CHAPTER V
HEALING A NATION
he sanitary conditions which existed in the Islands twenty odd years ago would seem to us appalling, but perhaps they were no worse than those of some other tropical countries at that time. Even the most progressive colonizers, like the English, had given up trying radical reforms, contenting themselves with making passably healthful conditions, especially for the European part of the towns. The combination of climate and native inertia seemed to them one which it was difficult and almost hopeless to combat. So it remained for us to prove that the thing could be done—that a tropical country could be made sanitary and hygienic for all its inhabitants, whether they were white or brown or yellow, and whether they wanted it made so or not. If we had done nothing else for our restless dependency, that achievement would be a sufficient crown of glory.
Manila was then, as it still is, the most highly civilized spot in the Islands. As I have said, much of the walled city was built of stone and plaster, but many of the natives in the suburbs lived in one-room houses made of wood and raised on stilts. No provision whatever was made for drainage or for the removal of garbage. Each house was a law unto itself and very often an offense unto its neighbours.
A Carabao
A large part of the city drained, directly or indirectly, into the Pasig River. Here, also, the carabao, which is not a fastidious animal, went for his mud baths, and the women washed their clothes. This river furnished drinking water for all who lived near enough to share the privilege. It was said to have a flavour like the Ganges, which they sorely missed later on when a purer supply was substituted.
The medieval wall, which allowed for many damp, unhealthy corners, interfered with municipal ventilation. No cleansing winds can sweep through a city whose every street ends in a high wall. Outside was a stagnant moat which made a convenient breeding place for the industrious mosquito.