Ta’s Durian Garden

“I guess you’ve seen the YouTube video,” Scott said to me as he settled into his chair, re-adjusting the black, red and white plaid sarong wrapped around his waist. In the kitchen Ta fussed with blender. I acknowledged that I had seen the video. My friend Durian Darrick sent it to me a few months back along with a link to Scott’s website. I’d also read about them years before in the chapter on durians and durianarians (people who eat only durian) in the “The Fruit Hunters.” In the book, fruit journalist Adam Gollner visits Koh Samui and shares durian with Ta, Scott and one of their durianarian friends.

Scott didn’t remember Adam. He shouted into the kitchen to ask if Ta remembered Adam or a book about fruit. She didn’t remember Adam either, but asked if I or Mr. Gollner could send her a copy of the book. I asked Scott about their durian orchard. “Michael really fluffed the video up,” Scott said. “He’s a good film maker.”

“How is it fluffed?” I asked.

“The name – it’s not wild. It’s a garden.” Scott scoffed. “Most of the trees are grafted.” He waved at the durian trees behind him in his neighbor’s yard, short conical trees that look like Monthongs. “Durians are supposed to live to be around 300 years old. Look at these things. Probably only 20 years old and they’re on their way out.”

According to Scott, many of the durian trees on the island are suffering the effects of
chemtrails, which he calls aerosols. “If you want to know how much
aluminum oxide is around you, look at the durian and coconut trees.” He explained that durians are like the canary in the coal mine
for aluminum contamination. “Look up, wake up!” he exclaimed, and exhorted us to go to thecontrail.com to educate ourselves about HAARP and geo-engineering.

Ta and Scott agree that Koh Samui has changed since they moved here
15 years ago. Urban development and increasingly destructive
agricultural practices have marred the once paradisaical island. Ta
noted that even the tourism business is suffering now. “Who want to come
see the building?” she asked. She said that only fifteen years ago,
backpackers slept on the beach for 5 baht a night and traversed the
island by boat or on foot. “Nobody go to Chaweang,” she said, “because
nothing there.” And in the last three years, farmers up the mountain
have been clearing land to make way for rubber plantations. The couple
complained that the waterfalls are now clogged with sand from the loose
soil.

The durian scene has changed as well. “Used to be, come July
or August, this was THE place,” Scott remembered. “Durian ban all over, 5
baht a kilo. Now it’s like phhhht.” He turned his thumb down. As the
Monthong industry has grown on the island, there are fewer and fewer
durian ban, the non-hybridized durians found in backyards and roadsides. The reason is that Monthongs are nearly always grafted onto a
durian ban stump. Like a pure-bred dog, Monthongs have more health
issues than their mutt cousins. To increase their hardiness, commercial
nurseries always graft Monthong onto the rootstock of a durian ban grown from seed.  So when durian ban orchard owners
decide to grow Monthong,  they simply cut down their old trees and graft
a Monthong to grow in its place. Money drives the decision to grow
Monthong – the fruit goes for 40 baht/kilo during peak season and can be
grown for export, while durian Ban can only be sold locally.

Scott and Ta’s dream is to buy 100 acres and create a food bank
to preserve the thousands of varieties of durian and other fruits that
are being forgotten.
Ta sees her one acre garden as just a practice run for managing a
bigger space. “I never think small,” she told me as we meandered down a shady path. Her hope is that if her garden is
successful, people will imitate what she has done. So far the garden is
doing well. Her organic papayas are so popular that she can’t meet the demand. To meet future demands, the garden is dotted with dozens of foot
tall baby papaya trees. She also grows chiles and a variety of Thai
herbs, each with its own amazing scent. 

We chatted while she
breakfasted on fresh abiu fruits straight off the tree. I asked her
what she thought of Scott’s theories about chemtrails and dying durian. “I
don’t know nothing about new technology, that thing you cannot see,” she shrugged. She told me I just need to keep my body healthy, by eating a natural diet and thinking positively. She eats a primarily raw diet that includes raw meat. In Northern Thailand where Ta grew up, everyone eats raw meat in the pounded salad known as “Som Tam.” She reminisced about a world in which buffalo roamed the fields providing organic fertilizer, where life was slow and peaceful. I asked if they ate durian up there. “No honey,” she laughed. “Durian doesn’t grow in the north. Except in Utarradit. I don’t know why it grow there.”

Before we said
goodbye, I asked where they thought we should go for the best durian. “Penang’s still got some good
durians,” Scott said. “They got hip to the trip –
started preserving their durians.” Luckily, Rob and I are heading south
to Penang soon. First, I hope to taste a durian ban on mainland Thailand. It’s not the season on Koh Samui, but it is
everywhere else in Thailand. Scott thought we might get lucky.