Nuclear Winter

We hear success stories loudly but failures are understandably unsung. Was this ghost town a victim of our gung-ho but reckless “Build Them And They Will Come” policy of the 80 and 90s? There must be a lesson somewhere.

To compound the problem, besi burok (scrap metal) thieves descend on abandoned projects and strip every metal fitting like swarming locusts. The result? A scene similar to that of a fictional nuclear winter. Maybe the area can be revived as an Urbex (Urban Exploration) destination, an increasingly popular photography genre.

Panasonic LX-5, ISO 80, f4, 1/500 sec.

Nuclear Winter

Apocalypse Now

Imagine a  nuclear detonation. Visualise the damage and destruction from the resulting shock waves. Roofs and windows on every building are blown out. What is left standing are skeletal concrete structures that withstood the blast. When the dust, debris and thermal radiation settle a bit, survivors (if any) see a silent, eerie ghost town.

But it wasn’t a nuclear detonation. It was a swamp of locusts at work. They descended on the area, stripped every metal structure or parts with military precision. From window frames, roller shutter doors to cable trunking. Even wiring inside the walls and ceiling were yanked out. But the locusts weren’t insects. They were human scrap metal scavengers or besi buruk collecors, as we call them. Now; imagine you are the helpless owner stuck with an unsellable, unrentable property saddled by a hefty bank loan. Financial apocalypse for certain.

Photographed on location at the part-abandoned township of Bandar Armada Putra, Pulau Indah.

Apocalypse Now