of food chain trees so that the birds will have food, shelter and a nesting environment”
Following our chance encounter at the party in KL, I had made friends with Geoffrey’s wife Farena, who was working in PR, and she invited my wife and I to come and visit them one weekend at the plantation - the couple divided their time between the city and the countryside. Sure enough, a few months later we found ourselves on the highway headed north from Kuala Lumpur, following the signs for Ipoh (no matter where you are in Malaysia, it often feels like all roads lead to Ipoh!). Geoffrey had kindly provided us with a hand drawn map, but we soon found ourselves lost on the small backroads of Perak, and pulled into a petrol station for directions. Given vague guidance, we eventually found ourselves at an indistinct metal gate. Telling the guard we were there to see Geoffrey, he waved us in, and we headed down the long dirt road.
As we drove, the rows of palm trees seemed never ending, and we were still not sure we were in the right place. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, we emerged into a large cleared area, dominated by a huge building adorned by a tall tower. We were met by Geoffrey and Farena at their spacious red-roofed bungalow, part of a cluster of housing for management and workers. After a bite to eat and refreshing drinks, we were introduced to some of their friends who had also come out for the weekend, then Geoffrey came in to say his brothers were arriving, and we should go to meet them. Walking back out to the clearing, I watched the road for the expected dust cloud that would indicate a car was on the way in, but there was nothing. Probably just running late, I thought. Suddenly, Geoffrey called out, “There he is!”. I couldn’t see anything.
Puzzled, I continued watching only to hear a strange noise in the air. Following the group’s gazes, I looked up and saw a small yellow dot rapidly approaching. Squinting into the sun I realized it was a plane, and the large, long field we were standing on the edge of was a runway. The yellow prop plane came closer and closer, and then too close as the pilot flew right over our heads. They swung around again, and landed this time, gently taxiing up to our position. Laughing as they emerged from the plane, it turned out his brothers had come over from the company’s other main plantation, the flight being much quicker than traveling by road. We walked back to the bungalow for a memorable evening of drinks, home-cooked food, music and fantastic company.
(On a side note, as there was no more room in the bungalow, my wife and I were put up in the ‘abandoned’ main building, which had a partially completed library and, once the guard at the front door had gone home, no one else around. Especially after a few drinks, it ended up being one of the spookiest places we have ever stayed in.)
In the morning, we headed round the bungalow for a leisurely brunch, and then spent the rest of the day exploring the plantation, taking bicycles through the palms, riding in the back of a pickup as Geoffrey pointed out the process of palm oil harvesting - my biggest shock was discovering it all came from tiny little berries - and explained the factory, and also his plans to protect part of the plantation as a jungle sanctuary. Most of the workers on site were ethnic Tamil, and so we paid a visit to their temple, the Arulmigu Sri Maha Mariamman. Of course, in multiethnic Malaysia other places of worship weren’t far away, with the Yuk Wong Gong Taoist temple and muslim Masjid Al-Khairiah both within a few kilometres. In the evening we drove to the nearby town of Pantai Remis for dinner, running into many of Geoffrey’s staff at the restaurant, before heading back to the bright lights of KL the next day - sadly, not by plane.
Even all these years later, the memory of that weekend remains fresh. The warm welcome Geoffrey and Farena gave to people who were almost complete strangers; the adventure of exploring the plantation; being buzzed by a plane on a grass runway; and creating memories that were, obviously, meant to last a lifetime. On 24 February this year, I heard the sad news that Geoffrey had passed away while walking on the jungle trails behind his apartment in Kuala Lumpur, one of his favorite places to go hiking.
From what was once barren earth, today the Cooper-Kingham Reserve now resembles natural thick jungle with over 250 diverse species of trees, and an array of wildlife. In that 2012 newspaper interview, the poignant closing words belonged to Geoffrey:
“Planters are the last frontier who are able to do good for the environment. Who else can do it? The people in town have no room, no resources and no land to grow the trees. We here have all the knowhow, resources, manpower and land needed. We all have a shelf life and it is up to the company and directors to push this on to the new generation of planters to take over, when it’s time for me to hang up my boots.”
Rest in peace, jungle brother.
Excellent story. Geoffrey Cooper sounds like he was a wonderful chap and a great visionary.
Fabulous and your visit certainly provided you with a magic moment ! Geoffrey Cooper RIP - sadly there are too few people around like this now.