The discomfort and jolting of these conveyances is something which I can find no words to express —it is like one’s first ride on a camel—like waltzing with a Sandhurst cadet—like—like nothing in the world! A drive of one mile inside a quilez is more fatiguing than a walk of two.
One thinks regretfully of the delightful luxury of the rickshaws and chairs of the real Far East, and I was very much surprised to see none of these luxurious comforts when we first arrived in the Philippines. It seems that a company was formed some years ago to introduce them, and got the concession to bring rickshaws and coolies from China, but as soon as these useful institutions appeared in the streets of Manila, the Filipinos stoned them, and at last forced the American authorities to banish the innovation altogether: “For,” said the astute and progressive Filipino, “the next thing will be that we shall be made to draw these things about, and we will not be treated as animals.”
Fancy giving in to them! And fancy thinking of a splendid country and people like Japan, “where the rickshaws come from,” and listening to such preposterous nonsense from a Filipino! But these ignorant half-breeds got their way, and the only example they had ever had of energy or the real dignity of labour was promptly withdrawn to please them.
In the middle of the Alameda is a bandstand, bare and empty, with a big spluttering arc-light over it, shedding its cheese-white light on nothingness—for no band ever plays there, and the glories of social Iloilo went with the gay and courteous Spaniards. A few people go and sit about, however, in the evenings, and it is not a bad place to loaf in for anyone who can’t drive out to the country and is tired of the beach.
One evening, as we sat under the trees watching a group of Mestizo children playing about some older people sitting on a seat, a little banda de musica came strolling by, half a dozen young Filipinos in white trousers and camisas, carrying mandolins and guitars. They stopped near to where the children were playing, and struck up a certain beautiful waltz which one hears everywhere here—the work of some native composer, I believe—whereupon the little things all danced about on the white path in the fretted shadows of the trees, making a perfectly charming picture, and all so happy and jolly it did one good to watch them, in spite of the excessive heat.
The banda de musica seemed to enjoy the fun too, for they smiled and showed their white teeth; speaking to the children and playing one tune after the other; and when we had to go home in time for dinner, we left them still dancing and playing under the trees, perfectly happy, even at that age, with anything in the nature of a baile.
LETTER XII.
CHINESE NEW YEAR—LABOUR CONDITIONS—A CINÉMATOGRAPH SHOW
Iloilo, February 4, 1905.