Life in the “Chocolate” Country.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19268, 3 January 1931, Page 17 (Supplement)

Life in the “Chocolate ” Country.

Mile-Long March of Umbrella Ants.

Written for the “Star" by

FREDERICK SIMPICK

(US. Geographic Society).

BRAZIL. TN THE MOUTH of a crocodile- ■*" infested river we anchored our ; seaplane and went ashore in the palm- £ fringed little town of Ilheos, Brazil. Ilheos lives on chocolate beans, ol J cacao. One-seventh of the world’s r crop moves from here, and five men 1 manage the giant industry'. Riding in a petrol speed car, with 2 the railway' manager, we rattled out , over the fiftv-mile toy line which - wanders into the jungle. r From the forest whizzed a stinging - bug, and bit our driver on the nose. . “If we weren't here, he would probably 2 take a crocodile tooth from his pocket - and rub his nose with it,” said our host. “That is the popular .cure here s for snake bites and other poisons.” We , passed a new-made grave, with flowers 1 on it. A man killed by' a crocodile had 2 just been buried. Dogs are the crocodiles’ favourite 1 dish. When a village dog ventures s near the river bank at night and barks, 1 the crocodiles gather. In the State of Bahia are about 50,000,000 cacao trees: this fruit has been grown here for about 150 y'ears, and the tiny railway' serves the heart of the great cacao region. It hauls more tons of freight per mile than any' other line in South America. Leaving the coastal plain and entering the foothills, one sees the cacao plantations. We walked in the shaded groves. Among bigger, protecting trees the small cacao trees are planted, thus sheltered from sun and wind. 1 twisted off a green fruit, broke it open and tasted -the whitish seeds; the flavour was like watermelon. Barefoot men and women split the pods, empty the seeds on a wide platform, and tread them free of pulp and pith. They call this “Dancing the Cacao.” The seeds are dried b_v stirring them in a big flat bin. A wide roof, set on wheels, is at hand, to be hastily hauled over the bin if it rains. Turning a > EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESEE

dark brown when dried, and tasting plainly of unsweetened chocolate when ripe, the beans are packed in bags and sent to Europe and the United States. In thirty years Bahia's export has risen from 150,000 to 1,200,000 bags a year. Brazil herself drinks very little chocolate—but milch coffee. Near a station named “Lava Pes,” or “Wash Your Feet," we stopped, to watch a long file of umbrella ants. Each carried a leaf, as if it were an umbrella. Many ants were up in a tree, biting off bits of leaf and dropping them to other ants waiting on the ground. This line of marching ants is often a mile or more Jong. The ants carry the leaves to their underground home, and store them. On the leaves a fungus forms, and. this the insects eat. Under a shed nearby we saw four men, with machetes, scraping a wild pig they had shot. Farther up the line we crossed a small stream running among cacaocovered hills. Long chutes made of boards ran down the hillsides to the water’s edge. Down these chutes natives were sliding fresh cacao beans, which emptied into waiting dugout canoes. Although cacao has been grown here for so long, the methods of harvesting it are still primitive; for labour is cheap. White men find life here hard, because of the many insects and malaria. Bugs are a plague. I saw a horned tumble-bug more than seven inches Jong—larger than many kinds of birds. And there were snails that must have weighed half a pound, and there was the fer de lance and other bad snake:*. “For days I see only native workmen," an English superintendent told me. “The natives’ language is quickly learned—they use only about 400 words, a blend of Portuguese, Indian, and African words imported by slaves." (Anglo-American N.S. Copyright). b®®®®E@®S®SS@®®®®®®Eß