A Woman's Impression of the Philippines

by Mary H. Fee

We lived in a maze of war talk all that autumn. I doubt not that, to the officer commanding, much that was mere excitement to us was deadly reality and anxiety, for although peace was declared, the treachery of the natives had been demonstrated at Balangiga, and there was no certainty that the affair would not be repeated elsewhere. The American people have little conception of the burdens laid upon the army. These were to hold a people in subjection while denying that they were in subjection; to assume the belief of peace and yet momentarily to expect war; to rule without the semblance of rule; to accomplish when all the recognized tools of accomplishment were removed; to be feared and yet to be ready to bear cheerfully all blame if that fear expressed itself in complaint. I cannot but feel that the army had much to bear in those early days, and bore it well.

One little incident will serve to illustrate how lightly and yet how seriously the circumstances of life were viewed at that time. The open sea beach, or playa, two miles north of the town, was the favorite afternoon drive, and one day Miss C——, who lived with me, was invited by the wife of Dr. D—— to share her victoria. They left for the playa about half-past four, the Doctor accompanying them on his bicycle. He never permitted his wife to leave the borders of the town unaccompanied.

Mrs. D—— was in poor health and found long drives unendurable, so when seven o’clock came and Miss C—— had not returned, I concluded that she was going to dine at Dr. D——’s. However, before sitting down without her, I sent Romoldo up to the Doctor’s to inquire if she was there. He came back saying that the D——s had not returned, and that their servants were quite upset, as such a thing had never happened before. I waited till eight and sent Romoldo again for news. Again he brought back word that the D——s had not appeared. I thereupon went over to Lieutenant C——’s house, who instantly picked up his hat and left to talk the matter over with the officer of the day. Thence it was reported to Captain M——, who ordered out searching parties for each of the three main roads leading out of Capiz. Just as the men were ready to start, the victoria and bicycle appeared. Our friends had stopped at a Filipino house where a saint’s day celebration was in full swing, and had found it impossible to leave. The Filipino hosts had brought up ice all the way from Iloilo to make ice-cream, but as they were not adepts, it didn’t freeze properly, and they would hear of no guest leaving until the ice-cream had been served. Miss C—— said they were worried and tried to get away, but I declined to believe her. Ice-cream, I insisted, might excuse four times the delay, and I flatly refused to be convinced that they had intended to turn their backs on it after a compulsory fast of seven months.

The troops bundled themselves back to quarters, and it all ended in a laugh. Only the commanding officer leaned out of his window to chuckle at me.

“Well, did you get your chicken?” and I went home and vowed that Miss C—— should perish four times over before I would stir up an excitement about her again.

If we lived in a slightly hysterical state as concerns the possibilities of war and bloodshed, we soon learned to be phlegmatic enough about disease and pestilence. Nearly five hundred starving people had gathered in Capiz, and their emaciated bodies and cavernous eyes mocked all talk of the brotherhood of man. This condition did not represent the normal one of the whole province,—but rather these people represented the aggregate of starvation. Of course, following the war, there was a short crop and no little distress. But a certain Capiz politician with his eyes on the future caused word to be sent out through the province that if the needy would come into Capiz he would see that they were fed. Of course he did no such thing. They came and starved to death; but meanwhile the report of his generosity was spread abroad, and nobody took any pains to tell the story of how the miserable wretches had been cheated. So the politician profited and the poor died.

No one whose life has been passed in American rural prosperity can wholly realize one’s helplessness in the face of these conditions. Capiz was a town of twenty-five thousand people rejoicing in many commodious and luxurious homes and a fine old church. It would seem a small affair to tide over the distress of so small a number as five hundred starving. But the greatest obstacle was the fact that they were not temporarily starving. They represented a portion of the inhabitants who either from voluntary or involuntary helplessness would always need assistance, and the people of the town did not see a clear way of assuming the burden.

I confess in my unsophistication I went out among them consuming with fine altruistic zeal. A woman with a starving child in her arms begged of me in the plaza. Instantly my purse was out, and instantly I was mobbed by the howling, filthy crowd. My purse was almost torn out of my hand, my hat was knocked over my eyes, and a hundred eager claws tugged and pulled at my garments. I had fairly to fight my way out of the mob, and learned to bestow no more alms in public. Then I took to throwing pennies out of the window, and found as a consequence that there was no rest day or night from the wailing and howling in the street. Little by little the fountain of my philanthropy dried up, and I contented myself with giving what I could to the Church to be bestowed in regular channels.

At that time there was not a single hospital (American military hospital excepted) in the Philippine Islands outside of the city of Manila, and with the exception of one or two missionary establishments, no poorhouses, no orphan asylums,—in short, no properly organized eleemosynary institutions conducted by the State. The result was one at which we Americans were first appalled, then indignant, then, through sheer helplessness, indifferent. We simply became hardened to sights and sounds which in our own land would stir up a blaze of excitement and bring forth wagon-loads of provisions.

Between the two stone schoolhouses at Capiz was a connecting house of nipa where in ante-insurrection days the native teachers had their quarters. At first the horde of beggars were allowed to make their headquarters in this; but on the arrival of the Division Superintendent, he protested against sowing the seeds of disease among school children in that way. So the paupers were driven forth and found shelter wherever they could, in barns and unused houses.