LATIN-AMERICAN HEART
Much misunderstanding has been due to faulty methods of approach to our
southern neighbor. Political diplomacy, commercial competition, and
military displays will never get to the core of this international apple.
The Latin-American is a man of heart, and until we recognize this fact we
shall fail to understand him. Sympathy and courtesy will avail more than
battleships and boycotts. This man is a born diplomat and has high
intellectual development, but the deep and dominant motives of his life
are his friendships and affections.
If we know the ruling motives of men and races, we may avoid nearly all
the misunderstandings and incriminating accusations that arise when we
occupy different points of view, but matters look very different when we
get at them from the viewpoint of the other man.
Seeming contradictions dissolve and weaknesses appear as unsuccessful
aspirations. Our complaints of low initiative become more reserved when we
remember that spiritual slavery is a certain antidote for the pioneering
spirit. The presence of a high though fruitless idealism amid
insurmountable difficulties attests a virile and buoyant spirit, captive
and caged. Where toil has been treated with contempt for ages nothing
short of economic helplessness can follow.
As for financial faithlessness, who shall throw the first stone? If once
we begin to justify the means by the end, commercial life is going to
suffer. If we begin to complain about the insecurity of political
institutions, we need to remember that democracy is one of the first and
finest fruits of a free mind and heart. And we have not yet ourselves
arrived sufficiently to do any boasting.
To know our Latin-Americans as personal friends is to attain a new
viewpoint on the whole Pan-American problem. We may not blind our eyes to
their defects more than to our own--there are plenty of both; but
understanding brings explanation of many things, and if we know all and
understand fully, we may come to a different verdict. The southern man far
surpasses us in certain traits of which we have taken small account and in
which we are racially deficient. When given free opportunity, satisfactory
response appears to the stimuli of democracy and initiative.
To know personally the Spanish-American is to become aware of his keen
intuitions, his high personal charm, his strong sympathies, his
constructive imagination, and his hearty idealism; and whatever else he
may be, he is loyal to his friends and their interests. He may not be so
intent on doing something, but he has time for social graces and arts, and
possesses an innate refinement and grace of character that we take pride
in having neglected.
[Illustration: COCONUTS--SO GOOD AND SO HIGH]
The Latin at his best is the racial goal of South America. Who cares to be
judged by the social leavings of his own country? The South American best
is intelligent, refined, and faithful to trusts. His mental processes are
touched with a constructive imagination that finds high expression in his
abundant art and literature. With a nervous, artistic, and sensitive
temperament, he responds quickly to friendly approaches and stands ready
to do his full share in social obligations.
That peons and ignorantes are not thus described is only to say that the
tramps and social unacceptables of any country are not to be classed with
the intellectuals and social leaders.
The personal equation is apt to be decisive in South America. Commercial
travelers learn this to their profit or loss, as they adopt or disdain the
ruling motives of the men with whom they deal. It may do very well in some
cities of the United States for the breezy commercial traveler to display
his samples, deliver his oration, and give the merchant three minutes to
take or leave the best goods on earth. Such methods in Spanish countries
means no business at all. Selling goods in South America is a social
function in which are involved members of the family and, incidentally,
some very pleasant hours. Any sort of make-believe is useless. Unless a
man really likes the people he had better abandon any plans to do business
with them. He may get on in Chicago, but in Bogota he will be very
lonesome.
When a man sells goods on talk he may dispose of inferior qualities
occasionally, and trust that he can talk enough faster next time to make
up for his loss of standing; but when goods are sold on friendship a
single mistake in quality means ruptured relations and the end of
commercial confidence. And where friendship furnishes the basis of
business the buyer will protect the seller in return for uniform good
treatment on his part. Like all other racial customs, when once it is
understood the system is not so unreasonable as at first appears.
An Englishman traveling in South America told me that on one occasion he
sold a large bill of goods on credit to a man who proved to be a rascal.
As the time for the return of the salesman and the payment for the goods
drew near the buyer tried to sell out his entire stock at half price, with
the intention of leaving the country with the money. But all the other
merchants were friends of the salesman and refused to take advantage of
the situation, to the loss of their friend. They preferred to lose their
own profits.
Business in Latin-America is a personal matter. If a deal goes wrong,
somebody is responsible. North American business has a large impersonal
element, and the man who makes a bad bargain usually feels that he had
himself largely to blame. The joke is on him, and he will exercise more
shrewdness next time. But the southern merchant views the case
differently, and it behooves the salesman to handle only goods that will
move to the profit of the buyer.
When once this basis of friendly confidence is well set up it is easy to
consummate large transactions with very little preliminary investigation.
The capitalist is more interested in knowing what his trusted friend
thinks than in getting data upon which to base his own conclusions.
[Illustration: BOILING "DULCE"--CRUDE SUGAR]
National ambassadors and Christian missionaries soon learn what the
business man found out long ago: that there is only one road to successful
relations with these people and that is the way of the heart. Neither
minister nor missionary nor merchant can succeed unless he genuinely likes
the people with whom he is dealing. Any missionary who is afflicted with a
sense of superiority had better look up the sailing dates of any steamer
line connecting with the United States.
In meeting strangers the right kind of a letter of introduction has high
value. Let the letter be from a personal friend, and the homes and hearts
are opened in a way that surprises the more coldly formal man from the
north. It is a cheering and heartening experience to present a good letter
to a fine family and be received with a cordiality and genuine hospitality
that leaves no doubt as to the honest motives of the hosts.
But how are we to find the road to the heart of any people unless we can
speak to them in their own tongue in which they were born? The interpreter
does very well for trivial and formal matters, but who wants to use an
interpreter in his own family? Here is where the "United Stateser" gets
into trouble. As a linguist he does not shine; in fact, he is barely
visible in a good light. He considers it beneath him to take the trouble
to learn anyone's language. Why should he? He can speak English already.
If anyone has anything to say to him, let him say it in English; and if he
cannot speak English, then surely he can have nothing worth saying. It is
a ready formula, but it fails to reach the hearts of men who do not happen
to have been born in the United States.
The Latin is a better linguist than his neighbor to the north. Nearly all
the better class people speak some English, though they are very modest
about the matter. Practically all of them speak two or more languages. But
even if they do surpass us in speech and can use some English, we are not
excused from acquiring a working knowledge of the language of the people
with whom we are to deal. The increasing development of Spanish teaching
in North American schools is one of the most helpful signs of the times.
Nowhere does the innate courtesy of the Latin-American shine more than in
his bearing toward the novice who tries to learn his language. We of the
United States are wont to laugh at the linguistic struggles of the
stranger within our gates, but not so with the South American. He is a
gentleman, and will take immense pains to assist anyone who makes an
effort to talk to him. He seems to regard it as a compliment that anyone
should try to use his language. Any faltering effort will receive
immediate encouragement.
A volume could be written about the comical blunders of North American
tyros in language learning. A hundred or two garbled words, vigorous
guessing and violent arm action make up the linguistic equipment of some
would-be "interpreters." Mixed English, Spanish, jerks, and profanity will
do wonders where there is nothing else, but as substitutes for language
they are far from ideal. Classic is the story of one of these interpreters
who struggled in vain to deliver the meaning of his friend to a native,
and at last gave up in disgust, regretting that he "ever learned the
blamed language anyway."
Spanish is possibly as easy to learn as any language other than that of
one's native land. Aside from its complicated verb and annoying gender, it
has few difficulties that need cause acute distress. But the score of
"easy methods" without teachers are to be avoided. There is no easy way to
learn a language. It takes work, hard work, and a lot of it to learn a
second language. But it can be done, and to acquire a new medium of
expression, even in middle life, is an experience not to be taken lightly.
It is above all things interesting. It comes at last to this: the only way
to speak, write, or read Spanish effectively is to learn it. Short cuts
bring short results.
And the only road to a worthwhile understanding of the Latin-American is
that of a sympathetic personal acquaintance and genuine friendship. It is
a matter of heart more than of head, and unless the North American has a
heart himself he had better acquire one or abandon his efforts to deal
with the Latin-American.
To the traveler from the Orient Latin-America is easy to know. There is
much in Spanish ceremonial, love of life and color and rhythm, the innate
chivalry and politeness, so often absent from the direct processes of the
North American, to suggest the peculiar charm of the Orient at its best.
The ornateness of architecture appears in the East and West in nearly
equal measure. When it comes to elaborate speeches and flattering
expressions, not even the honorifics of ceremonial Japan have much
advantage over the gracious and complimentary extravagances of the
Spanish-American.
It was at a school entertainment that the director, who spoke excellent
Spanish, was unavoidably absent, and the writer was pressed into service
at the last moment to explain some stereopticon views and make a few
announcements. The language was that of a tyro and must have afforded
material for much amusement to the cultured parents of the school
children. But no one laughed, and as a reporter for a Spanish paper
chanced to be on hand, the morning edition stated that the entertainment
was a high success and that the views were described in the choicest of
classic Spanish while the announcements were delivered with a diction of
the purest and highest type. It was the conventional manner of describing
any public event.
This temperament leads to oratory as rivers run to the sea. Given a few
ideas for a start, and any educated Latin will deliver an extempore
oration that suggests weeks of careful preparation. Rounded periods and
classic expression mark every polished phrase.
Probably the most perplexing and annoying thing about the North American
in the eyes of his southern neighbor is our incessant hurry and rush. We
may be millionaires in money but we are hopelessly bankrupt in time. And
the South American is both millionaire and philanthropist in time. He
always has a surplus and is willing to use it--and his friend's too. Some
of our hurrying about is regarded as a great joke. Clayton Sedgwick Cooper
quotes a Bengalese of Calcutta as regarding a certain Englishman as "one
of the uncomfortable works of God." Such are we of the United States in
the eyes of our southern friends.
The formalities of social life are of vast importance to the Panamanian,
and they are also important to the North American who wishes to transact
any sort of business with officials and educated men of any class. Dress
suits and high hats are not to be despised if one is to get on in the
capital city. Neither are business and politics to be separated if any
business is to be done.
During 1918 the death of President Valdez within a month of the
constitutional date of the national election created a situation in which
the election board was controlled by one political party and the police
department by the other, spelling inevitable trouble. Military authorities
on the Canal Zone took a hand and sent over a troop of cavalry to police
the city during the election week. At sight of the soldiers panic
possessed many women and children, who had been told that the Americans,
if they came, would shoot down all persons on the street without warning.
A few hours convinced the populace of the error of this widely circulated
report, and the election passed peacefully, the party in office winning.
Panamanian officials are uniformly courteous, kindly, and will go to any
reasonable length to grant any proper request, especially if it comes from
a friend. I have called on various men in high authority many times on
diverse matters and have never failed to be received cordially and given
the best of personal treatment. It has occasionally happened, however,
that after leaving the official I tried to recall just what he had stated
or agreed to do, and had difficulty in finding anything definite.
[Illustration: WASHING BY THE RIVER]
Perhaps Latin character reaches its highest level in family life. The
women of the Latin race are noted for natural grace and comeliness, and in
their own homes they give themselves to their husbands and children with a
devotion to which some of the club women of northern lands are strangers,
as well as their families. Motherhood is a high calling before which all
else must give way. The open life of the northern family, with its easy
conventions and free hospitality, is largely unknown, but a close and
intimate family life is built up essentially stronger in some features
than anything found further north. The Spanish home is a very select and
secluded affair, into the charmed circle of which only the most intimate
friends may enter.
This wife and mother usually knows nothing of her husband's affairs, and
has little freedom of the streets or public places. There is none of that
comradeship in business interests often found in the States between
husband and wife.
The senoritas, or young women, of these homes are decidedly feminine. They
make much of cosmetics, but they do at least spare us the assorted colors
of the hair dyer's art. And they do not make a holy show of themselves on
the street, with loud manners and conspicuous costumes, as if to attract
attention of all passers-by. It must be said that some of the better class
young women of these countries are "stunning lookers," and are always
attractive and well bred, but with limited educational advantages they are
apt to be shallow conversationalists. Many of the men prefer them that
way. For a woman to know too much about business and politics detracts
from her distinctly feminine charm in the eyes of these Spanish men. What
religious devotion exists in these countries is found among the women, who
usually go regularly to mass and confession.
Strictest chaperonage is maintained over young women, no girl being
permitted for a moment to be alone with a young man, a system that would
make slow headway in North America. And the women are long suffering with
their husbands, from whom they endure conduct that would break up almost
any North American home.
The Panamanian woman has none of the boldness of the new woman of
Argentine, nor the ultra-timidity of Peruvian seclusion. She knows the
value of balconies and lace shawls and effective coiffures, and it must be
said that in spite of rigorous supervision and never-failing modesty of
demeanor, she has a charm and a "come-hither" in her eye that has won the
heart of many a North American.
The possibilities of the Latin race are perhaps best measured by the
occasional rare characters that break through the bonds of convention and
precedent and attain an altitude of gracious nobility unsurpassed anywhere
on earth. Occasional products of missionary schools show results in
character and efficiency that indicate clearly the latent capacity for a
something in which the brusque Saxon is too often deficient.
The "Christ of the Andes" was set up on the boundary line between
Argentine and Chile as a suggestion of the only basis of permanent peace
in the life and teachings of the Prince of Peace. This famous statue was
the result of the work of a woman, the Senora de Costa, president of the
Christian Mothers' League of Buenos Ayres. Cast of old Spanish cannon, and
installed in its lofty elevation of thirteen thousand feet in the Andes,
the monument was dedicated March 13, 1914, as much a memorial to the work
of a Latin-American woman as a testimonial to the peaceful intentions of
the two nations.
There is a Spanish word, not exactly translatable into English, which may
be taken as the key to Latin character at its best. It is the word
"simpatico," which means something more than "sympathetic." A man is
_simpatico_ when he is gracious and open-hearted and likable and
considerate of other folks' feelings. There ought to be a course in
_simpatico_ for every prospective missionary and business man in the
United States who has any intention of dealing with the Latin-American.