The Lazy Native

Back in ’89 I found myself a job of finding an island and building a “Beach Resort” for a group of German investors. The island was on the northern tip of Palawan and the beach resort is now called “Club Paradise”.

Yes the name is a rip off from the movie with the same title and if you’ve seen it, I can tell you that there were times when “Life imitated art”. I guess that’s what happens when you build out of fun and passion more than expertise.

Although we often had 16-hour work shifts and soldier-like lifestyles, nature and life would often add color to our secluded and disconnected life.

Everyday, just before the sun gave way to the moon and the stars, we would all take a break. Some would cast a line and a hook into the water hoping to have something extra for dinner. The rest of us would simply talk about the day’s events.

One afternoon the topic of conversation was “the Lazy Native”.

Each morning the Lazy Native would come out of the bushes from one of the islands in the area, he would get into his dugout canoe, paddle to some predetermined site and either dive in to gather shells, lobsters or if he’s not feeling particularly energetic, he would simply drop a fishing line using a hermit crab as bait.

He does this for four to five hours and when he thinks he has caught enough, he paddles his way to our project site where he sells his catch to our cook. Once he gets his money he will then paddle another hour to the mainland to buy some rice, supplies and most important of all a bottle of cheap rum or high octane gin.

He then paddles back to his campsite or which ever island his tiny family is currently located. Unlike us “civilized” mainlanders, he does not have a big family because life in the wild is based on survival of the fittest.

The wilderness is never kind to babies and children. They die of malnutrition or malaria. They tell me that many “native children” are buried on those islands. It would not surprise me.

Once the “Lazy Native” gets “home”, they cook the rice and whatever was not sold. With stomachs full, the Lazy Native then takes out his just dessert. Like a connoisseur he relishes his bottle of rum or gin. Soon after he passes out on the beach for the rest of the afternoon.

A few hours later, he rises to once again catch fish, crabs or squid for dinner. Then he retires for the evening and in the next sunrise, you will find him splashing about doing what he always does.

On this particular afternoon, the crew all had the same comment about “The Lazy Native”. How could a person live without a house, no property and no regular income, obviously no savings and to top it all, spend afternoons wasted on the beach?   

How could he “move” from island to island, paddle for hours just to buy so little food, supplies and always buy rum or gin? Yes the crew were all very certain of their observation. But just out of curiosity, they decided to check what I thought of the guy.

So I replied:

Yup, that’s one lazy native! He moves from island to island, wherever the fishing is good and the living is easy. You guys on the other hand are 120 nautical miles away from home. You all have real houses that you are paying rent to live in, or paying a loan to own it.

Yup, that Lazy Native has no regular income. He lives hand to mouth. He has such a simple life. No electricity, no appliances, no shoes and a bare minimum of clothes. His clock is the sun, his highway is the sea, and his night light is the moon and the stars. At night he and his family keep warm by sleeping tightly together in shallow pods on the sand, with leaves because they don’t own blankets.

You guys have regular jobs and regular income except you have to share ten percent of it with the government. Of course your salary goes to your wife or mother who has to pay for the food, the electricity for your appliances and lights at night and water to wash away chemicals on the fish and vegetables for your family.

The Lazy Native does not even have photographs of his family. Every night, all of you stroke the faces on the pictures and telling them how you love and miss them. That makes you feel warm all over but aching and breaking inside.

Each day he fills his belly with nature’s blessings then he washes it down with mankind’s curse: Alcohol. He passes out on the beach every afternoon perhaps dreaming a different dream each day. Maybe that’s why he does the same thing everyday.

When the Lazy Native gets sick they gather plants and make some funny medicine or they just drown the pain away with alcohol. The Lazy Native accepts pain. Whether it is the bone crushing pain of malaria, the withering curse of dysentery or the burning torment of scorpion bites, they live or die with it.

The Lazy Native is even too lazy to make his own casket. So someone rolls him up in a grass mat or banig. Or when we happen to know the poor fellow, we offer to make them a handmade casket made of marine plywood meant for making bancas.

At that point, someone decided to open a bottle of rum and another brought out the guitar and as we sang James Taylor’s song “Sweet Baby James” we toasted: “To the Lazy Native who just taught us a lesson”.