THE LLANOS.
We left Ortiz as usual, very early the next morning, stumbling here and
there amidst the mass of loose stones which paved the way all along the
winding bed of the _quebrada_. In proportion as we advanced on our
route, the hills decreased in size, while the loose stones seemed to
increase in quantity. The splendid groves of hardy and balsamiferous
trees, which near Ortiz formed an almost impenetrable forest, gradually
became less imposing in appearance, until they were replaced by thickets
of thorny bushes, chiefly composed of several species of mimosas, with a
delicate and feathery foliage. The traveller accustomed to the shade of
a luxuriant vegetation, and to the sight of cultivated valleys, is
struck by the rapid diminution of the former, and the total
disappearance of the latter, as he emerges from the Galeras of Ortiz:
yet he is somewhat compensated by the almost overpowering _perfume_ shed
by masses of the canary-colored blossoms with which these shrubs are
loaded, from the
[Illustration: THE LLANOS.]
summits down to the bending branches that trail the ground at every
passing breeze.
Suddenly we entered a widely-extended tract of level land almost
destitute of vegetation. With the exception of a few clumps of
palm-trees with fan-like leaves, nothing but short grass covered its
entire surface, almost realizing the idea of “an ocean covered with
sea-weed.” A dense mass of vapor pervading the atmosphere obscured the
horizon, while the fan-palms, seen from afar, appeared like ships
enveloped in a fog. Gradually the circle of the heavens seemed to close
around us, until we became, as it were, encompassed by the sky. We were,
in fact, treading the shores of the great basin of the Llanos, over one
of the ancient shoals or _Mesas_, which, like successive terraces, now
form the borders of those grassy oceans known as the Pampas. This was
the Mesa de Paya, the seat of one of the cattle-farms to which we were
bound.
After wandering for nearly three hours over this monotonous landscape
without compass, and guided only by certain landmarks known to the
_vaqueanos_, we came unexpectedly upon the borders of the Mesa, which
commands an extensive view of the lower savannas. As if by magic the
dreary scene changed to one of the most glorious panoramas in existence.
At our feet lay a beautiful expanse of meadow, fresh and smooth as the
best cultivated lawn, with troops of horses and countless herds of
cattle dispersed all over the plain. Several glittering ponds, alive
with all varieties of aquatic birds, reflected upon their limpid surface
the broad-leaved crowns of the fan-palms, towering above verdant groves
of laurel, amyris, and elm-like _robles_. Further beyond, and as far as
the eye could reach, the undulating plain appeared like a petrified
ocean, after the sweeping tempest.
But I feel that my descriptions fall short of the reality, and that I am
unable to depict the harmonious effects of light and shade, and the
blending of the various tints of green, blue and purple, dispersed over
this extensive panorama; the gentle undulations of the plain; the
towering palms gracefully fanning the glowing atmosphere with their
majestic crowns of broad and shining leaves; and myriad other beauties
difficult to enumerate.
I could scarcely tear myself away from the spot, so fascinated was I
with the novelty of the scene. My companions, more concerned for the
speedy termination of the journey than the beautiful in nature, set off
at a brisk trot towards the house, which was at no great distance.
Fearing to lose my way among the intricate paths leading to it, I was
compelled to follow in their wake, stopping occasionally to gaze once
more upon those enchanting groves, which seemed to return me to the
highly cultivated fields and green meadows of glorious “Old England,”
whence I had just returned.
On descending to the plain below, my attention was attracted to an
unsightly group of palm-thatched huts, looking more like huge bee-hives
than the abode of human beings. A formidable fence of palm trunks
surrounded the premises, and several acres of ground beyond. These were
the _corrals_, or enclosures where the training of the fierce herds was
practised by the hardy dwellers of the Llanos; but no signs of
cultivation, or aught else connected with the rural occupations of the
farmer, were visible in the neighborhood. Presently the cavalcade
stopped before the gate, and all the individuals composing it dismounted
and began to unsaddle their horses amidst the barking of a legion of
dogs, and the braying of all the donkeys in the vicinity.
This was the _hato_ or cattle-farm of San Pablo we were in quest of,
famous in the annals of the civil wars in Venezuela, as the occasional
head-quarters of the constitutional armies, commanded by the owner of
this farm. Our leader was received at the entrance of his estate, by a
grave and elderly negro slave, who acted as overseer, and had under his
control all the men and property attached to it. Kneeling upon the stony
court-yard, he kissed the hand extended to him in friendly greeting,
after which he proceeded to unsaddle his master’s horse, which he led to
a pond within the enclosure, where the horses were watered.
We purposed remaining a few days at San Pablo, with the object of
incorporating some fresh relays of mules and horses from the abundant
stock of this estate: so we of the staff installed ourselves under the
palm-roof of our rustic mansion, while the rank and file of the
expedition found accommodation in the open barracoons adjoining it;
although none of the party had reason to boast of being better off than
their neighbor.
“It is sad when pleasing first impressions are obliterated,” remarks a
sentimental writer; “always painful to become _desenchanté_ on a more
intimate acquaintance with either people or places.” I soon found that I
was not in the fairy land I had imagined, abounding in grottos and
refreshed by sparkling fountains, but in the region of the Llanos where
the French adage, _chacun pour soi et Dieu pour tous_, is verified to
its fullest extent. San Pablo, with its vaunted prestige, and in spite
of its proximity to several important marts, was no better provided with
accommodations than the untidy douar of the wandering Arab of the
Desert. A rickety table standing against the wall for fear of tumbling
down, two or three clumsy cedar chairs covered with raw-hide, and a
couple of grass hammocks, serving the double purpose of beds and
lounges, constituted all the furniture of the great farm. As a
substitute for wardrobes and hat-stands, we were shown a number of
deer-antlers and bull-horns imbedded in the walls of reeds and mud, on
which to hang our pouches, bridles, &c. I searched in vain, on our
arrival, for something like a bowl in which to lave my hands and face,
covered with dust and parched by the broiling sun of the savannas. Even
water was so scarce that it was served to us sparingly from a large
calabash gourd used in bringing it from the river, nearly a mile
distant. It is true there was, within the enclosure of the houses, a
pond or excavation, made while searching for the remains of a brave
officer who fell fighting for his country’s freedom. Sufficient water
had accumulated there during the rainy season to entitle it to the name
of _Laguna_, or Lake of Genaro Vazquez, the name of the afore-mentioned
hero; but it was so filled with _Bavas_--a small species of
alligator,--terrapins, and toads, as to render the water undrinkable.
But to return to our head-quarters, the structure of which struck me so
forcibly at first as a bee-hive of vast proportions, naturally
suggesting the idea of a “land of milk and honey.” Unfortunately neither
of these could be obtained either for love or money, although the woods
and pastures of the estate abounded in both the creatures that produced
them. So we were compelled to resort to our reserved stock of _papelon_
to sweeten our coffee, and to its own delicious natural aroma in the
place of milk. As to the house itself, it only differed from the rest in
that region in being larger, and perhaps in better order than are the
generality. Imagine a pyramidal structure, thatched with palm leaves,
the roof slanting to within a few feet of the ground, and supported on
stout posts of live timber, which served also as framework for the
walls, and you will have some idea of the style of architecture peculiar
to the country. Doors and windows are of no account in a country
uniformly warm throughout the year, and where the inhabitants possess
few articles capable of tempting the cupidity of light-fingered gentry.
Therefore, an ox-hide stretched across the openings left in the walls to
admit light and the inmates, is all that is required to keep off
uninvited guests. As an exception, to this rule, our mansion of San
Pablo had one or two rooms set apart for invalids, provided with doors
and windows of solid planks of timber in the rough; the other apartments
had the upper half of the walls purposely left open, to admit full and
free entrance of light and air. A narrow piazza or corridor, formed by
the slanting of the roof to within five feet of the ground, ran along
the entire length of the main building, and was intended more as a
protection to the rooms against the sun and rains, than as a resort for
the inmates.
The first step, on arriving, was to secure a place in the open reception
room, for my own chattels and hammock, before all the spare posts and
hooks had been appropriated by my companions. This accomplished, I
proceeded to a thorough examination of my saddle and its accoutrements,
so as to have them adapted to the peculiar mode of travelling in the
Llanos. This care I left to the good judgment of our attendants, not
being myself sufficiently skilled in the art of mending, greasing, and
putting in order the complicated gear of our riding equipment. In the
same predicament were also my two English companions, and our worthy
doctor; a kind word, however, addressed to the good-natured
Llaneros--especially if accompanied with a drop of aguardiente--never
failed of enlisting their services in our favor.
Habit, as well as necessity, is sometimes the mother of invention, as my
experience soon taught me that, to get along in my new quarters, it
would be requisite to set aside the airs and insignia of civilization.
Divesting myself, therefore, of all such superfluities as coat, cravat,
pants, and shoes, I adopted the less cumbrous attire of the Llaneros,
consisting mainly of breeches tightly buttoned at the knee, and a loose
shirt, usually of a bright checkered pattern. Shoes are altogether
dispensed with in a country like the Llanos, subject to drenching rains,
and covered with mud during a great portion of the year, besides the
inconvenience they offer to the rider in holding the stirrup securely
when in chase of wild animals. The leg, however, is well protected from
the thorns and cutting grass of the savannas by a neat legging or
_botin_, made of buffskin, tightly buttoned down the calf by knobs or
studs of highly polished silver. Another characteristic article of
dress, and one in which the wearers take great pride, is the linen
checkered handkerchief, loosely worn around the head. Its object is
ostensibly to protect it from the intensity of the sun’s rays; but the
constant habit of wearing it has rendered the handkerchief as
indispensable a headdress to the Llaneros as is the cravat to the neck
of the city gentleman.
One angle of the building was devoted to the kitchen, and rooms for the
overseer and his family; the other was set apart for a store-room,
suggesting hidden treasures of good things for the comfort of the inner
man. Being naturally inquisitive, I lost no time in investigating the
contents of the _bodega_; but instead of sweetmeats, fresh cheese, or
even bread, and butter,--articles of easy manufacture in the Llanos, on
which I had feasted my imagination,--I found the place filled with
roaches, pack-saddles, old bridles, lazos, and _tasajo_ or jerked beef.
This last is prepared by cutting fresh beef into long strips, and
exposing them to dry in the sun, first rubbing them thoroughly with
salt. Animal substances spoil so readily in tropical climates, that
unless this precaution is taken immediately after a bullock is
slaughtered, the meat becomes tainted in a short time. Two or three
days’ exposure to the hot sun of the Llanos, is _sufficient_ to render
the beef as dry and tough as leather; in this state, it may be stored
away for six months without spoiling. The older the better; age
imparting to it that peculiar rank flavor which makes _tasajo_ so highly
prized by people of all ranks in Cuba and other West India Islands.
Large shipments of this beef have been made from Venezuela to those
places; but the competition of Buenos Ayres has reduced of late the
profits arising from this branch of our exports. The manner of killing
and quartering an animal in the Llanos deserves particular mention. The
cattle being usually some distance from the house, two horsemen are
despatched after the victim; one of them gallops close to the animal’s
rear, and throwing his unerring lazo at its head, drags it along, while
his companion urges it on by means of his _garrocha_ or goad, until they
reach the sacrificial post: one or two turns of the lazo around this,
bring the animal close to the _botalon_; the matador then plunges the
point of his dagger into the vertebræ back of the head, and the
struggling beast drops as if struck by an electric spark; a second
thrust of the bloody dagger into his throat severs the artery, and the
blood gushes in torrents through the wound from every part of his body.
The prostrate victim is now turned upon its back, and a long incision
made lengthwise of the belly, preparatory to flaying and cutting up the
carcass. When the animal is not intended to be immediately slaughtered,
he is tied to the post by a succession of coils from the lazo around his
horns, and left there until the fatal moment comes to despatch him.
One night I was awakened by a terrific bellowing proceeding from the
_botalon_; but, as I knew there was no bullock there for slaughter at
the moment, I was at a loss how to account for this uproarious serenade.
Curiosity led me to inquire into the cause, and directing my steps
towards the spot, I beheld a group of about a dozen bulls, smelling at
the blood of their former companions, and ploughing up the gore with
their hoofs, evidently in great distress. This continued for some time,
until, finding their bewailing by moonlight rather too touching even for
artists’ ears, we ordered them to be driven away, in spite of the
sublimity of the scene. I had other opportunities of witnessing similar
testimonials of respect, whenever a herd of cattle approached the place
of execution, which never failed to impress me deeply with a feeling of
compassion for their sorrows.
Every morning an animal was slaughtered for us. Our meals consisted of
roast beef, without either vegetables or wheaten bread. Indian corn we
had in abundance, both in the grain and in the husk; but before it could
be converted into _arepas_--the favorite bread of the country--it
required to be passed through a variety of operations each day, which
made the process rather tedious, as the grain must first be hulled by
pounding it in large wooden mortars, adding a handful of sand and a
little water: next the grain must be separated from the chaff,
thoroughly washed, and then boiled over a slow fire. In doing this, care
must be used, for if too soft it will not answer the purpose. Finally it
is ground to a paste between two stones, formed into flat cakes, and
baked in shallow pans of earthenware. The result of all this labor is
bread exceedingly white and nourishing; but it has the disadvantage of
becoming tough and unpalatable when cold. Under the popular name of
_tortillas_, this bread is also extensively used in Mexico and Central
America, although inferior to our own.
[Illustration]
Even this was considered a great luxury at San Pablo, few other
cattle-farms being provided with the necessary utensils for its
manufacture, and still fewer the number of those that will grow
sufficient corn for the consumption of their inmates. The Llaneros are
essentially a pastoral people, and trouble themselves but little with
the cultivation of the land, considering it rather derogatory to bend
their heads, even to mother Earth. Hence their homes are usually in a
state of utter wretchedness, being unprovided even with the commonest
necessaries. Although the land is extremely fertile, and would well
repay the labor with abundant crops of every kind of grain, they do not
consider bread an essential, using instead a piece of boiled liver,
which in their estimation answers just as well. Therefore the divine
command, which enjoins us to earn our daily bread by the sweat of the
brow, is not much regarded by them. In the midst of countless herds, and
surrounded with the most munificent gifts of a bountiful Providence,
they are often even without fresh meat; not because they are sparing of
their cattle, which in that country bears a nominal value, but because
they are naturally abstemious; and as for milk and butter, they despise
both as food only fit for children. Cheese, however, is a favorite
article of food with them, and in its preparation, they display
considerable ability, especially the delicious kind termed _queso de
manos_, a species of boiled cheese. As some of my readers may wish to
experiment in making it, I will give them the recipe. Curd the milk in
the usual way, and boil the curd in its own whey. When about the
consistency of molasses candy, stretch it out repeatedly with the hands
until cold. Add a little salt to the mass; roll it into flat cakes, and
hang the cheese to drain in nets suspended from the ceiling. When
pulled, it will separate in layers which look like parchment, retaining
all the flavor of the milk.
The cows, being half wild in most cases, require to be milked by main
force. To accomplish this, one of the dairymen throws a noose around the
horns of the animal, and holds it secure by means of a long pole
attached to the thong, while another proceeds to milk it in the usual
way; but none will yield a drop, unless the calf is first allowed to
suck a little, and then tied to the mother’s knee.
Every cow is distinguished by a fancy name, such as Clavellina, Flor del
Campo, Marabilla, and others equally euphonious and poetical. When
called to be milked, the tame ones immediately answer in suppressed
bellowings, and come forward of their own accord, while the calves
confined in the pen, on hearing their mothers’ names, run along the
fence in search of the gate; a boy, stationed there for the purpose,
lets fall one of the bars, and off they bound after the mothers.
The men perform there altogether the occupations allotted to women in
other countries, such as milking the cows, curding the milk, and turning
out the cheese when ready. They do not even disdain cooking their own
food, and washing their own garments, when occasion requires. Of the
women, I may be permitted to quote here what Sir Francis Head, in his
quaint style, says with reference to those in the Pampas of Buenos
Ayres, as being equally applicable to their sisters of the Llanos: “The
habits of the women are very curious: they have literally nothing to do,
the great plains which surround them offer no motive to work, they
seldom ride, and _their_ lives certainly are very indolent and inactive.
They all have families, however, whether married or not; and once when I
inquired of a young woman employed in nursing a very pretty child, who
was the father of the ‘criatura,’ she replied ‘Quien sabe?’”[20]
But it is time to introduce my reader to a more intimate acquaintance
with this singular race of people, whose manliness, bravery, and skill
in waging a constant war, not only with the wild animals of the field,
but against the proud legions of Iberia, entitle them to a place among
the heroes of the earth.