In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

The plazas, of which there are four or five, are small and not particularly attractive. The cold climate prevents the growing of tropical decorative plants that are always so conspicuous in cities and towns of the lower country. The gente decente, or upper class, meet in the Plaza de Armas on Sundays for a chat with friends, a stroll to exhibit their finery, and to listen to the music.

The Aymarás who inhabit the entire highlands are of a treacherous disposition and have several times organized their forces preparatory to making war on the Bolivians. As their number is very great they are a menace that is very real and serious. When an uprising is threatened, the chiefs are arrested and punished, and then the rebellion dies down for want of leaders. These Indians still retain the despeñadora, or death-doctor, in the more remote and inaccessible regions. This person is a woman who possesses the knack of doing away with the aged and infirm of her district, and the office is handed down from mother to daughter. When any one within her jurisdiction becomes too old to work, or is ill with a malady thought to be incurable, the despeñadora is called in; she straddles the poor unfortunate and ends his existence by deftly dislocating the vertebræ of the neck. Whenever government officials learn of the operation of one of these women, they are taken into custody and punished.

One of the favorite sports of the Paceños is to hunt wild cattle in the high valleys between the peaks. Numerous herds are still in existence and it is said that they are of a savage disposition and furnish good sport. I met an American who had been thrown from his horse and gored by a wild bull that charged him from a distance of several hundred yards.

The country between La Paz and Oruro is very similar to that we had crossed coming from Guaqui. There are the same vistas of barren plains, green fields, llamas, and asses on the slopes, and dazzling snow-fields in the background. The plateau is strewn with marine fossils, mostly trilobites, reminders of the days when Lake Titicaca was many times its present size. We covered the one hundred and twenty-seven miles to Oruro in six hours, and spent the night there. This city owes its existence to the many mines located near by—some within the city’s limits—and to the wealth they yield in tin, silver, and other metals. Next morning the journey was continued toward Cochabamba. Shortly before noon the level country was left behind and we started down the eastern slope of a ridge that leads into the lower country. This part of the road-bed is new; the greater part of it is laid on a narrow shelf of rock carved and blasted out of the mountainside. Perpendicular walls of granite tower above to a height of hundreds of feet on one side; in places the top of the huge masses seems to hang over the track in a tottering position and one expects the rumble of the train to set it in motion and bring an avalanche of destruction down upon one’s head.

A small stream flows through the bottom of the gorge. During the greater part of the year it is a mere rivulet that trickles harmlessly over the shallow, pebbly bottom of its course; but when the torrential rains of winter fall it rises rapidly to the proportions of a mighty river and sweeps away sections of the railroad. Long rows of breakwater have been placed alongside the base of the road-bed to protect it from the ravages of the flood; they consist of loaf-shaped piles of stone bound together with wire netting; these would be effective against the water alone, but they cannot resist the demolishing force of the huge boulders that are rolled down from the mountains by the strong current.

A number of breaks in the line had been made by landslides just before our visit, so the train could not proceed beyond Changollo, a settlement of half a dozen Quechua Indian huts and a good-sized station, the elevation of which is ten thousand feet. We were met by a representative of the railway company and given quarters in the station buildings; the other passengers immediately engaged mules and llamas and started for Cochabamba. The reason for our delay was that we had just received a shipment of ammunition and supplies from New York, and some time would be required to repack them in parcels of equal weight suitable for transportation by pack-train.

Changollo was headquarters for the construction-gangs working on the line. About half a dozen Englishmen and Scotchmen were in charge of the work, and they showed us every possible courtesy and attention during our brief stay there. I regret constantly that it is not possible to give detailed credit to all the people, South Americans and foreigners alike, who treated us with such unfailing courtesy throughout our years of travel in the southern continent, and to whose assistance we are so heavily indebted for the success that attended our efforts; but to do so would fill the pages of a volume several times the size of this one without leaving space for my narrative.

All of the railroad men boarded with an Englishman named Cole and his wife. The Coles were a middle-aged couple who had spent the greater part of their lives together travelling around the world. Among other places, they had lived in India and in Africa. They had a score of parrots, cockatoos, and dogs that accompanied them in all their wanderings; caring for this miniature menagerie must have been a troublesome job while moving from place to place, but they took the place of children and were looked after just as tenderly. Cole claimed that he was the only man on earth who had been bitten by a black mamba—a species of giant cobra—and lived to tell the tale. He was following a path through the silent jungle one day at dusk when a black form lunged down upon him from some branches that overhung the trail; at the same time he felt a dull, throbbing pain in his left arm, and realized what had occurred. His first impulse was to flee in terror; however, better judgment prevailed and he opened and sucked the wound and applied a tourniquet above it. Then he hurried home and drank large quantities of ammonia and also applied some to his arm. He stated that he was very ill for several weeks but that persistent use of the ammonia overcame the effects of the poison and he gradually recovered.

Through the kindness of our new friends we secured hand-cars on which to resume the journey to the end of the line—about ten miles distant. The baggage was placed on some of them while we occupied another. The way lay down-hill and we dashed along at a great pace, taking curves without diminished speed. There were several short tunnels, the entrances of which loomed up like the black openings in a grotto; in a flash we were plunged into absolute darkness; a moment later we raced back into bright sunshine. Whenever an obstruction in the track ahead was sighted the brakes were applied and then everything was carried around and the trip continued. We met a good many Indians on the road-bed; they preferred its use to the rocky trail along the river, and even drove their burros and llamas on it. All employees of the company had orders to punish any one found on the track, in order that they might learn to keep off it, as there would otherwise be a great loss of life when trains begin their runs over the line. The favorite form of chastisement consisted of pouncing on the Indians and taking their hats away from them. The head-gear was taken several miles down the track and thrown into the top of a cactus or thorny tree. If the offender resisted the seizure of his hat he was told that he might have it by calling on the foreman of the nearest construction-camp; when he arrived a good lecture was given him and in some instances a fine was imposed.

It took several hours to reach the end of the line, as landslides and the attendant portages around them had been numerous. We spent the remainder of the day and the night at Arce, an Indian village. Several hundred Quechuas had gathered, as it was market-day; they brought a good deal of cloth and beautiful blankets to sell, but their prices were several times those asked in more remote regions. At night the assembly played on reed flutes and native guitars, sang, danced, and drank chicha; the revelry lasted until the first gray streaks of dawn appeared over the mountain-top, and then the mob dispersed to their distant homes in the high valleys.