Man: A long time ago, there lived a group of people on the Malay peninsula — fishermen called the Badjao. One afternoon, the Badjao headman drove his mooring pole into what he thought was the reef. In fact, the reef was a giant stingray, which swam across the waters in the middle of the night. When the Badjao awoke, they were so far away, with no way of returning home. And that is the story of how the Badjao came to live in the Sulu seas.
Schwartz: For 6,000 years, the Badjao have been wandering the seas of South-East Asia, following the winds, the current and the fish. Today in the Philippines there are probably 200,000 of these sea gypsies, but very few still live on their boats. They’ve been beached, confined to rickety, crowded stilt villages like this one, on Tawi-Tawi Island. According to one local politician, these proud sea-faring people have now become one of the most neglected and abandoned minorities in the Philippines.
Schwartz: The Luuk Banca housing project was meant to mark a new era for these peace loving nomads. Easy prey for pirates at sea, this village was to offer the Badjao security, jobs and an education for their kids. To Mandali and Jardia, it sounded like paradise.
Schwartz: Far from romantic, their life at sea was full of fear, toil and hunger. And that cycle has continued here. The promised aid never materialised, and if anything, the Badjao have become only more vulnerable.
Jardia: It’s better in a boat, because if there’s shooting you can escape by sailing away. But in a house — God forbid — they just come in.
Mandali: It was comfortable living on the boat because you could go wherever you liked. In the house you’re stuck in one place.
Schwartz: Schwartz, one of the couple’s sons has returned to his boat. It doesn’t surprise my guide, Hadji Musa. He believes the Luuk Banca fiasco shows the government’s complete disrespect for the Badjao and their culture.
Musa: This is a kind of bullshit project. The biggest, I think, piracy, here in the Philippines is the corruption of culture. They are selling the culture of the Badjao people. They are selling the culture of minority groups.
Schwartz: Hadji Musa is a Badjao school teacher who’s intent on preserving the fast vanishing lifestyle and tradition of his people.
Schwartz: He’s taking me to his home town of Sitangkai, five hours by boat from Tawi-Tawi.
Schwartz: Once a gathering of Badjao houseboats, the Sitangkai today is a mass of long-legged buildings and boardwalks. The Venice of the Far East, a vibrant commercial centre controlled by the Muslim Tausug tribe.
Schwartz: While the Badjao are still a majority here, they’re regarded as second class citizens.
Teacher & students: One, two, three. Little hands are good to see.
Teacher: Okay, let us sing.
Teacher & Students: I have two hands...
Schwartz: Education is a ticket to a better life. But the barriers to Badjao children succeeding at school are many. Only 1% ever make it to high school.
Poverty and a nomadic lifestyle keep many away from class. And according to Hadji Musa, so too does discrimination.
Schwartz: It’s full moon, the night when Magidadjin becomes much more than just an academic lesson. The shamans, in a trance, call upon the spirits for guidance.
For the older Badjao, this a powerful and necessary ritual. For many of the youth however, it’s merely a novelty.
Musa: Few are now attending because, you know, the influence of the Muslim religion, because they interpret that observing the ritual dancing is against the Muslim religion. It’s not the way the Muslim acts.
Schwartz: Once animists, today many Badjao have adopted Islam.
It’s a way of gaining accepting from the dominant Tausug Muslims.
Schwartz: Hadji Musa believes Islam is eroding his tribe’s traditions. But his cousin, a spiritual leader for both Badjao traditionalists and Muslims, disagrees.
Schwartz: Is it possible to maintain the Badjao beliefs and be a good Muslim?
Hadji Mohmin: It is possible. Belief in God is one thing —belief in one’s ancestors is something quite separate.
Schwartz: Islam may help the Badjao survive on land, but out on the water, fire power is often what counts.
Schwartz: We’re off in search of the boat dwelling Badjao. The Sitangkai police won’t let us leave without three of their best officers — Tarzan, Abs and Sonny.
Police on walkie-talkie.
Schwartz: The waters between the Philippines and Malaysia are among the most dangerous in the world. The hunting ground for pirates and smugglers.
Schwartz: The threat of violence seems incongruent in a setting as idyllic as Saluag Island — the place we finally found our Badjao houseboats.
Schwartz: As night fell, who should we stumble upon, but the family of Maraw Lasa — the son of the old couple we’d met at the Luuk Banca Housing Project.
Schwartz: They’re glad to be back at sea.
Maraw Lasa: It’s better to live like this because we can find the food we need and we can eat together.
Schwartz: The Lasa family rarely stays out overnight, preferring to moor near other boats and return to their nets in the morning. Not that there’s much to come back for today.
Maraw Lasa: You saw our catch this morning will not be enough to replace the diesel and to feed us as well. God decides how many.
Schwartz: But man, as well as God, has a hand in destiny.
Pangasil Adari is a dynamite fisher. One of the Tausugs living on Saluag Island. Every day he prepares his explosive mix of ammonium nitrate and kerosene — enough for five blasts.
Schwartz: Pangasil works only a few hundred metres from shore, scanning the water for shoals of fish, before blasting them.
Schwartz: Dynamiting doesn’t guarantee him a bigger catch than the Lasa family, but it’s at least 50 times cheaper than maintaining a motor boat and large net.
Pangasil: Netting fish is too expensive while dynamiting fish costs only thirty pesos.
Schwartz: The huge hidden cost however, is the long term damage to the environment. One blast can kill millions of small fish within a 3 kilometre radius.
Old Man: If the coral is destroyed by dynamite and there are no fish, we’ll have to move elsewhere.
Schwartz: Not that there’s much further to go. According to the Fisheries Bureau, the marine life from Tawi-Tawi to Sitangkai has been devastated by dynamite fishing and illegal commercial trawling.
Sonny: Take not of the tops of the coral. Dom, this coral is actually dead. See?
Schwartz: The Badjao’s livelihood is being systematically destroyed and there seems no stopping it.
Music drums:gongs
Schwartz: The Badjao believe evil forces have been building in Sitangkai for a long time. Now they say, they’re ready to act.
Schwartz: In a ritual not performed here for 10 years, the shamans lead their ceremonial boat through the community, summoning the evil spirits aboard.
Schwartz: At dark they’ll release it to the oceans, the world that has always been their provider and protector.
Schwartz: For 6,000 years, the Badjao have been wandering the seas of South-East Asia, following the winds, the current and the fish. Today in the Philippines there are probably 200,000 of these sea gypsies, but very few still live on their boats. They’ve been beached, confined to rickety, crowded stilt villages like this one, on Tawi-Tawi Island. According to one local politician, these proud sea-faring people have now become one of the most neglected and abandoned minorities in the Philippines.
Schwartz: The Luuk Banca housing project was meant to mark a new era for these peace loving nomads. Easy prey for pirates at sea, this village was to offer the Badjao security, jobs and an education for their kids. To Mandali and Jardia, it sounded like paradise.
Schwartz: Far from romantic, their life at sea was full of fear, toil and hunger. And that cycle has continued here. The promised aid never materialised, and if anything, the Badjao have become only more vulnerable.
Jardia: It’s better in a boat, because if there’s shooting you can escape by sailing away. But in a house — God forbid — they just come in.
Mandali: It was comfortable living on the boat because you could go wherever you liked. In the house you’re stuck in one place.
Schwartz: Schwartz, one of the couple’s sons has returned to his boat. It doesn’t surprise my guide, Hadji Musa. He believes the Luuk Banca fiasco shows the government’s complete disrespect for the Badjao and their culture.
Musa: This is a kind of bullshit project. The biggest, I think, piracy, here in the Philippines is the corruption of culture. They are selling the culture of the Badjao people. They are selling the culture of minority groups.
Schwartz: Hadji Musa is a Badjao school teacher who’s intent on preserving the fast vanishing lifestyle and tradition of his people.
Schwartz: He’s taking me to his home town of Sitangkai, five hours by boat from Tawi-Tawi.
Schwartz: Once a gathering of Badjao houseboats, the Sitangkai today is a mass of long-legged buildings and boardwalks. The Venice of the Far East, a vibrant commercial centre controlled by the Muslim Tausug tribe.
Schwartz: While the Badjao are still a majority here, they’re regarded as second class citizens.
Teacher & students: One, two, three. Little hands are good to see.
Teacher: Okay, let us sing.
Teacher & Students: I have two hands...
Schwartz: Education is a ticket to a better life. But the barriers to Badjao children succeeding at school are many. Only 1% ever make it to high school.
Poverty and a nomadic lifestyle keep many away from class. And according to Hadji Musa, so too does discrimination.
Schwartz: It’s full moon, the night when Magidadjin becomes much more than just an academic lesson. The shamans, in a trance, call upon the spirits for guidance.
For the older Badjao, this a powerful and necessary ritual. For many of the youth however, it’s merely a novelty.
Musa: Few are now attending because, you know, the influence of the Muslim religion, because they interpret that observing the ritual dancing is against the Muslim religion. It’s not the way the Muslim acts.
Schwartz: Once animists, today many Badjao have adopted Islam.
It’s a way of gaining accepting from the dominant Tausug Muslims.
Schwartz: Hadji Musa believes Islam is eroding his tribe’s traditions. But his cousin, a spiritual leader for both Badjao traditionalists and Muslims, disagrees.
Schwartz: Is it possible to maintain the Badjao beliefs and be a good Muslim?
Hadji Mohmin: It is possible. Belief in God is one thing —belief in one’s ancestors is something quite separate.
Schwartz: Islam may help the Badjao survive on land, but out on the water, fire power is often what counts.
Schwartz: We’re off in search of the boat dwelling Badjao. The Sitangkai police won’t let us leave without three of their best officers — Tarzan, Abs and Sonny.
Police on walkie-talkie.
Schwartz: The waters between the Philippines and Malaysia are among the most dangerous in the world. The hunting ground for pirates and smugglers.
Schwartz: The threat of violence seems incongruent in a setting as idyllic as Saluag Island — the place we finally found our Badjao houseboats.
Schwartz: As night fell, who should we stumble upon, but the family of Maraw Lasa — the son of the old couple we’d met at the Luuk Banca Housing Project.
Schwartz: They’re glad to be back at sea.
Maraw Lasa: It’s better to live like this because we can find the food we need and we can eat together.
Schwartz: The Lasa family rarely stays out overnight, preferring to moor near other boats and return to their nets in the morning. Not that there’s much to come back for today.
Maraw Lasa: You saw our catch this morning will not be enough to replace the diesel and to feed us as well. God decides how many.
Schwartz: But man, as well as God, has a hand in destiny.
Pangasil Adari is a dynamite fisher. One of the Tausugs living on Saluag Island. Every day he prepares his explosive mix of ammonium nitrate and kerosene — enough for five blasts.
Schwartz: Pangasil works only a few hundred metres from shore, scanning the water for shoals of fish, before blasting them.
Schwartz: Dynamiting doesn’t guarantee him a bigger catch than the Lasa family, but it’s at least 50 times cheaper than maintaining a motor boat and large net.
Pangasil: Netting fish is too expensive while dynamiting fish costs only thirty pesos.
Schwartz: The huge hidden cost however, is the long term damage to the environment. One blast can kill millions of small fish within a 3 kilometre radius.
Old Man: If the coral is destroyed by dynamite and there are no fish, we’ll have to move elsewhere.
Schwartz: Not that there’s much further to go. According to the Fisheries Bureau, the marine life from Tawi-Tawi to Sitangkai has been devastated by dynamite fishing and illegal commercial trawling.
Sonny: Take not of the tops of the coral. Dom, this coral is actually dead. See?
Schwartz: The Badjao’s livelihood is being systematically destroyed and there seems no stopping it.
Music drums:gongs
Schwartz: The Badjao believe evil forces have been building in Sitangkai for a long time. Now they say, they’re ready to act.
Schwartz: In a ritual not performed here for 10 years, the shamans lead their ceremonial boat through the community, summoning the evil spirits aboard.
Schwartz: At dark they’ll release it to the oceans, the world that has always been their provider and protector.