The Amazing Argentine: A New Land of Enterprise

by John Foster Fraser

One day, accompanied by several friends, I made an extensive motor-car trip to the sugar plantations. As soon as we got beyond the town, and upon the broad road which stretched as far as eye could reach until it was lost in the shimmer of sunshine, we experienced the inconvenience of a bad way. With all its excellences, Argentina, as I have before remarked, has as bad roads as you will find in the world. There had been no rain for months, and our route was across miles of powdery earth. We sank into it almost to the axle. We churned up dust so that soon we were smothered in it. Our faces were almost as grimy as though we had been in a coalpit. Gaucho horsemen pranced past us in clouds of dust. When we overtook an ox-drawn wagon it was like pushing through a fog of dust. On either side the vegetation was profuse and rank, and the terrific heat of the tropics filled the air with a strong, nauseating aroma.

When we were in the sugar-cane district we saw hundreds of tawny-skinned men cutting the cane. Armed with an instrument which seemed to be half knife and half butcher's chopper, the peon seized the top of a cane, cut it off near the root, gave it a swing in the air, and with rapid slashes removed the protruding leaves, and then pitched the stalk on one side, where a heap was lying to be gathered by women and children and carried to the waiting wagons.

Twice we halted to watch the dexterity of the cutters and to visit the mud huts. These were picturesque but not pretty. They looked like disreputable brick-kilns, and although possessed of a door, were deficient in windows. The interior was dark, but most of the family spend their time out of doors under the trees, where they have their fires and prepare maté, the native tea, which is served in a shell and sucked through a tube. Whenever the natives have nothing else to do you are sure to find them drinking maté.

Around Tucuman are twenty-five sugar mills, and it is reckoned they produce 200,000 tons of sugar, of which between 60,000 and 70,000 tons are exported. We went to the fine mills at San Pablo belonging to Nouges Brothers, and the senior partner was good enough to show me over the place, so that I could inspect the whole process, from the arrival of the cane until the sugar is loaded in sacks ready to be sent to Buenos Aires.

The stalks, as high as a man, are thrown into a machine which literally chews them up. As they pass through heavy rollers they crunch and crack, and yield their juice which runs in a nasty brown fluid into a trough. Again the mashed-up cane is subjected to further squeezings between rollers, until practically the last drop of the syrup is squeezed out. The treacle-like stuff is run into big basins beneath which furnaces are blazing, and is kept at a simmer until the sugar reaches the consistency of dough. After that it is sluiced into highly heated steel cups, which are constantly whirling.

It is interesting to stand by in the sickly-sweet atmosphere and watch how, in the constant spinning and evaporation from the heat, the stuff loses much of its brown appearance and becomes, when thoroughly dried, like the cheap brown sugar as we know it at home. It is further refined in other hot chambers until it is quite white. Then men with sacks catch the stream of sugar as it rushes from the mouth of the refinery. Much of it is spilt, and the men are up to their boots in sugar. But the bags are quickly filled, pushed on one side, sewn up, hastened on lorries to waiting carts, which, when loaded, convey the freight to the railway wagons close by. Señor Nouges told me that at that time his firm was turning out 175 tons of sugar a day.

The sugar-cane must have plenty of sun and water. The rivers I saw during harvest time were miserable, shallow streams, meandering their way through what looked like a broad boulder-strewn bed of what once had been a wide stream. I was there, however, in the dry season, but was told that in the rainy season these streams are increased a thousandfold in volume, are frequently a quarter of a mile wide, and, when the torrents are heavy, overflow their banks and inundate the land. Irrigation is carried to a high point, so that in times of flood the waters of the rivers can be conveyed many miles and utilised in providing moisture to the cane.

It has only been in comparatively recent years that the possibilities of the extensive region of North Argentina, of which Tucuman is the centre, in regard to sugar have been realised. There is the initial expense of clearing the ground of jungle, and providing irrigation. Once, however, this has been done, and the cane planted, a paying crop is obtained the first year. The same roots grow useful stalks for three or four years, and then comes the process of gradually planting new roots and removing the old ones so that the same soil can be made productive. Weeds are numerous, and in the early months of growth these have to be constantly removed, first of all to prevent their smothering the young shoots, and secondly to give the cane all the nutriment there is in the soil. There is also the danger of invasion by locusts, and the occasional possibility in the cold months—say about May and June—of frost doing injury to the saplings. Allowing, however, for these disadvantages, the advance in the sugar industry in Argentina during the last dozen years has been nothing short of amazing. Still, I could not help feeling that the industry is only in its infancy. As soon as the foreigner appreciates what northern Argentina can do—at present most of the sugar growing is in the hands of Spanish-Argentines—there will certainly be enormous development. One of the things which will appeal to the foreign capitalist who takes up sugar growing on an extensive scale is that there is a quick return on the money invested in development.

Though Tucuman is the capital of the sugar growing interest, it may be said there are plenty of areas equally favourable for raising the cane. Sugar growing at Tucuman began about thirty years ago, long before the railway ever reached the place, and to meet purely local demands; because in those days the transport of imported sugar, as of other goods, by cart was expensive. When the railway put Tucuman into near communication with other parts of the Republic, the possibilities of a great trade were at once recognised. Tucuman sugar, however, could not in those days compete, either in quality or price, with that which came from other countries. It was, therefore, decided to give encouragement to Argentine sugar growing by a tariff on sugar which came from across sea. As one who favours the saving of a struggling industry in a home country from being strangled by vigorous foreign competition, I believe this was the right thing to do. Sugar growing bounded ahead. Not many years elapsed before the sugar growers became a powerful combination, with much influence on the Government. The result was that, whilst at the start the duty on imported sugar was small, it was gradually increased until it became prohibitive. Therefore at the present time very little foreign sugar comes into the country, and the Argentine industry has gone ahead in a remarkable manner.

Mr. N. L. Watson, in his publication "The Argentine as a Market," describes how Tucuman became a veritable El Dorado. Two years sufficed to give a net return four times as great as the capital invested. As a natural consequence, labour and capital flowed into the sugar districts. Lawyers deserted their professions, workmen their tools, to throw themselves with a regular fever into an occupation so full of promise. Works sprang up as if by magic, palaces were constructed to house the staffs, capital was lavished on the industry by individuals and banking houses alike. While fortunes were being created in the cultivation of the sugar-cane, orchards, orange crops, pasturage, and arable land were being either transformed or neglected.