Madam Choo Moi Siew.
The Beginning
Like many great journeys, it began quietly — with a crossing of the sea and a heart full of resolve.
In 1969, a young man named Lee Weng Him left his hometown of Alor Setar, Kedah, and boarded a ship bound for the untamed frontier of Sabah. With a box of tools in hand and grit forged by necessity, he landed in Sandakan. Locals would come to call him “SaiMaLee” — a nickname meaning “Lee from the Peninsula,” said with warmth and a touch of teasing. He toiled as a bricklayer under the fierce Bornean sun, later rising to a position in construction management by 1971. But it was not just buildings he would help shape — it was the beginning of a legacy.
At the time, Choo Moi Siew was growing up in Taman Sibuga in Sandakan, where her mother ran a humble grocery shop. In 1965, the family moved to the area to manage the business. A year later, Choo enrolled at St. Michael’s Secondary School. Each morning began before dawn, helping her mother prepare trays of pastries, fried noodles, and steamed buns. By 6.30 a.m., her mother would send her off to school. After classes ended at 1.00 p.m., Choo returned home by bus, changed into her work clothes, and carried homemade snacks and drinks to sell at construction sites.
It was in that web of dust, sweat, and opportunity that their paths crossed. A brief exchange turned into many, and what began as chance bloomed into commitment. In 1972, Lee and Choo were married. Together, they shared not only a home and a growing family, but a deep work ethic and entrepreneurial spirit. Over the next eight years, they welcomed five children into the world — a family built on love, labour, and resilience.
After the birth of their fourth daughter, the tide turned. Lee began receiving government contracts, and their fortunes improved. But the winds of politics shifted. When the Sabah Progressive Party (SAPP) rose to power, the flow of public projects slowed. Undeterred, the couple pivoted once more — this time to the land.
In 1993, they invested in agriculture, purchasing 900 acres for oil palm estate at Mile 19 in Sandakan. Of this, 500 acres stretched into the mangrove-rich lowlands of Labuk Bay. There, amid the brackish waters and tangled roots, the next chapter of their story — and one of Sabah’s most extraordinary wildlife legacies — was about to unfold.
A huge billboard at Sandakan Airport advertising the Labuk Bay Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary.
From Mangroves to Miracles: The Story of Labuk Bay
Just 38 kilometres from Sandakan town, nestled within the emerald mangrove belt of eastern Sabah, lies one of Borneo’s most unexpected wildlife treasures — the Labuk Bay Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary. Located at Mile 19 along Labuk Road and reached via a 15-kilometre detour down dusty stretches, this privately managed haven offers more than just a glimpse of the island’s most peculiar primate. It tells a story of vision, perseverance, and a heartbeat that echoes louder than any tourist footfall — the story of a husband, a wife, and a troop of wild monkeys.
Here, visitors stand mere metres away from long-nosed, potbellied proboscis monkeys (Nasalis larvatus), whose expressions are as theatrical as their movements are majestic. They perch, leap, and swagger across viewing platforms — seemingly oblivious to their stardom. Yet few realise that this now-renowned sanctuary began not with a government decree or international funding, but with a chance encounter in the plantation shadows, a police officer’s encouragement, and a woman’s simple act of daily devotion.
A close-up of a male proboscis monkey’s face, highlighting its oversized, grotesque nose.
What followed was an unlikely transformation — from fixer of homes to guardian of an endangered species. This unassuming figure would go on to shape one of Borneo’s most extraordinary wildlife sanctuaries. Through grit, vision, and deep respect for nature, he became the founding force behind the Labuk Bay Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary — a place where the bizarre yet majestic Nasalis larvatus could leap, swim, and thrive in peace.
The Discovery
The story of Labuk Bay begins not in the halls of government or the pages of an environmental blueprint, but in the estate fields of Mr Lee, a quiet plantation owner who preferred forest to fame. Decades ago, while walking the boundaries of his oil palm estate, he noticed something unusual: wild monkeys with oversized noses and reddish fur loitering at the edge of the mangroves. These were not the usual macaques. There was something ancient about them — something regal.
Unsure of what to do, Mr Lee called a friend, Datuk John Lim, then OCPD of Sandakan. Lim, ever the outdoorsman and keen observer of nature, responded swiftly. When he saw the monkeys with his own eyes, he knew instantly: this was no ordinary troop — it was a gift. He turned to Mr Lee and said, “If you want to preserve this wonder, start now. But most importantly, keep them from leaving.”
That was easier said than done.
The Efforts of Madam Choo Moi Siew
It wasn’t Mr Lee who answered the sanctuary’s calling — it was his wife, Madam Choo Moi Siew, who quietly transformed a suggestion into a mission. While her husband worked the land, she became its heartbeat.
Heeding the advice of Datuk Lim, she began with a simple gesture: tossing scraps of bread at the edge of the plantation each afternoon. At first, the proboscis monkeys came cautiously — then vanished. Days passed. They returned. Still uncertain.
Madam Choo fondly recalled Jeraldine Gabat, the lady who first cared for the oil palm plantation when her husband began his venture. Jeraldine once shared an amusing tale — how proboscis monkeys had stolen her pancakes. That light-hearted story planted a seed of inspiration.
Madam Choo began experimenting in her kitchen and, after much trial and error, perfected a soft, warm pancake made chiefly from flour — gentle on the monkeys’ stomachs, yet utterly irresistible to their taste. From then on, the jungle seemed to stir with expectation. Each dawn, she would rise early to prepare 12.5 kilograms of pancakes alongside 5 to 10 kilograms of fresh cucumbers, all cut into bite-sized pieces. These were carefully portioned for four feeding sessions throughout the day.
The pancakes were placed in a basket, ready to be fed to the monkeys.
But how to let them know food had arrived?
She found her answer in an old metal gong. Each day before feeding, she would strike it once. The sound — clear, resonant, and solemn — rippled across the fields and into the mangrove forest like a sacred summons. And then, it happened: one by one, shadows stirred. From the trees, across muddy channels and through swaying palms, they came — bounding, swinging, leaping with quiet purpose. Drawn not only by the promise of food, but by the call of the woman they had come to trust.
What began as a small act of curiosity and care blossomed into a ritual of trust between woman and wild — an enduring testament to patience, compassion, and the unexpected ways in which humans and nature can meet.
A family group of proboscis monkey congregating at Platform A.
The Platforms
Within the sanctuary, there are two main feeding sites, known as Platform A and Platform B. Each platform supports a distinct group of monkeys, and intriguingly, the groups never intermingle.
At Platform A, feeding takes place at 9.30 am and again at 2.30 pm, during the heat of the day. Long before the ranger, Muhd Jhonathan, appears with the food, the monkeys can already be seen waiting expectantly in the trees nearby. The moment Jhonathan carries the basket of pancakes out onto the platform; they surge forward in a sudden rush — each eager to be the first to snatch a treat. It is a lively, almost chaotic spectacle, with bodies leaping, scrambling, and jostling all at once.
Even within Platform A, the monkeys divide into two separate communities: one comprised of a bachelor group, the other of a family group. Despite their proximity, they never mix, each preferring to keep to its own side.
At Platform B, feeding sessions are held later in the day, at 11.30 am and 4.30 pm, offering visitors another chance to witness this unique ritual of the forest.
It was no longer just a routine. It had become a ritual. A calling. A miracle repeated.
A large male proboscis monkey waiting in the tree for its lunch.
From Curiosity to Conservation: The Rise of Labuk Bay
Word travelled quickly. First, it was the neighbours who came to peek at the monkeys emerging from the mangroves. Then the residents of Sandakan heard whispers of these peculiar, long-nosed primates appearing regularly in a quiet corner of a private oil palm estate.
Before long, the curious became many: buses arrived bearing wide-eyed travellers, amateur naturalists, seasoned nature photographers, and giggling schoolchildren on field trips. The trickle became a stream.
With the growing influx of visitors, the need for proper infrastructure became clear. Mr and Mrs Lee, the sanctuary’s founders, poured their limited resources into building two simple wooden viewing platforms. These rustic decks offered safe vantage points to observe the proboscis monkeys up close — without disturbing their natural behaviour.
Today, the Labuk Bay Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary welcomes between 8,000 and 10,000 visitors each year. Many are nature enthusiasts from Europe, North America, and Australia, leaving behind glowing praise in the guestbooks. Increasing numbers also come from mainland China and Peninsular Malaysia, drawn by the sanctuary’s rare and intimate window into Borneo’s wild heart.
What began as a local curiosity in an oil palm estate has since flourished into a globally recognised ecotourism attraction — and more significantly, a model of private conservation. In an age where wildlife habitats shrink by the day, Labuk Bay stands as a testament to how passion and perseverance can preserve not only a species but the very soul of the rainforest.
Official Recognition
On 5 March 2001, the sanctuary was officially opened to the public in a ceremony officiated by YB Datuk Chong Kah Kiat, then Sabah Minister of Tourism Development, Environment, Science and Technology. The minister was accompanied by his Permanent Secretary, Datuk Monica Chia, and the Director of the Wildlife Department, Datuk Patric Andau.
A once-humble dream had stepped onto the international stage, marking a milestone in private conservation efforts in Borneo.
On 14 July 2005, Tun Ahmadshah Abdullah, the ninth Yang di-Pertua Negeri (TYT) of Sabah, paid an official visit to the sanctuary. He and his entourage were deeply impressed by its remarkable conservation success.
To commemorate this historic occasion, Tun Ahmadshah planted a tree on the grounds — a living symbol of his support for environmental protection and sustainable ecotourism in Sabah.
Today, the sanctuary spans 540 acres of protected mangrove and coastal forest, home not only to proboscis monkeys but also silvered langurs, hornbills, macaques, and egrets. Yet, it is the proboscis monkeys — with their comical noses and soulful eyes — that remain the sanctuary’s most celebrated residents.
The Star Resident: Proboscis Monkey
To see a proboscis monkey up close is to witness nature’s eccentric brilliance. The adult males, with their pendulous noses draped comically over their mouths, are grotesque and majestic in equal measure.
Scientists believe these oversized noses act as resonating chambers, amplifying calls that signal dominance and attract females. Some males must even push their noses aside just to eat.
Their bulging bellies are not signs of gluttony, but marvels of adaptation — multi-chambered stomachs designed to ferment leaves and unripe fruit, extracting maximum nutrition from tough forest fare.
Among the world’s primates, few are as adept in water. With webbed feet and powerful limbs, proboscis monkeys are expert swimmers and divers — a rare trait among monkeys. In Borneo’s mangrove waterways, they are often seen launching from the canopy into the river, vanishing beneath the surface in a graceful arc.
In the early 1960s, legendary herpetologist Dr Robert Inger of the Field Museum, Chicago, witnessed one diving beneath his boat in the Kinabatangan floodplains. Alarmed and intrigued, his team pulled the animal aboard. Tragically, it soon died — likely from trauma. At that time, encounters with proboscis monkeys were rare; they remained cloaked in isolation deep within riverine forests.
Today, such sightings are more common, yet their plight is serious. Habitat loss and fragmentation continue to reduce their numbers across Borneo.
A Haven for Biodiversity
Labuk Bay is more than a stage for its star performers. The sanctuary is a thriving ecosystem that reflects the interdependence of mangroves, wetlands, and wildlife. Nipah palms support insects and birds, waterways bring monitor lizards and kingfishers, and the feeding platforms host a daily theatre of life.
The sanctuary also offers educational programmes and passionate guides, ensuring visitors leave with more than photos — they leave with understanding.
Unlike state-run reserves, Labuk Bay receives no government funding. It thrives solely through the foresight of the Lee family and visitor fees, making it a rare example of private conservation success.
At a time when Sabah’s forests vanish to plantations and infrastructure, the sanctuary is a green outpost — a reminder that profit and preservation need not be enemies, and that tourism, when managed with care, can protect as much as it promotes.
Legacy and Ingenuity
In early 1997, driven by ingenuity, Mr Lee sculpted artificial mangrove stumps from cement, embedding them into swampy ground near feeding platforms. Weathered and gnarled, they mimicked real roots so convincingly that monkeys soon used them as perches. It was a practical and creative solution from the same man who had once been a stranger to these forests.
Today, the sanctuary boasts four feeding platforms. Unlike Sukau, where fleeting glimpses are caught from boats, here visitors enjoy front-row seats to nature’s theatre. Even a mobile phone can capture portraits of furrowed brows, pendulous noses, and liquid eyes.
In recent years, accommodation has been introduced — discreet forest chalets allowing guests to stay beyond sunset, to fall asleep to cicadas and wake to mangrove birds.
To sustain operations, a tiered entrance fee supports daily upkeep: RM60 for foreign visitors, RM15 for Malaysians. Every ringgit goes directly toward the sanctuary’s heartbeat — maintaining trails and platforms, preparing meals, and supporting staff.
Looking to the Future
Labuk Bay continues to inspire because it proves that great things often begin quietly: a walk along a plantation trail, the echo of a gong, the offering of pancakes. Its survival depends not only on the Lee family, but on all of us — travellers, educators, dreamers who believe nature is worth protecting.
What began as quiet conservation has fuelled a booming “monkey business” in Sandakan. Today, the proboscis monkey is a beloved wildlife icon, inspiring souvenirs from plush toys to T-shirts. This is more than memorabilia — it reflects how one family’s vision has grown into a movement supporting local livelihoods.
Mr Lee Weng Him spent most of his life building homes until illness forced him to stop in 2013. He passed away in May 2014, quietly, just as he had lived. Yet his legacy echoes in the calls of monkeys and the hush of mangrove tides — a monument to one man who saw beauty in the overlooked and chose to preserve it.
Today, to the thousands who visit, Labuk Bay is more than a sanctuary. It is a reminder that when one family listens to the forest, their gift is a future where wild things still belong.
A large male proboscis monkey displaying his virility.
The sensual signals of the swamp — Understanding sexuality of male proboscis monkey
In the shadowy mangrove forests and along the rivers of Borneo, the proboscis monkey (Nasalis larvatus) thrives as one of the world’s most visually peculiar primates. With its potbelly, honking call, and famously pendulous nose, the male proboscis monkey is unmistakable. But beyond the comical face lies an animal whose sexuality is as conspicuous as it is complex.
A Body Built for Attraction
Among the most striking features of the adult male is his bright red penis and darkly pigmented scrotum. Unlike most primates, where genital display is brief or concealed, the proboscis monkey wears his virility almost proudly. Males are frequently observed with erections — not simply biological accidents, but part of a carefully evolved system of sexual and social signalling.
Proboscis monkeys are sexually dimorphic: males can weigh more than 20 kilograms, nearly twice the size of females. Their fleshy noses grow larger with age and status, acting as resonating chambers to amplify vocalisations that assert dominance and attract mates.
Yet sound is only part of their performance. Frequent erections, bold postures, and honking calls combine into visual and auditory signals of reproductive strength. Field researchers have reported males standing upright, penis exposed, while vocalising — a posture interpreted as both dominance display and mating invitation.
Life in a Harem
Proboscis monkeys live in polygynous groups, typically led by one adult male with several females and their young. The dominant male monopolises breeding rights, mating throughout the year, often multiple times a day during periods of receptivity. Females usually initiate, approaching with lip-smacking gestures or presenting their rumps.
In contrast, young or displaced males live in bachelor groups. Here too erections are frequent, though no mating occurs. Researchers believe such displays reinforce status hierarchies or serve as practice for future courtship.
A Flash of Colour, A Message of Strength
The vivid red penis of the proboscis monkey is thought to act as a visual health indicator, much like the colourful faces of mandrills or the bright hindquarters of baboons. In dense mangroves where visibility is poor, colour and movement become crucial for communication.
Although early observers described the males as “always erect” or “insatiably lustful,” modern primatology offers a more nuanced view. Erections in this species are not constant; rather, they appear linked to social arousal, dominance assertion, and inter-male competition — not merely sexual drive.
Conclusion: Nature’s Red Flag
In the proboscis monkey, sexual display is not hidden but celebrated — the nose, the call, the belly, and the frequent erection forming part of a complex performance fine-tuned by sexual selection.
To the casual observer, it may appear absurd. Yet in the swampy galleries of Borneo’s forests, these signals are badges of survival and reproductive success. They remind us of that evolution shapes not only what is useful, but also what is striking, strange, and unforgettable.
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