A year ago, a 30-year-old IT engineer relocated to Forest City, a vast Chinese-built housing development in Johor, southern Malaysia. He settled into a one-bedroom apartment overlooking the sea. However, after six months, he was eager to leave what he describes as “a ghost town.”
“I didn’t care about the money; I just had to get out,” he expressed, meeting at the same tower block he previously r犀利士 esided in. “I’m getting goosebumps just being back. It’s lonely around here – it’s just you and your thoughts.”
Back in 2016, China’s leading property developer, Country Garden, introduced Forest City as a $100 billion mega-project under the Belt and Road Initiative. It was envisioned as an eco-friendly metropolis, featuring amenities like a golf course, waterpark, offices, and dining establishments. The ambitious plan aimed to accommodate nearly one million residents.
Presently, however, Forest City stands as a stark reminder that the effects of China’s property crisis can be felt beyond its borders. Merely 15% of the colossal project has been constructed, and recent estimates suggest that a meager 1% of the development is occupied.
Despite facing extensive debts nearing $200 billion, Country Garden conveyed to the BBC its “optimism” that the full project would eventually reach completion.
Initially touted as a paradise, Forest City targeted the domestic Chinese market, offering an investment opportunity for second homes abroad. But the remote location of Forest City, constructed on reclaimed islands far from Johor Bahru, the nearest major city, deterred potential tenants and earned it the moniker “Ghost City” among locals.
“It’s creepy,” voiced Mr. Nazmi, reflecting on his high expectations contrasted with the desolate reality. “There is nothing to do here.”
Forest City exudes an abandoned holiday resort vibe. The beach boasts a dilapidated children’s playground, an old car, and a peculiar white concrete “staircase to nowhere.” Signs warn against swimming due to crocodiles in the waters.
Inside the purpose-built shopping mall, numerous shops and eateries remain shuttered, some units incomplete. A peculiar sight is an empty children’s train looping endlessly around the mall, playing “Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” in Chinese.
As night falls, the place descends into darkness. Tower blocks housing hundreds of apartments remain largely unlit, casting doubt on actual occupancy.
Joanne Kaur, one of the few residents encountered, described her experience: “Even during the day, when you step out of your front door, the corridor is dark.” Living on the 28th floor with her husband, they are the sole occupants on the entire level. Like Mr. Nazmi, they plan to depart at the earliest opportunity.
“I feel sorry for people who actually invested and bought a place here,” she remarked. “It should be the project that was promised to the people, but that’s not what it is.”
While direct communication with Chinese buyers in Forest City proved challenging, social media revealed frustration and dismay. Some buyers lamented the misleading representation of the development and expressed concern over plummeting property values.
This unsettling situation in Forest City mirrors broader turmoil in China’s property market. Stringent government measures in 2021 curtailed excessive borrowing by developers. Major companies now grapple with insufficient funds to complete ambitious projects.
For Country Garden, this difficulty extends beyond Forest City. The company recently had to discontinue two projects in Australia, selling off incomplete developments in Melbourne and Sydney.
Analysts cite various challenges—political, economic, and logistical—that have adversely affected overseas projects. Forest City, once envisioned as a thriving community, now languishes in uncertainty, portraying a dire reflection of China’s property crisis.
Amid these woes, the fate of Forest City and similar projects lies in the hands of the Chinese government. Reports of Country Garden’s inclusion on a preliminary list of developers earmarked for financial assistance surfaced, though the extent of support remains unclear.
For people like Mr. Nazmi, there’s little hope of a return. “I will definitely choose more carefully next time,” he remarks. “But I’m happy I’ve left this place – now I’ve got my life back.”
