Iloilo,April 30, 1905.
We went last Sunday to spend the day at Nagaba, a native village opposite Iloilo, in the island of Guimaras. We took the trip at the invitation of some friends who had gone to spend Saturday to Monday in a native house which happened to be empty and available for hire. I have often wanted to visit some of the places about, but the great difficulty is how to put up, for there are no inns, and no lodgings to be had in the villages. One can’t go anywhere and back in a day, unless just across to Guimaras, but even that entails going out in the heat of the day, which is never very pleasant or very safe.
We were lucky, however, in this trip to Nagaba, as the sky was cloudy and the breeze very fresh, and, though we left as late as ten in the morning, we did not suffer from the heat. I am constantly reminded of a certain book of adventure, which as children we used to love, calledThe Coral Island. It is by Ballantyne, I think—you remember it, I am sure? Do you remember the pictures of the three boys in the Tropic Island, standing in white sunshine, and wearing loose caps or no hats at all? and all the stories of their adventures, and how they set off at “about the middle of the day” in a canoe with sufficient meat and vegetables to last for a week, and how they went in this fashion to other small islands? This did not seem to meodd as a child, of course; and I daresay I saw nothing peculiar in the daily life ofThe Swiss Family Robinson, either; and probably should have raised no objections to any of these stories a few months ago, or minded a bit being told that English boys went about unscorched and alive with no protection from the tropic mid-day sun, or that meat was fit to eat after one day in a canoe, much less one week!
Well, we got over to Guimaras in a very short time, landing from the launch in a small boat, from which C—— and I and the friend who was with us were carried ashore by our servants, who had come with us—we had also, by request, brought our plates, knives, forks, and tumblers!
The house we were going to was situated on a small rocky steep leading up from the beach, a few hundred yards from a tiny village of brownnipahuts amongst the green bushes and palms in a bay at the mouth of a river. The house was a regular native dwelling, built on high poles of bamboo, with walls ofnipa, and floors of pieces of split cane half an inch or so apart for coolness. The whole abode consisted of one very big room, part of which was partitioned off as a bedroom, while all along one side of the house towards the sea ran a broad balcony, built out over the rocks, and shaded by tall thickly-leaved trees, with a glorious view of the blue bay, the open green sea, and a bit of rose-purple Panay in the distance. I don’t think I ever saw a more lovely spot, and I could not help reflecting how different life in the Philippines must be to those who can live in such places as Nagaba instead of a street in a town. Though, to be practical, I suppose the food would be even worse, and ice—but one could not get less ice than we do now in the town.
Some of us spent all the morning loafing aboutand talking on the balcony, enjoying the deep shade and the fresh breeze blowing straight in from the open sea. One of the men of the party had contrived to catch theanting-antinglizard of the house, such as I described to you as having a call like a cuckoo and being considered very lucky by the Filipinos. He had tethered the creature by a piece of cotton tied round its body, so as to keep it for me to see when I arrived, and it was much larger than I had expected—about a foot long—and not unlike the desert lizards one sees dried in the bazaars in Upper Egypt, only the skin of the “Philippine cuckoo” is all a pattern of green and red. The poor thing was tame enough, but very shy, and inclined to get behind furniture or skirts, so when I had had a good look at it, they let it go again, when it vanished into the thick fringe ofnipathat protected the sides of the balcony. Thisnipa, when one sees it close at hand, is a sort of palm leaf folded in two, lengthways, and tied to frames of bamboo, but it makes very nice, cool houses, and is absolutely waterproof.
One of the trees that shadowed the house was an Ylang-Ylang, from which the scent of that name is extracted; a tall, naked, light brown, smooth stem, with thin branches spreading out at the top, and leaves like an acacia. The perfume is in the small green blossom, which is not at all unlike that of a lime, and with infinite difficulty one or two of these were pulled down by means of a fishing-rod, and given to me to dry and put in my linen-cupboard in the native fashion. They dried up in a very few hours, but kept their delicious scent, and when I came home, I put them amongst my handkerchiefs, which are sweetly perfumed with them already.
Native Houses.To face page 204.
Native Houses.
To face page 204.
Some of the men spent a riotous morning in a fresh-water swimming bath in a grove near thehouse. There is a spring of perfect water, which is brought in pipes past the house and out in long bamboo pipes on stands in the shallow water, where ships come and take it in to supply steamers, or to sell over in Iloilo. The flow of water is very great, enough to supply a city, and the main pipe is so contrived that by pulling out a plug one fills the swimming bath, which is a wonderful luxury.
We heard the others splashing and shouting in the swimming bath all the morning, and when lunch time came, they appeared radiant and starving, and I have not seen men do such justice to their food since I came to the Philippines.
After lunch we all settled down in various chosen nooks for asiesta, and our servant Sotero, who is a native of Nagaba, came and asked permission to go away for the afternoon, which surprised our friends very much, for they said they had never heard of a Filipino servant taking anything but “French leave.”
I have not yet been able to acquire the habit of sleeping in the middle of the day, which is perhaps one of the reasons why I never feel well out here. So I sat about, and looked at some picture papers, and felt very tired—I could cheerfully have gone round to the sleeping forms and done them some injury simply because they could sleep!
About four C—— awoke, so we went a little walk amongst the rocks close to the house, and thought we were exploring the whole island!
We wandered about amongst scrub and rocks above the shore, where we came suddenly to a tiny hut perched up amongst big grey boulders, with fishing nets spread out to dry and a native lounging in the window-space. It looked such a nice little hut, just one large palm-thatch room on high poles, with a rickety step-ladder up to the door, wherea round comfortable cat was sitting watching the fowls pecking about below. A little farther on we came to the banana patch, with brilliant green plants growing on a nook of dark earth amongst the grey rocks. All the rocks were very sharp; volcanic, with rough edges, which cut our shoes, even when we followed a tiny winding track. After we got to a little height, we could look down on the village and the sea and bay, which all appeared most bright and beautiful in the long rays of the low sun, and all so peaceful and quiet.
We turned back again by a path which struck more inland, past some more little banana fields and another little hut with its back to a tiny precipice. It is strange how near the towns the primitive sets in, for the people in both lots of huts were quite shy of us, and the children ran away and hid; while in the village, through which we passed, by making a round across some rice-fields, the people were quite country-folk, not a bit like the cheeky, independent loungers in the towns; answering one quite civilly and even happily when one spoke to them.
The village was delightfully quaint, all built on high poles planted in the sand of the shore, with many cheerful brown folk hanging out of the open sides of the houses, while mangy dogs with pups and fat old sows with immense families sprawled about down below. There are always quantities of pigs in a Philippine village, for, as I think I told you, they are the scavengers, and though the natives are not more unkind to those benefactors than to any other animals, to call one of them a pig is a frightful insult. In spite of all this, the favourite and most esteemed Filipino delicacy is sucking-pig, roasted whole.
Beyond the village we went across a field of emerald grass, bordered by a deep green hedge ofcurious bushes with no flowers on them. Our friends told us that these plants come into bloom in the wet Monsoon. Now, with the hot weather a very beautiful tree is in flower everywhere, called the Fire tree, which was only naked brown branches for a long time, and then burst into huge bunches of brilliant scarlet blossoms, rather like orchids, and very handsome at a distance, but coarse and common close at hand. The effect of these masses of showy red against the vivid green palms is wonderful and almost too bright. There is one of these Fire trees in the garden of the house opposite to us, here in Iloilo, which is a gorgeous display, and a delight to me just to look at as I sit here writing.
But, to get back to Nagaba, though there is not much to tell you, except that some of our friends joined us, and we ended our walk by a stroll through a cocoanut grove, where we saw an old man in a loin-cloth going up a tree to get the sap from which they make thetuba.[7]He had a long vessel made of a section of bamboo tied across his back, and a little round bowl of half a cocoanut tied in front of his body, with a big sharp knife beside it. He ran up the tree by means of notches cut all the way up the trunk, and at the top he tied the vessel under a bunch of buds, putting in it some of the stuff out of the bowl, which was red bark to dye the drink pink. This beverage I think I have mentioned to you before. One sees it anywhere, and the long tumblers of pink liquid are a feature in every little native shop.
This vessel they leave there for twelve hours, during which the sap drips out of the palm, and in the morning the man goes up and takes down the bamboo, now full oftuba, which is very fresh and nice, and tastes of cocoanut and water, and is verywholesome, not to say medicinal. If it is left, however, thetubarapidly ferments, and by the evening is a very strong intoxicant, which constitutes the peculiar devil of the Philippines, and is the cause of most of the deterioration, physical, moral, and mental, of the race.
When the American Army first came out to the Philippines, the temperance enthusiasts in the U.S.A. hearing that a good deal of drinking was going on out here, started an agitation, by means of which they got the Army Canteens in the Philippines abolished. The result of this drastic mothering was that the soldiers went off and gottuba, about which, of course, the good folk in America knew nothing. Frightful scandals happened, which unfortunately did harm to the American prestige, and even the restoration of the canteens has not swept away the folly and evil which were thus begun.
This cocoanut grove, by the way, is kept fortuba, as are most of the palms one sees near the houses, for when the sap is taken in this way no fruit appears. Growing cocoanuts is one of the most lucrative speculations in the Philippines, as a tree bears fruit when it is six or seven years old, about a hundred nuts a year, the income yielded by a tree being about 2pesos. So a grove of ten thousand trees or so is a very paying concern, if only the planter does not make the mistake, which I, myself, have often noticed, of placing his trees too close to one another, so that they do not get enough room to spread out at the top and find light and air.
We turned back from the cocoanut grove by a different path, and went back to the house along the beach. As the tide was far out, we walked across the firm, damp sand, where there were myriads of tiny crabs of bright metallic bluesand reds and greens, which all darted sideways into holes as soon as one got within a yard of them.
After tea we loafed on the balcony, watching a lovely gold and rose sunset, while sailors and others took boxes and things down to the boat; and the man carrying our gear slipped on the rocks, and our plates and tumblers fell out and smashed to a thousand pieces. When it was almost dark, we returned in the launch to Iloilo, quite enchanted with our day at Nagaba and with the house on the rocks. We are determined to go over there one Saturday to Monday by ourselves, for it is a delightful change.
Iloilo,May 5, 1905.
I had two sweet little love-birds sent me yesterday, sitting jammed up in a tiny dirty cage in which they had travelled from China. They looked so uncomfortable and draggled, poor scraps, that I set off after mysiesta, and went “down town,” as the Americans call it, to see if I could get a cage for them. More Philippine shopping! I explained and argued at all sorts of emporiums, but no one had anything the least like a bird cage. At last I thought the wonderful English store might produce one, and when I got there, they said they thought they had something of the kind, made of wood, of native manufacture. I said I thought that would do very well, so after a lot of rummaging in acamarin, some very nice cages were found—large and clean, and made of split bamboo, with a little red and green paint here and there.
The Track of a Typhoon.To face page 210.
The Track of a Typhoon.
To face page 210.
I was delighted—till I found there was no mistake about their having been made by a Filipino! No water-pipkin; no tray to slide out; a door so small that I could only squeeze my hand into the cage with difficulty; andno perches! It was all there was to be had in Iloilo, however, so I took it with me, and climbed in under the apron of thecalesa—it was raining very hard—and took my cage home and told the servantsto make perches. This they did with considerable skill, and the results looked very nice, but when I put the birds on them, the poor things instantly tumbled off into the soap-dish full of water, which was meant for them to drink from. After a lot of anxious thought, it occurred to me that the perches were much thinner than those in the little cage the birds had arrived in, and perhaps they could not wrap their long toes round these; and this was evidently the trouble, for as soon as larger ones were made and fixed in, the couple got up and stuck on, whispering to each other how nice the new perches were.
Of course the cat wants to eat them, and glares with greedy eyes, while old Tuyay is fearfully puzzled, coming to look intently, and snuffing very long and hard, which the wee birds don’t mind a bit. They are such sweet things, with their tiny chirpings and pretty ways.
There is a strong S.-W. Monsoon blowing now—warm and tiring—and one’s skin feels sticky and uncomfortable. In a month or two, however, this will be the chronic condition of the atmosphere, and will go on till October, but I suppose one gets used to it after a time, as to everything else. Yesterday a Typhoon was signalled by the meteorological office, but it has not arrived yet, and I hope it won’t come our way at all, for the circular winds that sweep over these islands are the most frightful storms, tearing up trees, whipping off corrugated roofs, and setting thenipahouses on fire.
There are a great many rats here, which eat up whatever the cockroaches don’t finish—i.e., whatever is not in glass jars or tins. They get through nearly as many potatoes—at the price of new potatoes at home in May—as we do, so I invested in a large wire trap, which was setin thedispensaten days or more ago. The boys and thesota(groom) watched the trap with the keenest interest, but never a rat would get into it to oblige them. Now, however, while I was writing this, Domingo came in, beaming, with the trap in his hand, and a huge grey rat in it. “What are you going to do with it?” I asked. “Are you going to kill it?”
“Si, señora, by pouring petroleum on the rat and setting it alight.” He was astonished and obviously disappointed when I peremptorily forbade this horrible rite, which the Filipinos have learnt from the Chinese, who think that the poor, agonised, blazing animal runs away with the ill-luck of the house.
Then he suggested boiling water, and was again disappointed and surprised when I didn’t join in this spree either, and went off quite gloomily to carry out my orders—to find something large enough to stand the trap in so as to drown the poor beast as quickly as possible.
Nothing could be found, till thesotafetched a tub from the stables, and this I made them fill with all the bath water—fresh water being far too precious to waste, even on sentiments of humanity! They collected all the water they could, and finally the flood reached the top of the cage, and though the sight of the rat struggling made me feel deadly sick, I waited till he was stiff and cold, as I did not know what cruelty these “little brown brothers” might not indulge in if left to their own devices.
The cook had been at market, and Sotero had gone shopping, so there was not the crowd there might have been on the Azotea, and only half the advice. They don’t get excited, these Filipinos, unless they are fighting or massacring—one does not see frenzied little groups shouting in each other’sfaces, and throwing their fingers about like Italians, or low-class Arabs, or people like that—they are very slow, and their voices always soft and gentle. I mean the Filipinos, for theMestizosdiffer from them in this, as well as in having curiously harsh, discordant voices, by which one readily detects their breed.
We went a night or two ago to a performance given by a wandering Italian Opera Company, who were really very good indeed, acting remarkably well, and possessing good voices. Three of them sang in various selections, and the fourth conducted an orchestra of bare-footed, flat-faced natives in raggedcamisas, whose battered old straw hats hung about the footlight-board and on the piano.
The conductor played the piano splendidly, with incredible energy in such heat, and the result that he knocked out of his orchestra was astonishing. The theatre was very full, and we had shared a box with some friends, all sitting with our knees jammed together in a pattern like the ornamentation on a runic cross.
We enjoyed the show immensely, but, oh, it was hot! And if we, looking on, felt faint with the heat, what must it have been for the performers and for theChef d’orchestre! Talking of heat, the thermometer now averages 90° to 93° all day in the dark, airy house, and a little while ago, when we got some ice by luck and manœuvring, I put the thermometer in the ice chest, and it only went down to 80°!
We have taken the house at Nagaba for next Saturday to Monday, and are busy making preparations for going over, with an anxious eye on the sky above and the weather-cock in the garden opposite. One has to take a good deal to the house at Nagaba, as all they provide is thefour walls, a table, some chairs, a big native bed, and one or two hard cane couches. For this, however, one pays the same price a day as at a big London hotel for bed and breakfast for two people!
Iloilo,May 8, 1905.
We were just going to Nagaba when I finished my last letter, I think, and now we have just returned, after having had a most delightful time over there.
We went over in the launch on Saturday, leaving here at half-past four, and to look at the start from here you would have thought we were going for good to China or Japan!
Before we set out, we sent a boy for acarabao-cart, inside which the gear was stowed:—two rolls of bedding; some large wooden cases with household effects; C——’s suit-case with what clothes we had to take; and Sotero sitting behind, carrying a mysterious bundle, with the cook beside him, got up in a clean pink and green muslincamisaand blue cotton trousers, carrying C——’s panama in one hand, and a long sack full of his beloved pots and pans in the other. C—— and I and Tuyay followed in thecalesa, leaving Domingo in charge of the house, under oath tomucho quedado(take great care), but rather gloomy at not being in the outing.
At the Muelle Loney we embarked, with friends waving to us from the office windows as if we were going away for ever. The day was perfect and the crossing lovely, but a slight swell made it rather difficult for us to tranship into the small boat we had towed over. When we got to the other side,C—— did the complete and efficient sailorman in stowing the gear in the boat, handing me down (something after the fashion of the Arabs at Jaffa) into the cook’s embrace, and giving orders generally; but he spoilt the whole effect by falling into the boat right on top of me, and bonneting me in my own topee, at whichdebâclethe cook showed all his dark red betel-stained teeth from ear to ear, and even Tuyay laughed.
The tide was very far out, showing long stretches of wet sand and reefs, all shining in the sunlight, with strips of very blue water in between. C—— quite redeemed his reputation for sailorising as he steered the boat ashore by the colour of the water over the sand banks; and we managed to get not very far from the front of the house, which we could just manage to make out amongst the trees and rocks, but the water-pipes on the bamboo frames going out into the sea, showed us where to look. The crew and the servants waded ashore, carrying gear, and Tuyay was chucked out and splashed along with them, while two skinny brown ragamuffins made a “chair” of their arms, and carried me—with puffings and groanings, so rude!—to land, and set me down on the beach with a sigh of relief. After landing me and theménage, C—— rowed back to the launch to put the sailors on board, and she steamed away to Iloilo again. Coming back in the boat alone, he tied her up to a fishcorral—a sort of wattle fence in the shallow water—and then waded ashore and came gingerly up the sharp rocks.
By the time he arrived I had unpacked, and it was about half-past five, so we put on bathing suits and filled the swimming bath, and the fun began at once. It was delicious, after the long, hot day, to splash about in the cool, fresh water, and we stayed there till it was quite dark, and we couldsee stars shining in the patches of dark sky between the branches. By-the-bye, I often think how strange it seems to see the same old Orion’s Belt and Cassiopeia looking down on us here. We see the Southern Cross, too, low on the horizon—a disappointing exhibition, and no one would think it was meant for a cross unless they were told so.
We dined early, and were hungry, which was delightful. The cook and Sotero managed wonderfully, so that we were just as comfortable as in our own delightful house. There was a firefly flitting all about the big room, looking so pretty; appearing and disappearing like a tiny fairy light.
Next morning, when I woke up, I heard only a few cocks crowing—nothing to speak of—and some twitterings of birds as well, and I think the latter pleased me as much as the whole trip! In the Philippines “the birds have no song and the flowers have no scent,” they say, which is a sweeping generalisation, but true for the most part.
We put on our bathing suits, had a cup of tea, and were out on the beach by six o’clock. The tide was far out again, with long stretches of shining wet, ribbed sand; the sea all fresh and blue, and glittering in the sunlight. But where we went was still in shade, for the sun had not yet come up behind the Guimaras hills, and the morning air was exquisite. We “ran races in our mirth” along the wet sands, till we got opposite the fishcorral, where the water was deeper and the boat was tied up to a bamboo pole.
As we went along the beach, we saw people from the little huts we passed when we were here before, washing at a spring of water which flowed out from the rocks and down to the beach. They were some way off, though, and we were in the shade and they were in the still deeper shade under the cliffs, so we could not make them out veryclearly, but we could see their coppered-coloured skins shining with water, and hear them laughing and talking.
We swam about the boat for a long time, and found the water quite warm in the shallows, even before the sun was up. I had brought C——’s panama, which I hung to the fishcorralwhile I swam about in the shade, but when we went back to the house, I had to wear it, as the sun which was then on us is oppressively hot here as soon as it rises.
The fishcorral, by-the-bye, is an ingenious trap, rather after the fashion of a maze, into which the fish enter but never have the sense to get out again.
When we got back to the house, we filled the swimming bath, which felt very cold after the sea, and it certainly washed off the salt water, but it was nearly as hard and harsh as the sea itself.
A Filipino Market-Place.To face page 218.
A Filipino Market-Place.
To face page 218.
In the early morning a fleet ofparaos(native sailing boats) goes across to Iloilo to the market with fowls, mangoes, maize, pine-apples, etc., and our cook took passage in one of these vessels to go and do his marketing, for it is impossible to buy a single thing in Nagaba, where the people only just keep enough for their own scanty consumption. He returned about nine o’clock, and I went into the kitchen to inspect the result of his shopping. The kitchen was in the regular native fashion, just a prolongation of the living-room, with the same split-bamboo floor, through which could be seen the fowls and pigs wandering about under the house. There was no ceiling below the thatch and rafters, and everything seemed very nice and trim—the fireplace being a high table of concrete with holes in the top. In each hole they light little pieces of charcoal, so that each pot has its own fire, which seems a cumbersome method, but it saves fuel, and mustbe quite enough trouble for a Filipino, who has probably one pot of rice to boil and no more. From the roof hang all sorts of dried fruits or vegetables, and queer little bundles of herbs for flavourings and for medicines as well. I noticed that amongst the things the cook had brought he had not forgotten the day’s supply ofbuyo. When first I used to go into the kitchen here to look at the day’s supplies, I saw this little packet, not unlike a lily-leaf, tied up with a wisp of twine, and classed it amongst the mysterious little odds and ends intended for flavourings. But one day I had the curiosity to ask, and the cook, with much shyness and shrugging up of his shoulders, told me it wasbuyo(betel-nut). I could quite believe it when I looked at his crimson teeth, and was thankful the supply was only for himself and not the other servants, for I could not stand being waited on at table by a person with a mouth as if he had been drinking fresh blood. The betel-chewers expectorate a great deal, though they can’t possibly do so more than their compatriots and the Spaniards and Americans, but the red expectoration is horrible, somehow, and I’ve often seen all the pavement outside a house or shop quite crimson with the great splashes of betel-juice ejected by the inmates.
We spent all the morning pottering about and reading, and regretting that we could not carry out our plan of bathing again when the tide was up and deep below the house, as we were expecting a party of English and American friends from Iloilo, who had announced that they would visit us on Sunday morning. But the party never landed after all, which was rather a disappointment, as we were done out of our bathe, besides having no use for a dozen or two of sodas which we had brought over with infinite trouble.
After thesiesta, we thought we would make use of the boat for a little trip, so we sent into the village for two men who could row; and they fetched her to the beach and rowed us up the little estuary, past the village and up the river. Unfortunately, the tide had gone out again—very far out—and the river was too low to go as far as we had intended, which was to a convent and church, the corrugated roofs of which we had seen from a height. So we just went a little way up the narrow, muddy river, but we could not see much as we were below the level of the thick bushes that fringed the banks. At last we stuck and could get no further, so we turned back and went up a little back-water, and landed by a queer sort of lime-kiln in a palm-grove.
We scrambled ashore, and walked up a track through the woods of mangoes and palms, till we got up a good height, with a map view of the river winding far below and a glimpse of the roofs of the convent. Down in the valley the land was all cultivated, chiefly in maize-fields and bananas, which looked green enough though uninteresting, but the hills were pretty, and wooded with trees of all tones of green, and the distances exquisite in gradations of mauves and blues. From where we stood, the sea was quite hidden, for we had our backs to it, and the hill between us and it; and the view spread out below was like some tropical version of the valley of the Doons. We went on up through the wood, still big dark mango trees with leaves like laurels—dark and shiny—and feathery, graceful cocoanut-palms in between. The ground was all covered with straggling plants, wild mint, and dead palm-branches, while wild pine-apples grew in quantities, each fruit sitting in a flat bush of spiky yellowish leaves, and looking delicious!
By a very primitive hut in a clearing we came upon some natives, clad only in short whitedrawers, who were very nice and cheerful; very different from the people in the towns. They knew very little Spanish, but we made out that their chief occupations were gathering the fruit of the pine-apples for food and the leaves to make into the thread to weave thepiñamuslin. They made charcoal too, and all this information C—— elicited in Visayan and a few words of Spanish. I don’t suppose they trouble themselves much about even those simple occupations, and I should think the less thought they gave to the blessings of civilisation the happier they would be. What good on earth can education, whisky, votes, appendicitis, electric light, a free press, frozen meat, clothes, and pianos do to such happy simple souls? It seems so odd to think that in one part of the world cultivated, thinking men are trying their level best to destroy for others an ideally happy, simple life, while at home their one profession is a wish to return to it themselves, and their only idea of a holiday is to go off and camp in the Rockies, where they can approach as nearly as possible to the conditions one sees here in the country places. Indeed, as I told you, far from encouraging a simple, agricultural life, the land and other taxes, and the education they go to maintain, are having the effect of choking agriculture and hurrying the half-taught countrymen into the towns.
But even with the elect, with the Filipinos, the sums of money raised should be spent on roads, on remitting the poll-tax, on reducing the export duties—and then, when a generation or two has been peaceful and well fed, it would be time enough to educate the masses—if such universal education is necessary or beneficial to such a people, or any people at all. In the white countries, with all their thousands of years of progress throughGreece, Rome, and the Middle Ages, one can’t be sure, judging from the tone of literature that appeals to the masses, whether education has been an unmitigated boon; but hastily to apply the same methods to this infinitely lower development of the human race, is an absurdity that would be laughable if it were not pitiful and dangerous. And it seems so strange to think of a country being governed against its inclinations, not by legislators trained in its problems, but by a body of electors on the other side of the world, not one of whom knows more of its conditions and needs than the first cabman one would hail in London or Paris. Strange, is it not, when you come to think of it?
Well, to get back to our trip up the river in Guimaras, we came down through the woods again, and got into our boat about sunset, rowing back to the beach opposite the house in a pale crimson sunset glow, with long dark shadows of trees and houses falling on the sand, and when we got out at the house, we walked up over the rocks and pools, and saw the little bright metallic-looking crabs running into their holes again. We tried very hard to catch one, but it was impossible, for they run sideways at a great pace, simply vanishing like so many harlequins of crab-land.
A Three-Man Breeze off Guimaras.A Parao.To face page 222.
A Three-Man Breeze off Guimaras.
A Parao.
To face page 222.
We dined early, and spent the evening in long chairs on the balcony. It was a lovely night, fresh and cool, probably not more than 85°, with great stars shining brightly, making quite a silver light upon the sea. Many people from the village were out in the bay, wading in the shallows, and catching fish with spears and torches, shining a light on the water, and then plunging down a spear and bringing up the poor deluded fish. A man ran out from under our house, carrying a bamboostaff about 12 feet long, dipped in something resinous, and flaming at one end, and we saw another man join him, and they waded far out, till the torch was only a little speck of yellow in the silvery night. That was all very nice and primitive, but on the rocks below sat another engaging barbarian, squatting on his heels getting crabs out of the pools, and whistling “Hiawatha” perfectly in tune.
We had a very early start next morning, turning out at half-past five, and packing and breakfasting as soon as it was light, for we had to be back in Iloilo in time for C—— to be at his office at eight o’clock. We had not been able to get the launch to come and fetch us, so, when we were on our way back from the river the night before, we had stopped by the village and made arrangements to take one of theparaoslying at anchor there—long, thin frames of bamboo covered withbejucomatting, tarred inside and out, in shape sharp and narrow as a blade, with big canvas sails and great wide outriggers. The crews of these boats consist of several men, one of whom steers while the others control the sails or run out on the outriggers, for the art of sailing them consists in a very skilful balance, according to the direction of the wind; and breezes here are known as “one-man” or “three-man” winds and so on, by the number of men that would be required on the outriggers of aparao. They are said to be safe enough, but they look very risky, and skim over the water like swallows, also they draw very little water, and can anchor in very shallow places.
We got on board ourparao, theSoltero, by about seven o’clock, and had a lovely, fresh three-man breeze, a glorious sunny morning, and I wished the crossing could have taken half a dayinstead of half an hour. C—— and I sat on the little narrow plank that served as deck; while the other half of the boat, where the “deck” stopped, was full of rolls of bedding and gear, and on top of all, sat the cook still clutching the panama and his sack of pots and pans. The boat towed behind, with one of the wooden cases in it, guarded by Sotero, holding in his arms a large and handsome rooster, to buy which he had asked for an advance upon his wages. I don’t like cock-fighting, and was depressed by the sight of this poor animal; but it would be silly to make a fuss and perhaps lose so good a servant, and, after all, though you can train a Filipino to understand your ways, it is no more possible to alter his being a Filipino by your theories than to wash his skin white with somebody’s soap.
I was so interested in watching the marvellously nimble way the sailors ran out upon the outriggers, first to one side, then we made a wide tack and the sail swung round, nearly knocking our heads off, and the crew rushed over to the other side, doing feats of balancing far more wonderful than anything I ever saw in a circus, for they had not got a nice safe net below them, with a lot of men in brass buttons holding on to the poles and looking up to see if they made a slip. On the contrary, there was nothing but their astounding balance and agility between them, and fathoms of choppy sea running with a swift current, and full of sharks.
They brought the boat to the beach at the end of the street which runs at right angles from our own, opposite the end of our house, and ran her broadside on in shallow water and then up on to the sand, where we could jump ashore from the bows.
The sailors and the cook and Sotero carried thegear up into the house, and when I went into the hall, I had the impression of having been some weeks in a strange country, whereas we had really only been within sight of our own town from Saturday to Monday. So many new things—and yet, though I have written till I am tired, I feel that I have not told you half what we saw and noticed.
Iloilo,May 15, 1905.
We had a slight earthquake here on Wednesday morning, the 11th. It was my first experience of that form of excitement, and I am sure I don’t want another. The queer thing that everyone here tells me, and they have plenty of experience to go by, is that people do not usually think much of their first earthquake, but instead of becoming accustomed to them, they become more alarmed, and get to be horribly frightened at the mere suggestion of the earth’s surface shifting about.
This one took place at about half-past four in the morning, and at first I thought it was a burglar or someone moving about the room, and was just going to call to C—— when he cried out: “Wake up! There is an earthquake!”
I woke up pretty quickly when I heard that! The shaking continued quite a long time, and I thought it a sickening sensation, and so horribly uncanny, with all the room trembling, and the furniture rattling and moving, while outside the air was deathly still. I think that what made the stillness was that no cocks crowed, and the eternal shrilling of the crickets ceased, which made a deadness in the ears such as one feels on coming out of a factory.
C—— invited me to go out on the balcony and “see the street moving,” which I firmly refused todo. I am sorry now that I did not go on to the balcony, but at the time I felt too horribly frightened to move hand or foot.
I don’t think I like earthquakes, but I expect I shall have to accustom myself to them, for they are so common in the Philippines as to excite no remark unless some building tumbles down; and the houses, as I think I told you, are built with a view to these hysterics of old mother Earth, with all the planks and beams tied with bands ofbejucoto give them room to shift a little.
But besides the earthquake, we have been in more imminent danger since I last wrote, in the shape of the final and really conclusive and farewell performance of the Italian Quartette, which took place last Saturday night. The theatre was very full, and gaily decorated with loops of green leaves and paper roses of red and yellow, mixed up with perilous paper lanterns. The electric light, which has been weak for some time, chose, on this occasion, to go out altogether—in the midst of an impassioned duet.
There was instantly great excitement, for the paper lanterns were not lighted, and the theatre was plunged in blackness of the deepest dye. Reckless scratching of matches sounded all round, and the little lights were held up for a few seconds till they burnt out, and then dropped just anywhere. One did not need to look to gather that a Filipino did this thing! It made one’s blood run cold to see them.
Of course, though the electric light was in such a precarious state, and expected to expire at any minute, there had been no provision made in case of accidents, and the remedy now was a wild rush outside to buy candles, which were soon produced and stuck in dabs of their own grease along the front of the stage and amongst the orchestra. Oneor two lamps came somehow from somewhere and were placed jauntily about the building, while the spare candles were secured by enterprising spirits in the audience and put about so that they shone in the eye, and no one could see anything, and little brown ladies incamisas, with huge gauze sleeves, leaned past the naked lights with admirable indifference. There was not a single accident, however, but how that was managed, and indeed how the whole matchbox theatre was not burnt to the ground and the audience roasted, is simply the eighth wonder of the world.
I can’t say I took the affair very cheerfully myself; in fact, to be truthful, the sensation of impending doom, and the trouble of having to keep my eye on the wobbling candles, spoilt my enjoyment a good deal. The singing was very good, and in spite of the partial gloom, the opening scene of La Bohême was given very well indeed, and it was such a treat to hear that glorious music. Of course the darkness suited that very well, and made the scene in the garret most realistic, though I expect the Quartier Latin was rathercaviareto the ladies in the muslincamisas. I loved to hear the Italian too, it sounded so full and round and pure after Spanish. I suppose one prefers whichever tongue one happens to learn first. After the opening piece the light suddenly went up, so we had a fairly good sight of the second part. They did a sort of shortening-up—I can think of no other name for it—of Cavalleria, acting really so remarkably well that the worn old story seemed as fresh and terrible as if it were just happening. I’ve never seen it done better in any part of the world—no, not even Caruso and Melba. One felt the full tragedy and pathos of the music, and the duet between Turiddú, and Santuzza, a handsome, graceful woman, was magnificently impassioned, leading up to an almostbreathless moment when he cast the girl from him, and she fell upon the ground.
But, alas!—we were in the presence of a Filipino audience, who greeted the fall of Santuzza with hearty laughter, and continued to giggle while the girl sang her curse as she dragged herself to her knees.
I don’t know how the Italians went on acting as they did. I am afraid I should have lost my temper and had the curtain lowered.
This great heat still continues, and is very exhausting, for the lightest clothes are always soaked, and the face and hands covered with little beads. No one thinks less of a “perfect lady” in this country if she mops her face with her handkerchief; in fact, it is the only thing for the poor creature to do. I simply long to feel fresh and energetic, and to be able to walk fast on a hard road on a cold day—what a dream of bliss! Even to enjoy food would be a pleasant change.
Those who can get away, but they are very few, go to Hong Kong, where the people are making a fuss about their hot weather. It is coolness after the Philippines. The missionaries are the best off, with their nice little trips to Japan; and there has been a great exodus of these good people lately.
The lowest average of the thermometer is 93°, which means that is sometimes as low as 90° but generally up to 95°. Some people tell me this is the usual thing at this time of year, and others vow it is abnormal. Whatever it is, it has gone on now for three months, and I am getting rather tired of it, and don’t think I shall be able to pull through another year out here. It is not only the climate that tells on one, but the scarcity and badness of the food. To think that you at home in an average of 60° think you would die offunless you had fresh cabbages, and peas, and beans, and gooseberries, currants, the first strawberries—how the very names make one’s mouth water! Well, they say the Monsoon will change soon, and then the rainy season begins and the air gets cooler, and that is something to look forward to. The wind blows now some days from one side and some days from another, in an undecided fashion, with intervals of stifling calm, and then a sudden burst, which whips the sunblinds from their anchorage.
Iloilo,May 17, 1905.
We went out on the river one evening last week at the invitation of two members of the boating club, which has its being in anipahut on the bank above the town, off the Molo road. It was a regular little native hut, with a rickety ladder up to the door, and boats slung underneath—a delightfully primitive place.
We went out in a boat and a canoe, making our way up-stream in the light of an exquisite sunset, all bright-red gold behind the mountains, and the river between its banks of low bushes like a path of pink crystal. The air was deliciously cool, or seemed so to us, and we rowed up a mile or more before landing at the bank on the farther shore from the town, where there were some fishing huts in a grove of palms.
We beached the boats on the mudbank, and then walked about through the trees till we came to some huts, looking wonderfully picturesque in the long stripes of pink light and mauve shadows amongst the tall trees. Here a number of half-naked Filipinos were loafing about, very civil, kindly people, and one was a very skinny old woman, who took a deep and unbounded interest in me, and asked all sorts of extraordinary questions about me.
The cocoanut trees in the grove bore many large green nuts in clusters at the top, like biggreen footballs, and as we were all rather thirsty, we asked if the hut folk would get one down for us to drink from.
With much politeness and amazing alacrity, one of the younger men ran up a tree, putting his toes in the notches in the bark, and not falling and breaking his neck by yet another Philippine miracle. He came down with a big green nut, such an enormous thing—the same in proportion to a cocoanut as we see them at home, as a green almond or walnut is to the nut in a shop. We asked him to open it for us, so he squatted down and chopped very deftly with a sort of sword which they call abolo, and I fancy I may have mentioned it to you before. Thesebolosare a variety of the Malaykris, and are made in all sorts of cruel shapes, often inlaid very beautifully, but I believe the most frequent form is simply that of a short, thick, curved sword, which they use with deadly effect in fighting, and with great skill in almost every other event in life.[8]
The little brown people stood round and looked at us while we watched the man with thebolo. He chopped with marvellous dexterity, slicing off the outer covering of soft green flesh, and then making a hole in the top of the tender unripe nut inside. The nut had a thin lining of transparent meat, and was full of pale green liquid, like slightly soapy water in appearance. This “milk” we drank out of a small wooden bowl produced by the old woman, a neat little vessel made out of half a cocoanut, all in the most approved style of the story books! The drink was refreshing enough, but sweet and sickly. Then the man split the nut open and made a clever little scoop with hisboloout of a slice of bamboo which he picked up from the ground, and with this he shaved off some longstrips of the white meat, of which we ate a good deal, but it was tough and tasteless.