At a very early age--perhaps at five years--she learns to carry small
articles upon her head,--a bowl of rice,--a _dobanne_, or red earthen
decanter, full of water--even an orange on a plate; and before long she
is able to balance these perfectly without using her hands to steady
them. (I have often seen children actually run with cans of water upon
their heads, and never spill a drop.) At nine or ten she is able to
carry thus a tolerably heavy basket, or a trait (a wooden tray with deep
outward sloping sides) containing a weight of from twenty to thirty
pounds; and is able to accompany her mother, sister, or cousin on long
peddling journeys,--walking barefoot twelve and fifteen miles a day. At
sixteen or seventeen she is a tall robust girl,--lithe, vigorous,
tough,--all tendon and hard flesh;--she carries a tray or a basket of
the largest size, and a burden of one hundred and twenty to one hundred
and fifty pounds weight;--she can now earn about thirty francs (about
six dollars) a month, _by walking fifty miles a day_, as an itinerant
seller.
Among her class there are figures to make you dream of Atlanta;--and
all, whether ugly or attractive as to feature, are finely shapen as to
body and limb. Brought into existence by extraordinary necessities of
environment, the type is a peculiarly local one,--a type of human
thorough-bred representing the true secret of grace: economy of force.
There are no corpulent porteuses for the long interior routes; all are
built lightly and firmly as racers. There are no old porteuses;--to do
the work even at forty signifies a constitution of astounding solidity.
After the full force of youth and health is spent, the poor carrier must
seek lighter labor;--she can no longer compete with the girls. For in
this calling the young body is taxed to its utmost capacity of strength,
endurance, and rapid motion.
As a general rule, the weight is such that no well-freighted porteuse
can, unassisted, either "load" or "unload" (_châgé_ or _déchâgé_,
in creole phrase); the effort to do so would burst a blood-vessel,
wrench a nerve, rupture a muscle. She cannot even sit down under her
burden without risk of breaking her neck: absolute perfection of the
balance is necessary for self-preservation. A case came under my own
observation of a woman rupturing a muscle in her arm through careless
haste in the mere act of aiding another to unload.
And no one not a brute will ever refuse to aid a woman to lift or to
relieve herself of her burden;--you may see the wealthiest merchant, the
proudest planter, gladly do it;--the meanness of refusing, or of making
any conditions for the performance of this little kindness has only been
imagined in those strange Stories of Devils wherewith the oral and
uncollected literature of the creole abounds.[4]
[Footnote 4: _Extract from the "Story of Marie," as written from
dictation_:
... Manman-à té ni yon goûte jà à caïe-li. Jà-la té touôp lou'de
pou Marie. Cé té li menm manman là qui té kallé pouend dileau.
Yon jou y pouend jà-la pou y té allé pouend dileau. Lhè manman-à
rivé bé la fontaine, y pa trouvé pésonne pou châgé y. Y rété; y ka crié,
"Toutt bon Chritien, vini châgé moin!"
... This mamma had a great jar in her house. The jar was too
heavy for Marie. It was this mamma herself who used to go for
water. One day she took that jar to go for water. When this
mamma had got to the fountain, she could not find any one to load
her. She stood there, crying out, "Any good Christian, come load
me!"
... Lhè manman rété y ouè pa té ni piess bon Chritien pou châgé
y. Y rété; y crié: "Pouloss, si pa ni bon Chritien» ni mauvais
Chritien! toutt mauvais Chritien vini châgé moin!"
Lhè y fini di ça, y ouè yon diabe qui ka vini, ka di conm ça, "Pou
moin châgé ou ça ou ké baill moin?" Manman-là di,—y réponne,
"Moin pa ni arien!" Diabe-la réponne y, "Y fau ba moin
Marie pou moin pé châgé ou."
... As the mamma stood there she saw there was not a single
good Christian to help her load. She stood there, and cried out:
"Well, then, if there are no good Christians, there are bad Christians.
Any bad Christian, come and load me!"
The moment she said that, she saw a devil coming, who said to
her, "If I load you what will you give me?" This mamma answered,
and said, "I have nothing!" The devil answered her, "Must give me
Marie if you want me to load you."]
V
Preparing for her journey, the young _màchanne_ (marchande) puts on
the poorest and briefest chemise in her possession, and the most worn of
her light calico robes. These are all she wears. The robe is drawn
upward and forward, so as to reach a little below the knee, and is
confined thus by a waist-string, or a long kerchief bound tightly round
the loins. Instead of a Madras or painted turban-kerchief, she binds a
plain _mouchoir_ neatly and closely about her head; and if her hair be
long, it is combed back and gathered into a loop behind. Then, with a
second mouchoir of coarser quality she makes a pad, or, as she calls it,
_tòche_, by winding the kerchief round her fingers as you would coil up
a piece of string;--and the soft mass, flattened with a patting of the
hand, is placed upon her head, over the coiffure. On this the great
loaded trait is poised.
She wears no shoes! To wear shoes and do her work swiftly and well in
such a land of mountains would be impossible. She must climb thousands
and descend thousands of feet every day,--march up and down slopes so
steep that the horses of the country all break down after a few years of
similar journeying. The girl invariably outlasts the horse,--though
carrying an equal weight. Shoes, unless extraordinarily well made, would
shift place a little with every change from ascent to descent, or the
reverse, during the march,--would yield and loosen with the ever-varying
strain,--would compress the toes,--produce corns, bunions, raw places by
rubbing, and soon cripple the porteuse. Remember, she has to walk
perhaps fifty miles between dawn and dark, under a sun to which a single
hour's exposure, without the protection of an umbrella, is perilous to
any European or American--the terrible sun of the tropics! Sandals are
the only conceivable foot-gear suited to such a calling as hers; but she
needs no sandals: the soles of her feet are toughened so as to feel no
asperities, and present to sharp pebbles a surface at once yielding and
resisting, like a cushion of solid caoutchouc.
Besides her load, she carries only a canvas purse tied to her girdle on
the right side, and on the left a very small bottle of rum, or white
tafia,--usually the latter, because it is so cheap.... For she may not
always find the Gouyave water to drink,--the cold clear pure stream
conveyed to the fountains of St. Pierre from the highest mountains by a
beautiful and marvellous plan of hydraulic engineering: she will have to
drink betimes the common spring-water of the bamboo-fountains on the
remoter high-roads; and this may cause dysentery if swallowed without a
spoonful of spirits. Therefore she never travels without a little
liquor.