A rubber-gatherer in the Amazon region is called a “seringueiro.” On his daily round he has to follow a narrow path, called an “estrada,” that has been cut through the forest as a means of communication from one scattered rubber-tree to another. As I should like you to understand exactly how these estradas are planned, I want you to imagine, for the moment, that you are standing somewhere near the river in a tract of unexplored forest. From this spot as starting-point you set out in any direction you like to hunt for rubber-trees. However excited you may be, you cannot possibly hurry, as the only path at your service is the one you are making for yourself. You cut a narrow strip, the length of your arm’s reach, out of the dense undergrowth, walk on a few paces, and are again brought to a standstill; not another step can you move forward until you have continued the path by cutting away another strip out of the tangle ahead. You know you are in a district where Hevea rubber-trees flourish, but you have to take your chance of finding them among the many kinds of trees that are crowded together in the forest. When once you have settled the general direction in which you will explore, you go straight ahead, for you are just as likely to find what you want in a direct line as you would be if you let the fancy of every few minutes lead you into clearing a more irregular, and therefore longer, path. When you have made one estrada, you can set out in a different direction from the same starting-point and clear another. Again and again you can repeat the same method of exploration, and you can loop up side estradas with the main ones. To complete your preparations for obtaining rubber, you must build a hut near the spot where all the main paths start and meet again, and arrange for labourers to come and take up their abode in it and work for you. To-day we are not going to cut estradas. We have come to a part of the forest which is already looped with several such paths, and we are now standing outside the hut where live the seringueiros who work them. The time is about five in the morning, but, early as it is, the labourers are getting ready for the business of the day; they are now collecting their tools, and hurriedly swallowing the coffee they put to boil whilst they were slipping into their few clothes. We are joined by the seringueiro who is going to take us with him on his round. He is wearing a Evidently this tree we are standing by has often been operated upon, for it has a wide belt of scars. Some of them look as if they were the marks of very severe wounds; the gashes have healed under a new skin of bark, but in such a way that the surrounding surface of the trunk is very uneven with furrows and swellings. This disfigured appearance is a sign that the tree has been roughly treated by previous rubber-gatherers. However, if it had been as badly used by the early generations of seringueiros as were some of the Heveas, it would not now be here to tell us any tales about the reckless way in which tapping used to be done in Brazil and neighbouring countries. So little did the rubber-gatherers of the past care about the future welfare of the rubber industry of the Amazon that they often used to fell the valuable Heveas and hack them to pieces, sacrificing the source of a continuous milk-supply to their greed for getting as much rubber as A BALATA BLEEDERS’ CAMP. Page47 From a photograph in the British Guiana Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission In tapping a rubber-tree, the cut must only go deep enough to open the cells which harbour the sap—which, by the way, in simple English is called “milk,” and in technical language “latex.” These cells are in the bark, extending from just beneath its surface to the cambium, or true outer skin of the wood. If the tapping tool pierces the wood, the tree gets maimed for life. Henceforth its supply of milk will be more difficult to get at, for when the wounds are sufficiently healed for the tree again to be tapped in the same region, the trunk will be knotted and furrowed in the way you have already seen. Consequently the milk-cells will be situated at different levels, instead of being While we have been talking about tapping in general, we have been following our Brazilian friend along his estrada, watching him deal with one tree after another in the same way as he treated the first one on his round. After a long walk, we get back to that first tree. The seringueiro now makes for his hut, puts away his axe, and picks up an old tin can. Once more he starts off on the same round, and now, as he goes from tree to tree, he unhooks the cups and pours their contents into the larger collecting vessel. The milk has stopped running, but the trees have yielded well this morning, and by the time the “milkman” is nearing home again he has to carry the can very steadily so as not to spill any of the morning’s supply. It is nearly ten o’clock when we follow our leader into his hut once more, and as we have had nothing to eat since we started out at five, no wonder we do full justice to the meal he invites us to share with him, and tell ourselves that dried beef and beans make very good fare. We might think differently if we had breakfasted on this, or very similar fare, every day for months past, and were not likely to get anything very different at any meal for months to come. |