We had been furious with the officer in the morning and this exhibition was even more trying. Yet the Bolivianos thought nothing of it. As Mr. Bryce has so ably put it: “One must have lived among a weaker race in order to realize the kind of irritation which its defects produce in those who deal with it, and how temper and self-control are strained in resisting temptations to harsh or arbitrary action. It needs something more than the virtue of a philosopher—it needs the tenderness of a saint to preserve the same courtesy and respect towards the members of a backward race as are naturally extended to equals.” There is no doubt about the Quichuas being a backward race.
From the earliest historical times these poor Indians have virtually been slaves. Bred up to look upon subjection as their natural lot, they bear it as the dispensation of Providence. The Incas treated them well, so far as we can judge, and took pains to see that the irrigation works, the foot-paths over the mountains, the suspension bridges over the raging torrents and tambos for the convenience of travellers, should all be kept in good condition. The gold-hunting Spanish conquistadores, on the other hand, had no interest in the servile Quichuas further than to secure their services as forced laborers in the mines. The modern Bolivianos have done little to improve their condition.
After seeing these two Indians meekly take such severe beatings, I found it easier to understand why Pizarro had been able to conquer the Empire of Peru with a handful of determined Spanish soldiers, and why the unfortunate Tupac Amaru could make so little headway in 1781 when he attempted to rouse the Indians to revolt against Spanish tyranny. Although he had sixty thousand men under him, the Spanish general easily defeated him with barely twenty thousand, of whom only a few hundred were Spaniards, the majority being friendly Indians.
How much the extremely severe conditions of life that prevail on this arid plateau have had to do in breaking the spirit of the race is a question. It is a generally accepted fact that a race who are dependent for their living on irrigating ditches, can easily be conquered. All that the invading army has to do is to destroy the dams, ruin the crops, and force the inhabitants to face starvation.
The Quichua shows few of the traits which we ordinarily connect with mountaineers. His country is too forlorn to give him an easy living or much time for thought. He is half starved nearly all the time. His only comfort comes from chewing coca leaves. Coca is the plant from which we extract cocaine. It is said that the Quichua can go for days without food, provided he has a good supply of coca. It would be extremely interesting to determine the effect on his intelligence of this cocaine habit, which seems to be centuries old. If a man can stand up and take severe punishment for trivial offences without getting angry, showing vexation, or apparently without bearing any grudge against his oppressor, there must be something constitutionally wrong with him. I believe that the coca habit is answerable for a large part of this very unsatisfactory state of affairs. Coca has deadened his sensibilities to a degree that passes comprehension. It has made him stupid, willing to submit to almost any injury, lacking in all ambition, caring for almost none of the things which we consider the natural desires of the human heart.
In travelling through Bolivia and Peru, I found it repeatedly to be the case that the Quichua does not care to sell for money either food or lodging. Presents of coca leaves and tobacco are acceptable. A liberal offer of money rarely moves him, although it would be possible for him to purchase with it many articles of necessity or comfort in near-by towns. As a rule he prefers neither to rent his animal, nor sell you cheese or eggs, or anything else. The first Quichua words one learns, and the answer which one most commonly receives to all questions as to the existence of the necessaries of life, is “mana canca,” “there is none.”
This condition of affairs is not new. When Temple travelled through Bolivia in 1825, he was struck by the prevailing “no hay nada” (there is nothing at all). Poverty, want, misery, and negligence are the story that is told by the melancholy phrase. The truth is, the Quichua not only has no ambition, he has long ago ceased to care whether you or he or anybody else has more than just barely enough to keep body and soul together.
Needless to say, the Quichuas have no concern with the politics of Bolivia, although they constitute a large majority of the inhabitants.
From Escara our road continued to follow a semi-arid valley. We passed a caravan of mule-carts bound for Potosí and Sucre. In one of the carts was an upright piano; in another, pieces of mining machinery, while still others contained large cast-iron pipes destined for Sucre’s new waterworks. Nearly all of the carts carried bales of Argentine hay as this region is so arid that it is extremely difficult to secure any fodder for the animals, and the barley or alfalfa, when procurable, is often too expensive.
The weather continued to be fine. After a hot, dusty ride of twenty miles, we stopped at the poste of Quirve.