Eric Chan had a solid job writing code for satellites and robots before starting a company that sells the world's smelliest fruit 15 years ago. His family and friends were shocked when he made a career change.
The fruit called durian has long been a beloved part of local cultures in Southeast Asia, where it is grown in abundance. A durian is typically the size of a rugby ball and has a strong smell so strong that it is banned in most hotels. When Mr Chan launched his start-up in his native Malaysia, durians were cheap and often sold from the back of trucks.
Then, the taste for durian spread widely in China.
Last year, durian exports from Southeast Asia to China were valued at $6.7 billion, up twelvefold from $550 million in 2017. China buys nearly all of the world's exported durians, according to United Nations data. By far the biggest exporter is Thailand; Malaysia and Vietnam are the other top sellers.
Today, businesses are growing rapidly – one Thai company plans an initial public offering this year – and some durian farmers have become millionaires. Mr. Chan is one of them. Seven years ago, he sold a controlling share of his company, which specializes in making durian paste for cookies, ice cream and even pizza, for the equivalent of $4.5 million, about 50 times his initial investment.
“Everyone is making good money,” Mr. Chan said of the once-poor durian farmers who live in Raub, a small town 90 minutes from the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur. “They have changed their houses from wood to brick. And they can afford to send their children abroad for university.”
Farmers in Southeast Asian durian plantations say they don't miss anything like China.
The surge in durian exports is a measure of the strength of Chinese consumers in the global economy, even if by other parameters, the mainland economy is struggling. When an increasingly prosperous country of 1.4 billion people gets a taste of something, entire regions of Asia turn to meet the demand.
in Vietnam, State news media Last month, reports suggested farmers were cutting down coffee plantations to make room for durians. The area of durian orchards in Thailand has doubled in the past decade. In Malaysia, forests in the hills outside Raub are being cleared and terraced to make room for plantations that will satisfy China's craving for the fruit.
“I think durian will be the new economic boom for Malaysia,” said the country's agriculture minister, Mohamed Sabu.
With so much money at stake, the race to plant more trees has fuelled tensions. Land disputes have erupted over durian orchards. Some roadside orchards have been cordoned off with coils of razor wire. A sign outside one orchard in Raub read, “Thieves will be prosecuted,” with a picture of handcuffs.
China is not the only buyer. Thailand's durian packing and logistics business has been flooded with Chinese investment. According to Aat Pisanwanich, a Thai expert in international trade, about 70 percent of the durian wholesale and logistics business is already controlled by Chinese interests. At a news conference in May, he said Thailand's own wholesale durian companies “may disappear in the near future”.
Durian is to fruit what truffles are to mushrooms: by the pound, this fruit has become one of the most expensive fruits in the world. Depending on the variety, a durian can sell for anywhere from $10 to hundreds of dollars.
But Chinese demand, which has pushed prices up fifteenfold in the past decade, has dismayed Southeast Asian consumers, who see durian transforming from a fruit growing in abundance in forests and village gardens to a luxury item destined for export.
Countries are exporting a fruit that is integral to their identities and cultures, especially in Malaysia, where it is a unifying national symbol among its many ethnic groups. “God has given us the wish for durian,” said Hishamuddin Rais, a Malaysian film director and political activist.
In Southeast Asia, eating a whole durian, which is too nutritious and filling for most people, is often a social event. The act of opening a durian, which requires a very sharp knife or machete, is celebratory and brings friends together, just as sharing a bottle of fine wine does in other cultures. Mr Hishammuddin said a traditional expression says it's a tragedy if a Malay person doesn't like durian. The fruit has also entered the country's financial lexicon: the Malay word for windfall is durian runtuh, a word that conjures up the joyous image of a durian falling to the ground.
Rising demand for durian in China is changing the supply chain. It's relatively easy to transport the fruit on the back of a truck to regional destinations such as Kuala Lumpur, Singapore or Bangkok. But shipping it to Guangzhou, Beijing and beyond, especially when the fruit is ripe and at its tastiest, can be dangerous. The fruit's strong odor can resemble a gas leak.
One of the many examples of durian-induced emergencies was in 2019, when a Boeing 767 passenger jet took off from Vancouver, British Columbia, with a shipment of durians in the cargo hold. According to a report from Canadian regulators, pilots and crew “noticed a strong odor throughout the aircraft” shortly after takeoff. Fearing a problem with the plane, the pilots put on their oxygen masks and told air traffic controllers that they needed to land immediately. After landing, it was discovered that durian was responsible for the foul smell.
Malaysia has tried to solve the transportation problem by freezing the fruit before shipping. One of the pioneers of this process was Anna Teo, a former flight attendant, who noticed during her travels that durian was not available overseas.
She quit her airline job and experimented with cryogenic freezing techniques in a rented warehouse, taking her children to durian farms on weekends. She found that freezing not only reduced the fruit's odour but also increased its shelf life.
Today, in a suburb of Kuala Lumpur, Ms Teo oversees more than 200 employees at the company she founded, Hernan, which exports frozen durian as well as mochi and other durian products.
In contrast, Thailand has been shipping fresh durians in refrigerated containers for many years. The Thai durian industry is centered in Chanthaburi province, near the Cambodian border. During peak harvest season in May and June, piles of durians are everywhere.
About 1,000 durian shipping containers leave packing houses in Chanthaburi each day, creating durian traffic jams that are bigger than Bangkok's intersections. Some of the containers are loaded onto a freight railway service called the Durian Train by Thai media that links Thailand and China, using tracks built by China for high-speed rail.
Because demand from China is so high, containers often return to Thailand empty – so that they can be quickly refilled with more durian bound for China.
Jiaoling Pan, chief operating officer of Bangkok-based Speed Inter Transport Co., which uses American-made refrigerated containers to ship durian, said two-thirds of his containers came back empty.
At his packing house the durians pass under a laser that engraves a serial number on the skin of each fruit. Retailers in China want the ability to trace any damaged fruit back to his orchard.
Ms Pan was born in Nanning in southern China and went to Thailand for college. She stayed there after falling in love with durian, which she had never seen before. She compared herself to a durian Passion Becoming addicted to durian.
“Actually, last night at 3 a.m., I ate a durian,” Ms. Pan said cheerfully amid calls from Chinese customers seeking empty shipping containers.
Near his business is 888 Platinum Fruits, a company that specializes in durians and plans to list on the Thai Stock Exchange this year, which would be a first for the durian industry.
Nattakrit Amsakul, chief executive of 888 Platinum Fruits, offered a measure of the industry’s growth in Chanthaburi: two decades ago, there were 10 durian packing houses in the province – today there are 600.
Signs of durian prosperity are everywhere in Chanthaburi: modern homes and new hospitals. A shopping mall inaugurated two years ago hosted a car show in April.
“When you come here from another province, you realize that durian farmers are very, very rich,” said car dealer Abhisit Meechai, who on a recent afternoon was selling MG vehicles, the iconic British brand owned by Chinese automaker SAIC Motor.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Mr. Abhisit said of his customers, who are durian farmers. “They come with dirty clothes and dirty hands. But they pay cash for their cars.”
Poiyapitii Amatthatham Contributed reporting from Thailand. Li You Contributed research from Shanghai.