every village is prepared with booths and stalls to display wares of
endless variety. We all looked forward to market day. There were mats
of various sizes,--mats are used for everything. There are some so
skillfully woven that they are handsome ornaments, worth as much as
a good rug. There were hats woven out of the most delicately shredded
fibers, the best costing from twelve to twenty dollars in gold, very
durable and very beautiful. The best ones can be woven only in a damp
place, as the fiber must be kept moist while being handled. There
were fish nets of abaka differing in mesh to suit the various kinds
of fish. The cloths were hung on lines to show their texture. We had
to pick our way amongst the stalls and through or over the natives
seated on the ground. I have seen a space of two acres covered with
hundreds of natives, carabao, trotting bulls, chickens, turkeys,
ducks, fine goods, vegetables, and fruits all in one mass; and I had
to keep a good lookout where I stepped and what I ran into. It was
not necessary to go often for they were more than willing to bring all
their wares to the house if they had any prospects of a sale. I have
had as many as thirty natives troop into the house at one time. They
finally became so obnoxious that I forbade them coming at all.
The silence of these crowds was noticeable. They were keenly alive
to business and did not laugh and joke or even talk in reasonable
measure. As a race they are solemn even in their looks, and no wonder,
such is their degradation, misery, and despair. They have so little
sympathy and care for each other, so little comfort, and so neglected
and hopeless, so sunken beneath the so-called better class that when
a little mission gospel was started one could hardly refrain from
tears to see the joy that they had in accepting the free gospel. It
was no trouble for them to walk thirty or forty miles to get what
they called cheap religion. They were outcasts from society and too
poor to pay the tithes that were imposed upon them by the priests in
their various parishes, for no matter how small a village was there
was the very elegant cathedral in the center of the town which only
the rich and those who were able to pay were entitled to enter.
The poor blind people wandered from village to village in groups
of two to twenty. Quite a number of the moderately insane would go
about begging, too, but the worst were chained to trees or put in
stocks and their food thrown at them. Even the dumb brutes were not
so poorly cared for.
The houses of the rich, while not cleanly and not well furnished,
always have one large room in which stands a ring of chairs with a
rug in the center of the floor and a cuspidor by each seat. You are
ushered in and seated in one of these low square chairs, usually cane
seated. After the courtesies of the day and the hostess's comments on
the fineness of your clothing, refreshments are brought in,--cigars,
cigarettes, wine, cake, and preserved cocoanut. Sometimes American
beer is added as possibly more acceptable than the wine.
The citizens of Jaro seemed to be friendly, they often invited me
to their festivities; committees would wait upon me, presenting me
sometimes invitations engraved upon silver with every appearance of
cordiality in expression and manner. They could not understand why
I would not accept; I would explain, that first, I had no desire;
second, I thought it poor policy to do so when our soldiers were
obliged to fight their soldiers, and they were furnishing the money
to carry on the warfare; then too, most of their balls were given on
Sunday night. True, a Filipino Sunday never seemed Sunday to me. I
could only say, foolishly enough, "But it is not Sunday at home." I
could not attend their parties and I had little heart to dance. I
had only to go to the window to see their various functions; it
could hardly be called merry as they went at it in such a listless,
lazy way, with apparently little enjoyment, the air that they carry
into all their pleasures.
PHILIPPINE AGRICULTURE.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
It has been said that the prosperity of any nation depends largely
upon its agriculture. The soil in the Philippines is very rich. The
chief product, which the natives spend the most time upon, is rice;
and even that is grown, one almost might say, without any care,
especially after seeing the way the Japanese till their rice. They
sow the rice broadcast in little square places of about half an acre
which is partly filled with water. When this has grown eight or ten
inches high they transplant it into other patches which have been
previously scratched over with a rude one-handled plow that often
has for a point only a piece of an old tin can or a straggly root,
and into this prepared bit of land they open the dyke and let in the
water; that is all that is necessary until the harvesting. They have
a great pest, the langousta or grasshopper, and they are obliged,
when these insects fly over a section of the country, to scare them
away by any means in their power, which is usually by running about
through the rice fields waving a red rag.
As I have said before they gather these pests and eat them. I have
seen bushels of fried langousta for sale in the markets. When they
gather the rice harvest, it is carried to some nearby store room,
usually in the lower part of the house in which they live. Then comes
the threshing, which is done with old-fashioned mills, by pounding with
a wooden mallet, or by rubbing between two large pieces of wood. Then
they winnow it, holding it up by the peck or half bushel to let the
wind blow the hulls off, and dry it by placing it on mats of woven
bamboo. I saw tons of rice prepared in this way by the side of the
road near where I lived. This being their staple, the food for man
and beast, one can form some idea of the vast quantities that are
needed. There was a famine while I was there and the U. S. government
was obliged to supply the natives with rice for seed and food.
There is no grass grown except a sort of swamp grass. The rice cut
when it is green is used in the place of grass. It is never dried,
as it grows the year round. One can look out any day and see rows
of small bundles of this rice paddy laid by the road side for sale
or carried by the natives on bamboo poles, a bundle before and one
behind to balance. It was astonishing to see these small men and
boys struggling under the weight of their "loads of hay." None of the
American horses cared for it; their hay and grain had to be stacked
up along the wharf and guarded. It would be of little use, however,
to the natives as they know nothing about the use of our products.
If there was any wheat grown in the islands, we never heard of it,
and judging from the way in which flour was sold in their markets
at ten cents for a small cornucopia that would hold about a gill,
it was probably brought from either Australia or America.
They have a camote, something like a sweet potato. Although
it is watery and stringy it does very well and is called a good
vegetable. They raise inferior tomatoes and very inferior garlic. It
was a matter of great curiosity to the natives to see an American
plow that was placed on exhibition at the British store. I am sure
when they can take some of our good agricultural implements and turn
the rich soil over and work it, even in a poor way, the results will
be beyond anything we could produce here in the United States.
Their cane sugar is of fine quality, almost equal to our maple
sugar. They plant the seed in a careless way and tend it in the most
slovenly manner imaginable, and yet, they get immense crops. One man,
who put in a crop near where some soldiers were encamped in order to
have their protection, told us that he sold the product from this
small stretch of ground of not more than five or six acres for ten
thousand dollars.
The natives so disliked to work that nearly every one who employed
men kept for them a gaming table and the inevitable fighting cocks;
as long as they can earn a little money to gamble that is all they
care for; houses, lands, and families are not considered. Nearly all
the sugar mills had been burned in our neighborhood, but I know from
the way they do everything else that they must have used the very
crudest kind of boiling apparatus. The sugar seemed reasonably clean
to look at, but when boiled the sediment was anything but clean. With
our evaporating machines and with care to get the most out of the
crop, the profit will be enormous. Often we would buy the cane in the
markets, peel off the outside and chew the pith to get the sweet juice.
They raise vast quantities of cocoa, as indifferently cared for as
everything else, also a small flat bean, but it has a bitter taste.
The largest crop of all is the hemp crop which grows, seemingly,
without any cultivation. This hemp when growing looks something
like the banana tree. They cut it down and divide it into lengths as
long as possible and then prepare the wood or fiber by shaving it on
iron teeth.
They are expert in this industry, in making it fine and in tying it,
often times, in lengths of not more than two or three inches. They
give a very dextrous turn of the hand and the finest of these threads
are used in some of the fabrics which they weave. I often wondered
how they could prepare these delicate, strong, linen-like threads
that are as fine as gossamer.
A man who had cotton mills in Massachusetts visited places where the
hemp is prepared and the looms where it is woven. He said he had never
known anything so wonderful as the deft manner in which these people
worked out the little skeins from an intricate mass of tangled webs.
One of the curiosities of the world's fair at St. Louis will be this
tying and weaving of hemp. Then a still greater curiosity will be the
making of pine-apple fiber. This manufacture has been sadly neglected
and crippled by the war and its devastations. They have learned to
mix in other fibers because of the scarcity of the pine-apple. I
did not see this prepared at all; only secured with difficulty some
of the good cloth. It is considered by the natives their very best
and finest fabric. They spend much time on its embroidery and their
exquisite work astonishes the finest lace makers.
The field corn which I saw was of such an inferior grade that it
never occurred to me to try it; indeed, they do not bring it to market
until it is out of the milk.
On my return home I planted a few kernels as an experiment. There never
was a more insignificant looking stalk of corn in our garden. With
misgivings we made trial of the scrubby looking ears. To our surprise
it was the best we ever had on our table. It seemed too good to be
true. I gave several messes to my friends and this year am hoping to
give pleasure to many others. I denied myself the delicious product
that many might have seed for this spring.
MINERALS.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Gold is found in every stream of the islands. In small bottles I
saw many little nuggets which the natives had picked up. Whether it
would pay to use good machinery to extract he gold I cannot tell;
but certain it is that they use a great deal of gold in the curiously
wrought articles of jewelry of which they are all passionately fond.
A man who was greatly interested in the mines of Klondike said that
there were better chances of getting gold in the Philippines and
that he had given up all his northern claims and was now using his
energies to secure leases in the new territory. Other minerals, too,
he said, are abundant and valuable.
I had a small brass dagger which I used to carry for defense and, upon
showing it to some of my friends, since my return, I was asked if I
saw this dagger made, because if I knew the secret of its annealing
it would be worth a fortune to me.
I had missed a golden chance for I had often visited a rude foundry
where they made bolos and other articles, but it did not occur to me
that there could be anything of value to expert workmen at home in
these crude hand processes.
The soldiers that accompanied me, as well as I myself, went into
convulsions of laughter over the shape of their bellows and the
working of their forge. Everything they do seemed to us to be done in
the most awkward manner; it is done backward if possible. The first
time I saw a carriage hitched before the animal I wondered how they
could ever manage it.
Bolos are of all sizes and shapes and are made of steel or iron to
suit the fancy of the person. Some are of the size and pattern of an
old-fashioned corn cutter, handles of carved wood or carabao horn;
sometimes made with a fork-like tip and waved with saw teeth edge. It
is an indispensable tool in war and peace. There were none so poor as
not to have a bolo. They made cannon, too, and guns patterned after
our American ones. And sometimes cannon were made out of bamboo,
bound around with bands of iron. These were formidable and could
shoot with as much noise as a brass one, if not with as much accuracy.
They must get a great deal of silver, as they have so many silver
articles; they insert bits of silver in the handles of bolos. These
bolos are used for everything. One day I found that the little tin
oven which I brought from home was all worn out on the inside. I was
in despair for there was no way of getting it repaired, My native
cook watched me as I looked at it sorrowfully. Without saying a word
he went to work and with only a bolo took my old tin coal oil can
and constructed a lining with the metal cleats to hold the shelves
up. The only thing he had in the way of a tool to work with was his
bolo, about two feet long. When I hired him I noticed that he had
great long finger nails; I told him that he would have to cut them
off. He said, "Why I don't too. I wouldn't have anything to scratch
myself with." But, upon my insisting, he took his huge bolo, placed his
fingers on a block of wood, and severed his useful finger nails. They
use these bolos for cutting grass, cutting meat,--they use them for
haggling our soldiers, as we learned to our grief and wrath.
There are vast quantities of coal, but the mines so far have been but
little developed. The coal is so full of sulphur that its quality
is spoiled. There are possibilities of finding it in good paying
quantities on several of the islands. It makes a quick blaze and
soon burns out. The natives sell it in tiny chunks, by the handful,
or in little woven baskets that hold just about a quart.
ANIMALS.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
The animal that is most essential in every way is the carabao or
water buffalo. They are expensive, a good one costing two or three
hundred dollars. Their number has been very much diminished by the
rinder-pest. The precious carabao is carefully guarded; at night it
is kept in the lower part of the house or in a little pond close by.
The picture shown opposite is a good representation of the better
class of fairly well-to-do Filipino people; they are rich if they
can afford as many carabao as stand here. The second picture shows
the way they are driven. Their skins are used for everything that
good strong leather can be used for. Their meat is good for food; but
heaven help anybody who is obliged to eat it, and when it is prepared,
as it often is, by drying the steaks in the sun, then the toughness
exceeds that of the tanned hide. A sausage mill could not chew dried
carabao. The milk is watery and poor, but the natives like it very
much. The horns are used for handles for bolos, the hoofs for glue,
and the bones are turned into carved articles of many kinds. The
little calves that go wandering about by the sides of their mothers
are so curious and so top heavy, and yet they are strong even when
small. Carabao sometimes go crazy, and when they do, they tread down
everything in their way. Notwithstanding their ungainly bulk they can
run as well as a good horse, and can endure long journeys quite as
well. They are urged to greater speed by the driver taking the tail
and giving it a twist or kicking them in the flank.
I used to spend most of my time threatening my driver that he would
have to go to a calaboose if he did not stop abusing the animal. The
horses are only caricatures. They are so small, so poorly kept,
and so badly driven that one burns with indignation at the sight of
them. There is no bit and the bridle is always bad. The nose piece
is fitted tight and has on the under side a bit of horny fish skin,
its spikes turned towards the flesh. These are jerked into the flesh
of the poor horse until, in its frenzy, it dashes madly from one side
of the road to the other.
Cows are of little use. They look fair but they give little milk. Goats
are next in importance, and are delightful to watch. The kids, in
pairs and triplets, are such pretty little creatures, so perfectly
formed, that I could scarcely resist the desire to bring a few home.
The dogs are the worst looking creatures imaginable. They are so
maimed that they are pests rather than pets; but there are thousands
of them. There was one exception, a dog that was brought to me one day
from a burning house, the like of which I had never seen before. It was
called an Andalusian poodle. It proved to be not only the handsomest
but the best little dog I ever had. Being a lover of dogs, I regretted
very much to give him up upon my return.
AMUSEMENTS AND STREET PARADES.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
As a drowning man catches at a straw, so was I eager for anything
that would give even slight relief from consuming anxieties and
pressing hardships. The natives responded quickly to the slightest
encouragement; small change drew groups of two to fifty to give me
"special performances." There were blind fiddlers who would play
snatches of operas picked up "by ear" on the rudest kind of a fiddle
made out of hollow bamboo with only one string; it was astonishing
how much music they could draw from the rude instrument. The bow was a
piece of bent bamboo with shredded abaka for the bow-strings. Flutes
were made of bamboo stalks; drums out of carabao hide stretched over
a cylindrical piece of bamboo. Some of these strolling bands came many
miles to my door, and while none of them ever produced correct music,
still they were a great diversion.
There were strolling players, too. The first performance was
the most interesting that I have ever seen. The players arranged
themselves within a square roughly drawn in the middle of the road;
then to the strains of a bamboo fiddle, bamboo flute, bamboo drum,
the melodrama was begun. The hero pranced into the open square to the
tune of a minor dirge, not knowing a single sentence of his part; the
prompter, kneeling down before a flaring candle, told him what to say;
he repeated in parrot-like fashion, and then pranced off the square
to slow dirge-like music. Now the heroine minced in from the opposite
corner to slow music with her satin train sweeping in the dust; though
carefully raised when she crossed the sacred precincts of the square,
and in a sauntering way, with one arm akimbo and the other holding
the fan up in the air, she took the opposite corner and the prompter
told her what to say. In the meantime the candle blew out; it was
relighted; the prompter found his place and signaled to the hero to
come on. From the opposite side again, with a bow and hand on heart,
the lover repeated after the prompter his addresses to the waiting
maiden. She pretended to be surprised and shocked at his addresses,
fainted away and was carried off the stage by two women attendants;
the lover with folded arms looked calmly at the sad havoc he had
wrought. Now a rival suitor sprang into the ring and with a huge
bolo attacked number one and killed him. The heroine was now able to
return. She did not fall into the arms of number two. She only listened
placidly to the demand of how much she would pay to secure so splendid
a man as the one that could bolo his rival. The parents finally entered
and settled the difficulty. The play closed with the prospect of a
happy union. The company dispersed, the women and girls walking on
one side of the road with the torches in their hands, and the men on
the other, in two solemn files. There was no chattering or laughing;
yet they all felt that they had had a most delightful performance.
Two or three concerts given at a neighboring town were very
creditable, but only the better class attended; nine-tenths of the
people resort to these crude, wayside performances. They look on with
seeming indifference; there is never a sign of approval, much less
an outburst of applause. They seem to have no place in their souls
for the ludicrous, the comic, or the joyous. They were shocked by my
smiles and peals of laughter. They have a strange preference for the
minor key in music, for the dirge. No wonder when our bands would play
lively music that they were quite ready to take up the catchy airs,
but they would add a mournful cadence to the most stirring of our
American airs. After awhile I found that the music oftenest rendered
by the cathedral organ was the Aguinaldo March. I took the liberty to
inform the commanding officer and that tune was stopped. After the
surrender, to my great surprise and joy, the same organ rolled out
"America"; it did thrill me, even if it was played on a Filipino
instrument and by a Filipino.
Little boys often came with tiny birds which they had trained to do
little tricks. One had snakes which he would twist around his bare
body. And never was there a day without a cock fight. Sometimes the
birds were held in check by strings attached to them, but it was a
common occurrence to see groups of natives watching their birds fight
to the finish at any time of day, Sundays not excepted. And they will
all bet on the issue if it takes the last cent they have. They do not
seem to enjoy it in a hilarious manner at all. It is serious business,
without comment or jovial look or act. No one is so busy that he can
not stop for a cock fight.
There are many kinds of monkeys on the islands. It is common to
domesticate them, to train them to do their master's bidding; they
become a part of the family, half plaything, half servant. Parrots,
too, are adopted into the household and learn to speak its dialect;
they are almost uncanny in their chatter and they, too, do all kinds
of tricks at the bidding.
I was daily importuned to buy monkeys, parrots, cocks, or song birds. I
took a tiny bird that was never known to so much as chirp, but he grew
fond of me, would perch upon my shoulder or would turn his little
head right or left as if to ask if I were pleased with his silent
attentions. The last morning of my stay in Jaro I went to the window
and set him free but he immediately came back and clung to my hand. I
took him to Iloilo and left him with the nurses; he lived only a day.
FESTIVALS OF THE CHURCH.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
According to the Spanish calendar in my possession, there is a festival
for every day in the year. There are services every morning at seven,
every evening at five; often there are special grand festivals. The
Jaro church has a wax figure of the Savior and this figure is dressed
for various festivals in various ways; sometimes in evening dress,
with white shirt, diamond stud, rings on the fingers, patent leather
shoes, and a derby hat. This figure was placed on a large platform
and either carried on the shoulders of men or put on a wagon and drawn
by men. Once I saw the cart pushed along by a bull at the rear. This
procession would form at the Cathedral door, march around the square
and then usually go three or four blocks down toward the house where
the priest lived, and by that time it would be very nearly dark and
they would light their candles and return and go about the square
again before going into the Cathedral.