The Grasshopper and the Ant

“Diligence is the mother of good fortune.“

Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881) was a prominent British politician, writer, and statesman who served as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom twice, first in 1868 and then from 1874 to 1880.

WHEN I was a child growing up in our remote rural village from the 1950s to the late 1960s, two very different men became part of my life and my family’s.

There were other prominent men in the village, but these two stood out for various reasons. I remember them well because of the stark contrast in their lifestyles.

Let me start with Uncle Su.

He wasn’t my blood relative but was one of my father’s friends.

Su is short for “subi”, which, in the BukarSadung sub-dialect spoken by the Bidayuh of Serian, means “ant” (“semut” in Malay).

My siblings and I, including our cousins, called him “Su” because it was easier to say, and we didn’t want him to feel offended by a nickname that compared him to an ant.

The other man’s nickname, Uncle Rami, came from the word “rami” which means “festive” or “festival”. It also means “many”, but that’s not relevant here.

He was a fun-loving man and could be found whenever and wherever there were celebrations — Gawai Dayak, Christmas, birthdays, farewell parties, welcoming parties, whatever. You name it, he was there.

He was often the heart and soul of social gatherings in the village.

Uncle Su was hardworking and disciplined, always looking for food and other necessities to gather, preparing for what he often called “whatever bad things might happen in the future”.

As a carefree child who preferred playing to working, I didn’t understand why he was so dedicated to being productive and achieving goals.

In his conversations with my father and other elders, he always spoke about the importance of planning and saving resources for times of scarcity.

Few dared to contradict him for fear of sounding or looking dumb.

This obsession with planning and saving was odd as far as I was concerned because although most people in the village didn’t have much money, we always had enough to eat.

Self-reliant and responsible, Uncle Su took pride in his ability to provide for himself, his family, and others.

Sometimes Uncle Su seemed too stern or serious compared to others like Uncle Rami, but his diligence ensured his survival and well-being, and he was respected for that.

Although Uncle Su didn’t have the same charm or charisma as his easygoing contemporaries, he wasn’t unlikable.

He was appreciated for being dependable and hardworking.

He has been a resident in my memory for decades because he was such a positive character.

One of my most cherished memories of him was his concern for his friends.

“Do you need any help?” was his customary question whenever he passed by our farmhouse.

And it was not just an idle question asked out of habit, a form of greeting, or as a sort of pleasantry.

He meant it. I remember him passing by one day and saw my father roofing an addition to our farmhouse.

Without saying much, he began helping and the roof was completed by late afternoon.

That was the sort of man he was.

Compared to Uncle Su, Uncle Rami was rather irresponsible.

He was selectively lazy, preferring to frolic, sing, and avoid hard work or preparing for the future.

He lived in the moment, enjoying the present without plans for difficult times in future.

Hence, he relied on his close family members and friends whenever he needed something.

As if making up for his shortcomings,

Uncle Rami was always charming and charismatic, making himself endearing to others.

His positive attitude was infectious and when confronting challenges (or failures), his optimism was uplifting and attractive.

With a quick wit, he was great at using humour and cleverness to navigate social situations and win people over.

It was hard to stay annoyed with him for long or to dislike him.

He had a particular talent for making people laugh.

In our community of huntergatherers and farmers, where life was physically demanding and emotionally taxing, a joker like Uncle Rami was always welcomed and cherished for his ability to lift their spirits.

One particularly memorable trait of Uncle Rami was his tendency to talk more than work during any “gotong-royong” (communal) activity or project.

Strangely, those around him never seemed to mind. His role for the day appeared to be to entertain the group with jokes or stories tailored to his audience.

His workmates would become so engrossed in his humour and tales that they often didn’t notice how little he contributed to the labour.

One day, while I was in Primary 2 at our village mission school, a teacher read us a story as a reward for doing well in our school exams.

It was the fable of ‘The Grasshopper and the Ant’, a classic tale attributed to Aesop, an ancient Greek storyteller.

It’s been retold in various cultures and versions over the centuries.

The Grasshopper spends the summer days singing and playing, enjoying the warm weather.

Meanwhile, the Ant gathers and stores food for the upcoming winter.

The Grasshopper mocks the Ant for working so hard and insists on enjoying the present moment.

As winter arrives, the tables turn.

The Grasshopper becomes hungry and cold, regretting his failure to prepare for the harsh season.

In contrast, the Ant has more than enough food and is comfortably sheltered.

The whole class enjoyed the story, but we didn’t get the moral, let alone appreciate it.

Over time, however, I realised that Uncle Rami and Uncle Su were similar to the Grasshopper and the Ant.

As I wrestled with this realisation, my perception of them slowly changed.

The more I understood the story, the more aware I became of the differences in their attitudes toward hard work, preparations, and the value of planning for the future rather than living in the moment without considering what lay ahead.

I read and reread the fable over the years and learned to appreciate how it teaches the virtues of diligence, responsibility, and the consequences of neglecting responsibilities.

It’s a timeless reminder that foresight and hard work can lead to a more secure and prosperous future.

When I started high school away from my village in 1966, I began to take the lessons of the fable more seriously.

What I took away from the story was the need to plan for the future and work hard today for tomorrow.

As I struggled with the responsibilities of looking after myself while pursuing an education, it was comforting to know I could emulate the attitude and wisdom of the Ant in various aspects of school and life.

Away from the constant care of my parents and familiar elders in the village, the Grasshopper and the Ant were handy reminders of what to do and what not to do.

The Grasshopper’s neglect of responsibilities and failure to prepare for foreseeable challenges leads to negative outcomes.

This suggests the need for a balanced approach to life, where enjoyment is paired with responsibility.

In some versions of the story, the Ant refuses to help the Grasshopper, teaching a lesson on self-reliance.

In other versions, the Ant helps the Grasshopper, highlighting the importance of compassion and community support.

While selfreliance is crucial, community and mutual support are also important.

Helping others in times of need fosters a cooperative and caring society.

Another aspect of the fable is how it reflects the natural cycles of life and the importance of adapting to them.

The Ant’s behaviour aligns with the seasonal changes, while the Grasshopper’s does not.

Therefore, it’s useful to recognise and adapt to the cyclical nature of life, such as seasons in nature, economic cycles, or personal phases, as doing so can lead to more sustainable living.

On a broader level, the story can be seen as an allegory for financial planning.

Saving and investing resources during times of abundance can ensure security during lean periods.

Financial prudence and savings are essential for stability and security, especially in unpredictable times.

In a professional context, consistent effort and skill development can lead to longterm success, while neglecting professional growth may result in missed opportunities.

Ultimately, the question is: Should you live like the Ant or the Grasshopper?

I would go for the balanced approach. Integrating hard work with leisure might be the ideal takeaway.

Rather than viewing them as opposites, it’s more accurate to see the Grasshopper and the Ant as representing different values and virtues.

Some may find the Grasshopper’s charm appealing, while others may admire the Ant’s industriousness.

These characteristics serve as moral lessons, illustrating the virtues of hard work, foresight, and responsibility embodied by the Ant, contrasted with the folly of laziness and procrastination embodied by the Grasshopper.

The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.