My Early Experiences in Housekeeping
I Set Up Housekeeping--Romoldo's Ideas of Arranging Furniture--My
Cheerful Environment--Romoldo's Success in Making "Hankeys"--He
Introduces the Orphan Tikkia as His Assistant--The Romance of Romoldo
and Tikkia.
At the period of my advent in Capiz there were but two other American
women there, wives of military men. Later our numbers were increased by
the wives of several civilian employees and two more women teachers. In
those first days the hospitality of the military women made no small
break in the routine of my daily life. At the time of our appointment
we teachers had been assured by a circular from the War Department
that we should enjoy the privileges of the military commissary; but
this ruling had been changed in the several months that had elapsed,
and I found myself stranded with practically no access to American
tinned fruits and vegetables. I ate rice, fish, and bananas with the
best grace I could; and when, after a month of boarding, I decided
to set up housekeeping, and one of these ladies surreptitiously and
with fear and trembling presented me with a can of concentrated lye,
my gratitude knew no bounds. My Filipino servant, named Romoldo,
whom I had dubbed "The Magnificent," was set to work cleaning up
my prospective dwelling; and I went out and secured the services
of a trooper of the Tenth Cavalry to supplement the deficiencies in
Romoldo's housecleaning instincts by some American brawn and muscle.
The trooper, a coal-black African, had picked up a great deal of
Spanish, which he spoke with the corruption of vowel sounds peculiar to
his race and color. In addition to collecting the stipend agreed upon,
he incidentally borrowed two dollars (U.S.) of me. Now, I was brought
up in Missouri and knew enough of the colored race to be sure that I
was bidding a fond adieu to the two dollars when I handed them to the
trooper. But I was not prepared for my henchman's persistence in having
the extension of time made formal. I was willing to forget the two
dollars and have done with them, but the African would not permit them
to rest in peace. He presented himself regularly every two weeks to
ask for another fortnight's extension. Finally, when the regiment was
about to leave the Islands, I insisted that he should accept the two
dollars as an evidence of my good-will toward the United States Army
and the defenders of the flag, and he was graciously pleased so to do.
The trooper's muscles were strong as his habits of renewal, and he
and Romoldo scoured the floors of my new establishment until the
shiny black accretions of twenty-five years of petroleum and dirt
had given way to unpolished roughness, and then I set to work to
get a new polish. Then we took hold of the furniture--heavy, wooden,
Viennese stuff--and scrubbed it with zeal. My landlord came to look
in occasionally and was hurt. He said plaintively that they had had no
contagious diseases, and he asked why this deluge of soap and water. I
basely declined to admit the flat truth, which was that the floors
and chairs were too greasy for my taste, but attributed our energy
to a mad American zeal for scouring. He said, "Ah, _costumbre_!" and
seemed to feel that the personal sting of my actions had been removed.
In due time the house was clean, and I moved in. The sala,
or drawing-room, was at least forty by thirty feet, with two sides
arcaded and filled with shell windows, which, when drawn back, gave
the room almost the open-air effect of a gallery. It was furnished
with two large gilt mirrors, a patriarchal cane-seated sofa, several
wooden armchairs, eleven majolica pedestals for holding _jardinières_,
and two very small tables. These last-named articles "the Magnificent"
placed at the head of the apartment in such a position as to divide
its cross wall into thirds, and then arranged all the chairs in two
rows leading from the two tables, beginning with the most patriarchal
armchair and ending with the dining-room chair, the leg of which
was tied on with a string. The effect was rigidly mathematical; and
when my landlady came in and adorned each table with a potted rose
geranium, stuck all over with the halves of empty egg-shells to give
it the appearance of flowering, I felt that it was time to assert
myself. The egg-shells went promptly into the garbage box, and the
chairs and tables were pulled about to achieve the unpremeditated
effect of our own rooms. Then I went out for a walk, and returning
found that Romoldo had restored things to his own taste. Again I
broke up his formation, so the next time he tried a new device. He
put one table at the top of the room and one at the bottom, with the
chairs arranged in a circle around each one. This gave the pleasing
impression to one entering the room that a card game was ready to
begin. Again Romoldo's efforts were treated with contempt.
For at least two weeks a deadly combat went on between Romoldo and me,
in which I finally came off victor. At the end of that time he seemed
to have accustomed himself to our ideas of decoration. He had, in our
week's deluging, cleaned up the lamps of the chandeliers, brushed
down the cobwebs, and removed some half-dozen baskets of faded and
dust-laden paper flowers. He administered the ironical consolation
meanwhile that their destruction did not matter, since my admiring
pupils would see that the supply was renewed. To my eternal sorrow he
was a true prophet, and I had to contemplate green chrysanthemums and
blue roses, and a particularly offensive hand-painted basket made of
plates of split shell. However, the potted palms and ferns with which
I ornamented the eleven pedestals made atonement; and when I came in
after a hard day's work and saw the unreal, golden-tinted light of
afternoon filling the dignified old room, I found it home-like and
lovely in spite of the paper flowers and the shell basket.
My bedroom was half as large as the sala, with a small room adjoining
it which I used for a dining-room, and at the back there were a
kitchen, a bathroom, closets, and a bamboo porch. For this shelter,
furnished as it was, I paid the munificent sum of twenty-five pesos
Mexican currency, or twelve and one-half dollars gold per month.
As my house was located over the second saloon in town--one of the
regular, innocent, grocery-looking Filipino breed--and as it commanded
a fine view of the plaza, guard mount, retreat, and Sunday morning
church procession, I had at least all the excitement that was going
in Capiz. The American soldiers swore picturesquely over their domino
and billiard games down stairs; the "ruffle of drums" (though why so
called I know not, for it consists of a blare of trumpets) woke up
the sultry stillness at nine A.M.; the great church-bells struck the
hours and threw in a frenzy of noise on their own account at some
six or eight regular periods during the day; at twelve, noon, the
village band stationed itself on the plaza to run a lively opposition
to the bells; and at sunset the charming ceremony of retreat brought
us all out to see the flag drop down, and to hear the clear, long
bugle notes; and there were sick call, mess call, and several other
calls. Not the least beautiful of these was "taps." I used to wait for
it in the perfect stillness of starlit nights when the Filipinos had
all gone to bed, and the houses were ever so faintly revealed by the
lanterns burning dimly in front, and the faintest gleam told where
the river was slipping by. There would be no sound save the step of
the trumpeter picking his way up the street. Then the church clock
would strike--not the ordinary bell, but a deep-throated one that
could have been heard for miles--and as the vibrations of the last
stroke died away, the first high-pitched, sweet notes would ring out,
to fade away in the ineffable sadness of the closing strain.
But if there was much that was novel and more that was noisy in those
first experiences, there was also plenty of irritation. As I stated
before, I had brought Romoldo from Iloilo to Capiz with the idea of
using him for a cook. In the days when I was still boarding, he had
confirmed me in this intention by stating that he had had experience
in that line with an American army officer. He was particularly
enthusiastic over his achievements with "hankeys." For a long while,
I could make nothing of this word, but at last I discovered that it
was his corruption of "pancakes." I found out this fact by asking
Romoldo to explain how he made "hankeys," and by recognizing among
his ingredients milk, eggs, and flour.
As the Filipina with whom I boarded professed to be eager to
learn American cookery, I told Romoldo to make some "hankeys." In
the language of Virgil, I "shudder to relate" what those "hankeys"
were. There were three, nicely piled on top of one another, after our
time-honored custom. No words could fitly describe them. They resembled
unleavened bread, soaked in a clarifying liquid, heated, pressed down,
and polished on both sides. The Filipina tried to conceal her disgust,
and pretended to accept my explanation that they were only a caricature
of our loved breakfast delicacy; but I could see that she thought I
was trying to cover up my newly acquired sense of national deficiency.
However, when I set up housekeeping, Romoldo was promoted to the
office of chief cook and only bottle washer. He conveyed to me a
delicate intimation that it was not proper for me to live without
a female attendant, and said that he had a friend--a young woman
lately orphaned--who needed work and would be glad to have the
position. I was sufficiently unsophisticated in Filipino ways to
take this statement at its face value. As the orphan was willing
to labor for a consideration of one dollar gold per month and room,
the experiment could not be an expensive one.
The orphan duly arrived, escorted by Romoldo. He carried her trunk
also, consisting of several garments tied up in a cotton handkerchief.
Her name, as Romoldo pronounced it, was Tikkia (probably Eustaquia),
and I could have wished she had been handsomer and younger. She was
a heavy-browed, pock-marked female, with a mass of cocoanut-oiled
tresses streaming down her back, and one leg, bare from the knee
down, rather obtrusively displaying its skinny shin where her dress
skirt was looped up and tucked in at the waist. She had no petticoat,
and her white chemisette ended two inches below the waist line. As
it was not belted down, it crept out and lent a comical suggestion
of zouave jacket to the camisa, or waist, of _sinamay_ (a kind of
native cloth made of hemp fibres). She understood not one word of
Spanish or English.
When I occupied my new home for the first night, I "ordered"
fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner, and then went out in
the kitchen and cooked them. The army quartermaster had loaned me
a range. Romoldo displayed an intelligent interest in the cooking
lesson, but Tikkia seemed bored. When the potatoes were done, I gave
them to Tikkia to mash. Romoldo was in the dining-room, setting the
table. I told her in my best mixed Spanish and Visayan to mash them,
and then to put them on the stove a few minutes in order to dry out any
water in them. She understood just that one word "water"; and when I
returned, after being out of the kitchen a minute, the potatoes were
swimming in a quart of liquid. So I dined on fried chicken.
For the first two or three weeks there were many ludicrous accidents
in my kitchen and some irritating ones. But on the whole Romoldo took
hold of things very well; and though my _menu_ broadened gradually,
it was not long before he had learned a few simple dishes, and my
labor of supervision was much lighter. I said that I was pleased
with Romoldo to the enlisted man who was in charge of the officers'
mess and who incidentally made some market purchases for me. He said,
"You ain't particular," with a finality that left me no defence. He
was mistaken, however. I am particular, but at that time I was still
in the somnambulance of philanthropy which brought us pedagogues to
the Philippines.
I am willing to admit to-day that I vastly overrated Romoldo's
services, and yet, considering the untutored state of his mind and
the extent of his salary, they were a good investment. There has been
among some Americans here a carping and antagonistic spirit displayed
toward Filipinos, which reflects little credit upon our national
consistency or charity. We have a habit of uttering generalities
about one race on the authority of a single instance; whereas, with
our own, the tendency is to throw out of consideration those single
instances in which the actual, undeniable practice of the American
is a direct confutation of what his countrymen declare is the race
standard. My kitchen under Romoldo's touches was not perfect, but I
have seen worse in my native land.
Romoldo being a young and rather attractive man, and Tikkia such a
female pirate, I insist that my failure to suspect a romance is at
least partially justified; and certainly never by word or glance did
they betray the least interest in each other. But some days after my
establishment had begun to run smoothly, one of the military ladies
asked me to dinner. The punkah string was pulled by a murderous-looking
ex-_insurrecto_, who fixed me with a basilisk glance, half entreaty,
half reproach. It became so painful that toward the end of dinner I
asked my hostess if his expression was due to his general frame of
mind or to a special aversion toward pedagogues. She replied that
he was probably bracing himself to approach me on a topic consuming
his very vitals, or as much of them, at least, as may be expressed in
absent-mindedness. Tikkia was his _matrimonio_, and I, the _maestra_
had taken her and given her to Romoldo, and the twain lived in my
house! The lady added that Tikkia was not _matrimonio en iglesia_--that
is, married in church--but only _matrimonio pro tem_.
Pedro came into the sala after dinner and made his petition with
humility. He extolled his kindness to the ungrateful Tikkia, and
denounced Romoldo as a fiend and liar. He tried hard to weep, but
did not succeed.
_0 tempora! O mores!_ Such are the broadening effects of travel and two
short months in the Orient. Conceive of the old maid schoolteacher
in America assuming the position of judge in a matrimonial--or
extra-matrimonial--scandal of this sort.
I promised justice to the sniffling Pedro, and told him to call for
it next day at ten A.M. Like me, he supposed it would take the form
of Tikkia. But when I reached home and summoned the culprits before
the bar of a "moral middle class," they were not disconcerted in the
least. Romoldo stood upon high moral ground. Tikkia might or might
not be married. It was nothing to him, and he did not know. She was an
orphan of his acquaintance to whom he wished to do a kindness. Tikkia
promptly drew up her skirt over the unexposed knee and showed a
filthy sore which she said was caused by Pedro's playful habit of
dragging her about on stony ground by the hair. Moreover she stood
upon her legal rights. She was not _matrimonio en iglesia_, and she
had a right to leave Pedro when she chose.
Pedro came next day at ten A.M., but he did not get justice. On the
contrary, justice, as embodied in Tikkia, stood at the head of the
stairs and said, "No quiero" as often as I (and Pedro) turned our
imploring eyes upon her.
Things went on in this way for some time, and my perplexities offered
amusement to my friends. I felt sure that Romoldo and Tikkia were
lying, and at one time I resolved to discharge them both. The young
American teacher who had been in the Islands since the beginning of
our occupation gave me some sound advice. He said: "What on earth are
these people's morals to you? Romoldo is a good servant. He speaks
Spanish, and if you let him go for one who speaks only Visayan,
your own housekeeping difficulties will be greatly increased." Then
I pleaded the old-fashioned rural American fear that people might
think the worse of me for keeping such a pair in my employ; and
Mr. S---- simply collapsed. He sat and laughed in my face till I
laughed too. "We are not in America now," was his parting remark;
and I am still learning what a variety of moral degeneration that
sentence was created to excuse.
I have already given more space than is warranted by good taste
to the romance of Tikkia and Romoldo. The affair went on till I
began to fear lest Pedro, in one of the attacks of jealousy to which
Filipinos are subject, should take vengeance and a _bolo_ in his own
hands. Fortunately, at the critical moment, Romoldo and Tikkia fell
out. She kicked his guitar off the back porch and he complained that
she neglected her work. Then she asked leave to return to her own
town for a few days, and the request was joyfully granted. Pedro also
obtained a vacation. Their town was round the corner one block away,
and there they retired. They greeted me pleasantly whenever I passed
by, and Tikkia seemed in no wise embarrassed by her change of front.
If I have described this incident in full, it is because it illustrates
so perfectly the attitude of a large portion of the Filipino people
on marriage. The common people seldom marry except, as we would term
it, by the common-law marriage. When they do marry in church, it is
quite as much for the _éclat_ of the function as for conscientious
reasons. Marriage in the church costs usually eight pesos (four dollars
gold), though cheaper on Sundays, and to achieve it is quite a mark
of financial prosperity.
Of course, among the educated classes our own view of marriage
prevails, though I have heard of instances where the common-law form
was still observed. In some towns it is customary for marriages
to take place but once a year; an American told me of descending
on a mountain town where the annual wedding festival was due, and
of finding fifty-two happy couples in their gala attire wending a
decorous procession toward the church.