The Filipino at Play.
As in the pre-Elizabethan days the public amusements consisted
of performances by priests and monks on scaffolding set up before
the church, mystery plays, "moralities," and "miracles," religious
pageants through the village streets,--so in the Philippines, where
they have not outlived the fourteenth century, the Church plays
an important part in popular _fiestas_. The Christmas holidays are
celebrated still by carol singing from house to house, and by the
presentation of the old-time "mystery" by strolling bands of actors,
with a wax-doll to represent the Sacred Child.
Each town, besides the regular church holidays--as indicated by
innumerable red marks in the calendar--has a _fiesta_ for its
patron saint, which is of more importance even than the "Feast of
Aguinaldo" ("Aguinaldo" is their word for "Christmas present"), which
is held annually in December. One of these _fiestas_ is announced
by the ringing of the church-bells--big bells and little bells all
turning somersaults, and being banged as they go round. During the
intermissions the municipal band discourses Spanish and Visayan music,
coming to the end with a triumphant bang. Only on Holy Friday are the
bells abandoned and tin pans and bamboo clappers, sticks and stones,
resorted to for purposes of lamentation--functions for which these
instruments are perfectly adapted.
People come in from far and near, riding in _bancas_ or on ponies,
often spending several nights upon the way. The great church at the
morning mass is crowded; women faint; and, as the heat increases,
it becomes a steaming oven. It is more spectacular at vespers, with
the women kneeling among the goats and dogs; the men, uncovered,
standing in the shadows of the gallery; the altar sparkling with a
hundred candles; and the dying sunlight filtering through mediæval
windows. As the resinous incense odor fills the house, through
the wide-open doors the sun can be seen setting in its tropical
magnificence behind a grove of palms.
Then the procession, in a haze of dust--led by the band, the padre,
and the acolytes; the sacred relics borne aloft on floats encircled by
a blaze of candles; young men holding each other's hands; children and
old women following, holding their tapers and reciting prayers--files
through the streets to the eternal clamor of the bells.
The afternoon is given up to tournaments--carabao races, pony races,
_banca_ races, cock-fights. Bamboo arches, decorated with red banners,
are erected in the larger thoroughfares, and under these the horsemen
ride together at full tilt, attempting to secure upon their lances
the suspended rings which are the favors of the local _señoritas_. On
dropping in at that volcanic little town, Mambajo, one hot afternoon,
I found a goose hung up upon the bamboo framework which became the
property of the competitor who, riding under it _ventre á terre_,
could seize the prize, regardless of the feelings of the goose. The
village had turned out in holiday attire, as the dense atmosphere of
cocoanut-oil and perfumery proclaimed. The band, in white pith helmets
and new linen uniforms, was playing under the mimosa-tree. Down the
main road a struggling crowd of wheelmen came, and from a cloud of dust
the winner of the mile bicycle-race shot past the tape. The difficulty
in the carabao event was to stick on to the broad, clumsy animal,
during the gallop around the course. One of the beasts, excited by
the shouts, began to run amuck, and cut a swathe in the distracted
crowd as clean as an ungovernable automobile might have made.
The ringing of a bell announced the cock-fight in the main beneath
the cocoanut-trees. It was near the market-place, where venders of
betel-nut, tobacco, cigarettes, and _tuba_ squatted on the ground,
their wares exposed for sale on mats. As the spectators crowded
in, the gatekeeper would mark their bare feet with a red stamp,
indicating that admission had been paid. On booths arranged within
the last inclosure, _señoritas_ sold hot chocolate and raisin-cakes
and beer. Tethered to little stakes, and straining at their leashes,
the excited game-cocks, the descendants of the jungle-fowl, screamed
in exultant unison. The small boys, having climbed the cocoanut-palms,
clung to the notches, and looked down upon the scene of conflict.
Little brown men, squatting around the birds, were critically hefting
them, or matching couples of them in preliminary bouts, keeping a good
hold of their tails. There was the wicked little Moro Bangcorong,
the trainer of birds that never lost a fight. There was Manolo, the
Visayan dandy, who on recent winnings in the main, supported a small
stable of racing ponies at Cebu. The person entering a bird deposits
a certain amount of money with the bank. This wager is then covered by
the smaller bets of _hoi poiloi_. When a "dark" bird is victorious, and
the crowd wins, an enthusiastic yell goes up. But just as in a public
lottery, fortune is seldom with the great majority. As the bell rings,
the spectators press close around the bamboo pit, or climb to points
of vantage in adjacent scaffolding. A line is drawn in the damp earth,
and on one side all the money wagered on the favorite is arranged,
which must be balanced by the coin placed by opposing betters on the
other side. There is a frantic rushing around at the last moment to
place bets. The Chinaman waves a ten-_peso_ bill excitedly, and clamors
"_buenting! buenting!_"--meaning that he puts his money on the speckled
bird. Somebody on the other side cries out "_guingan!_" or "green," and
thus they both find takers for their "_sapi_." Then the _presidente_,
who referees the fight, sends two policemen to clear out the ring;
the sheaths are removed from the razor-sharp steel spurs; the two cocks
are held opposite each other, and are simultaneously launched into the
arena. Ruffling, and facing each other with their necks outstretched,
"blood in their eyes," and realizing to the full extent the danger of
the situation, they prepare to fight it out to death. A quick stab,
and the victim, trembling violently, a stream of red blood trickling
down its leg, drops at the first encounter, and the fight is over.
While no record has been kept of how the bets were placed, every
one seems to remember, and the money is handed over honestly. If
Filipinos were as honorable in all their dealings as they are in
this, they would be ideal people to do business with; for although
they will beg and borrow, or even steal, to get the money which is
wagered at these "combats," they will never evade a debt of honor
thus incurred. Regarding gambling as a livelihood, or a profession
in good standing, they devote their best hours to the study and the
mastery of it. They, with their false philosophy, believe that wealth
is thus produced, and that there is a gain for every one.
The list of fights progresses, some of the cocks only giving up the
struggle after a last dying kick has been directed at the breast of
the antagonist, who, desperately wounded, summons strength for one
triumphant, but a rather husky, crow. Sometimes both birds are taken
from the cockpit dead. The bird that loses a fight through cowardice
is rent limb from limb by the indignant owner, and is ignominiously
hung upon the bamboo paling,--bird of ill omen, that has ruined the
finances of a family, mortgaged the house and carabao, and plunged
its owner into debt for the next year!
Sometimes a "free for all" is substituted for the dual
contest. Eighteen or twenty fighting-cocks will be arranged in a large
circle, dropped at the same time in the ring, and set to work. Half
of the birds, not realizing what is going on, will innocently start
to scratch for worms, or set out on a search for seeds. It is amusing
then to see the astonished look they give when suddenly confronted
by a couple of antagonists. They settle their disputes in bunches of
three and four, and soon the ring is full of chickens running to get
out of danger, maimed and crippled, or still innocently scratching
after worms. There was a little white cock at the recent main at
Oroquieta, who avoided every fight without, however, leaving the
arena. The game old buzzard that belonged to _Capitan_ A-Bey--a bird
with legs like stilts and barren patches in his foliage--had put down
every challenger in turn. Confronted by two birds at once, he seemed
to say, "One side, old fellow, for a moment; will attend to your case
later"--which he did. Dizzy and staggering from loss of blood, still
"in the ring," he sidled up to the immaculate white bird that had so
ingeniously evaded every fight. It was a case of out-and-out bluff. If
the little bird had struck, he must have won. A single look, however,
at his reprehensible antagonist sufficed. The little bird made a
direct line for the gate, while _Capitan_ A-Bey's old rooster, with
defiance in his look and voice, was carried away in triumph. In the
parade next day, where the competing game-cocks were exhibited, the
"buzzard," though he was exempt from taking part in the proceedings,
led the procession and was loudly cheered.
My introduction to polite society in Filipinia was certainly
auspicious. "Betel-Nut Sal," the wife of the constabulary sergeant, had
a birthday, and invited everybody to the dance and the reception which
would take place in the jail. The _Señorita_ Tonio, most prominent of
the receiving ladies, was engaged when I arrived, in meting out gin to
the visitors. Her teeth were red from betel-chewing, and a cigarette
hung from the corner of her mouth. The orchestra, armed with guitars
and mandolins, had seated themselves upon a bench, barefooted with
their legs crossed, ready to begin. The insufficiency of partners
for the ladies had necessitated letting out most of the prisoners
on parole. A certain young dandy who had been locked up on charge
of murder, was the hero of the hour. While he was dancing, soldiers
with their Remingtons guarded the door. I was induced to try a dance
with Tonio. The hum of music could be heard above the "clack-clack" of
the carpet-slippers tapping on the floor. Then suddenly the _señorita_
swore a white man's oath, and stopped. Her carpet-slipper had come off,
and as she wore no hosiery, the situation was indeed embarrassing. Our
hostess asked us twenty times if everything was satisfactory, and
finally confessed that she had spent almost a year's income for the
refreshments. "Dancee now; _mañana_, washie, washie."
I must tell you of Bernarda's party. "We expect you for the eating,"
read the invitation, and when dinner was all ready I was sent for. Then
we sat down to a feast of roast pork, rice, and goat-flesh, with
a rather soggy cake for the dessert. At most balls it is customary
for the ladies to be seated first at the refreshment-table, where the
most substantial articles of diet are boiled ham with sugar frosting,
cakes flavored with the native lime, and lemon soda. Like the coy nun
in Chaucer's "Prologue," she who is most elegant will take care not
to spill the food upon her lap, eat with the fingers, or spit out
the bones. At wedding feasts the gentlemen are given preference at
the table.
When the orchestra arrived--a trifle late after a six-mile hike through
muddy roads and over swollen streams--the company was more delighted
than a nursery. The orchestra began the program with the piece entitled
"Just One Girl," to which the people sang Visayan words. Vivan, the
old clown, in clumsy commissary shoes, skated around the floor to
the amusement of the whole assembly. The chair-dance was announced,
and the most favored _señorita_ occupied a chair set in the middle of
the room. A dozen suitors came in order, bowing low, entreating her
not to reject their plea. One after another they were thrown down,
and retired crestfallen. But at last the right one came, and waltzed
off with the girl triumphantly. There was a salvo of applause, the
more intense because in this case an engagement had been practically
announced. No native ball would be complete without the symbolistic
dance which so epitomizes Filipino character. This is performed by a
young lady and her partner wielding fans and scented handkerchiefs,
advancing and retreating with all kinds of coquetries.
Long after midnight, when the party broke up with the customary
horse-play, the accommodating orchestra, who had enjoyed the evening
with the rest, still playing "Just One Girl," escorted the assembly
home.