The entire series of processes of Amazon rubber production, from the day when the matteiro clears a path in the forest from rubber tree to rubber tree, until the shipper boxes the split halves of the pelles in the armazem in Manáos or Pará, is in remarkable contrast not only to plantation methods, but to the system under which that other great Brazilian export staple, coffee, is prepared for market. It is the contrast between an industry that has evolved itself from methods first discovered by Indians of the forest interior, and another whose processes are mapped out on a preconceived plan. To this day the rubber dealers on the Amazon will tell you that they do not know the cost of production of a kilo of rubber; all that they or the collectors know with certainty is that it must necessarily cost less than the price at which the rubber is marketed—a smaller amount must be paid, and adjustment has to be made in the seringal, not in New York or London; with the inflated prices paid for every simplest necessity of life upon the Amazon, nearly all imported because the craze for rubber-collecting some years ago led to the abandonment of even such prolific crops as beans and mandioca, a time of stress falls most severely upon the people who are least able to bear it. Remedies for the ills of the Brazilian rubber industry have been suggested and demanded for many a year by the more far-seeing Brazilians; there is perhaps no better presentment of the subject than the paracer read to the Brazilian Congress in December, 1913, by Eloy de Souza, afterwards published in Rio under the title A Crise da Borracha (The Rubber Crisis); he speaks of the condition of “economic paradox” by which Amazonas “gave millions upon millions of gold without any part of this being used for the prosperity of the immense region where so much wealth was produced” and tells that when plantation rubber was looming in competition with the Brazilian product the authorities were entreated to arm themselves against the danger, but “the echo of these voices was lost in the wide desert of national indifference.” When the truth could be no longer avoided steps were at last taken, with nothing but the waste of enormous sums in the tragi-comedy of the “Defesa da Borracha” as the result: its failure was no fault of the men who constantly spoke out about conditions, such as Miguel Calmon, the Deputy, the journalist Alcindo Guanabara, Dr. Passos de Miranda, and the “genial and devoted Apostle of the Amazon,” Euclydes da Cunha.
Almost all of the people engaged or interested in the rubber business of the Amazon are agreed upon certain measures which should be taken to put it upon a sounder footing; they are, briefly:—
1. Increased production of cleaner rubber, whether obtained from Amazonian plantations or by opening out new forestal wild regions. 2. Reduction of living expenses of the rubber-collector, by increased Amazonian cultivation of cereals, beans, mandioca, fruit, vegetables, etc. 3. Creation of a sturdier and larger labour supply, by rendering rubber regions healthy, improving living conditions, and thus inviting and retaining permanent dwellers. 4. Reduction of export taxes imposed by the State authorities of the rubber regions.
The question of Amazon plantations is hotly debated. A few exist, and are living proofs of the fact that planted rubber kept clean of other growth yields latex at four or five years, at which time it is as large as a wild rubber twelve years old; but opponents of the system ask why they should plant “when Nature has already planted?” and declare that the best thing to do is to tap the latex of more of the reserves of the interior, calculated at three hundred million trees. Arguments in favour of this system include insistence upon the superiority of the latex from matured trees slowly developed in their native habitat, the chief reason of the high resilient quality of the Amazonian product; it is along the upper rivers of the Amazonian fluvial network that the “black” hevea is found most abundantly, yielding latex of the best variety, tough, elastic, resilient, and always fetching a better price than the fraca (weak) rubber from the latex of the “white” hevea, or the product of the “red,” which coagulates badly, and is listed as “entre fina” instead of “fina.” It is partly because the seeds which Wickham took from the Tapajoz in 1876 were of the “white” hevea brasiliensis variety, common in these lower regions, that the product of the plantations is more or less of the “fraca” quality; only a few hundred acres of the entire Eastern area under cultivation is planted with the fine “black” rubbers.
Can the untouched rubber regions of the upper rivers be opened up? The districts richest in seringueiras are frequently on the margins of these rivers, accessible by boat, but there are other areas thickly sown with the trees which, as in the Acre Territory, could be served best by a railroad line, such as has been projected to run across this region. Other plans deal with drainage of forestal areas, now rendered exceedingly unhealthy by their swampy, mosquito-breeding condition, and the introduction of immigrants accustomed to torrid climates. At present the working capacity of the collector is reduced from a possible two hundred and ten days, during the seven months of tapping, to an average of one hundred and twenty, chiefly as the result of sickness: he produces thus only about four hundred and fifty kilos of dry rubber, when under better conditions he could be expected to market about seven hundred kilos.
A few years ago Dr. Oswaldo Cruz, a Brazilian authority on tropical diseases, made a report upon the health conditions of certain Amazonian regions and those traversed by the Madeira-Mamoré railway: he said of Santo Antonio that there are “no natives of this place; all children born there die,” and that here (its ill-fame is not unique) “the region is infected in such a manner that its population has no conception of what good health means; for them the normal condition is sickness.” Brazilians born are as much subject to disease, it appears, as strangers, for among the workmen employed in the construction of the Madeira-Mamoré line ninety per cent of the natives of Brazil and seventy-five per cent of the foreigners were weakened by hookworm. Sharp changes of temperature in some districts, producing a devastating pneumonia; dysentery; beri-beri, and the worst and constant scourge, malarial fever, haunt certain of the interior regions: until a better medical service is established, and measures taken to render the country more healthy through engineering work, and through field cultivation, an increase of permanent dwellers in the deep rubber regions cannot be expected. Until then Amazonia can scarcely be other than what Eloy de Souza calls an “invaded region” which has been subjected to a “social phase of pure conquest.”
Cheapening of living expenses can be done just as soon as the fertile Amazon valley again supplies enough food for its population: there was a time, between 1886 and 1891 when the cereals grown sufficed for needs; today, with the threat of falling prices for the precious goma, cultivation has been resumed to an extent which is encouraging, but only a year or two ago Pará, Amazonas and the Acre were together importing beans, rice, and sugar to the value of 11,346 contos (over three million dollars); dried meat (xarque) to the value of 7,400 contos; bacalhau (dried cod), 846 contos; live cattle, 2,000 contos; tobacco, 1,000 contos, and conserves costing 2,600 contos, among other importations. Almost all the above list could be filled from Amazonia if the rubber-collecting fever, relaxing, permitted the development of other industries.
The price paid for many articles of prime necessity upon the Amazon is fantastic. While such rates are maintained it is a matter for admiration that Amazonian rubber can be placed upon the markets at all, in competition with the plantation product; it can only be done by the reduction of the seringueiro’s earnings to a minimum, and this will eventually lead to his extinction if conditions are not remedied. The following is a list of what are considered the chief articles needed by the collector for his lonely sojourn in the forests during the gathering season, with prices in milreis:—
| Price in Rio | In Pará | In the Acre | Price to Rubber-collector | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 5 alqueires of farinha[[12]] | 20 | 27$500 | 100 | 175 |
| 40 kilos of sugar | 14 | 26 | 45 | 80 |
| 25 kilos of coffee | 24 | 25 | 34 | 100 |
| 128 kilos of lard | 16 | 20 | 36 | 100 |
| 50 kilos dried meat | 40 | 40 | 77 | 150 |
| 50 kilos of feijão (beans) | 12.500 | 15 | 51 | 100 |
| 16 pounds of tobacco | 11 | 22 | 53 | 120 |
| 5 gallons of kerosene | 4 | 4 | 11 | 30 |
| Half-sack of salt | 1 | 1$500 | 8 | 15 |
| 40 kilos of rice | 20 | 20 | 36 | 100 |
| Half-case of soap | 3 | 4 | 11.500 | 20 |
| 30 litres cachaça (rum) | 15 | 15 | 46 | 105 |
| 3 boxes cartridges | 24 | 30 | 33 | 45 |
| Medicines, clothes, etc. | 120 | 130 | 180 | 250 |
| Total | 324$500 | 380$ | 721$500 | 1.390$ |
The price of an outfit for the season thus varies from about 324 milreis in Rio to 1390 milreis in the forest, or between, say, 80 and nearly 350 dollars.