by Shumin Tan
In Sungai Dua, Penang, a swarm of bees recently poured into an apartment, turning a kitchen into chaos. By morning, dozens of dead pollinators lay scattered across tiles and windowsills, swept up with a broom. “Since construction started, it’s not just bees – small birds, lizards, even hornets are showing up,” says Mr. Cheah, a retiree who has lived in the area for over two decades. “They’re being pushed out.”
He refers to the clearing of a nearby patch of secondary forest to build for new residential development. The site, once a buffer of undergrowth and trees, had sheltered various species. What happened in Sungai Dua isn’t an isolated event. Across Malaysia, rapid urban expansion displaces wildlife with little warning, often without thorough environmental assessment. Faced with swarms, residents panic. Firefighters are called, and the bees are torched – fast, effective, final.
But as environmental awareness grows and pollinator populations decline, some are beginning to ask: Is there a better way?
Responding with Care, Not Fire
Communities are beginning to respond with care instead of fear. Dr. Mohd Norowi Bin Hamid, a beekeeper and chairman of My Bee Saviour, leads a volunteer-run NGO offering free, humane bee relocation services. “We must stop treating bees like pests,” he says. “They are pollinators, not problems.”
Rather than resorting to fire, residents and companies now reach out directly to the group. Hives are carefully removed and relocated to protected sites, such as the Century Forest Reserve in Puchong, Kuala Lumpur, managed by the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environmental Sustainability.
Post-relocation check: Dr. Norowi monitors hive activity and environmental adaptation of the honeybee colony, photo courtesy of Dr. Norowi
Up close with the hive’s structure – an essential part of monitoring post-relocation health, photo courtesy of Dr. Norowi
Dr. Norowi explains that habitat loss, urban expansion, and rising temperatures are driving more frequent bee swarms. “With construction spreading and green spaces shrinking, bees are forced to search for safer foraging grounds,” he says. “The least we can do is help them find it.”
Most of the team’s work happens after office hours, especially during peak swarming season in March, April, and May. “We’re volunteers – many of us are teachers, engineers, civil servants – doing this out of passion,” he says. “If we don’t, the bees get torched.”
More Than Rescue: Changing Minds and Systems
The group’s work is both ecological and educational. My Bee Saviour raises public awareness through talks at schools, community centres, and even banks, emphasising bees’ ecological and medicinal values. “Pollination contributes to 80 per cent of our food security,” says stingless bee specialist, Dr. Asiah Wan. “If bees vanish, so does much of our nutrition.” Globally, pollination and honey are worth hundreds of billions.
She began studying bee behaviour in 2013 during her PhD at Universiti Putra Malaysia (UPM), focusing on how bee activity affects crops like sour fruit and rock melon. After earning her doctorate, she joined My Bee Saviour to put her research into practice. She learned how to safely relocate nests, and now leads efforts in Puchong and Air Hitam Forest, managing swarms in residential neighbourhoods.
Dr. Asiah Relocating Bees_Video.mp4
Team effort in action: Dr. Asiah leads the relocation of a bee hive, video courtesy of Dr. Asiah
Team effort in action: Dr. Asiah leads the relocation of a bee hive, photo courtesy of Dr. Asiah
“When people see a bee nest, they panic. They think sting first, ask questions later,” she says. “But if the queen is safe and the hive is undisturbed, bees rarely sting. They’re just trying to survive in a landscape we keep shrinking.”
Yet, fear often overrides understanding. On June 4, a hive was spotted at a Penang apartment around 9pm. Firefighters arrived and torched it in under a minute. No injuries were reported, but the colony was destroyed. For some, the response was necessary. For others, it points to the need for a better approach.
Documentation of bee colony destruction via fire
“When people see a bee nest, they panic – they think about getting stung first before anything else,” she says. “But unless the queen is threatened or the hive disturbed, bees rarely sting. They’re not attacking us – they’re just trying to survive in a world we’re making smaller every day.”
That is why My Bee Saviours also host school programmes such as “bee aquariums,” to teach children not to fear insects. “Children can observe and learn that bees aren’t dangerous.” Dr. Asiah says, “The earlier we start, the better. Kids who respect bees grow into adults who don’t set them on fire.”
Long-Term Coexistence, One Hive at a Time
Dr. Norowi agrees, “Awareness is the first step, but lasting change requires stronger systems.” He calls for tighter coordination between government agencies, scientists, and local communities. In the short term, his team works with groups like APM (Angkatan Pertahanan Awam) – civil units trained to handle minor environmental incidents. They assess swarms and assist in safe relocations. Long-term goals include designated pollination zones, government-supported floral corridors, and alignment with global conservation frameworks under the FAO.
Looking ahead, the organisation is advocating for structured pollination zones, government-backed floral corridors, and deeper integration with international conservation guidelines, including those outlined by the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO).
Strengthening partnerships: Dr. Norowi with the APM team lead after a hands-on bee relocation training, photo courtesy of My Bee Saviour
In the field: Dr. Norowi leads practical training with APM personnel on hive handling, photo courtesy of My Bee Savior
Dr. Norowi urges, “We can’t wait for a bee apocalypse like the West. Our biodiversity is rich and more fragile. We’ve got more to lose.”
That fragility – and the possibility for repair – often reveals itself in the most ordinary places. On the top floor of a walk-up in Sungai Dua, a beehive has quietly settled in. Satellite images from 2015, 2020, and 2025 help explain why: a 112,000 square metre patch of secondary forest once bordering the flats – dense with tall trees and undergrowth – has been cleared, replaced by bare cement and gravel.
When concerned residents sought advice, Dr. Norowi reassured them, “If it is more than three meters up and not harming anyone, let it be.” A healthy hive, he explained, can be identified by its movement – bees flowing in and out at the entrance signals a healthy colony. Interfering with the queen would collapse the entire hive. Sometimes, the wisest response is to leave space – to observe, not panic.
Honeybee hive spotted on the top floor unit in Sungai Dua, photo courtesy of the author
Satellite comparison (2015-2025) showing land clearance, photo courtesy of Google Earth
“People forget that our immune system and our ecosystem are reflections of each other,” he adds. “If the bees are healthy, we probably are too.”
Perhaps, radical change doesn’t come through sweeping reforms overnight. Sometimes, awareness begins not with grand policy, but with quiet, everyday choices. To listen, to notice, and to live alongside. One house, one hive at a time.
Ends
This story was produced as part of the PANAS! Climate Change Stories in Malaysia initiative by Science Media Centre Malaysia, with support from the International Science Council Regional Focal Point for Asia and the Pacific, funded by the Australian Department of Industry, Science and Resources and led by the Australian Academy of Science, and from the International Network for Governmental Science Advice – Asia (INGSA-Asia), funded by the Québec government and the Fonds de Recherche du Québec.