Fifteen years ago, Eric Chen founded a company that sells the world’s strongest-smelling fruit. Before that, he had a well-paying job writing code for satellites and robots. When he changed careers, his family and friends didn’t understand.
Durian has long been a cherished part of culture in Southeast Asia, where it is grown in abundance. The fruit is typically the size of a rugby ball and has such a strong odor that most hotels ban it. When Eric Chen started his business in his native Malaysia, durian was cheap and often sold from the back of trucks.
Later, many Chinese people fell in love with durian.
Last year, Southeast Asia exported $6.7 billion worth of durian to China, an 11-fold increase from $550 million in 2017. China buys nearly all of the world’s exported durian, according to the United Nations. The largest exporter by far is Thailand; Malaysia and Vietnam are also major exporters.
Today, the durian business is expanding rapidly — a Thai company is planning an initial public offering this year, and some durian farmers have become millionaires. Eric Chen is one of them. Seven years ago, he sold a controlling stake in his company, which makes durian paste for cookies, ice cream and even pizza, for the equivalent of $4.5 million, nearly 50 times his initial investment.
“Everyone is making a lot of money,” Eric Chen said of the once-poor durian farmers in Raub, a town 90 minutes’ drive from Malaysia’s capital, Kuala Lumpur. “They’ve converted their houses from wood to brick. And they can afford to send their children to college abroad.”
Durian farmers in Southeast Asia say nothing like China’s durian fever has happened in living memory.
The surge in durian exports reflects the clout of Chinese consumers in the global economy, even as mainland China’s economy is struggling by other measures. When an increasingly wealthy country of 1.4 billion people develops a taste for something, the entire Asian region reshapes to meet the demand.
In Vietnam, state news media reported last month that farmers were cutting down coffee trees to make room for durian. In Thailand, durian orchards have doubled in size over the past decade. In Malaysia, jungle on the hills outside Raub is being razed and terraced to make way for plantations to meet Chinese demand for the fruit.
“I think durian will bring a new economic boom to Malaysia,” said Malaysia’s Agriculture Minister Mohamad Sabu.
With so much at stake, people are competing to plant more trees, sparking tensions. Land disputes have arisen over durian orchards. Some roadside orchards are surrounded by barbed wire. “Theft will be punished by law,” reads a sign outside an orchard in Raub, with a picture of handcuffs.
China is not just a buyer. Chinese investment has flowed into Thailand’s durian packaging and logistics industry. According to Thai international trade expert Art Pisanwani, China has controlled about 70% of durian wholesale and logistics business. He said at a press conference in May that Thailand’s own durian wholesale companies may “disappear in the near future.”
Durian is to fruits what truffles are to mushrooms: Priced per unit, it has become one of the most expensive fruits on earth, ranging from $10 to hundreds of dollars a piece, depending on the variety.
But Chinese demand has pushed up durian prices 14-fold over the past decade, frustrating Southeast Asian consumers who have seen the fruit go from a bountiful fruit grown in the wild and village orchards to a luxury item for export.
These countries export a fruit that is inextricably linked to their identity and culture, especially Malaysia, where the durian is a symbol of unity among the country’s many ethnic groups. “God gave us the desire for durian,” said Hishammuddin Rais, a Malaysian film director and political activist.
In Southeast Asia, eating a whole durian is often a social event; eating one alone would be too greasy and filling for most people. Opening the fruit, which requires a very sharp knife or machete, feels festive and brings friends together, much like sharing a bottle of wine in other cultures. Traditionally, Hishammuddin noted, it is a tragedy if a Malay doesn’t like durian. Durian has even made its way into Malaysia’s financial lexicon: The Malay word for windfall is durian runtuh, which literally conjures up the joyous sight of a durian falling to the ground.
The surge in the Chinese market is reshaping the durian supply chain. It’s relatively easy to truck the fruit to local markets like Kuala Lumpur, Singapore or Bangkok. But shipping it to Guangzhou, Beijing and elsewhere can be dangerous, especially when the fruit is ripe and at its most flavorful. The fruit’s strong odor is like a gas leak.
There are many examples of durian causing emergencies, such as in 2019, a Boeing 767 took off from Vancouver, British Columbia, with a batch of durians in the cargo hold. According to a report from Canadian regulators, shortly after takeoff, the pilots and crew “noticed a strong odor throughout the aircraft.” Fearing that something was wrong with the plane, the pilots put on their oxygen masks and told air traffic controllers that they needed to make an emergency landing. On the ground, it was discovered that the culprit for the stink was durian.
Malaysia has tried to solve the transportation problem by freezing the fruit before shipping.Zhang LizhuOne of the pioneers of the practice is Jennifer Lopez, a former flight attendant who noticed during her travels that durian was not available overseas.
She quit her job at the airline, experimented with cryogenic freezing technology in a rented warehouse, and took her children to durian orchards on weekends. She found that freezing not only reduced the smell of the fruit, but also extended its shelf life.
Today, Teo manages more than 200 employees at a company called Hena, based in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur, which exports frozen durian, durian mochi and other durian products.
In contrast, Thailand has been shipping fresh durian in refrigerated containers for years. The Thai durian industry is concentrated in Chanthaburi province, near the Cambodian border. During the peak harvest season in May and June, mountains of durian are everywhere.
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About 1,000 containers of durian leave packing plants across Chanthaburi every day, creating traffic jams comparable to those at Bangkok’s busy intersections. Some containers are loaded onto what Thai media call the Durian Train, a freight railway linking Thailand and China using the same tracks used by China’s high-speed trains.
Because China’s demand for durian is so high, containers often return to Thailand empty, then are quickly loaded with more durian and shipped to China again.
Pan Jiaoling, chief operating officer of Bangkok-based Speed International Logistics Co., which uses U.S.-made refrigerated containers to transport durian, said two-thirds of her containers come back empty.
In her packinghouse, durians are irradiated with lasers that etch a serial number into the skin of each fruit. Chinese retailers want to be able to trace any bad fruit back to its source.
Pan Jiaoling was born in Nanning in southern China and went to university in Thailand. She stayed in the country and fell in love with durian, a fruit she had never seen before. She likens her obsession with durian to an addiction.
“In fact, I ate a durian at 3 o’clock last night,” Pan Jiaoling said happily in between calls from Chinese customers looking for empty containers.
Not far from her company is 888 Platinum Fruit Company, a durian specialist that plans to list on the Stock Exchange of Thailand this year, a first in the durian industry.
Natakrit Emskul, CEO of 888 Platinum Fruit, offers a measure of how far the durian industry has come in Chanthaburi: 20 years ago, there were 10 durian packing houses in the province; today there are 600.
Throughout Chanthaburi, signs of durian wealth are everywhere: modern homes and new hospitals. A shopping mall that opened two years ago hosted a car show in April.
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“When you come here from other provinces, you realize that the durian farmers are very, very rich,” said car dealer Abhisit Minchai, who on a recent afternoon was selling MG, a well-known British brand owned by Chinese automaker SAIC.
“Never judge a person by his appearance,” Abhisit said of durian farmers. “Their clothes are dirty, their hands are dirty. But they pay cash for their cars.”