A drive through Raub, Malaysia, quickly reveals the spiky fruit that fuels its economy.
The distinctive aroma wafts from a constant stream of trucks navigating the winding mountain roads, leaving a subtle fragrance in their wake.
Visual cues abound: a colossal sculpture adorned with green spikes, affectionate murals adorning walls, and road signs proudly proclaiming: “Welcome to the home of Musang King durians.”
Once a gold mining hub in the 19th century, Raub’s economy has undergone a vibrant transformation in recent years. Today, it’s renowned as the heartland of the Musang King – a buttery, bittersweet variety hailed by Chinese consumers as the “Hermès of durians,” a testament to its coveted status.
Raub is one of many Southeast Asian towns at the forefront of a global durian boom, propelled by China’s soaring demand. In 2024, China’s durian imports reached a record $7 billion (£5.2 billion), tripling since 2020. The destination for over 90% of the world’s durian exports is now China.
“Even if only 2% of Chinese people want to buy durians, that’s more than enough business,” notes Chee Seng Wong, factory manager at Fresco Green, a durian exporter based in Raub.
Wong recalls a period in the 1990s when economic hardship led farmers to replace durian trees with oil palms, the nation’s primary cash crop.
“Now, the trend has reversed. Oil palms are being cleared to make way for durian cultivation.”
With an aroma likened to cabbage, sulfur, or even sewage, depending on the observer, the durian’s pungent scent is so divisive that it’s prohibited on certain public transport and in hotels. It has been mistaken for gas leaks and caused a plane to be grounded due to passenger complaints about the cargo hold’s smell.
While enthusiasts in the region have dubbed it the “King of Fruits,” it has earned a less flattering title online – the “world’s smelliest fruit” – as tourists, unaccustomed to its odor, cautiously seek it out.
Despite its challenging aroma, it has cultivated a growing fanbase in China, where it’s regarded as an exotic gift among the affluent, a status symbol shared on social media, and a star ingredient in culinary experiments ranging from durian chicken hotpot to durian pizza.
Thailand and Vietnam dominate durian exports to China, accounting for almost all imports. Malaysia’s market share is rapidly expanding, fueled by the reputation of premium varieties like the Musang King.
The average durian price starts below $2 (£1.4) in Southeast Asia, where they are abundantly grown. However, luxury varieties like the Musang King can range from $14 (£10) to $100 (£74) per fruit, depending on quality and seasonal yields.
“After tasting Malaysian durian, my immediate thought was, ‘This is incredibly delicious. I must find a way to bring it to China,'” says Xu Xin, who was sampling durians at a Raub shop. The 33-year-old sells the fruit in northeastern China and is searching for the finest durians to import.
Accompanying her are two durian exporters from southern China, one of whom reports a booming business. The other anticipates continued growth: “There are still so many people who haven’t tasted it yet. The market potential is immense.”
Their confidence is readily apparent. Nearby, a large Chinese tour group – one of many – eagerly digs into platters of durian, carefully arranged from mildest to most intense. According to locals, when savored in the correct sequence, a range of fresh notes should emerge with each taste: caramel, custard, and finally, an almost alcoholic bitterness signaling the arrival of the Musang King.
This meticulous approach perhaps explains why Malaysian durians have achieved a distinguished place on the Chinese table.
“Initially, we may have favored only sweet durians. But now, we appreciate aspects like fragrance, richness, and nuanced flavors,” Xu explains. “Today, more customers enter the shop and inquire, ‘Are there any bitter ones in this batch?'”
Hours before gracing Xu’s plate, the durians were painstakingly harvested on a nearby farm owned by Lu Yuee Thing.
Uncle Thing, as he’s known locally, owns the durian shop and several farms. He is one of Raub’s many success stories, where durians have transformed farmers into millionaires. In family businesses like his, sons often assist with transportation, while daughters handle accounting and finances.
“Durian has significantly contributed to the local economy,” Uncle Thing asserts.
Driving to his farm one morning, a quiet pride fills his voice as he points out the Japanese pickup trucks that have replaced the rickety jeeps he once used to transport crates of fruit.
Still, farming is arduous. At 72, Uncle Thing rises at dawn each day to navigate his hilly farm, collecting ripened durians hanging from trees or resting in nets near the ground. Years ago, a falling durian struck his shoulder, leaving him with a persistent throbbing pain.
“It may appear that farmers earn easy money. But it’s far from easy,” he says.
Once harvested, the durians are brought to Uncle Thing’s shop, where they are sorted into baskets, ranging from Grade A (large and round) to Grade C (small and oddly shaped).
A lone basket sits in the middle of the sorting floor, reserved for Grade AA durians – the most aesthetically pleasing of the lot.
These will soon be flown to China.
China’s insatiable appetite for durians has become a valuable diplomatic tool.
Beijing has signed numerous durian trade agreements, touting them as celebrations of bilateral ties with major producers like Thailand, Vietnam, and Malaysia, as well as emerging suppliers such as Cambodia, Indonesia, the Philippines, and Laos.
“In this durian competition, everyone emerges as a winner,” declared a state media article in 2024.
These deals also align with China’s investments in regional infrastructure. The China-Laos Railway, launched in 2021, now transports over 2,000 tonnes of fruit daily, primarily Thai durians.
However, the scramble to satisfy China’s demand comes at a price.
Food safety concerns surrounding Thai durians surfaced last year, after Chinese authorities detected a carcinogenic chemical dye, believed to enhance the fruit’s yellow color.
In Vietnam, many coffee farmers have switched to durian cultivation, driving up global coffee prices already impacted by severe weather.
And in Raub, a land dispute has erupted. Authorities felled thousands of durian trees, claiming they were illegally planted on state land. Farmers argue they have been using the land for decades without issue and allege they are now being forced to pay a lease to continue farming, or face eviction.
Meanwhile, a breakthrough may be on the horizon in China’s island province of Hainan, where years of experimentation are bearing fruit. Its durian harvest for 2025 is projected to reach 2,000 tonnes.
As in many industries, from renewables to AI, China has long aimed for food self-sufficiency.
Even as it benefits from this durian diplomacy, it is pursuing what state media calls “durian freedom.”
“For one, we won’t be as reliant on Thai and Vietnamese vendors when buying durians!” proclaimed an article in August.
This remains a distant ambition. Hainan’s first domestically grown durians were launched with fanfare in 2023, but accounted for less than 1% of China’s durian consumption that year.
However, as Uncle Thing sees it, “Hainan has already achieved success in its experiment… If they establish their own supply and reduce imports, our market will be affected.”
He shrugs off the concern for now: “That is not something we can worry about. All we can do is take good care of our farms and increase yields.”
Ask anyone else in Raub about Hainan’s quest, and they’ll dismiss the question with a complacent retort: they are no match for Malaysian durians.
And yet, as China pursues “durian freedom,” it’s hard to ignore that the Musang King’s throne may be becoming increasingly precarious.
The naval exercises could inflame relations with Donald Trump – who is already at loggerheads with Pretoria.
Mark Counsell, 31, disappeared after calling his family on Christmas Day, police said.
Leaders of Early Rain Covenant Church have been arrested and Yayang Church is being torn down, groups say.
Trade, energy and agriculture are on the agenda the Beijing trip amid tensions between Canada and the US.
The US’s seizure of Nicolás Maduro carries uncertainty for China, which is no fan of chaos.