Dress of the people.--Butchery of carabao.--Prisoner runs
_amok_ and is killed.
It was now drawing near midday, and as though by common understanding
we all separated to get something to eat. Our head-dancers formed
up and resumed their slow march back down the hill; only this time,
Cootes and I borrowed instruments and joined the band, partly to see
how it felt to walk in so incredibly slow a procession, and partly
for me, at least, to try the music. A little of it went a long way.
The afternoon was, with two exceptions, much like the forenoon. Tiffin
over, Mr. Worcester and Gallman held councils with the head men of
the various _rancherías_ present; Pack inspected; and the rest of us
moved about, looking on at whatever interested us.
As elsewhere, but few clothes are seen: the women wear a short striped
skirt sarong-wise, but bare the bosom. However, they are beginning to
cover it, just as a few of them had regular umbrellas. They leave the
navel uncovered; to conceal it would be immodest. The men are naked
save the gee-string, unless a leglet of brass wire under the knee be
regarded as a garment; the bodies of many of them are tattooed in
a leaf-like pattern. A few men had the native blanket hanging from
their shoulders, but leaving the body bare in front. The prevailing
color is blue; at Campote it is red. The hair looked as though a
bowl had been clapped on the head at an angle of forty-five degrees,
and all projecting locks cut off. If the hair is long, it means
that the wearer has made a vow to let it grow until he has killed
someone or burnt an enemy's house. We saw such a long-haired man this
day. Some of the men wore over their gee-strings belts made of shell
(mother-of-pearl), with a long free end hanging down in front. These
belts are very costly and highly thought of. Earrings are common,
but apparently the lobe of the ear is not unduly distended. Here at
Kiangan, the earring consists of a spiral of very fine brass wire.
It is pertinent to remark that the Ifugaos treat their women well;
for example, the men do the heavy work, and there are no women
_cargadores_. In fact, the sexes seemed to me to be on terms of perfect
equality. The people in general appeared to be cheerful, good-humored,
and hospitable. Mr. Worcester pointed out that whereas most of the
men present were unarmed (at any rate, they had neither spears nor
shields), in his early trips through this country, as elsewhere,
every man came on fully armed, and the ground was stuck full of
spears, each with its shield leaning on it, the owner near by with
the rest of his _ranchería_, and all ready at a moment's notice to
kill and take heads. For although these people are all of the same
blood and speak nearly the same language, still there is no tribal
government; the people live in independent settlements (_rancherías_),
all as recently as five or six years ago hostile to one another,
and taking heads at every opportunity. This state of affairs was
undoubtedly partly due to the almost complete lack of communication
then prevailing, thus limiting the activities of each _ranchería_
to the growing of food, varied by an effort to take as many heads
as possible from the _ranchería_ across the valley, without undue
loss of its own. And what is said here of the Ifugao is true also
of the Ilongot, the Igorot, the Kalinga, the Apayao, and of all the
rest of the head-hunting highlanders of Northern Luzon. The results
accomplished by Mr. Worcester with all these people simply exceed
belief. But this subject, being worthy of more than passing mention,
will be considered later. The afternoon is wearing on, and we must
get at the two exceptions mentioned some little time ago.
Since these highlanders have but little meat to eat, it is the policy
of the Government, on the occasion of these annual progresses,
to furnish a few carabaos, so that some of the people, at least,
while they are the guests of the Government, may have what they
are fondest of and most infrequently get. And they have been until
recently allowed to slaughter the carabao, according to their own
custom, in competition, catch-as-catch-can, so to say. For the poor
beast, tethered and eating grass all unconscious of its fate, or
else directly led out, is surrounded by a mob of men and boys, each
with his bolo. At a signal given, the crowd rushes on the animal,
and each man hacks and cuts at the part nearest to him, the rule
of the game being that any part cut off must be carried out of the
rush and deposited on the ground before it can become the bearer's
property. Accordingly, no sooner is a piece separated and brought
out than it is pounced on by others who try to take it away; usually
a division takes place, subject to further sub-division, however, if
other claimants are at hand. The competition is not only tremendous,
but dangerous, for in their excitement the contestants frequently
wound one another. The Government (_i.e._, Mr. Worcester), while
at first necessarily allowing this sort of butchering, has steadily
discouraged and gradually reduced it, so that at Kiangan, for example,
the people were told that this was the last time they would ever
be allowed to kill beef in this fashion. It was pointed out to them
that the purpose being to furnish meat, their method of killing was
so uneconomical that the beef was really ruined, and nobody got what
he was really entitled to.
On this occasion, the carabao was tied to a stake in a small swale
and I nerved myself to look on. I saw the first cuts, the poor beast
look up from his grass in astonishment, totter, reel, and fall as blows
rained on him from all sides. The crowd, closing in, mercifully hid the
rest from view; the victim dying game without a sound. In this respect,
as well as in many others, the carabao is a very different animal
from the pig. But, while looking on at the mound of cutting, hacking,
sweating, and struggling butchers, the smell of fresh blood over all,
something occurred that completely shifted the center of interest. A
boy came up to us in great excitement to say that the prisoner had got
hold of a bayonet and was running _amok_. This was the prisoner of the
morning who had been so badly beaten; to make him more comfortable,
he had been laid on the veranda of the _cuartel_ (just behind us),
hobbled, but otherwise free. The boy spoke the truth; the prisoner had
snatched his bayonet from a passing Constabulary private, and, turning
into the _cuartel_, made for the provincial treasurer, who was busy
inside. Him he chased out, getting over the ground with extraordinary
rapidity, considering his wounds and hobbles; when we turned to look,
the prisoner had come out and was running for just anybody. There was
now but one thing to do, and done it was. Some one in authority called
out to the sentry on duty before the _cuartel_. "Kill him!" The sentry,
who up to this time had been walking up and down as a sentry should,
brought down his carbine, aimed at the running man, and dropped him
in his tracks by a bullet through the heart. He then ejected his
empty cartridge-case, shouldered his piece, and continued to walk his
post as unconcernedly as though he had shot a mad dog; as striking
an example of discipline as any soldier could wish to see. So far
as I could mark, this occurrence made no impression on the people
gathered together. The day went on as before. We should recollect,
however, that these highlanders have no nerves, have, in the the
past held human life cheap, and must have realized in this case that
the poor fellow who had been shot was himself trying to take human
life; according to mountain law, he had got his deserts. Hence no
astonishment should be felt that, while this human tragedy was being
played to a finish, the carabao-butchers had not turned a hair's
breadth from their business. For when I turned again to see how they
were getting on, I found that they had disappeared, and, walking to
the place, saw not a trace of the butchery save the trampled ground
and a small heap of undigested grass. Mr. Worcester had told me before
that I should find this to be the case; not a shred of hoof, hide,
or bone had been left behind.
The multitude had now begun to disperse, for the sun's rays were
growing level, and the day was over. We were glad ourselves to
find our quarters, for we had had some ten hours of _gansa_-beating,
dancing, and all the rest of it: the _cañao_ had been a great success,
and, although _bubud_ had passed vigorously, the people had made no
trouble. We wound up with a little bridge, and there was, as there
always is, some business to be dispatched before turning in. But
we were all soon sound asleep, for next morning we had to be up at
four. [27]