Difficulties with Native Labor.
Work on an abacá estate is performed on the co-operative plan. The laborers are paid not in money but in kind, they receiving half the fibre they clean, while the other half goes to the owner of the estate. The workman, however, is not required to take the fibre for his pay, but receives, instead, its current cash value—if not cheated, which he frequently is. The law of the Philippines, however, is cheat for cheat, the native having become quite as tricky as his master. The value of the fibre depends upon its whiteness and its strength, and both are reduced by the indolence and dishonesty of the hands. My experience with the islanders is, I admit, that they are none too fond of work. A laborer on a hemp plantation, who finds himself pressed for money, is likely to take some method like the following to obtain it: he will seek an abacá plant, strip a few of its leaf-stalks, and leave them exposed to the rain and the air. As a result, the bast grows soft and rotten, and is more easily cleaned, but the fibre is weakened and discolored. In cleaning it, he uses a toothed knife,—a form forbidden by the trade, since it adds to the discoloration. As the fibre is sold by weight, the dishonest manipulator is careful to leave some of the pulp to dry upon it and so increase the number of pounds. Carrying his bundle of coarse, partly-cleaned, discolored, and weak fibre, he seeks the dealer at night, that he may be deceived as to the color of the fibre. These tricks are well known to the planter, his manager, and to the acopiadores, or dealers at large, and do not often succeed.
A Hemp Press at a Busy Hour.
The plantation-owners make every effort to force the natives to use knives without teeth, in order that the fibre may be fine, perfectly clean, and white. The Filipino, though, if not closely watched, persists in using his serrated knife, because if he uses one with a smooth edge he loses in weight. He is too ignorant to perceive that the fibre properly treated is of higher value. It is quite possible, as is often claimed, that there is a difference in plants, some giving a whiter fibre than others. But it is generally conceded that if the natives would cut the plant only at maturity, cleanse the fibre under a toothless knife the same day, place the strips in a clean place, and sun-dry at once, the waste would be materially lessened, and there would be little third-class matter.
In other words, what the hemp-planter needs are honest, reliable hands and an efficient manager.
On some of the islands inspectors are appointed by the Governor, whose duty it is to travel about from place to place, intimidating hemp-laborers in the name of the law. But so far their efforts seem to have met with but little success, the plantations owned by foreigners being large, remote, and difficult to reach; they are, indeed, nearly always on the sides of mountains. In the extraction of the fibre the natives work in couples: one man strips the bast, another draws it under the knife. A fair week’s work for the two, including selection and felling of plants, and cleansing and drying of bast, is 2 1⁄7 piculs—about 300 pounds. First-quality fibre brings in Manila $8.50 a picul, and third-quality $7.25; but while the former price remains firm, the latter falls as the poor quality increases. Nevertheless, as may be seen, the native gets good wages even for a poor quality of hemp.
The work of the laborers is by no means confined to treating the fibre, they being expected to devote some time every day to weeding the plants, and clearing out brushwood. This is part of their regular work and is not paid for extra. The baling of the fibre is done by means of a press, at which men and boys work, their rate of payment varying from 12½ to 50 cents a day. Transportation from the plantations to the shipping points, such as Manila and Cebú, is also to be considered in estimating the outlay of the planter.