After the service, the crowd came out and vanished immediately, fear of an attack having overcome their curiosity.
Nearly all the little children are naked. One day I saw a little fellow about three years old who was suffering severely with the smallpox. He was smoking a huge cigar of the kind the natives make by rolling the natural tobacco leaf and tying it with a bit of bamboo fibre. He did look ridiculous. A native teacher told me that they all begin to smoke when about two years old; poor, little, stunted, starved things, fed on half cooked rice and raw fish.
Drunkenness is comparatively rare among the natives; the intoxicating beverage is the “Tuba,” which is made about as follows: The flowers of the cocoanut are cut while still in bud and the sap, or “Beno,” caught in a tube of bamboo; the liquor is gathered daily as we gather maple sap and fermented by the addition of a piece of wood, which also imparts a slight color. The product of this fermentation is an insidious stimulant. I never tasted it, but one poor soldier told me his sad experience and that sufficed. After a particularly hard march, his company came to a halt in a village; he asked for water, but could get only this innocent looking “Beno;” he took one tiny glass; it tasted like cologne water; his thirst not being quenched, he took a second and a third glass, after which he proceeded to make a howling mob of himself. This, since it happened in the face of the enemy, with momentary expectation of attack, was a serious offence enough, but coupled with the fact that he was “on guard” at the time, entailed punishments, the rigor of which, can be guessed only by those familiar with army discipline.
Once a party of officers and men were going from one island to another, carrying money and food for the soldiers. It was found, after starting, that they were not so heavily guarded as they should be, in view of the fact that they would be exposed to attack when in the narrow channels between the islands. At one point where they were hemmed in, not only by the islands, but by a number of sailing crafts, the Captain, a Filipino, very seriously asked the Paymaster if he had plenty of fire arms; his reply was, “Oh, muchee fusile,” meaning, “Oh, very much fire arms.” To add to the horror of the situation they were becalmed. The Captain became very much alarmed and the soldiers more so. Strange to relate, there came a gale of wind that not only blew them out into a wider channel beyond the reach of their insurrecto friends, but put them well on their way. This was told me as being almost like a miracle. No one can ever realize until they have been caught in one of these terrific gales what their severity is. I remember one blast that tore my hair down and swept away every article of loose clothing, also some things that I had just purchased; I never saw them again. It would not occur to the natives to return anything that they found, even if they knew that they never could use it; they all professed friendship to my face, and were constantly begging for any little article that I might have, but they never returned anything they saw me drop or that had been blown away.
We had, at one time, a peace society formed, there was an attendance of all the women of Jaro, some from Iloilo, and the President was chosen from Molo. I took pleasure in joining this society for the maintenance of peace and fraternal feeling with the Filipinos.
One day I thought it my duty to call upon the President of the new peace commission. She lived in the town of Molo. I invited a native woman to accompany me, and secured a guard of soldiers and an interpreter. Such a commotion as the visit created. The interpreter explained that I had called to pay my respects, as I was the only American woman who had joined the peace society. The President was pale with fright at my coming, though I had with me a woman whom she knew very well. After she had recovered from the shock, we had a very agreeable time. She called in some of her family; one daughter played well on the piano, a large grand, and another played upon the violin. In the meantime refreshments were served in lavish profusion. They offered me very handsome cloths and embroideries, which I declined with thanks. It is a common custom to make presents.
I had agreed with this Filipino friend to exchange views on points of etiquette and social manners. She told me that I had committed quite a breach of propriety in allowing the interpreter, who was a soldier, to ride on the front seat of the carriage; that it would become known everywhere that she and I actually had a man ride with us. It is not customary for even husbands and wives to drive together. My criticism was, “We do not like the manner of your ladies expectorating. In America we consider it a very filthy and offensive habit.” She was quite surprised that we were so very particular and asked me if we chewed the spittle.
A large cathedral was situated just across the street, a circumstance that enabled me to witness many ceremonies of the Roman church, of whose existence I had no previous knowledge; daily services were held, and all the Saints’ days were observed. On festivals of especial importance there were very gorgeous processions. The principal features were the bands of music, the choir, acolytes, priests, and rich people,—the poor have no place—all arrayed in purple and fine linen; gold, silver, pearls, and rare jewels sparkled in the sun by day, or, at night, in the light of the candles and torches carried by thousands of men, women and children.
It was a trying experience to be awakened from sound sleep by the firing of guns. It was necessary to be always armed and ready to receive the “peaceful people.” (We read daily in the American papers that all danger was over.)
A characteristic feature of each town is a plaza at its center, and here the people have shrines or places of worship at the corners, the wealthier people, only, having them in their homes.