'Frogging' takes off in Borneo's jungle
"There's another one! And it's massive," British tourist Lauren Heywood exclaimed as she spotted the telltale reflective glint off a pair of blinking eyes, seemingly waiting to be photographed by admirers.
"Frogging", or the hunt for the exotic amphibians that call the rainforest home, is taking off in Malaysia's Sarawak state in Borneo.
And herpetologists say few places rival Kubah National Park, around half an hour's drive from state capital Kuching.
It is home to some of the world's smallest and most unusual frog species.
While many visitors flock to Borneo's jungle to see charismatic large species like orangutans or elephants, some of its tiniest residents are increasingly getting their turn in the spotlight, according to Kubah park ranger Muhammed Tajuddin.
"More and more people are coming to see our frogs," he told AFP.
Frog central
The tour begins at dusk, with Indigenous Dayak guide Dominic Jikie leading a 45-minute hike up Mount Serapi, the highest peak in the area, to frog central.
Here, surrounded by ancient jungle trees is a shallow pond around the size of two swimming pools.
Scientists say it serves as the primary breeding ground for many of the 180 frog and toad species found on Borneo -- the world's third-largest island, divided between Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei.
Dozens of species dot almost every surface, submerged in the torchlit water, or perched on leaves, branches or tree trunks, placid and unbothered by their human fans.
"There is something special here," said Jikie, 64, a retired park ranger who now specialises as a frogging guide.
"People come to the park because they don't have the species that we have here back at home."
Among the stars of the show on this visit are pinkish harlequin flying frogs with mottled underbellies, file-eared tree frogs with distinctive sharp noses and white-lipped frogs whose lurid green backs give way to a stripe of white along their bottom jaw.
One of Borneo's most famous species, the giant river toad nicknamed "frogzilla" for its dinner-plate size, is not seen in Kubah.
But there are other more delicate types, according to Jikie.
"We have one of the world's smallest frog species, that breed inside pitcher plants," he said, training his sharp spotlight on a pair of amphibian eyes just up the steep mountain road.
The Matang narrow-mouthed frog was officially described by Malaysian and German herpetologists in 2010 after its discovery in Kubah.
It grows to a maximum of just 11 millimetres (less than half an inch) as an adult.
British tourist Thom Harris and his fellow visitors spotted 11 species on their nighttime trek.
"This was an amazing experience," he told AFP. "They are just stunning creatures."
"There are a few fire ants and a few other things to be careful of -- and a lot of bugs," he laughed.
"But it's definitely worth it. And it's a lot of fun!"
'I love nature'
The rising popularity of the forest frogs is a chance for environmentalists to highlight the serious threats they face.
Deforestation, climate change and overhunting are all putting pressure on the tropical island's frog population, scientists say.
"Even slight changes in the temperature and climate may affect the survival of the frog species in a particular habitat," University of Malaysia, Sarawak researchers Nur Hidayah Zulkefli and Ramlah Zainudin wrote in 2022.
Deforestation in Sarawak remains significant and ongoing, statistics by environmental group Global Forest Watch showed, including for timber and to make way for palm oil plantations.
Sarawak's government said it backed community conservation movements to preserve the amphibians and it ran well-protected game and nature reserves like Kubah National Park.
Awareness events include the annual International Bornean Frog Race, which sees scientists and the public compete to spot and photograph as many frog species as possible within a set timeframe and area.
For park ranger Tajuddin, the more people are able to engage with the unique creatures, the more they will understand the need to protect them and their habitats.
"I love nature," he said. "Frogging is a unique way for me to share that love with all our visitors." - AFP
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Sinar Daily
9 hours ago
- Sinar Daily
'Frogging' takes off in Borneo's jungle
KUCHING - Dodging fire-ants, snakes and millions of nighttime creepy-crawlies, a group of trekkers advances through the humid Bornean rainforest, scanning with torches for some of the jungle's most unlikely stars: frogs. "There's another one! And it's massive," British tourist Lauren Heywood exclaimed as she spotted the telltale reflective glint off a pair of blinking eyes, seemingly waiting to be photographed by admirers. "Frogging", or the hunt for the exotic amphibians that call the rainforest home, is taking off in Malaysia's Sarawak state in Borneo. And herpetologists say few places rival Kubah National Park, around half an hour's drive from state capital Kuching. It is home to some of the world's smallest and most unusual frog species. While many visitors flock to Borneo's jungle to see charismatic large species like orangutans or elephants, some of its tiniest residents are increasingly getting their turn in the spotlight, according to Kubah park ranger Muhammed Tajuddin. "More and more people are coming to see our frogs," he told AFP. Frog central The tour begins at dusk, with Indigenous Dayak guide Dominic Jikie leading a 45-minute hike up Mount Serapi, the highest peak in the area, to frog central. Here, surrounded by ancient jungle trees is a shallow pond around the size of two swimming pools. Scientists say it serves as the primary breeding ground for many of the 180 frog and toad species found on Borneo -- the world's third-largest island, divided between Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei. Dozens of species dot almost every surface, submerged in the torchlit water, or perched on leaves, branches or tree trunks, placid and unbothered by their human fans. "There is something special here," said Jikie, 64, a retired park ranger who now specialises as a frogging guide. "People come to the park because they don't have the species that we have here back at home." Among the stars of the show on this visit are pinkish harlequin flying frogs with mottled underbellies, file-eared tree frogs with distinctive sharp noses and white-lipped frogs whose lurid green backs give way to a stripe of white along their bottom jaw. One of Borneo's most famous species, the giant river toad nicknamed "frogzilla" for its dinner-plate size, is not seen in Kubah. But there are other more delicate types, according to Jikie. "We have one of the world's smallest frog species, that breed inside pitcher plants," he said, training his sharp spotlight on a pair of amphibian eyes just up the steep mountain road. The Matang narrow-mouthed frog was officially described by Malaysian and German herpetologists in 2010 after its discovery in Kubah. It grows to a maximum of just 11 millimetres (less than half an inch) as an adult. British tourist Thom Harris and his fellow visitors spotted 11 species on their nighttime trek. "This was an amazing experience," he told AFP. "They are just stunning creatures." "There are a few fire ants and a few other things to be careful of -- and a lot of bugs," he laughed. "But it's definitely worth it. And it's a lot of fun!" 'I love nature' The rising popularity of the forest frogs is a chance for environmentalists to highlight the serious threats they face. Deforestation, climate change and overhunting are all putting pressure on the tropical island's frog population, scientists say. "Even slight changes in the temperature and climate may affect the survival of the frog species in a particular habitat," University of Malaysia, Sarawak researchers Nur Hidayah Zulkefli and Ramlah Zainudin wrote in 2022. Deforestation in Sarawak remains significant and ongoing, statistics by environmental group Global Forest Watch showed, including for timber and to make way for palm oil plantations. Sarawak's government said it backed community conservation movements to preserve the amphibians and it ran well-protected game and nature reserves like Kubah National Park. Awareness events include the annual International Bornean Frog Race, which sees scientists and the public compete to spot and photograph as many frog species as possible within a set timeframe and area. For park ranger Tajuddin, the more people are able to engage with the unique creatures, the more they will understand the need to protect them and their habitats. "I love nature," he said. "Frogging is a unique way for me to share that love with all our visitors." - AFP
New Straits Times
11 hours ago
- New Straits Times
From Kuala Selangor to luxury hotels worldwide — This family's legacy lives on
THE huge smile. It's the first thing I notice about Pei Xien Yeoh. Then, the unmistakable voice. Even as I step into the cool embrace of Pangkor Laut Resort's all-day dining restaurant, grateful for a reprieve from the sticky island heat outside, it's impossible to miss her. There's a brightness to her presence; a warmth that radiates before she even speaks. She reminds me, in more ways than one, of her gregarious father, Datuk Mark Yeoh Seok Kah — executive director of YTL Corporation Bhd and the formidable force behind YTL Hotels' steady rise. The resemblance isn't only in the voice or the ease with which she laughs, but in the way she draws you in — with the easy confidence of someone who has never known small rooms, and yet with none of the detachment you might expect from a fourth-generation scion of one of Malaysia's most storied business families. She beams as I approach, rising from her seat to greet me with a firm handshake and an even bigger grin. "You look like you could use a drink," she exclaims, waving a waiter over. Just hours earlier, I'd seen her on the beachfront, cheering on competitors at the Chapman's Challenge — an annual race held in honour of British soldier Colonel Freddy Spencer Chapman, who famously escaped Japanese troops through these very jungles during World War 2. Then, she was clad in a plain white T-shirt and light blue jeans, long hair a little damp with sweat, skin glistening in the afternoon sun. "I love milestone years," says Pei as we settle in, adding sagely: "… because they kind of remind you of everything that came before." This year is one of them — the 80th anniversary of Chapman's escape and the 70th anniversary of YTL's founding. And for Pei, it's more than a corporate milestone. It's personal. It's history wrapped in memory, carried from one generation to the next. "As a Yeoh," she continues, "… the weight is heavier. I work hard not for the money, but for the legacy. For what my grandfather built. And for the people who built it with him." Her grandfather was Tan Sri Yeoh Tiong Lay, the man whose name is stitched into Malaysia's economic story — a titan of industry who, even at the height of his empire, made time for his family. Pei remembers growing up next door to him and spending time with him every week. Shares Pei: "Even though I'm the youngest, I had 16 good years with him. My grandfather was a great lover of history, much like my father. Because of that, all of us in the family grew up knowing the story of how my great-grandfather left Kinmen — which was part of China then, though it's now considered Taiwan — at the age of 18." She continues: "He made his way to Klang, where he began working as a bookkeeper for a man who owned a planking business. In time, he married the owner's daughter, and they moved to Kuala Selangor to start their life." The family, confides Pei, takes great pride in those roots — in being from Kuala Selangor. "When my grandfather was alive, he would make it a point to drive there every weekend to buy fish from the local market. It wasn't just about the produce; it was about ensuring we supported the small businesses and the people who had stood by us through the years. He believed in honouring those ties, in nurturing relationships that go beyond transactions," she recalls softly. And that spirit of looking after the people who look after you is something she herself carries, and it has become a big part of what drives Pei — even though it's not always easy work. Brows furrowing, she recalls the oft-told story of the 1970s financial crisis, when the family risked losing it all. "My grandparents pawned their gold and jewellery to honour contracts when others ran. It paid off in the end, but more than that, it taught us that your word is your bond." Those lessons were drilled deep. And while Pei might carry the ease of privilege, she also shoulders the weight of inheritance. It's something she's always been conscious of, even as she carved her own path. "It was all part of the master plan," confides Pei with a grin, recounting her years abroad. At 16, she left for the United Kingdom, finishing sixth form before earning a degree in History, Politics and Economics from University College London. But even then, the expectation wasn't to waltz straight into the family business. "I wanted to prove to myself I could thrive without the name," she admits, shrugging her shoulders lightly. And so, for two years, she did — as a management consultant with Deloitte Malaysia. It was a world of high-stakes projects and long hours, a place where her last name meant little. "It was the best decision I made," she reflects, adding: "It taught me how to manage people and expectations, and deliver under pressure. Skills that I use every day now." When the call came last December to return, she didn't hesitate. "I came back willingly. It felt like coming home." But it wasn't a simple homecoming, though, as the YTL Pei returned to was a company racing ahead. New hotel openings in Japan and Australia, artificial intelligence (AI) integrations and ambitious expansions were reshaping the hospitality landscape. "It's been a crazy time to come in," she admits, chuckling heartily. "We have 38 properties now, with a few more coming. Every morning, I read through all the guest comments — what I call my happy hour, even though it's not an hour anymore." But amid spreadsheets and strategy decks, Pei holds tight to something less tangible. "Hospitality is about people. Data can tell you what's happening, but it won't tell you why." It's a philosophy inherited from her father, a man whose booming voice and sharp mind she reveres, and whose warmth, she insists, is often overlooked. "People think he's intimidating because he's loud," she says, beaming broadly before adding: "But he's got the kindest heart. He always says — people first. Take care of your team, your guests, the community. The profits will come." BOND OF FAMILY That ethos runs deep in the family. Smiling, Pei recalls childhood holidays at Pangkor Laut, long before she imagined she'd one day help oversee its legacy. "A lot of people ask if it's lonely being an only child, but no. I have 26 cousins and now with the great-grandchildren, there are 30 of us. We grew up as one big noisy unit." Dinners were never quiet affairs. Shares Pei: "There's no such thing as separating work and family. Business decisions get made at the dinner table. Everyone chimes in. That's how it's always been." It was, she reflects, an unconventional but intentional upbringing — the sort that's designed to prepare her for the weight she now carries. Chuckling, she recounts how, as a child, she'd beg for DVDs at Speedy Video. "My parents made me pick one a month. It was their way of teaching self-control — you can have anything, but you need to steward it well." The lesson stuck. Even now, as she manages people, budgets and the delicate politics of family business, she's acutely aware of what's been entrusted to her. The responsibility is vast. "A lot of us were born with a head start," she says candidly, adding: "We didn't live through the crises our grandparents did. But we're constantly reminded of those sacrifices, so we don't grow complacent." Pei's admiration for her grandfather is evident as she reiterates: "He was a man of few words, but he'd always remind us to let our work do the talking. He always believed integrity mattered more than anything. Whatever agreement you enter, keep your word. That's what built this company." A RESPONSIBILITY Today, as Pei steps deeper into her leadership role — overseeing strategy, transformation, people and culture, even YTL Hotels' foray into artificial intelligence (AI) — those principles anchor her. Eyes flashing passionately, she says: "We have to innovate, but not lose the DNA. You can automate bookings, but you can't automate kindness." Her father, now in his 60s, remains her greatest mentor and critic. "We butt heads sometimes," she confesses with a laugh, adding: "He calls himself a technological dinosaur. He's got the spirit for change, but sometimes I have to show him how." Despite their occasional clashes, the bond is undeniable. "He's my boss, my father and a cheeky friend," confides Pei, elaborating: "At work, if he doesn't agree with an idea, he'll make it known. But it's never personal. At the end of the day, it's about making decisions for the good of the group, the staff, the legacy." Asked what's the best advice her father has ever given her, Pei shares: "He's given plenty, but I think one of the best pieces of advice he's ever given me — and the one he reminds me of often — is to never stop learning. He recently turned 60, a milestone in itself, but his mindset has always been that it's okay to be wrong, as long as you keep learning from it." Elaborating, she says: "He believes you should never aim to be the smartest person in the room. Instead, surround yourself with people you can learn from, people who challenge your thinking. It's a mentality rooted in humility, in staying open, and in recognising that wisdom often comes from the most unexpected places." When asked how she defines success, Pei doesn't mention profits or property counts. She reflects: "For me, it's about love. How much your people care about you, about the brand, about what we stand for." It's a belief she sees lived out in YTL's long-serving employees. Adds Pei, pride lacing her tone: "We have people who've been with us 30, 40 years. It's not just loyalty — it's love. And if your team loves where they work, your guests will feel it too." That, she believes, is what sets YTL Hotels apart. "We were here first and we know this industry inside out. But you can know everything and still get left behind. "So, we have to lead. Not just measure what's happening, but set the temperature," she adds passionately. As for the next 70 years, Pei is determined to keep telling stories — of people, of place, of struggle and triumph. She confides: "I want to document the little stories. The man who laid the first pipe on Pangkor Laut. The housekeeper who's worked here since day one. The local fishermen who bring us fresh anchovies. These are the stories that matter." Suffice to say, she's proud of where the brand is headed, with new properties rising in Thailand, Australia and Japan. But she understands that growth means nothing if the heart of it is lost. "We can get as big as we want," Pei says quietly, adding: "… but if we lose our soul, we lose everything." It's a lesson she carries in her bones — her grandfather's grit, her father's fire, and her own steadfast belief in the worth of people. "As long as we lead with integrity, love our people, and never forget where we came from," she adds, rising to leave, "we'll be alright." The smile lingers as she bids me goodbye, already turning to tend to a staff member waiting discreetly nearby. Duty calls, as it always has in this family. And with that same easy warmth and quiet resolve, she walks away — carrying not just a name, but a promise.
New Straits Times
11 hours ago
- New Straits Times
When walls speak: The stories behind Penang's iconic murals
IN the winding lanes of George Town, a bicycle mural painted by Lithuanian Ernest Zacharevic 13 years ago ignited a cultural movement that would reshape Penang's identity. When Zacharevic created Children on a Bicycle behind an old shoplot in Lebuh Armenian in 2012 as part of the George Town Festival back then, it marked the start of a street art explosion — one that turned the city's alleyways and bare walls into vibrant storytelling canvases, where contemporary expression meets local heritage. Today, these murals draw throngs of visitors and offer locals a renewed connection to their history. Yet, the transformation wasn't without resistance. In the beginning, many locals viewed the murals with suspicion and hesitation. "At first, many locals, including my neighbours, didn't like it," recalls Chew, a 65-year-old who runs a souvenir stall at Chew Jetty, adding that: "It became noisy and crowded. Strangers were standing outside our homes and taking photos. It was a big change." For a city just listed as a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation World Heritage Site in 2008, the sudden arrival of street art would definitely raise eyebrows. Heritage purists feared that vibrant murals would overshadow the architectural soul of George Town, Penang's state capital where colonial facades stand shoulder to shoulder with kopitiams and clan houses. The city, named after King George III (1738-1820) of the United Kingdom, was founded in 1786 by Captain Francis Light, who established it as a trading post for the British East India Company. "Some feared that contemporary expressions could dilute the city's authenticity," remembers Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow, continuing: "There were worries the murals might overshadow George Town's deeper historical significance." Trevor Sibert, honorary treasurer of the Penang Heritage Trust (PHT), said the early resistance to street art was understandable. "Every artwork should have meaning — a rationale that resonates with its location," he says, adding: "Not everything painted represents the true essence of George Town. Deep research must go into it. This isn't about censorship — it's about context." TOURIST MAGNET Yet, despite early scepticism, attitudes began to shift. The once-controversial murals gradually emerged as one of the state's most powerful tourist draws and enduring cultural symbols. Today, from bustling Lebuh Armenian to quieter back lanes in the city, there are more than 57 officially recognised murals — along with countless unofficial works — adorning the city's walls. Visitors can trace street art trails, snap photos and uncover local stories rendered in bold brushstrokes. Children on a Bicycle, the most popular artwork, captures two youngsters in joyous motion: a laughing girl pedalling a real rusted bicycle fixed against a weathered wall, her younger brother clinging to her waist, wide-eyed with delight. Not far away in Lebuh Ah Quee stands Boy on a Bike, a lanky teenager leaning against a motorbike, his half-smile hinting at adolescent swagger. And in Lebuh Muntri, Little Girl in Blue stretches her arms across two window shutters, a haunting yet hopeful image of innocence reaching out through time and weathered wood. Both murals, which blend playful, photorealistic figures with real-life objects, were also painted by Zacharevic, who made Penang his home base while travelling around the world for exhibitions and installations. "I came for the food the first time," confides Hanna Fuzesi, a 25-year-old Canadian tourist. She continues enthusiastically: "But when I returned, it was for the murals. It's like walking through an outdoor gallery." Her Australian travel companion, Amy Lansall, agrees, saying: "Some murals are hidden — like little treasures. They're not all over the place and this is what makes the experience personal." The economic ripple effects are undeniable. Souvenir shops, cafes, trishaw riders and licensed tour guides have all integrated street art into their offerings. Mural maps, guided walks and themed souvenirs are now part of the travel experience. Malaysian Association of Hotels (Penang chapter) chairman Tony Goh says hotels within the heritage zone are also using the murals to attract guests. "Tourists enjoy it. The feedback is overwhelmingly positive," he shares, adding: "Street art has become part of Penang's identity. It's not just about pictures — it reflects the character of this city." HERITAGE BALANCE Still, authorities are mindful of the risks of "mural fatigue". "There's always a risk that too much of a good thing can lose its meaning," says State Tourism and Creative Economy Committee chairman Wong Hon Wai. "These murals aren't just decorations. They tell stories — of trades, childhood, community and culture. That's what makes them special. Each piece should relate to our Outstanding Universal Value (OUV)." To maintain that heritage balance, the state mandates mural proposals to go through the Integrated Local Council Solution (ILCS), reviewed by a public art review panel that includes George Town World Heritage Incorporated (GTWHI), the state agency responsible for managing, safeguarding and conserving the city's World Heritage Status. "We want stronger storytelling and curation," says Wong, adding: "Otherwise, the murals become wallpaper." Zacharevic, the man who started it all, remains modest about his role. "Penang's street art is much bigger than me," he says, continuing: "There are so many artists — local and international — contributing to the scene. It's a collective effort." His latest venture, a gallery space in George Town called Cultprint, is where he now explores new directions. He is currently preparing an exhibition on intellectual property rights — highlighting how artists should be protected in the age of viral content. "Creativity should benefit not just the tourist economy, but the local art community, too," he says. OF PAST AND PRESENT For Penangites like Tan Hor Teong, a 45-year-old hawker operating near the heritage zone, the murals have become part of his daily life. "At first, the older generation didn't understand. They wondered why were people so interested in wall paintings?" he recalls, adding: "But now we see how it brings business, how it shares our culture in a way that connects." Even international visitors are impressed by the city's creative pulse. "In China, street art is too controlled," shares Deng Xiaobu, a 48-year-old tourist from Guangzhou. "Here, it feels alive. It's not just art — it's an experience." As Penang continues to position itself as both a creative capital and the "Silicon Valley of Asia" with its ever-growing number of high-tech companies based there, its murals remind the world that heritage can be both preserved and reimagined. "In the end, Penang's greatest masterpiece may not be on a wall. It may be the delicate, ongoing dance between past and present, painted with care, and watched over by those who love this island best," says Sibert of the Penang Heritage Trust. And Lithuanian Zacharevic agrees, as he reflects: "I never set out to make something iconic. I just wanted to create something meaningful — and a little bit magical. "The fact that people still connect with it today means we did something right."
