Seeds of hope: Orang Asli woman farmer unites community through agriculture

The Star

6 days ago

In a quiet village by Lake Chini in Pahang, one Orang Asli woman is planting more than vegetables – she is cultivating unity, hope and a brighter future for her community.
At Kampung Orang Asli Melai, the morning sun often catches 52-year-old Amai Maimun already knee-deep in her vegetable plots, sleeves rolled, soil under her fingernails and purpose in her stride.
Around her, leafy rows of Hong Kong sawi, Brazilian spinach, okra and other vegetables flourish – a testament not only to agricultural know-how, but to perseverance, leadership and a mother's love.
'Amai' means 'aunt' in the Jakun language.
To outsiders, Maimun may appear as just another farmer. But to the villagers of Kampung Melai, she is much more – a community mobiliser, chairperson of their farming committee, and a pillar of support who has helped transform a patch of what was previously swamp land into a lifeline for her people.
Her story, like the land she works on, has been shaped by challenge and quiet determination.
Indian lettuce is among the vegetables planted by Maimun.
Maimun grew up during a time when the Orang Asli community could still depend heavily on the forest.
'Life was good then,' recalls Seliah, another farmer. 'We collected rattan, resin, wood and could make products out of them to sell and support our families.'
But over the years, as land use and industries around their ancestral areas evolved, many indigenous communities, including hers, found their traditional ways of life increasingly difficult to sustain. The forests grew quieter, the rivers became shallower.
'We had to look for new ways to survive,' she says.
For Maimun and the other Orang Asli people, the answer was farming – not just as a livelihood, but as a way to bring their community together and rebuild from the soil up.
The land she and her neighbours began working on was once swampy and clay-filled.
'We had no choice,' she says. 'It wasn't ideal, but it was all we had and we were grateful for it. So we worked hard to improve it.'
And change it they did, supported by the Foundation for Community Studies and Development (Focused), an NGO that empowers underserved communities, and the OA Organik cooperative, a social enterprise that promotes sustainable community farming.
Through collective effort and persistence, they slowly turned the swamp into fertile land.
Together, Maimun and the other Orang Asli farmers converted this shared space into a productive community farm, a place not only to grow food but also possibilities.
The Orang Asli farmers working together on the community farm.
The OA Organik model is more than just organic farming – it's a return to the cultural values of cooperation, sustainability and a respect for nature.
Rather than individual entrepreneurship that may erode communal bonds, the project embraces the collective spirit intrinsic to Orang Asli life.
The initiative follows a shared model that places people and the planet at the heart of business. It transforms conventional business practices by ensuring that Orang Asli producers receive a more equitable share of the profits.
OA Organik provides training, seed funding and access to fair markets. As a result, the Orang Asli farmers earn 40% of the retail price of their produce. This approach helps them to overcome systemic challenges, break free from the cycle of poverty, and take charge of their own development.
'Community togetherness is important to us,' Maimun explains. 'If we all went our individual ways – foraging, fishing, finding jobs in the city – then we'd hardly meet. But the farm brings us together. We talk, we help each other, we become a community again.'
Teamwork is everything, says Maimun (in blue) as she sorts and packs vegetables together with the other farmers.
This sense of unity is as important as economic gain. At a time when global attention is increasingly focused on sustainable development, indigenous worldviews are being recognised for their wisdom on respecting nature and living side-by-side with it.
The Orang Asli have understood the link between ecology and economy long before climate change became part of the public vocabulary.
'Our ancestors lived in harmony with nature. If nature is damaged, we are damaged,' says Maimun, echoing a belief now backed by environmental science.
For her, farming was never just about vegetables – it was about her children.
A mother of seven, she often worried about their future, especially when her husband's health declined and he could no longer do heavy work.
'I wanted my children to have the education I never had,' she says. 'That was my motivation. I had to find a way to support them.'
Today, her face lights up with pride as she speaks of them.
One is studying at Universiti Malaysia Sarawak (Unimas) while the others are in upper secondary school. Her son, Amos, 23, works in research and development for OA Organik and helps her on the farm.
'They're all doing well,' she says with a soft smile. 'That's what keeps me going.'
Even though some are far from home, they return during the holidays to help. Amos, especially, is her right hand in the fields – a symbol of future leadership.
Amos, Maimun's son, helping on the farm.
Within the community, Maimun's leadership is not marked by command, but by care.
She is often the first to encourage struggling farmers, gather people and organise meetings, and help find solutions when problems arise – whether it's tackling crop spoilage from heavy rain or pests, or raising funds to buy fuel for irrigation and water supply pumps.
'Issues such as water engineering, harvesting, sorting, packing, marketing and pricing have been dealt with through collaborative discussions among the farmers,' she says.
Maimun credits teamwork as the backbone of their progress.
'Everyone has their part to play,' she says. 'We work hand-in-hand – from planting and watering to packing and transporting. It's not one person's success, it's our success as a team.'
Currently, about 12 farmers work on the shared land, managing plots between 279sq m to 929sq m in size. Maimun's own plot is just under 465sq m, yet her yield is among the highest, thanks to her dedication and deep knowledge of the land.
'My secret?' she says with a laugh. 'Hard work and a love for what I do.'
Harvesting is done on the same day or a day before packing, which is every Tuesday and Friday. The vegetables are then loaded into baskets and sent to stock urban shelves, says Maimun.
Together, they produce over 1,000kg of vegetables a month, with an estimated revenue of RM14,500, all of which is reinvested back into the community.
The vegetables – such as Hong Kong sawi, okra, Brazilian spinach, mini brinjal and four-angled beans – line the shelves of a local, mass-premium supermarket chain, securing fair prices for these farmers.
One-third of participating households now earn RM2,000 to RM2,500 per month.
Maimun believes that the strength of her community lies not just in shared labour, but shared lives. Before the farm, many villagers would head out on their own – some to the city for jobs, others into the forest to look for food.
But now, the community farm has created something deeper: connection.
'If someone's missing, we notice. We check on them,' she explains.
'We talk, we share meals, we plan together. That's the value of a community – we grow stronger when we grow together.'
This sense of unity is especially meaningful in the Orang Asli culture.
Traditionally, their life is rooted in collaboration and collective well-being. The cooperative farming model they've adopted builds on this – not just for economic benefits, but to sustain the social fabric of their village.
'When we work together, we become less inward-looking,' Maimun says. 'We succeed not just as individuals, but as a community.'
Maimun (first from left) sharing her experiences at the 2024 Social Enterprise Day celebration.
Though she never had formal schooling, Maimun is constantly learning and teaching. She shares tips on soil health, crop rotation, pest control and planning for seasonal changes.
'If the sawi gets spoiled because of bad weather like too much rain, we switch to okra or long beans,' she says matter-of-factly.
'We practise crop rotation to keep the soil healthy and to prevent disease. A farm needs constant observation – it's important to be alert and adapt.'
Last year, at the 2024 Social Enterprise Day celebration, Maimun stood on stage with her son and other advocates from OA Organik, sharing her experiences with audiences unfamiliar with Orang Asli life.
She was nervous, she admits.
'But I was grateful for the chance to speak, to show that even those who didn't go to school can learn, grow and lead.'
Today, Maimun is focused firmly on the future.
Her hope is for the community farm to expand, for her children to stay rooted in the land and for their village to become a model that other Orang Asli villages can learn from.
'I want to see our young people take this up, to care about farming and to care about the land,' she says. 'This land means something to us. We love it. It has given us life.'
And for all her humility, Maimun knows the importance of her role.
'To lead, you must first serve. You must be humble, and you must listen. That's how we make progress – together,' she concludes.