A recent trip to Davao, a city in Mindanao, Philippines made us realize the various degrees of sustainable living. As with any city, the farther you get from the center, the simpler the people’s lifestyle becomes. Farther still—in the outer fringes and up on the mountains—the people are completely cut off from the grid, and from civilization even, armed with only the bare essentials, living simply as best as they can.
Frame of a typical nipa hut. (Image from www.msray2008.com)
We visited a village—a mere ten minute drive from the city center, and already the simplicity kicks in—and there we chanced upon some folks cobbling together a small house.
Standards have been lowered for practical reasons: coco lumber (from coconut trees) goes for the frame, bamboo for the floor, plywood for the walls, and thin galvanized iron sheets as roofing. The whole thing was finished and ready in about four days. Not exactly a dream house. And in a typhoon-ridden country like the Philippines, that house might not be as sturdy as hoped for, but for the new house’s occupants, it’s more than enough. It will serve its purpose.
Simple House = Living Simply
There are three things worth noting about this newly built house. One is that the materials, specifically the lumber, are sourced from coconut trees and bamboo groves growing right in the backyard. Nothing is shipped from outside the country, much less outside the town, so you can be sure that the deliveries have had very little environmental impact.
Lumber from coconut trees (Image from www.asisbiz.com)
Second, and perhaps the most obvious fact, is the size of the house. As we said, it’s small. Viewed from the road, you can actually see the other corner of the structure in just a few steps of walking. It’s that small. And yet there’s a certain coziness to it. Of course we know the bigger the house, the more expensive it becomes to manage, so this tiny dwelling is certainly thrifty. Is it comfortable?, you ask. That’s another matter. But since levels of comfort are relative, we assume the new homeowners have decided that it’s the level of comfort they’re willing to settle for.
Lastly, there’s the heartwarming fact that the house was built with the so-called bayanihan spirit—communal effort—just like sod roofing parties in Scandanavia and barn raising traditions in the U.S. The men—relatives and neighbors—provide labor, while the women are in charge of the food.
Their job descriptions are not always that clear-cut—the women readily exchange their pots and ladles for a hammer, and vice versa. Because of camaraderie and teamwork, the four days of construction which could have been grueling becomes bearable, even enjoyable.
What’s the takeaway in all of these? Simplicity always trumps everything. We often take for granted all our little privileges and tiny luxuries and obsessive details, clueless that on the other side of the world some people live by on much, much less, with absolutely no idea what they’re missing.
Living simply can also be liberating. (See a guide to off the grid living) Finally, whether it’s a tiny hut or a grand palace we end up building, it’s love that truly makes it a home.
