Syarifah Nadirah

In a poignant piece by Usman Awang in 1987, he bid farewell to a felled centuries-old pohon beringin, a majestic fig tree, possibly in what was then a developing city like Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. A landscape of layered contradictions, the entire system struggles between the race for progress and, most of the time, the decimation of ecological balance. The city floods—both literally and metaphorically—as it contends with the tension between ambition and origin. As I embark on an artistic endeavour, by mapping the urban trees from the city I grew up in, I think of the abject extraction of familiarity and introduction of unfamiliarity into a robust landscape.

Take, for instance, the Raintree (Samanea saman), the most conspicuous species found lining the city’s roadsides and parks. Mistaken for a native tree, it has lived in people’s memories for the past century and is often referred to by local names such as pokok hujan-hujan (Raintree) or pukul lima (5 o’clock), alluding to its habit of folding its leaves at dusk or when it rains. Yet, this tree is a transplant—brought from Central America in 1876 during the British colonial period, part of a broader practice of botanical imperialism that left deep ecological and cultural imprints across Southeast Asia.

“Malay villagers are good botanists. They know the names of nearly all the plants in their kampong and surrounding country, which may amount to several hundred. The young boys and the old women have been our best instructors for the traditional names are handed down through the mothers who teach their children and as they grow up in the modern world the sons forget these things. Needless to say, here, as in other lands, enquiry from townsfolk will often call forth the humiliating reply “Perhaps it is a tree, Tuan”. (see p. 6, on Malay names).” Wayside Trees of Malaya by E. J. H. Corner, July 1940.

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Tree stump at Lorong Tiong Nam, Kuala Lumpur. Photo: Syarifah Nadhirah, 2025.

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As E.J.H. Corner noted in Wayside Trees of Malaya (1940), while rural Malays possessed deep botanical knowledge passed down through generations, such knowledge was rapidly eroded in urban centers. Trees became commodities rather than kin, their presence repurposed to reflect a Eurocentric obsession with symmetry, neatness, and spectacle. Colonial avenues, civic squares, and gardens became showcases of transplanted ecosystems, often at the cost of local biodiversity.

Malaysian rainforests, with their ecological complexity, defied order and posed a challenge to the colonial lust for systemization. In response, the colonizers envisioned vast restructuring: wetlands were drained, forests cleared, and non-native species planted to assert control, productivity, and aesthetic order. Colonial powers viewed tropical landscapes as “untamed”, and in need of control, and this has been greatly translated into more contemporary practices. Trees such as Mahogany (Swietenia macrophylla), Tecoma (Tecoma stans) were customarily introduced, and in more contemporary times, the Acacia, and Eucalyptus were adapted as forest plantations at large scales, not only for their utility and ornamental value but also as continued symbols of imperial vision and authority.

Today, Kuala Lumpur’s urban landscape still bears the marks of this colonial legacy. Despite independence, many planning practices remain anchored in these archaic frameworks, driven by numerical targets and lacking clear intention. Attempts at repair with lauded governmental campaigns such as “No Roads Without Trees” (1979), “Garden Nation” (2005), and the more recent “100 Million Tree-Planting Campaign” reflect ongoing efforts to green the city and the country at large. However, planting inappropriate, often foreign species has raised concerns—especially as aging non-native trees like Raintree, Mahogany, and Tecoma cause infrastructural damage due to aggressive root systems and structural instability. 

Paired with climate anxiety, the recent spate of falling trees caused the rising fear from the public, stirring confusion in navigating everyday life with the presence and sight of mature roadside trees. The Institute of Landscape Architects Malaysia (ILAM) has called for the establishment of a native tree bank, while Kuala Lumpur City Hall (DBKL) recently identified 175 high-risk trees, many over 50 years old, for monitoring or removal. These contradicting developments highlight the urgent need for more ecologically informed, decolonized urban landscape practices.

As I stand beside a century-old leaning Raintree on the roadside, I can’t help but wonder, what would be the fate of this beauty now held against the debris of encroaching buildings, despite its untimely nature? As we reimagine our landscapes, we must first trace the multi-layered trajectories—historical, botanical, and political—that shape them. Only then can we ask: What might an urban landscape shaped by local ecologies and indigenous knowledge truly look like?

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References

Awang, U. 1987. Balada Terbunuhnya Beringin Tua Di Pinggir Sebuah Bandaraya.

Corner, E. J. H., 1940. Wayside Trees of Malaya.

Malay Mail (23 July 2024). Planting native species key to preventing tree and branch falls, says National Landscape Dept, 2024 https://www.malaymail.com/news/malaysia/2024/07/23/planting-native-species-key-to-preventing-tree-and-branch-falls-says-national-landscape-dept/144676

Hakim, L. (10 May 2024). https://www.nst.com.my/news/nation/2024/05/1048718/kl-city-hall-identifies-175-high-risk-trees-many-over-50-years-felling