Part 14 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI
DOG-EATERS AND OTHERS
The natives of the Philippines are Malays, as I have said, but they are sometimes cla.s.sified as Christian, Pagan and Mohammedan Malays. The Christian and educated tribes live near the coast on the lowlands and are called Filipinos. They have intermarried greatly with the Spaniards and Chinese. There are twenty-seven non-Christian tribes in the Islands--about four hundred thousand in number in the Mountain Province of Luzon alone. These hill people are seldom seen, although during the last few years most of the tribes have come under government influence and head-hunting has been more or less given up. These dwellers in the mountains include the aborigines who were driven out of the valleys by the Malays, and also the Malays of the earlier migration, who refused to embrace the Mohammedanism of the Moros of the southern islands or the Christianity of the Spaniards.
We were fortunate in having the opportunity to see some of the dog-eaters and other hill people. Our party was divided, and while several of the men went into the heart of the head-hunting country, the rest of us took the train to Baguio, the mountain capital. What a night it was! The heat was frightful, and swarms of mosquitoes added to the torture. But at sunrise, as I sat on the back platform while the train steamed through rows of cocoanut palms, past little huts and stations, I was reminded of this verse:
”Mighty, luminous and calm Is the country of the palm, Crowned with sunset and sunrise, Under blue unbroken skies, Waving from green zone to zone, Over wonders of its own; Trackless, untraversed, unknown, Changeless through the centuries.”
Leaving the tropics behind, we climbed up, up among the glorious mountains. At last the train stopped at a little station, and we took the motors that were waiting and went on higher and higher into cloudland, where the tall pines grew and the mountains rose into the sky. We had indeed ascended ”into Paradise from Purgatory.” As one resident in Manila expressed it: ”The heavenly coolness, the sweet pine air and the exquisite scenery give you new life after the years spent in the heat, glare, dust and smells of the lowlands.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PARTY AT BAGUIO.]
We were pa.s.sing over the far-famed Benguet Road, one of the finest highways in the world, which wound in and out through the gorges of the mountains, repeatedly crossing the river that roared beneath. For twenty miles we zigzagged up the slopes, with widening views of great hills opening before us, and cascades bursting out from beneath the mountains, till we came out on the plateau of Baguio, five thousand feet above the sea.
This road, which has been a favourite theme for discussion by politicians, was opened to traffic in 1905. It is true that the cost of the roadway was beyond what anybody had antic.i.p.ated, on account of the many bridges that had to be repaired each year after the rainy season, and also after the destructive typhoons that sweep over the island--one in 1911 brought a rainfall of forty-six inches in twenty-four hours--which hurl avalanches of debris from the mountain slopes. For this reason a new road from Bauang to Baguio has been commenced, not nearly so direct but requiring only a few bridges, and it is to be hoped will prove successful and more economical than the other.
Baguio, in the midst of glorious mountain scenery, where the temperature never goes above eighty and the nights are deliciously cool, really is an ideal health resort for a tropical country. The Philippines have Mr.
Worcester and Mr. Forbes to thank for this blessing. Government buildings were erected, and the whole force of the government was moved up there for the hot season, with the rich return of the improved health and greater efficiency of the employees. A hospital for tuberculosis was built, and a much needed school for American children, the Jesuit observatory was established, and Camp John Hay was laid out as a permanent military post. Many people bought land and put up little bungalows. A teachers' camp was started by the Bureau of Education for American teachers from all over the Islands, where they had not only rest and recreation but the mental brus.h.i.+ng up of good lectures after months in lonely stations.
When the Democratic Administration began its changes in the Philippines, government offices were ordered to be kept in Manila throughout the year, consequently only the higher officials were able to go to Baguio, with a result patent to every one in the lessened efficiency of the force. But within the last two or three years, the Filipinos have come to appreciate the place, which was a revelation to them. Now rich and poor manage to go there, and they have taken possession. The benefits of Baguio and the Benguet Road are felt even in Manila, where Americans are beginning to get fresh garden peas, summer squash, wax beans and real strawberries(!). A friend writes, ”If the time ever comes when we can have real cow's milk and cream, then our food will be as good as anywhere in the States.”
We had a glorious week at Topside, Governor Forbes's attractive bungalow, and speedily became as enthusiastic in our praises of Baguio as every one else who has ever been there. I rode all day long on Black Crook, the most perfect polo pony in the world, through the mists and the sunlight and into the rainbow shades of the setting sun, where the clouds turned the colour of c.o.c.katoos' wings and the tints of the fish from the China Sea.
”Cloud Maidens that float on forever, Dew-sprinkled, fleet bodies, and fair, Let us rise from our Sire's loud river, Great Ocean, and soar through the air To the peaks of pine-covered mountains Where the pines hang as tresses of hair.”
I played my first polo game at Baguio on the club grounds. Squash Pie, Calico Pie and other delightful names were given to the native ponies, which are small but very strong.
We went to the government stock farm, where they are trying experiments in breeding horses. They had a native pony there that had been well fed and taken care of for some time, in order to show the difference between it and the forlorn animals that one might see anywhere in the towns. The native Spanish pony has greatly degenerated. At this farm they had a beautiful Arabian stallion and a Morgan stallion from Vermont. It is said that the first generation of American horses does well in the Philippines, but after that the climate and the change in food cause them to deteriorate. Besides, they are rather too big for mountain cavalry. The Arabian stallion and the native mare are said to breed the best kind of horse for this country. Black Scotch cattle and Australian cattle, which are raised at the government farm, do well. Sheep do not pay, for, to begin with, there is no market for the wool. Goats do well, and goats' milk is in great demand. The natives use princ.i.p.ally the carabao and the native cattle, which look like small Jersey cows but are not very good.
Another day, Mrs. Whitmarsh, from Boston, gave us a tea in a little house hung with orchids and j.a.panese lanterns, and we visited Mr.
Whitmarsh's gold mine. Some of us went on horseback down into the valley to see the tunnels. We washed a pan of ore in the brook and found at the bottom little fine gold specks. The Benguet Igorots have mined gold for centuries.
[Ill.u.s.tration: IGOROT SCHOOL GIRL WEAVING.]
At Baguio we visited missionary and government schools and Camp John Hay, where Captain Hilgard gave us a reception. At the government school the Igorot boys are taught, among other things, to make attractive mission furniture, while the girls learn to weave, and very pretty things they make. These girls wear short blue skirts and little jackets, and have their hair in two long black braids that hang on either side of their faces. A Turkish towel, worn as a turban, on which to rest burdens, seemed to be the fas.h.i.+on in head gear with them. Loads are also carried by the Igorots on their backs, hung by straps over the forehead.
It was an Igorot child in this school who wrote the following article upon Mrs. d.i.c.kinson's visit at Baguio:
”It was yesterday morning very early when we started from here to the Post Office to meet a lady named Mrs. d.i.c.kinson. So early we all went down the brook to take our bath. After we had taken our bath we had breakfast. I was late so Ina scolded me, but I am glad she did it so that some day I won't do it again. Then we were all line up in two by two. When we got up to the Post Office she was not there so we waited for her an hour or two. After waiting for them they arrived suddenly.
There were some ladies who accompanied Mrs. d.i.c.kinson. We were very much pleased to see her and she was much pleased too. The first time that she came in the Philippine Islands from America and she is soprice (surprised). We sang three songs and the National Anthem and waving our flags on the road. When we finished singing they clapped their hands. I gave her a bouquet of pink flowers. This we did it for our honour of Mrs. d.i.c.kinson not because she is more kind or lovely lady but because she is the wife of Mr. d.i.c.kinson. This Secretary of War is the leader of those who have authorities. He is responsible of them. After that we came right back. Miss B. came for school. We cleaned the schoolroom and the yard so that they will be so tidy when they come to see the school at three o'clock. We fixed the two bridges and we trimmed the road little bit for their automobiles to dance on. But they left them on the road yonder because they afraid might the bridges will do them damage. So they walked from there to here, and when they went back, they walked from here to there again, making them a journey.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: IGOROT OUTSIDE HIS HOUSE.]
Doctor White, the missionary at Baguio, and his sister took me one day to the tombs of the Igorots. High on the hills looking toward the sea are great natural rocks with cracks in them, one of which looked like the Sphinx. Here we got off our ponies, tied them, and entered on foot a tangled path leading to a cavern. In the faint light that sifted through we saw a coffin, some baskets and some hats, and farther on, concealed and yet overlooking a fine view, were more wooden coffins. Some of these had fallen apart so that we could see the remains of bones and clothes.
When an Igorot dies the body is usually tied in a sitting position on the top of a pole in the house and smoked for several days over a fire built underneath it. Meanwhile, the family kill and cook all the pigs and carabaos and ponies, if the man owned any, and then gather around and have what they call a _canao_, or feast. Afterward the bones and skulls of the carabaos are hung about the house to show their neighbours what a rich man he was.
Some of us went one day to Mirador, the typhoon station, on a high hill overlooking the sea. It is in charge of a Jesuit priest, who predicts the approach of typhoons and puts up storm signals, in this way preventing great loss of life. We were shown the instruments, which give warning of earthquakes as well as typhoons, and given sherry that was fifty years old, delicious cake, and flowers from his garden, and we saw his goats climbing up the steep crags. He told us with a chuckle that he had traded his dog to an Igorot for a cow.
On Sunday we visited the dog market, but alas! we saw no dogs, as on account of cholera in the vicinity, it was forbidden to sell any. A few days before we had seen several men leading a number of lean and lanky ones along the road, and these were all for sale, to be killed and eaten. Long-haired canines are not popular, the short-haired kind are preferred.