It may be well to give, from report, an outline of the daily life of a family in this town. Very early in the morning the creole, getting out of bed, throws himself into a hamac; his wife stretches herself upon a bench near by, while the children seat themselves with their legs under them on the chairs, all in their night dresses. The Indian servant girl enters with a cup of chocolate for each member of the family. After which, she brings some coals of fire in a silver dish. The wife lights her husband a cigar, then one for herself. Some time is spent reclining, chatting, and regaling. The man slowly pulls on his cotton trousers, woollen coat, leather shoes, and vicuña hat, with his neck exposed to the fresh air,—silk handkerchiefs are scarce,—he walks to some near neighbors, with whom he again drinks chocolate and smokes another cigar.
At midday a small low table is set in the middle of the room, and the family go to breakfast. The wife sits next to her husband; the women are very pretty and affectionate to their husbands. He chooses her from among five, there being about that number of women to one man in the town. The children seat themselves, and the dogs form a ring behind. The first dish is a chupe of potatoes with large pieces of meat. The man helps himself first, and throws his bones straight across the table; a child dodges his head to give it a free passage, and the dogs rush after it as it falls upon the ground floor. A child then throws his bone, the mother dodges, and the dogs rush behind her. The second dish holds small pieces of beef without bones. Dogs are now fighting. Next comes a dish with finely-chopped beef; then beef soup, vegetables, and fruits; finally, coffee or chocolate. After breakfast the man pulls off his trousers and coat and lies down with his drawers in the hamac. His wife lights him a cigar. She finds her way back to bed with her cigar. The dogs jump up and lie down on the chairs—the fleas bite them on the ground. The Indian girl closes both doors and windows, takes the children out to play, while the rest of the family sleep.
At 2 p. m. the church bells ring to let the people know the priests are saying a prayer for them, which rouses them up. The man rises, stretches his hand above his head, and gapes; the dogs get down, and whiningly stretch themselves; while the wife sets up in bed and loudly calls out for "fire;" the Indian girl re-appears with a "chunk" for her mistress to light her master another cigar, and she smokes again herself. The dinner, which takes place between 3 and 5, and is nearly the same as breakfast, except when a beef is recently killed by the Indians, then they have a broil. The ribs and other long bones of the animal are trimmed of flesh, leaving the bones thinly coated with meat; these are laid across a fire and roasted; the members of the family, while employed with them, look as if all were practising music.
A horse is brought into the house by an Indian man, who holds while the "patron" saddles and bridles him; he then puts on a large pair of silver spurs, which cost forty dollars, and mounting, he rides out of the front door to the opposite house; halting, he takes off his hat and calls out "Buenas tardes, señoritas"—good evening, ladies. The ladies make their appearance at the door; one lights him a cigar; another mixes him a glass of lemonade to refresh himself after his ride. He remains in the saddle talking, while they lean gracefully against the door-posts, smiling with their bewitching eyes. He touches his hat and rides off to another neighbor. After spending the afternoon in this way, he rides into his house again. The Indian holds the horse by the bridle while the master dismounts. Taking off the saddle, he throws it into one chair, the bridle into another, his spurs on a third, and himself into the hamac; the Indian leads out the horse, the dogs pull down the riding gear to the floor, and lay themselves on their usual bedsteads.
Chocolate and cigars are repeated. Should the creole be handed a letter of introduction by a stranger travelling through the country, he immediately offers his hamac and a cup of chocolate. The baggage will be attended to, and as long as the traveller remains, he is treated by the family with a degree of kindness and politeness seldom met with in fashionable parts of the world. No alteration will be made in their mode of living on account of his being among them, except that the dogs and horses are kept out of the house, and there is less dodging of bones. Pride and a natural feeling of good manners prevent the stranger from seeing such performances. The creole speaks of the wealth of his country in the most exaggerated manner; he has so many of the good things of the world at his door, that he naturally boasts; he thinks little of other parts of the world; he has no idea of leaving his own fruits and flowers. The roads are bad; he cares little for their use. When he leaves his native city, it is more for pleasure than for commerce. He is not obliged to build railroads that he may receive at low rates of freight the tea of China; the sugar of the West Indies; the flour, iron, or cotton goods of North America. His own climate is so agreeable that he seldom wishes to travel; there is no place like his home! When the traveller inquires how he would like to see a steamboat come to the mouth of the Piray river, the water of which he drinks, his eyes brighten, and he smilingly says "he would be delighted;" at once telling what he would put on board of her as a cargo for the people who sent her. He is contented with the roads constructed by the hand of the Creator of all things; but the creole is honest in his desire to see what he has never yet seen—a steam-engine move a vessel. He is ready to sell his produce to those who come to him; yet when you inquire what he desires from other parts of the world, it is very certain, from the length of time it takes him to answer, that he seldom thinks he is in want of anything; and if asked how much he is willing to subscribe towards purchasing a steamboat, his usual answer is, that "he has no money, and is very poor!"
The Spanish language is more generally spoken in Santa Cruz than in other parts of this country. The Indians are taught and practise that language to the exclusion of their own. The people of Santa Cruz pride themselves upon their pure Spanish, and ridicule the speech of those of other towns. The teachers of most of the schools in Cochabamba are natives of Santa Cruz, as well as the most intelligent of the clergy, who are generally foremost to speak of the advantages of establishing trade with the Atlantic ocean by the natural river road, instead of looking constantly towards the Pacific. Santa Cruz may be called the frontier town of the Spanish race, who have swept over the country from the Pacific. The bay of Arica bears due west from Santa Cruz. As the coast of South America bends at Arica, so the Spanish have pressed far in towards the centre of the continent, placing those on the eastern border of Bolivia nearer to the Atlantic than the people of Peru; although they seem to be farthest from the markets of the world, they are the nearest, and are best prepared for entering into commercial relations with the United States of the North.
The industrial, agricultural, and manufacturing people of this country are principally among the aborigines. They plant the sugar-cane, gather the coffee, work the mines, and transport silver, copper, and tin to the coast of the Pacific. Looking on the map, and running the eye along the road from the town of Santa Cruz towards the southeast, the traveller finds a country nearly level. Among hills near the river Paraguay, in the province of Chiquitos, the inhabitants are composed of many tribes of Indians; some savages are warlike, while others are inoffensive and friendly to the whites. Those of the small villages of Santiago and Jesus are described as nearer the color of chalk than of copper, and to be a robust, intelligent people, willing to be taught the Spanish language, to cultivate the soil, tend cattle, and give up the life of wandering for that of the civilized man, under the instruction and labors of the Jesuits; while the tribes south of them, near the mouths of the rivers Pilcomayo and Bermejo, obstinately refused any such interference, and remain savage to this day. They are the Gran Chaco Indians, and are called Tobas. As they are unfriendly, we have no account of their number, and will confine ourselves to the Chiquiteños, who understand the art of planting and gathering a harvest, the management of cattle on the grassy plains, and the collecting of wax from the forest trees, with which, and the cotton they cultivate, they pay tribute to the State, as well as with salt from lakes found in the wild regions. In their little huts are carpenters, blacksmiths, silversmiths, shoemakers, tailors, and tanners. Their houses are usually built of adobe, and thatched with coarse grass; yet they were taught to burn tiles for the roof of their little church. For the purpose of manufacturing sugar and melting wax, they erected founderies to smelt, and fabricated their own copper boilers. The cotton of their small farms is woven by hand into ponchos, hamacs, saddle cloths, and the fine cloths of which their white frocks are made, after a fashion of their own invention, in bark. The women in Chiquitos are good farmers; most of the spinning is performed by them, as well as the manufacturing of chicha from corn and yuca.
They find gold and silver in the tributaries of the Otuguis river, with which they decorate the altars of their churches and hammer into crosses, ear and finger-rings.
The men make straw hats, more for sale than for their own use—for both sexes go bare-headed—a good sign of a delightful climate, as it is said to be. The baskets made of the leaf of the palm-tree, which grows in the plains, are carried on their backs as they travel through the country. On such occasions they are armed with bows and arrows. In the Spanish settlements, near the unfriendly tribes, they are permitted to attend church with war-clubs and other weapons, for the protection of their wives and children from an attack while at prayers. The church bell is a signal to the savage, but he takes occasion at times to commit murder under its calling.
Their houses are very small, with but one entrance, so narrow and low that it is supposed the country was called Chiquitos, because of the little door-ways. When first the traveller peeps into the house all is darkness; on entering, the light from the hole he came through shines against a few earthen pots made by the women, an axe, macheta or cutlass, bows and arrows, pretty Indian girls, and dogs without number. The boys are rambling about; the old Indian and his wife are cultivating the chacra. Their great ambition seems to be celebrating the feast days of the church, playing ball, drinking chicha, and making love to the women.