Wenceslao Retana’s “El Indio Batangueño,” a Translation [Part VII]

This is the seventh installment of the AI-assisted translation of Wenceslao Emilio Retana’s book “El Indio Batangueño¹.” The book contains a sketch of Batangas and, most importantly, its inhabitants as seen through the eyes of the author.

Retana was a 19^th century Spanish civil servant, colonial administrator, biographer, political commentator, publisher, and bibliographer. His work on Batangas will sound condescending by present day standards, but should nonetheless provide valuable insight into life in the province in the 19^th century.

The indios of the past century must have been excessively fond of drink, as may be inferred from what a son of Saint Augustine wrote about grape wine: “This infernal liquor is so desired by the Indios that they place it above the very sustenance necessary for their preservation, and it becomes the total cause of their ruin.”

It is true that they do not dislike drinking, but we can affirm that drunkenness is not their dominant vice. Their true vice is tobacco, which they smoke with delight, and many even chew with the greatest pleasure. The same may be said of the women. They are smokers from childhood. Parents do not oppose it; it would be almost impossible for them to prevent it, for in this country tobacco — like betel — is so common from infancy that even the daughters of peninsular Spaniards almost all smoke, without their fathers taking the trouble to stop them.

In any case, it is rare to find an indio who lives a life of debauchery or dissolution, even though they are attached to most vices.

Gambling, in recent times, has declined greatly; nevertheless, they play monte whenever they can, and they do not do it daily only because they know that the Civil Guard constantly pursues them. When they play monte, the same man who deals is the one who cuts. He shuffles the cards in the air and gives them a certain curvature, reminiscent of those used by wafer‑sellers and other gamblers in the Peninsula. They wager only albur, never gallo, and they never make the plays called en tres or elijan.

Many players keep a sheet of paper where they note the card that wins; so that if, after twenty albures, they see that the king has appeared most often, the moment one comes out, they bet on it without hesitation. Needless to say, if they win, they attribute it to their cabalistic notes, and if they lose, they remain perfectly calm. There will be another chance. The indio resigns himself very quickly. There are those who say — wrongly — that “nothing troubles the indio.”

Another card game of which they are very fond is panguique. The women like it even more than the men. Panguique, as many of us know, is permitted upon payment of twelve pesos a year for the corresponding license, which the owner of the house pays to the State. They are allowed to play only from twelve to two in the afternoon on feast days, and from six to ten at night on all days. The Civil Guard doubts that they do not violate the regulations; but since the players usually have lookouts posted at the corners, it happens that they always play as long as they can.

We do not know of any written description of this game. We shall therefore say a few words, confident that they will please our readers. If they notice any difference between the game we describe and the one played here in Manila, we must warn them that we have never seen the Manila version played, and therefore do not know whether it is identical to the one played in Balayan (Batangas), which we took the trouble to learn solely for the purpose of inserting its description at this point in our work.