22/12/2024 (The Borneo Post) - It’s that time of year again —the monsoon season in Malaysia, when the entire country seems to morph into one giant splash zone. Floods dominate the headlines, the east coast is practically submerged, and Sarawak and Sabah are gearing up for their share of soggy days.

As we wade through puddles, debating whether we should start building an ark or cash in on ‘flood tourism,’ there’s a sneaky little troublemaker lurking in the background – El Nino. Sure, its name sounds as dry as the weather it brings, but don’t be fooled. It’s coming, and it’s always good at showing up when we least expect it.

El Nino, which charmingly means “Little Boy” in Spanish, was first noticed by South American fishermen in the 1600s when the Pacific Ocean decided to play sauna instead of freezer. They named it El Nino de Navidad because it likes to peak around December. Talk about a holiday guest you didn’t invite but shows up anyway, rearranging your weather and bringing gifts like droughts or storms.

Flowering: Part Botany, Part Drama and Fascinating!

Let’s unravel the oil palm’s flowering and fruit production cycle – a mix of science and soap opera. Along the way, we’ll appreciate how El Nino, the unruly guest, shakes things up.

The Family Tree: Think of each palm frond as a branch on the family tree. At its base, like a budding superstar, sits an inflorescence (a group or cluster of flowers) – the future in bloom. The equation is simple: More healthy fronds = more fruits = higher yields. It’s nature’s way of saying, “Take care of your leaves, and the fruits will take care of themselves.”

Nature’s Versatile Actor: Every inflorescence is a performer, capable of taking on different roles. It might be male, female (the fruit-bearing VIP), or, in a dramatic twist, both – what we call a “mixed” or hermaphrodite role. Young palms, still finding their footing, often experiment with these mixed roles like novice actors unsure of their part in the grand production.

The Plot Thickens: Mature palms aren’t immune to a bit of drama either. They sometimes produce mixed flowers during transitions between male and female cycles. Think of it as the palm hedging its bets: “Why choose when I can be everything at once?” A little quirky, but effective.

The Grand Exit: A bunch declares itself “ripe” when its first fruit abscises (a fancy term for “drops off”). Thus, the terminology of loose fruits on the ground. This isn’t just random – it means that fruit has hit peak oil content in its mesocarp (the fleshy yellow part). The rest of the fruits in the bunch, pollinated around the same time, follow closely behind, making the bunch a jackpot of oil potential.

Timeline of Ripening: In sunny Sabah, the first fruit usually drops around 150 days (or five months) after pollination. But like any good drama, there are twists: wet or dry weather – and even genetics – can shift this timeline anywhere from 135 to 165 days. And then there are also those stubborn mutants who refuse to let go of their fruits, like overprotective parents clinging to their kids.

The Kernel: While the mesocarp works overtime on oil production, the kernel (whitish seed of the oil palm fruit) wraps up its development early – at around 120 days (four months). It’s as if the kernel shrugs, says, “I’m done,” and waits for the bunch to ripen.

Frond No. 30 – The Sweet Spot: Ripe bunches tend to hang out around Frond No. 30 or a few fronds below – prime real estate for harvest. Yes, we oil palm folks actually count and number the fronds, including into negative territory. Good to learn this! Frond No. negative 20, anyone? It’s a agronomic numbering system that’s as nerdy as it is practical.

Slow and Steady Growth: Mature palms produce two to three new fronds a month, adding up to about 24 or more per year. It’s not exactly Formula 1 speeds, but it keeps the production line rolling.

Pollination: Pollination (or anthesis) takes place around Frond No. 17, about 11 – 14 fronds earlier than when the bunch ripens at Frond No. 30. In palm time, that’s roughly 5½ months. It’s a carefully choreographed timeline that could put any event planner to shame.

Real Plot Twist: Here’s the kicker: the sex of an inflorescence – whether it becomes a fruit-bearing female flower or a pollen-spewing male flower – was decided a staggering two years earlier. This moment of destiny occurs back at Frond “Negative No. 20,” assuming the same growth rate. Talk about long-term planning!

The oil palm’s ripening process is a spectacular blend of patience, precision and drama. From the moment the first fruit makes its grand escape to the years-long planning of the next generation, it’s a biological production worthy of a standing ovation for nature.

El Niño and Oil Palm Trees

Every few years, El Nino steals the show like an uninvited party crasher, hogging the spotlight with its dramatic entrances and mood swings. This climatic diva isn’t just about showing off – it reshuffles the world’s weather deck, sending meteorologists into a frenzy and farmers biting their nails. Think of El Nino as nature’s unpredictable DJ, remixing the beats of rain, drought, and everything in between with its playlist of warm ocean currents in the central and eastern Pacific.

Meanwhile, deep in the oil palm plantations, another story unfolds – a tale of seduction, romance and hard-won harvests. The oil palm tree, that unsung hero of the global edible oil market, is orchestrating a botanical ballet worthy of a standing ovation. Picture this: male and female flowers stage a passionate tango, with tiny pollinating weevils playing Cupid, darting back and forth to ensure nature’s matchmaking goes off without a hitch. This intricate choreography is nothing short of nature’s grand opera, with a lush crescendo of fruits ready for harvest.

But just as the orchestra reaches its climax, El Nino storms in like an unruly fan crashing the stage. The once-harmonious weather turns into a chaotic pit of droughts, downpours and uncertainty. Oil palms, those prima donnas of the plant world, find themselves caught in a high-stakes thriller where the stakes are nothing less than survival and prosperity.

Imagine an oil palm tree as a giant sponge, soaking up every drop of moisture it can find. It’s a thirsty creature, and this unrelenting thirst shows just how vital consistent rainfall is for these plants. When the rain gods are generous, oil palms thrive, sporting glossy fronds and abundant bunches of fresh fruit. But let’s make one thing crystal clear – oil palms are really thirsty. Each mature tree drinks up to 400 litres of water a day – about the same as a tropical downpour of five millimetres.

When the rains come, it’s a party for the palms. But when the skies go dry? Cue the drama. With little water, these trees face more than just physical discomfort – they’re in serious trouble. You see, oil palms aren’t just pretty greenery; they’re finely tuned reproductive machines. Their fruit production is like a well-choreographed salsa, balancing male and female flowers in perfect harmony. But when the rain vanishes, the dance gets out of sync.

How Oil Palms Exhibit Life Stress?

Oil palms are tough, but even they have their breaking points. Stress, whether from a drought like El Nino’s antics, over-pruning that fronds until the palm bald, pests munching away at its leaves, or a sinister Ganoderma infection gnawing at its core, disrupts the palm’s reproductive plans. The delicate balance of inflorescence development and sex determination gets thrown off-kilter.

The first signs of trouble are subtle yet telling. Fronds grow sluggishly, as if sulking under the relentless sun. Unopened spear leaves, those future fronds-in-waiting, begin to wither, their tips curling as if raising a silent prayer for rain. It’s as though the trees are saying, “Help us; we’re parched!”

And then comes the reproductive fallout. Drought disrupts the oil palm’s delicate dance of flower production, leading to a tragic imbalance. Male flowers dominate the stage, strutting their flashy but ultimately unproductive stuff, while female flowers – those stars of fruit formation – struggle to make an appearance. It’s like a stage production where all the leading ladies are no-shows, leaving the understudies fumbling in the spotlight.

1. Pollinated bunches can simply give up the ghost, failing to thrive and instead shrivelling into dried-up, rotting masses. This heartbreaking sight typically shows up four to six months after the stress event, like a bad sequel no one asked for.

2. Female inflorescences waiting in the wings for their pollination debut might decide, “Nope, not today,” and abort entirely. This stress-induced drama unfolds about a year later, leaving growers scratching their heads and tallying their losses.

3. Fast-forward two years, and the stress’s most insidious impact becomes clear: the palm starts favouring male inflorescences over female ones. This imbalance means fewer fruit-bearing bunches, and for growers, that’s a real tragedy. So why do droughts push oil palms to produce more male flowers instead of their fruit-bearing female counterparts? It’s a survival tactic. In times of stress, the tree is more focused on reproduction, and the few female flowers that do manage to bloom are left starved for nutrients. It’s like a factory where the machinery breaks down – production drops, and the harvest takes a serious hit.

The above effects don’t just pass like a bad mood. There is no real cure. No Panadol or Xanax to help. They’re long-lasting, impacting not just the current yield but future harvests as well. Like a diva throwing a tantrum, the oil palm makes it clear that stress is not something to take lightly.

Oil palms go through dramatic yield cycles at different life stages:

Young Palms (Under 10 years): Like moody teenagers, they experience wild fluctuations in yield, with sharp drops during low periods.

Middle Age (10-20 years): Yields stabilise, with fewer but larger bunches, and less dramatic highs and lows.

Old Age (Over 20 years): In their golden years, palms maintain a steady yield, with little difference between high and low periods, though productivity may decline.

Understanding these cycles helps growers manage expectations and optimise each stage of an oil palm’s life, recognising the interplay of each season with yields.

Reenacting the Oil Palm and El Nino’s Shakespearean Drama

Let me reenact the story of El Nino’s impacts on the noble oil palm, recast as a Shakespearean drama but with a modern twist. Delving into the Bard’s literary labyrinth to create this was fascinating and, at times, inducing headache – but it left me with a deeper appreciation for his genius. Note: William Shakespeare is known as the Bard of Avon. The meaning of the Bard is a poet, and Shakespeare was the greatest poet so it was his nickname.

This El Nino climatic saga unfolds like a gripping play, where the oil palm takes the role of the tragic hero, wrestling with a formidable antagonist: El Nino. Each act carries a blend of tension, despair and, if fortune allows, a glimpse of redemption.

Act 1: Scorching Prelude

“The rains abandon their posts, leaving the land parched and exposed, while the sun turns tyrant.”

El Nino storms the scene, bringing scorching heat and banishing the rains. The once-fertile peatlands crack and crumble, vulnerable to fiery destruction. A single spark can ignite chaos, filling the air with smoke that blots out even hope.

Plantation managers, cast as generals in this climatic war, scramble to douse the fires and protect their crops. Throughout estates, fire engines and ERT (emergency response teams) are ready 24-7. Millers are desperate for water. No water, then no processing. Every missing raindrop feels like a betrayal, setting the stage for an epic struggle.

Act 2: Lagging Curse

“The seeds of misfortune are sown in silence, only to sprout into calamity months later.”

Four to six months after the rain’s disappearance, the oil palm begins to show signs of distress. Yields drop, with fruits that are smaller, drier and less abundant. For growers, it’s like watching a slow-motion tragedy unfold.

Every empty truckload of fresh fruit bunches tells a tale of shrinking profits and mounting concerns. The tension builds as all eyes turn to the skies, longing for the return of the rains.

Act 3: Blossoming Tragedy

“In the dance of nature, harmony falters, and the stage is set for imbalance.”

As the months stretch into a year, a deeper calamity takes root. The oil palm’s flowers – the male and female blooms that together create fruit – fall out of sync. Imagine Romeo waiting for Juliet, only to find she’s nowhere in sight.

Without pollination, the promise of abundance fades. The humble weevil, nature’s matchmaker in this floral love story, finds its role diminished. The yield projections, once promising, now feel like the cruellest of jokes.

Act 4: Lasting Scars

“The scars of the storm linger long after the tempest has passed.”

Two years later, the full impact of El Nino’s reign is evident. The oil palms, their fronds drooping like tired actors taking their final bow, seem defeated. Yields have yet to recover, and growers count the losses: not just financial but also emotional. Though not within their controls, their KPIs were not met and often their discretionary bonus affected.

It’s a sobering conclusion to a story that began with such promise. Yet, even amidst the wreckage, lessons are learned, and resilience is forged.

The Perfect Storm – or ‘Drought

Shakespeare once said, “What’s past is prologue,” and in the world of agriculture, this couldn’t be truer. History tells us that El Nino is a recurring adversary. As per historical records, El Nino can slash palm oil production significantly. Events like the 1982/83 and 1997/98 episodes saw fresh fruit bunch yields drop by 16% and crude palm oil production fall by 14%, thus creating a perfect storm of reduced yields and soaring prices.

This spike in prices may seem like an opportunity, but it’s tempered by the availability of alternative oils and many other fluctuating global market conditions intertwined with policies. The true cost of El Nino extends beyond economics; it disrupts livelihoods, affects food security and potentially threatens ecological balance.

History offers valuable lessons. Strategic and foresight management practices, such as implementing efficient irrigation, creating more water bodies, water conservation systems and refining other best management practices across the supply-chain, can mitigate some of the adverse effects. While the cost of irrigation and water conservation projects can be prohibitive, it’s a critical investment to be planned and considered in safeguarding against future climatic shocks.

Staying anticipative, informed and proactive are the keys to mastering the El Nino saga. For those hungry for a deeper dive into the science and impacts of this climatic phenomenon, the NOAA website is a good reference of data and insights on El Nino. In the grand theatre of climate and tropical agriculture, navigating El Nino is more than just survival – it’s a high-stakes game of thriving, hedging and seizing opportunities. For many oil palm players and traders, it’s also about strategically gambling on positions and adeptly managing risks through hedging.

And so, let the dance continue – chaos and all. After all, the best stories, like the greatest crops, are born from resilience and preparation. Or, to borrow a line from the Bard: “All the world’s a stage, and every palm – and growers – must play its part.”

https://www.theborneopost.com/2024/12/22/tragic-struggle-of-oil-palm-against-el-nino/