In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

The cost of being married is so high in some South American countries that in many cases the ceremony is dispensed with. Occasionally, however, bands of missionaries visit a region and attempt to undo the wrong inflicted by the local padres by uniting in marriage free of charge all those who appear before them for that purpose. The padres are not always to blame; frequently the inhabitants are simply too indifferent or lazy to go through the formalities, or there may be no one in their midst to look after their spiritual wants.

While we were at La Danta a half-dozen priests came to Guadaloupe and urged the paisanos to take advantage of this opportunity to become united in wedlock according to the ritual of the church. The people listened to the exhortations, promised to heed the admonitions, and—failed to show up at the proper time. Then the padres lost patience and talked the matter over with the jefe. The latter sent out soldiers to scour the country and bring in all the offenders living together within a radius of many miles; the pairs were frequently brought in handcuffed together, all objections and excuses being promptly overruled or ignored by the officiating clergy. Then they were lined up and married.

Several weeks later I was the guest of a very high government official in another state. In the course of dinner conversation the señora asked me in the most casual way: “Tell me! In your country, do people get married, or así, no más like here?” The last phrase was accompanied by a dainty snap of the fingers. I am afraid I said: “Así, no más!”

From peons working on the new road we learned that their operations had extended to a point near the top of the range, and that a tambo, or rest-shack, had been built there to shelter the laborers. We immediately started for the place and by dint of hard travel reached it in one day’s time. The shack bore the name Andalucia and was seven thousand nine hundred feet up. The peons gladly shared their quarters with us, and we divided our rations with them, which must have been a welcome change from their everlasting boiled corn and panela.

The weather at Andalucia was most severe; fog, strong wind, almost continuous rain, and a freezing temperature reminded us of conditions on a paramo at the worst season of the year. Also, the forest was dense, and the vast number of fallen trunks and branches rendered the greater part of it impenetrable. Birds were scarce and hard to find, but small mammals were plentiful.

The foreman of the work gang had cleared a few acres of land and sowed wheat, but the chances of harvesting a crop were very small, because it seemed as if all the rats and mice for miles around had located the spot and promptly migrated there to unearth the seed and cut down the tender shoots.

Water for drinking and cooking was secured from a deep pit dug in the slope. One of our first cares always is to investigate the water-supply of the region in which we are working; an inspection of the excavation near the tambo revealed a most astounding state of affairs; three earthworms, as large as good-sized snakes, make the reservoir their home. They resembled the well-known “shiners” that appear on our lawns after a shower; but the size! The largest, by actual measurement, was thirty-seven inches long and four inches in circumference. When I asked the cook for an explanation as to why he did not remove them and keep the water clean, he promptly informed me that they were cojures (cohoories) that he had dug up in the woods and placed there for safe-keeping until he had time to use them on a fishing trip in the low country. Needless to say, perhaps, his pets promptly disappeared; he always insinuated that they had met with foul play at my hands!

One day a person of distinguished appearance rode up the road and introduced himself as General Rafael Santos, of Bogotá. He had heard that we were in the locality and wanted to get into the Caquetá. Could he be of any service to us? As he was in control of the work being done on the new trail, he certainly was in a position to be of great help. He told us of conditions on the eastern slope and also of the country we were so eager to see; before leaving, one of his peons was despatched down the trail to inform his scouting-parties that we would follow within a short time, and for them to have camping-places prepared for us.

We lost no time in starting on the trip. I had with me several natives who had been with the expedition some months, and their number was augmented by men from Guadaloupe who were eager to have a hand in the undertaking. Every one walked, the peons carrying the packs; but mules were driven ahead to test the trail, and also for use after we reached the level low country.

The heavy subtropical forest that begins at La Danta continues on to the top of the range, and down the other side in an unbroken mass of solid, living green. There were practically no signs of life, but the wind blew less violently and the cold was less intense and not so penetrating as at Andalucia.