Both Mr Syazwan and Mr Firdaus speak grimly of the “desecration” of Changi Beach in June 2021, when hordes of first-time harvesters descended on the beach at low tide to yank anemone, crab and jellyfish from the sea.
“That is not foraging,” said Mr Firdaus. “Foraging serves a purpose.”
The plunder prompted the National Parks Board (NParks) to institute patrols and put up signs that read in black-and-red letters “no catching of marine creatures”, to preserve the health of the intertidal zone.
Though only the picking of the rarest shellfish is outlawed, meaning common species are by law fair game, Mr Syazwan has not been able to shake the feeling of having to look over his shoulder every time he makes for the beach with his mother.
“We forage in constant fear of being filmed or accused of breaking the law,” he said.
Forbidden fruit?
The unease is familiar to both urban and coastal foragers.
Urban forager Michelle Tan, 42, founder of Urban Jungle Folks, opened her interview with the pronouncement: “Foraging is highly illegal in Singapore.”
In response to queries from ST, NParks said it manages about 90 per cent of the seven million trees on the island – in parks, gardens and on state land – all of which are off-limits to foragers who face fines of between $5,000 and $50,000 for illegal plucking.
Even weeds are considered plant parts that can be removed only by NParks’ staff.
The urban foragers have thus had to exercise ingenuity and self-restraint in their practice, confined to the just-under one million trees outside NParks’ remit.
Mr Yeo prepares samples for his foraging classes and never lets his class pick any of the bounty before them, preferring instead to encourage them to look for edible species in their private gardens.
“I see myself as more of an educator,” he said.
Ms Tan, when she used to conduct foraging classes, was also careful to begin her walks in public places and end in a private garden, where participants could finally pick the weeds they had learnt about.
Even when Mr Luo is fully within his rights to forage on privately owned land – such as in condominium grounds or gardens he has been let into – he feels a need to be discreet.
“The laws are really awkward,” he said, “I have to avoid being seen because to the uninformed person, it’s just vandalism.”
But the foragers, urban and coastal alike, are not unsympathetic to NParks’ concerns.
The authority said the public should not harvest fruit from public plants for their own safety, as some are poisonous.
There is also concern that foraging done incorrectly may “damage plants, the overall landscape and deprive animals dependent on them for food”, NParks said in its statement to ST.
These are the same concerns that underpin the foragers’ unwritten code of conduct – one that espouses moderation and environmental stewardship.
Mr Luo said: “Ultimately, for foragers, the nub is protecting the environment that feeds you. Never harvest everything, leave some behind for the birds. Waste is always frowned upon, so use every part of the plant.”
He is also respectful of the labour of others and warns his students never to touch plants obviously grown by another for personal enjoyment.
For the islanders, the very suggestion that they would harm the earth is a slight.
“Living in nature is central to the Orang Pulau (Malay for island people) identity,” said Mr Syazwan. “How could we destroy the environment? We depend on it to provide for us.”
In the wake of the Changi Beach episode of 2021, there have been calls from marine advocacy groups to ban coastal foraging entirely to protect the invertebrate sea creatures vulnerable to manhandling by ill-informed beach goers.
Considering the spectre of a blanket ban on coastal foraging, Mr Syazwan said: “I’m thankful I’m able to learn about my heritage, but I don’t want to just learn, I want to live it.”
Mr Firdaus has a word of advice for those considering a go at the ancient practice. “Foraging is not for everybody. It’s okay to learn, see how cultures do it, but whether you want to start… that should be given more thought.”