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It sounds like a Genesis Joke. In the beginning, Eden was a Pacific island under martial law. Then the President said, "Let there be zebra,” — and there were zebra, plus giraffe, gazelle and impala.

It's no joke that remote Calauit Island in the southern-western Phillipines actually is "home" to hordes of animals that previously roamed wild only on the plains of Africa. Their story, as with so many connected to the name Ferdinand Marcos, is one of imperial folly.

In 1976 the late President Marcos decided that he'd like his son Ferdinand Jr. ("Bong Bong") to be able to go big-game hunting without ever leaving home. Having selected the 3,700 hectare Calauit Island in the Calamian Island group, he removed its inhabitants — 250 families — and stocked Calauit with animals from eight non-predatory African species. The animals multiplied and prospered in inverse ratio to the political fortunes of the Marcos clan.

Big Ferdy is long gone, and Bong Bong has grown up to be like him, a politician, but their former game park remains. On slim resources the Calauit Island Wildlife Sanctuary now operates as a reserve for endangered Philippine species, as well as its African exiles.

Club Paradise, a small, four-star resort on neighbouring Dimakya Island is the most convenient jumping-off spot for Calauit. With no roads or jeepneys, the 19-hectare island has instead white sands that slope down to waters as pale green as an old Coke bottle. Sea eagles and orioles cruise overhead while tiny Calamian deer roam the island.

Any place called "Paradise" must be earned, of course. We start with a one hour flight from Manila to Busuanga Island's Coron airport (little more than a runway and windsock), followed by a jeepney ride, then a boat trip down the jungle-fringed Panggauran River and out to the islands. An hour later we're stepping across the beach at Club Paradise.
The resort's waters are a scuba diver's dream, with coral reefs, a WW2 wreck and good diving facilities. But, it's not what we are here for. Our banca boat then slips through the islands of the Busuanga channel on its way to Calauit, Africa.

The project manager welcomes us ashore, and we pile into his ancient jeep. Bouncing across Calauit's cogon grasslands, already I can spot the heads of giraffes drifting above the treetops like languid "cherry pickers". Nearby, a gallery of op-art zebras seems to have adapted very well to its Asian Diaspora. We learn that the original 104 African animals, of eight species, have bred so well (there are now around 600 of them) that either selling or culling some will be necessary in order to avoid overcrowding.

"All the animals are grazers and browsers. Being non-predatory species, they don't attack each other — or the 'locals'," says our guide, pointing out a group of native Calamian deer that shelter among the ipil-ipil trees. Across the open grasslands are scattered various members of the antelope family — horned bushbucks, waterbucks, eland, topi, gazelle and impala. None of them is spooked by our vehicle, although when I approach a group of waterbuck on foot, they scamper away.

The African animals attract most attention from visitors because they’re an anomaly, but Calauit's Conservation and Resource Management Foundation now concentrates its efforts on its own endangered Philippine species.

The guide takes us to a roughly netted enclosure holding a beautiful royal blue Palawan peacock pheasant. Staff shortages — there were 400 in the Marcos heyday — mean that resources are stretched to protect this native species, as well as the Philippine crocodile, the Calamian deer and the Palawan mouse deer.

One local creature that seems to be doing very nicely is the Palawan bearcat. This bushy, indolent fellow, who is built like a well-fed possum, hangs from a rail by his tail, and hooks into his favourite snack, a salami sandwich.
Visiting the sanctuary's Operations Centre, we learn about programs to protect other indigenous species, such as sea turtles and scaly anteaters. Outside the Centre sits an old Isuzu truck that is ample testimony to the limited budget that the devoted staff work to. The truck, abandoned by the Japanese Army in 1945, was until recently the Centre's main workhorse.

We drive back out to the grassy plains again, then park to watch the giraffes mosey by, with their necks both above and below the trees. Gazelles amble past; bushbucks and waterbucks graze peacefully; but, as the joke goes, since President Marcos fled in 1986, Calauit hasn't had a fast-buck.

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