Pampas of Trinidad—Oxen of the Beni—Merchants of
Trinidad—Carayanas—Cholos—Indios—Chicha, general drink in
Bolivia—Baile and Spanish dance—Bolivian drinking—Bolivian
peculiarities—The old maid’s black cat—Smallpox amongst the
Indians—Depopulation of Trinidad—Wages of the peons—Drills,
hammocks, shirts, and hats made by Indians—Prices of
provisions—Trade in Trinidad—Depreciated currency—Melgarejos.
In the afternoon I was agreeably surprised by the arrival of Don Ignacio
Bello, who very kindly rode over from Trinidad to escort me to the town,
where he treated me in a most kind and hospitable manner. Don Bello is
the principal merchant of Trinidad, and had, in 1872, made a journey
down the rapids and to Pará, returning from thence in 1873; and as I had
accompanied him from San Antonio to Pará, we were old friends.
The road from the Ybari is over a flat pampa, which stretches far
beyond Trinidad, up to the Itenez River, and which is covered with a
species of rough, tall grass that requires burning frequently. These
pampas are almost annually flooded, and are, I think, more subject to
these inundations than the pampas on the opposite side of the Mamoré
and near Exaltacion. The inundations sometimes rise up to the town of
Trinidad, there being only one street that is said to be left dry on
these occasions. The grazing lands generally have some slight eminences
upon them, where the cattle find refuge during these floods. Upon the
retirement of the waters, and when the sun has dried the rubbish, it is
set fire to in as many places as possible and burnt up, after which the
young grass springs up quickly with renewed vigour, and the cattle thrive
excellently. The oxen of the department of the Beni are really handsome
animals, being nearly twice as large as those of Brazil; indeed, I have
seen many that would compare very favourably with our ordinary English
bullocks. The heaviest of them are kept for hauling purposes, and are
very well trained both for carts and for the “trapiches,” or sugar-mills.
Trinidad is the capital of the department of the Beni, and is the seat
of the prefecture. It is, however, but a small town, though larger
than Exaltacion; the houses are many of them well built, of brick or
adobe walls, and all have tiled roofs. There are a few merchants and
storekeepers of considerable position and resources, whose principal
trade appears to be the export of cocoa to Cochabamba and Santa Cruz,
receiving in return flour and potatoes from Cochabamba, and dry goods
from Santa Cruz, these latter being brought thither from the Brazilian
town of Curumbá, on the river Paraguay. The merchants are all Bolivians
of Spanish descent, but the bulk of the population is formed of Mojeño,
or Trinitario Indians, who appear to me to be the most intelligent, as
they certainly are the best-looking, of all the tribes of the Beni.
[Illustration: SKETCHES OF TRINITARIO INDIANS.]
These Indians acknowledge the Bolivians as their patrons or employers
only, and each tribe has its “cacique,” or headman, who seems to have
authority over the whole tribe, and who is generally in the pay of the
prefect or corregidor, as the case may be. The Bolivians of pure Spanish
descent are called “Carayanas,” whilst the mixed races are called
“Cholos,” and the pure Indians are termed “Indios.”
The Trinitario Indians are a very good-looking race, but they are
becoming so mixed with the carayanas, that complexions of all shades,
from almost white to dusky red copper, are found amongst them. They are
intelligent, and naturally active and hard working, but are much given
to habits of drinking, which render them very uncertain and little to be
depended upon. Their principal drink is “chicha,” the national beverage
of Bolivia, of which there are two kinds, “chicha cocida” and “chicha
mascada,” or boiled and chewed, the latter disgusting mode of preparation
being the favourite.
The chicha cocida, or boiled chicha, is a simple preparation of maize
corn, ground and boiled in any large vessel. The liquor being strained
off and allowed to stand for a day to settle, forms, before fermentation
sets in, a very pleasant drink, which is not intoxicating, but is very
healthy and nutritious; indeed, I hardly know any drink that can be taken
in hot climates with more impunity and with greater satisfaction. It is
something like, but to my thinking much pleasanter than, the oatmeal and
water drunk so largely by the stokers and others who have to stand the
heat of the stoke-holes of ocean steamers.
Chicha mascada is a very different affair, and as this is _the_ national
beverage used in Bolivia, from the president down to the cholo, it is,
although repugnant to civilized notions, necessary to describe it. The
maize corn is first ground ready for a grand chicha brew, to which the
owner of the chicha to be made invites as many old women as is thought
needful. These hags are seated round empty flat tubs, called “bateas,”
and each one filling her mouth with the powdered corn, squirts it out
into the batea after having mumbled it well with her often toothless
jaws. When a sufficient quantity of this odious mess is collected, water
is added in accordance with the idea of the quantity of liquor to be
disposed of at the coming festival, or sufficient for a day or two’s
sale; the brew is then agitated well with a stick, and, having been
boiled for a short time, is left to cool, when it is put by for use.
After keeping for two or three days, it ferments, and becomes almost
equal in intoxicating effects to good home-brewed ale. The Indians
prepare large quantities of this chicha mascada whenever they wish to
have a drinking bout, or whenever any festival of the Church or village
takes place. On these occasions enormous quantities are drunk, and the
bout never terminates until the supply is out, by which time the drinkers
are all thoroughly tipsy.
So general is the use of this filthy drink throughout the republic,
that all European travellers must be careful, when accepting a drink of
chicha, to be sure that they know how it has been prepared. To my mind,
the Bolivians will never be a people that merit respect until they do
away with the numerous chicha mascada shops that are to be found in every
town and village, and on every road, throughout the republic. The very
idea of the horrid thing is enough to demoralize any people, and how a
custom derived from savages can have taken such firm hold upon a people
of Spanish descent, is hard to imagine. I must, however, at the same time
say that there are numerous Bolivian families amongst the higher classes
in which the chicha mascada is never allowed to be seen or used.
While in Trinidad I was honoured by a “baile,” or ball, at which, as I
had the privilege of supplying the drinks, chicha mascada was rigidly
tabooed. At this dance all the respectable families of the town attended,
and the affair was a very ceremonious one. We had a full wind and string
band of Indians, who played some very fair polka and quadrille music, in
which the bass accompaniment of the “bajones” was very prominent. This
“bajo” is like an enormous Pan-pipe, or like half a dozen organ tubes,
made of bamboo. The first of these tubes is about six feet in length, and
the last about half that. The player rests the foot of the longest one
on the ground, and, holding the instrument in a sloping position, blows
through the rough mouthpieces fitted in the top of the tubes, producing
a rumbling sort of bass accompaniment, which appeared to me to entirely
spoil the effect of the violins and fifes, which discoursed some very
fair dance music. Another noisy accompaniment was afforded by the “caja,”
or drum, made of a small section of a tree hollowed out, and having a
hide stretched tightly over either end, which was vigorously beaten by
rough short sticks about nine inches in length.
I now saw for the first time what is probably the real Spanish dance; for
although polkas and quadrilles have found their way even to the centre
of South America, still the “baile suelto,” or loose dance, as it is
called, is the favourite. There is a good deal of grace and good dancing
in this affair, in which a couple occupy in their turn all the floor of
the room, while the company beat time to the music with a loud clapping
of hands. This beating time is to give the dancers encouragement to good
and lively dancing, and it is a pleasant sight to see a stately old don
pirouette round his fair (dare we say dusky?) partner, with a dexterous
flourish of the handkerchief which both performers use throughout the
dance. As the custom is that any one of the company seated around who
is detected neglecting to join in beating time should be immediately
condemned to “take a drink,” I had occasion several times to thank my
luck that the national drink was not necessarily an accompaniment of
the national dance. As, however, a good strong brandy or white rum
(aguadiente) punch was the favourite article of consumption, it was just
as well not to be “fined in a drink” too often. I must say that the
company, “el bello sexo” included, were very good hands at refreshing
themselves with the punch—so much so that it became, long ere the close
of the ball, hard to tell whether the “baile borracho” was simulated or
real. This baile borracho, or drunken dance, is another Bolivian custom,
which consists in reeling through a quadrille as though one were unable
to dance straight, the most highly applauded performer being the “he” or
“she” who can best simulate intoxication.
It is often said—and perhaps it is a just reproach—that we English
people are a hard-drinking set, but I think that the Bolivians beat
us hollow; and certainly, in my few travels, east and west, I never
came across any people that could at all compare with the Bolivians in
downright hard drinking, and I don’t suppose that any other country can
boast of such an institution as the baile borracho, which is occasionally
danced in the best society of Bolivia.
While taking note of some peculiarities of Bolivian character in the
way of eating and drinking, I am reminded of a custom that I think is
decidedly, among civilized people, confined to Bolivians (for we can,
perhaps, hardly count the Chinese as within the pale of civilization,
although they call us barbarians). I allude to the liking that Bolivians
have for eating cats, which are much esteemed in Bolivia, where they
are fattened up for the table. I have tasted monkey, lizard, and indeed
almost every kind of living thing that can be shot in the forests,
but it has not yet been my lot to eat cat knowingly; so I can’t say
whether the flesh of Bolivian cats is superior to that of specimens of
the feline race in other parts of the world, or whether it is equal to
Ostend rabbit. But the Bolivian cat looks much like his relations in
other countries, so probably the explanation is that the Bolivians are a
peculiar people, and that their liking for cats and chicha mascada is one
of their peculiarities. During my stay in Trinidad I was most hospitably
entertained at the table of Don Ignacio Bello, where, fortunately for
me, cats and chicha mascada were not on the _menu_; but good fresh beef
in abundance formed the staple food, varied with mutton now and then,
and fish almost every day. As Don Bello had no spare sleeping-quarters
to offer me, I was accommodated with a couple of rooms in the house of
an amiable aged and virgin member of the “bello sexo” of Trinidad, and
during my stay there her favourite cat was missed. The old lady was
disconsolate, and a general search was ordered, at which I assisted; and
chancing to look into the round brick oven in the back yard, I espied
a black cat therein, which refused to be aroused by sundry prods and
blows from a thick stick. Discovering that it had departed this life, I
delicately informed its sorrowing owner that she might console herself by
dining off her pet, which, doubtless feeling its last end approaching,
had gone into the oven to bake itself, so that its mistress might be
saved the trouble and pain of preparing it for the table. However, the
old lady averred that she could not eat a pet that she had possessed, I
think she said, for some twenty years or more; but my belief was that she
thought it would be too tough, being of such great age. Anyhow, it is
certain that in many Bolivian families the cats are petted, and, when fat
and in good condition, slain and devoured.
At the time of my visit the town did not display a very animated
appearance, for small-pox was very prevalent at the time, and numbers
of people, both old and young, appeared to have suffered greatly. This
disease almost decimates the Indians at frequently recurring intervals,
for the authorities have no idea of isolating the sick, and vaccination
is but partially enforced; the Indians, in ignorance of its benefits,
being naturally averse to it. At San Antonio, the doctors of the railway
staff had, however, very little difficulty in persuading the Indians to
submit themselves to the operation, which was so successful, that out of
upwards of 100 Indians who were on the station when the small-pox broke
out amongst us, only four, I think, died; notwithstanding that very few,
if any, of them had been vaccinated in their own country, and that the
disease, operating upon Indian blood, seems to be specially virulent.
The people also complained bitterly of the great emigration to the
rubber-grounds of Brazil, and spoke of Trinidad as depopulated,
many houses appearing to be left altogether empty and uncared for.
Nevertheless, there seems to be a good deal of business done in the
place, and the principal merchants appear to be very well off; but the
construction of the Madeira and Mamoré Railway, which would cause an
entire change in the route of trade with Bolivia, is the only event
that can save the once flourishing department of the Beni from becoming
again the hunting-grounds of the savage Siriono and the haunt of the
wild beasts of the forests. The opening up of the route past the rapids
would arrest entirely the decay of these fertile provinces, by affording
a ready means of transit to a good market for the chocolate, sugar,
tobacco, oxen, hides, tallow, skins, and other produce, for which the
inhabitants are now only able to realize but a small amount in value
compared with what they will be able to when the route is open, and some
of the Bolivian peons in exile in Brazil have been brought back to their
homes.
In consequence of the scarcity of hands, the peons now get thirty to
forty per cent. more for their journeys than they did a couple of years
ago; thus, from Trinidad to Coni, they now get eight pesos for the up
river voyage, and two for bringing back the canoes, while formerly the
price was six to seven pesos for the round trip. The monthly rate of pay
does not, however, seem to have altered much, as it is still about five
pesos (16_s._) per month.
The Indians of Trinidad, Santa Cruz, and other towns of the department
of the Beni, though, like most men of Indian race, fond of the _dolce
far niente_, “swing in a hammock,” “smoke cigarette” kind of existence,
are very clever in their specialities. Some of the produce of their
hand-looms will compare very favourably with the fabrics of civilized
countries, if not for texture, at least for strength and durability, and
a wearer of their “macanas,” or linen drill, can be certain that there
is no shoddy or size in the material. So, also, the hammocks they weave
from the native cotton are handsome and strong, whilst the “cascaras,”
or bark shirts, that they beat out of the inner skin of several trees,
are marvels of patience and ingenuity, and the hats they weave from the
young and tender leaves of a low-growing palm tree are quite equal to
the much-vaunted hats of Panamá. A straw hat worth about three or four
dollars in the Beni, the collection of the straws for which has occupied
an Indian for months, would be equal to one costing twenty or thirty in
Panamá.
Prices of provisions are much the same as those current in Exaltacion. I
observed, however, that Manchester goods, such as calicoes, longcloths,
ribbons, etc., are brought to Trinidad from Curumbá, _viâ_ Santa Cruz, at
prices far below those at which they can be brought at present from Pará,
_viâ_ the cachuelas, and it is evident that when the trade in these goods
is carried up the Amazon and over the railway, the merchants of Pará must
be contented with smaller profits than those they now obtain. Pará on
the Amazon, and Curumbá on the Paraguay, are both Brazilian ports, and
I presume that the same tariff of customs rules alike at both places;
nevertheless, calicoes bought in Pará, that cannot be sold in the river
Madeira for less than 250 or 300 reis (say 1_s._ to 1_s._ 2½_d._) per
yard, can be bought in Trinidad at two reales, or 9½_d._; also longcloths
on the Madeira sell at 200 to 300 reis (9½_d._ to 1_s._ 2½_d._) per yard,
and are only worth one and a half to two and a half reales (say 7¼_d._
to 1_s._) per yard in Trinidad. It must, however, be noted that only
very low quality goods are brought from Curumbá, and that the secret of
business in Trinidad seems to be to sell at a low price without regard
to quality. The articles that leave the best profit when taken up the
cachuelas are iron pots, enamelled saucepans, and other general ironware
for house use; also claret of a low class—for any stuff called “wine”
and sold in bottles, with pretty etiquettes, fetches eight reales (3_s._
2½_d._) per bottle—and no Bolivian in the Beni would pay more, even for
“Chateau Margaux” or “Chambertin.” Gunpowder in one-pound tins fetches
twenty reales, or about 8_s._ 6_d._
As I found that Don Bello was on the point of making a journey to
Cochabamba by the rivers Chapari and Coni, I decided to proceed in his
company, and give up any idea of visiting Santa Cruz, more especially
as I was informed that the river Piray was very dry, and the Siriono
savages, who dwell on its banks, were very active, having attacked
several canoes during the months immediately prior to my arrival in
Trinidad.
Before leaving Trinidad, it is the best plan to change any Brazilian
paper money that one may have, for it is perfectly useless in the
interior of Bolivia; and one must be careful to examine well the dollars
given in exchange, as there is an immense amount of bad money in the
Beni, where the worst of the extremely depreciated currency of Bolivia
seems to have collected. The fact is, that when any of the traders get
hold of any good silver dollars, they immediately inter them in some safe
spot, as it is thus only that they can keep any funds they may have over
what they need for their ordinary trade requirements, which they keep
going by the use of the depreciated coins. To get properly acquainted
with the money of Bolivia takes considerable time and trouble. The best
coinage is the new one struck during recent years at the mint at Potosí,
namely, the dollar of 500 grains, equal in value and quality to the
Peruvian sole. Half-dollar pieces, reales, and medios are also coined of
equally good quality. The old money from Spanish times, and the dollars
bearing a tree on the reverse, are all of good silver, but for the last
twenty years or so a succession of presidents have enriched themselves
at the expense of the country by the issue of an inferior coinage,
culminating with the scandalous production issued by Melgarejo and his
minister Muñoz. These pesos, or “Melgarejos,” as they are called, are
nominally worth eight reales, or about 3_s._ 2½_d._, but intrinsically
they may be worth about 2_s._ They are also called “moneda de dos caras,”
or the “money with two faces,” as they bear the profiles of the president
and his minister, who have, unwittingly, held themselves up to the
derision and hatred of their countrymen, by putting the legend “Honor y
Talento” (“Honour and Talent”) on the infamous robbery they perpetrated.
The Melgarejos have been largely imitated by clever coiners in various
parts of the republic, so that the diversity of impressions has become
exceedingly great, and in some towns the coins that have faces with long
beards are most acceptable, while in others the short-bearded ones only
will pass. I found it a good plan to keep about half long beards and half
short beards in my stock, and then, on arriving at a town, one soon finds
out what style is most in fashion, and can act accordingly.
The Government was making some faint endeavours to get some of this vile
money out of circulation, and many were the projects put forward for the
purpose by the members of the Congress of 1874; but revolution, which
appears to be the normal condition of Bolivia, broke out towards the end
of the year, and then the question became, not what were the infirmities
from which the country suffered, but who should be doctor or president,
and consequently the depreciated currency still remains a curse to the
country.