By 1957, most of the cocoa on the world’s export market was being grown by smallholders in Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire. Cadburys, Bournville and Birmingham were high on the list of buyers. However post-colonial political activity in Ghana began to interrupt supplies.
As soon as Nigeria gained Independence, its eastern region launched a breakaway state, maybe contributing to the totally unexpected Declaration of Independence by Zaire, the former Belgian Congo.
Cadbury’s chocolate factory ran short of raw material, just when its Ikiliwindi, plantation in Cameroon had pioneered cocoa grown under ‘thinned out jungle shade’. Philip Wilson, one of the Ikiliwindi staff, was the son of a surgeon at Rabaul New Britain’s copper mine. He had followed his father there to learn the cocoa trade. Philip’s aunt was married to the Cadburys chairman.
Alarmed by rumours of West African politics, Cadburys sought advice. Southeast Asia’s plantations might kick-start cocoa production – illustrated by success at the Cocoa Research Station at Tawau, Sabah.
A domino effect in African politics threatened British food producers. By August 1960, the weekly BOAC London-Singapore service had carried Datuk Leslie Davidson, pioneer Project Manager of Pamol’s Tungud Estate in Labuk; John Garner, formerly of Lever’s Pacific Plantations; myself; and Philip Wilson, Project Manager of Rumidi Estate, where Cadburys had selected 800 ha of latosols under jungle.
Leslie employed a Filipino cook; John employed an Indonesian Bugis amah; and Philip found an Indonesian widow, Habeera, also known as ‘Bethlehem Steel’ – a cheerful, well-built lady with two sets of gleaming, stainless steel teeth.
Philip joined a Sandakan bachelors’ mess, and took up playing bridge and sailing at weekends. None of us visited Rumidi, near Tungud Estate. But when Philip’s 1961 planting of 20 ha of Amelonado cocoa was four years old, Cadburys declared it mature for the sake of public relations.
Leslie and I – then at Sabahpalm, adjoining Tungud – were invited to Rumidi for a Sunday bridge party and lunch. We knew Philip was still being looked after by ‘Bethlehem Steel’. Habeera early on had told Philip that she lived alone with her cats.
After lunch, Philip showed Leslie and me a new cocoa drier which he had just finished. Then, he drove us round the oldest Amelonado cocoa which was producing a light crop on each carefully pruned tall single cocoa stem.
The scandal
When I got a chance, I asked Habeera: “How come a fine big lady like you has no husband?”
“Oh,” she said with a giggle. “I had to run way from Sulawesi because of the scandal. I killed my husband. Great big lazy, womanising good-for nothing. I killed him one night with his own parang. By Bugis custom, he would have had the right to kill me the same way if I had been leading him a dance with other men.
“But they took me to the jail. They broke my nose, which is why I can’t speak properly now. They broke all my teeth when I admitted to the murder. I threatened to tell the jail governor unless they replaced all my teeth – I forced them to pay for it.
“Steel teeth were all they could get. At least, I never suffer from toothache. But I was in jail for seven years and they threatened to kill me the moment I was let out. I had to make friends with the first Bugis ship captain I met, who smuggled me into Cabah. I bought a new passport and have been here with Tuan Philip ever since.”
“Does Tuan Philip know all this?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, “I never have told him because he has never asked. You are the only one who knows.”
Philip called at Sabahpalm a couple of years later, saying that he had decided to leave Cadburys on expiry of his 15-year service contract.
“I’m bored with cocoa,” he said. “It doesn’t grow here any better than in West Africa. I will be leaving soon. Rumidi’s new Project Manager, Peter Stone and his family will move in from somewhere near Penang.”
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“What about Habeera?” I asked.
“Oh, she’ll be all right,” Philip replied. “She will look after the company’s rest house. I never ask her about herself. She’s been a faithful and very careful servant all these seven years. Her cats are her friends. She seldom leaves the house. The Stones are bringing their servants from Penang. Habeera sometimes asks after you. What did you say to her when you came to play bridge at Rumidi that day?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “I only spoke the once to ‘Bethlehem Steel’ at the lunch you gave us. A strong character.”
“Yes,” he said. “Peter Stone told me the other day that Habeera was a convicted murderer from Sulawesi; she had chopped up her husband, and had her stainless steel teeth fitted afterwards by warders at the Ujung Pandang jail. I’m sure you never knew that. I certainly didn’t – and wasn’t it lucky the Bournville Cadburys never found out!”
Moray K Graham
Retired Planter
