Read Ebook: Cocoa and Chocolate: Their History from Plantation to Consumer by Knapp Arthur William

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Mientras tanto, el faquir rojizo va desarrollando su espect?culo. La mangosta combate con una serpiente verde en mitad de la acera. Luego pelean dos reptiles. El director de los juegos saca y saca nuevos <> de sus sacos, que parecen inagotables.

No s? por qu?, ha fijado su atenci?n en m?. Estoy en la primera fila del corro, y de buena gana retroceder?a ? segundo t?rmino, cediendo ? otro mi lugar. En el interior del redondel, donde se mantiene solo el encantador, van y vienen reptiles, obedeciendo sus combinaciones, mientras otros se enrollan y quedan fijos, con la inmovilidad del cansancio. Cada vez que termina uno de sus juegos me habla, me saluda con su diestra, como si me lo dedicase. Presiento que tal predilecci?n, que va acentu?ndose, acabar? por proporcionarme algo desagradable. Aumenta mi deseo de retroceder modestamente; pero no me atrevo ? hacerlo. Temo las risas de varias americanas que se hallan ? mi lado.

El faquir viene hacia m? y empieza ? hablarme, sin que pueda entenderle. Todos los ind?genas del corro me miran ahora con inter?s, como si fuese yo un compa?ero del encantador. Finge ?ste que se arranca un pelo de su barba y lo coloca sobre mi solapa izquierda. Luego aprieta sobre el mismo lugar donde puso el pelo imaginario una especie de pa?uelo, trapucho algo obscuro, sobre el que han pasado varios a?os de suciedad.

Aprieta el harapo contra mi pecho, como si resta?ase un chorro de sangre. Es sin duda para que no se escape el pelo maravilloso. De pronto separa el trapo, da un paso atr?s, lanza un grito...

Me doy cuenta de que una cosa pesada cae ? lo largo de mi cuerpo, desde el pecho ? los pies: ?chap!... Algo ha golpeado el asfalto, con la gravitaci?n el?stica de los objetos duros y h?medos... Inmediatamente surge del suelo una cobra extraordinariamente gruesa, levant?ndose cuanto le es posible sobre el extremo de su cola, con el cuello cartilaginoso hinchado y tembl?n, lanzando bufidos por su hocico triangular, furiosa ? causa de su ca?da y de los trabajos abusivos ? que la somete su amo.

Esto me lo pregunto ahora, pues al ver la cobra irgui?ndose junto ? mis pies, con el hocico agresivo al nivel de mis rodillas, s?lo pienso en dar un salto atr?s, y casi derribo con mis espaldas ? los curiosos que avanzaban su cabeza poco antes por encima de mis hombros para ver mejor.

No me detengo en dicha retirada hasta quedar ? respetable distancia del reptil salido de mi pecho. Muchos ind?genas r?en, pero debo a?adir que son los del otro lado del corro. Los que est?n ? mis espaldas saltan tanto ? m?s que yo para alejarse de un encantador que se permite tales confianzas con su p?blico.

EL PADRE GANGES

C?mo se duerme en los vagones-camas de la India.--Aparici?n del Ganges.--La sagrada ciudad de Benar?s.--La orilla derecha y la orilla izquierda del r?o santo.--Buda y su <>.--La fiesta primaveral del <>.--Navegaci?n por el Ganges.--El ba?o de los peregrinos.--Los palacios de Benar?s.--Olas de flores y cad?veres flotantes ? quemados.--El templo ca?do en piezas.--Las honras f?nebres del santo bracm?n.--Un tenor mahometano canta las glorias del padre Ganges.

Pasamos una mala noche en el tren. La direcci?n de los ferrocarriles indost?nicos se ha preocupado minuciosamente del bienestar de los viajeros. Cuatro de ?stos ocupan en los trenes expresos un compartimento amplio, casi un sal?n. Los vidrios de las ventanas son obscuros como los anteojos que se usan para amortiguar la luz solar, y ? trav?s de ellos parece suavizarse el paisaje en las ardientes horas meridianas. Un cuarto con ducha y otros aparatos higi?nicos completan la habitaci?n rodante.

Cada uno de dichos salones tiene un criado especial, indost?nico de cara cobriza, boca azulada y muda, pies descalzos, larga levita blanca, abultado turbante. Este servidor se oculta horas enteras, como si hubiese abandonado el tren, y aparece de pronto, lo mismo que un fantasma surgido de las ruedas.

Todo lo ha previsto la administraci?n en tales dormitorios. S?lo falta una cosa en ellos, una sola... las camas. El dom?stico ense?a dos divanes, que sirven de asientos durante el d?a, y cuando llega la noche tienen sus respaldos de madera y gutapercha subidos horizontalmente sobre los goznes. Si el extranjero muestra asombro ante esta desnudez, el servidor le da la noticia de que en los ferrocarriles de la India inglesa la cama debe traerla el viajero.

A los que viven en el pa?s, comerciantes mestizos, empleados y militares brit?nicos, les es f?cil remediar dicha falta. Les place llevar su propio lecho al ferrocarril. En sus viajes, que duran ? veces tres ? cuatro d?as, de un lado ? otro de la India, ellos y sus familias convierten el cuarto ambulante en una prolongaci?n de la propia casa. Hasta guisan sus comidas ? hierven el t? en un hornillo port?til.

Los que atravesamos simplemente el pa?s debemos ir ? un bazar de Calcuta donde se venden camas de viaje. Son fardos de f?cil transporte, que entristecen al que los abre, como un augurio de mala noche. El colch?n equivale por su espesor ? unas cuantas hojas de papel superpuestas; la almohada-oblea hay que levantarla con una maletita colocada debajo. La manta, por su delgadez, resultar?a ilusoria en otras regiones de la India. Afortunadamente, de Calcuta ? Benar?s, la noche ser? calurosa.

Todas las molestias de la noche, lecho duro, calor asfixiante, mangas de polvo por las ventanillas entreabiertas, ronquidos angustiosos de los compa?eros, se desvanecen al llegar el d?a. Atravesamos un puente largu?simo, y este tr?nsito fluvial nos proporciona el regalo de uno de los paisajes m?s extraordinarios de la India, el que se agarra con mayor tenacidad ? la memoria.

El r?o que acabamos de pasar es el Ganges, el verdadero Ganges, ?nico y compacto, engrosado ya por sus principales afluentes, que atraviesa as? el coraz?n de Bengala, antes de partirse en brazos caudalosos cerca del mar. Traza una curva majestuosa el r?o sagrado, ensanchando sus aguas de un verde blanquecino semejante al color del ajenjo, hasta formar una bah?a. Y en la parte convexa de esta bah?a, que recuerda la de N?poles, se extiende una ciudad de alt?simos edificios, hundiendo casi verticalmente en el curso fluvial sus murallas y escalinatas.

Dicha ciudad, cuya longitud sobre el r?o pasa de un kil?metro, es Benar?s, la metr?poli indost?nica de las religiones. En el censo de la India figura como la novena ? la d?cima poblaci?n. Su vecindario, compuesto de sacerdotes, servidores de templos, imagineros y mercaderes que viven de los fieles, resulta poco importante, comparado con el de otras capitales; pero en d?as de peregrinaci?n aumenta de modo inaudito. Hoy tal vez lleguemos ? un mill?n los seres vivientes aglomerados en sus tortuosas callejuelas ? sobre la l?mina de su r?o golfo.

Benar?s, m?s antigua que la historia de la India, tiene perdido su origen en las brumas de la leyenda. Si los bracmanes saben que naci? en el mismo sitio que ahora ocupa, es por haber se?alado su solar el divino Siva con las puntas de su tridente.

Se esparce la ciudad por la orilla derecha del Ganges. Enfrente, la ribera es arenosa y desierta. En su amarillento declive rara vez se ven seres humanos y nadie se ha atrevido ? construir una vivienda. El creyente que muere en la orilla derecha, ? sea en la santa Benar?s, queda libre de nuevas transmigraciones y su esp?ritu goza las delicias de no existir, fundi?ndose en la esencia de Brahma. Si fu? gran pecador, su alma se encarna en el cuerpo de un futuro bracm?n, y al finalizar esta ?ltima transmigraci?n, logra la suerte de los buenos, ya mencionada. En cambio, los que mueren en la orilla izquierda dan un salto atr?s en su carrera transmigratoria, naciendo de nuevo en forma de asno ? otro animal de esencia vil y esclavitud fatigosa. ?nicamente el raj? de Benar?s ha osado construir su palacio en la orilla izquierda, pero ? cierta distancia de la ciudad, r?o arriba.

The last sentence conveys an erroneous impression. The two cotyledons, which form the seed, are not brittle when found in nature in the pod. They are juicy and fleshy. And it is only after the seed has received special treatment to obtain the bean of commerce, that it becomes brittle.

As mentioned above, the pods and seeds of Theobroma Cacao trees show a marked variation, and in every country the botanist has studied these variations and classified the trees according to the shape and colour of the pods and seeds. The existence of so many classifications has led to a good deal of confusion, and we are indebted to Van Hall for the simplest way of clearing up these difficulties. He accepts the classification first given by Morris, dividing the trees into two varieties--Criollo and Forastero:

Grading from Cundeamor to Calabacillo .

The cacao of the criollo variety has pods the walls of which are thin and warty, with ten distinct furrows. The seeds or beans are white as ivory throughout, round and plump, and sweet to taste. The forastero variety includes many sub-varieties, the kind most distinct from the criollo having pods, the walls of which are thick and woody, the surface smooth, the furrows indistinct, and the shape globular. The seeds in these pods are purple in colour, flat in appearance, and bitter to taste. This is a very convenient classification. Personally I believe it would be possible to find pods varying by almost imperceptible gradations from the finest, purest, criollo to the lowest form of forastero . The criollo yields the finest and rarest kind of cacao, but as sometimes happens with refined types in nature, it is a rather delicate tree, especially liable to canker and bark diseases, and this accounts for the predominance of the forastero in the cacao plantations of the world.

One can spend happy days on a cacao estate. "Are you going into the cocoa?" they ask, just as in England we might enquire, "Are you going into the corn?"

Coconut plantations and sugar estates make a strong appeal to the imagination, but for peaceful beauty they cannot compare with the cacao plantation. True, coconut plantations are very lovely--the palms are so graceful, the leaves against the sky so like a fine etching--but "the slender coco's drooping crown of plumes" is altogether foreign to English eyes. Sugar estates are generally marred by the prosaic factory in the background. They are dead level plains, and the giant grass affords no shade from the relentless sun. Whereas the leaves of the cacao tree are large and numerous, so that even in the heat of the day, it is comparatively cool and pleasant under the cacao.

Cacao plantations present in different countries every variety of appearance--from that of a wild forest in which the greater portion of the trees are cacao, to the tidy and orderly plantation. In some of the Trinidad plantations the trees are planted in parallel lines twelve feet apart, with a tree every twelve feet along the line; and as you push your way through the plantation the apparently irregularly scattered trees are seen to flash momentarily into long lines. In other parts of the world, for example, in Grenada and Surinam, the ground may be kept so tidy and free from weeds that they have the appearance of gardens.

It was for many years believed that if a tree were analysed the best soil for its growth could at once be inferred and described, as it was assumed that the best soil would be one containing the same elements in similar proportions. This simple theory ignored the characteristic powers of assimilation of the tree in question and the "digestibility" of the soil constituents. However, it is agreed that soils rich in potash and lime are good for cacao. An open sandy or loamy alluvial soil is considered ideal. The physical condition of the soil is equally important: heavy clays or water-logged soils are bad. The depth of soil required depends on its nature. A stiff soil discourages the growth of the "tap" root, which in good porous soils is generally seven or eight feet long.

The greater part of the world's cacao is produced without the use of artificial manures. The soil, which is continually washed down by the rains into the rivers, is continually renewed by decomposition of the bed rock, and in the tropics this decomposition is more rapid than in temperate climes. In Guayaquil, "notwithstanding the fact that the same soil has been cropped consecutively for over a hundred years, there is as yet no sign of decadence, nor does a necessity yet arise for artificial manure." However, manures are useful with all soils, and necessary with many. Happy is the planter who is so placed that he can obtain a plentiful supply of farmyard or pen manure, as this gives excellent results. "Mulching" is also recommended. This consists of covering the ground with decaying leaves, grasses, etc., which keep the soil in a moist and open condition during the dry season. If artificial manures are used they should vary according to the soil, and, although he can obtain considerable help from the analyst, the planter's most reliable guide will be experiment on the spot.

There are no longer any mystic rites performed before planting. In the old days it was the custom to solemnize the planting, for example, by sacrificing a cacao-coloured dog

Viscount Mountmorres, in a delightfully clear exposition of cacao cultivation which he gave to the native farmers and chiefs of the Gold Coast in 1906, said: "In pruning, it is necessary always to bear in mind that the best shape for cacao trees is that of an enlarged open umbrella," with a height under the umbrella not exceeding seven feet. With this ideal in his mind, the planter should train up the tree in the way it should go. Viscount Mountmorres also said that everything that grows upwards, except the main stem, must be cut off.

After hunting, agriculture is man's oldest industry, and improvements come but slowly, for the proving of a theory often requires work on a huge scale carried out for several decades. The husbandry of the earth goes on from century to century with little change, and the methods followed are the winnowings of experience, tempered with indolence. And even with the bewildering progress of science in other directions, sound improvements in this field are rare discoveries. There is great scope for the application of physical and chemical knowledge to the production of the raw materials of the tropics. In one or two instances notable advances have been made, thus the direct production of a white sugar at the tropical factory will have far-reaching effects, but with many tropical products the methods practised are as ancient as they are haphazard. Like all methods founded on long experience, they suit the environment and the temperament of the people who use them, so that the work of the scientist in introducing improvements requires intimate knowledge of the conditions if his suggestions are to be adopted. The various Departments of Agriculture are doing splendid pioneer work, but the full harvest of their sowing will not be reaped until the number of tropically-educated agriculturists has been increased by the founding of three or four agricultural colleges and research laboratories in equatorial regions.

There is much research to be done. As yet, however, many planters are ignorant of all that is already established, the facilities for education in tropical agriculture being few and far between. There are signs, however, of development in this direction. It is pleasant to note that a start was made in Ceylon at the end of 1917 by opening an agricultural school at Peradenija. Trinidad has for a number of years had an agricultural school, and is eager to have a college devoted to agriculture. In 1919, Messrs. Cadbury Bros. gave ?5000 to form the nucleus of a special educational fund for the Gold Coast. The scientists attached to the several government agricultural departments in Java, Ceylon, Trinidad, the Philippines, Africa, etc., have done splendid work, but it is desirable that the number of workers should be increased. When the world wakes up to the importance of tropical produce, agricultural colleges will be scattered about the tropics, so that every would-be planter can learn his subject on the spot.

Take, for example, the case of the diseases of plants. Everyone who takes an interest in the garden knows how destructive the insect pests and vegetable parasites can be. In the tropics their power for destruction is very great, and they are a constant menace to economic products like cacao. The importance of understanding their habits, and of studying methods of keeping them in check, is readily appreciated; the planter may be ruined by lacking this knowledge.

The cacao tree has been improved and "domesticated" to satisfy human requirements, a process which has rendered it weaker to resist attacks from pests and parasites. It is usual to classify man amongst the pests, as either from ignorance or by careless handling he can do the tree much harm. Other animal pests are the wanton thieves: monkeys, squirrels and rats, who destroy more fruit than they consume. The insect pests include varieties of beetles, thrips, aphides, scale insects and ants, whilst fungi are the cause of the "Canker" in the stem and branches, the "Witch-broom" disease in twigs and leaves, and the "Black Rot" of pods.

The subject is too immense to be summarised in a few lines, and I recommend readers who wish to know more of this or other division of the science of cacao cultivation, to consult one or more of the four classics in English on this subject:

HARVESTING AND PREPARATION FOR THE MARKET

The picking, gathering, and breaking of the cacao are the easiest jobs on the plantation.

In the last chapter I gave a brief account of the cultivation of cacao. I did not deal with forking, spraying, cutlassing, weeding, and so forth, as it would lead us too far into purely technical discussions. I propose we assume that the planter has managed his estate well, and that the plantation is before us looking very healthy and full of fruit waiting to be picked. The question arises: How shall we gather it? Shall we shake the tree? Cacao pods do not fall off the tree even when over-ripe. Shall we knock off or pluck the pods? To do so would make a scar on the trunk of the tree, and these wounds are dangerous in tropical climates, as they are often attacked by canker. A sharp machete or cutlass is used to cut off the pods which grow on the lower part of the trunk. As the tree is not often strong enough to bear a man, climbing is out of the question, and a knife on a pole is used for cutting off the pods on the upper branches. Various shaped knives are used by different planters, a common and efficient kind , resembles a hand of steel, with the thumb as a hook, so that the pod-stalk can be cut either by a push or a pull. A good deal of ingenuity has been expended in devising a "foolproof" picker which shall render easy the cutting of the pod-stalk and yet not cut or damage the bark of the tree. A good example is the Agostini picker, which was approved by Hart.

The gathering of the fruits of one's labour is a pleasant task, which occurs generally only at rare intervals. Cacao is gathered the whole year round. There is, however, in most districts one principal harvest period, and a subsidiary harvest.

With cacao in the tropics, as with corn in England, the gathering of the harvest is a delight to lovers of the beautiful. It is a great charm of the cacao plantation that the trees are so closely planted that nowhere does the sunlight find between the foliage a space larger than a man's hand. After the universal glare outside, it seems dark under the cacao, although the ground is bright with dappled sunshine. You hear a noise of talking, of rustling leaves, and falling pods. You come upon a band of coolies or negroes. One near you carries a long bamboo--as long as a fishing rod--with a knife at the end. With a lithe movement he inserts it between the boughs, and, by giving it a sharp jerk, neatly cuts the stalk of a pod, which falls from the tree to the ground. Only the ripe pods must be picked. To do this, not only must the picker's aim be true, but he must also have a good eye for colour. Whether the pods be red or green, as soon as the colour begins to be tinted with yellow it is ripe for picking. This change occurs first along the furrows in the pod. Fewer unripe pods would be gathered if only one kind of pod were grown on one plantation. The confusion of kinds and colours which is often found makes sound judgment very difficult. That the men generally judge correctly the ripeness of pods high in the trees is something to wonder at. The pickers pass on, strewing the earth with ripe pods. They are followed by the graceful, dark-skinned girls, who gather one by one the fallen pods from the greenery, until their baskets are full. Sometimes a basketful is too heavy and the girl cannot comfortably lift it on to her head, but when one of the men has helped her to place it there, she carries it lightly enough. She trips through the trees, her bracelets jingling, and tumbles the pods on to the heap. Once one has seen a great heap of cacao pods it glows in one's memory: anything more rich, more daring in the way of colour one's eye is unlikely to light on. The artist, seeking only an aesthetic effect would be content with this for the consummation and would wish the pods to remain unbroken.

There are planters who believe that the product is improved by leaving the gathered pods several days before breaking; and they would follow the practice, but for the risk of losses by theft. Hence the pods are generally broken on the same day as they are gathered. The primitive methods of breaking with a club or by banging on a hard surface are happily little used. Masson of New York made pod-breaking machines, and Sir George Watt has recently invented an ingenious machine for squeezing the beans out of the pod, but at present the extraction is done almost universally by hand, either by men or women. A knife which would cut the husk of the pod and was so constructed that it could not injure the beans within, would be a useful invention. The human extractor has the advantage that he or she can distinguish the diseased, unripe or germinated beans and separate them from the good ones. Picture the men sitting round the heap of pods and, farther out, in a larger circle, twice as many girls with baskets. The man breaks the pod and the girls extract the beans. The man takes the pod in his left hand and gives it a sharp slash with a small cutlass, just cutting through the tough shell of the pod, but not into the beans inside; and then gives the blade, which he has embedded in the shell, a twisting jerk, so that the pod breaks in two with a crisp crack. The girls take the broken pods and scoop out the snow-like beans with a flat wooden spoon or a piece of rib-bone, the beans being pulled off the stringy core which holds them together. The beans are put preferably into baskets or, failing these, on to broad banana leaves, which are used as trays.

Practice renders these processes cheerful and easy work, often performed to an accompaniment of laughing and chattering.

I allow myself the pleasure of thinking that I am causing some of my readers a little surprise when I tell them that cacao is fermented, and that the fermentation produces alcohol. As I mentioned above, the cacao bean is covered with a fruity pulp. The bean as it comes from the pod is moist, whilst the pulp is full of juice. It would be impossible to convey it to Europe in this condition; it would decompose, and, when it reached its destination, would be worthless. In order that a product can be handled commercially it is desirable to have it in such a condition that it does not change, and thus with cacao it becomes necessary to get rid of the pulp, and, whilst this may be done by washing or simply by drying, experience has shown that the finest and driest product is obtained when the drying is preceded by fermentation. Just as broken grapes will ferment, so will the fruity pulp of the cacao bean. Present day fermentaries are simply convenient places for storing the cacao whilst the process goes on. In the process of fermentation, Dr. Chittenden says the beans are "stewed in their own juice." This may be expressed less picturesquely but more accurately by saying the beans are warmed by the heat of their own fermenting pulp, from which they absorb liquid.

In Trinidad the cacao which the girls have scooped out into the baskets is emptied into larger baskets, two of which are "crooked" on a mule's back, and carried thus to the fermentary. In Surinam it is conveyed by boat, and in San Thom? by trucks, which run on Decauville railways.

The period of fermentation and the receptacle to hold the cacao vary from country to country. With cacao of the criollo type only one or two days fermentation is required, and as a result, in Ecuador and Ceylon, the cacao is simply put in heaps on a suitable floor. In Trinidad and the majority of other cacao-producing areas, where the forastero variety predominates, from five to nine days are required. The cacao is put into the "sweat" boxes and covered with banana or plantain leaves to keep in the heat. The boxes may measure four feet each way and be made of sweet-smelling cedar wood. As is usual with fermentation, the temperature begins to rise, and if you thrust your hands into the fermenting beans you find they are as hot and mucilaginous as a poultice.

The temperature is the simplest guide to the amount of fermentation taking place, and the uniformity of the temperature in all parts of the mass is desirable, as showing that all parts are fermenting evenly. The cacao is usually shovelled from one box to another every one or two days. The chief object of this operation is to mix the cacao and prevent merely local fermentation. To make mixing easy one ingenious planter uses a cylindrical vessel which can be turned about on its axis.

In other places, for example in Java, the boxes are arranged as a series of steps, so that the cacao is transferred with little labour from the higher to the lower. In San Thom? the cacao is placed on the plantation direct into trucks, which are covered with plaintain leaves, and run on rails through the plantation right into the fermentary. Some day some enterprising firm will build a fermentary in portable sections easily erected, and with some simple mechanical mixer to replace the present laborious method of turning the beans by manual labour.

The general conditions for a good fermentation are:

The mass of beans must be kept warm.

The mass of beans must be moist, but not sodden.

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