KOSTUMBRE : KÅNTAN DESPEDIDA

 

An old custom among our grandparents' generation which has pretty much died out now is the composing of songs specifically for certain occasions. Someone's arrival or departure or anniversary or achievement was celebrated by a singer or group of singers telling the story in song.

In 1991, a priest in Santa Rita, Guam was leaving the parish for a new assignment in Saipan.

Angelina Camacho Anderson, at age 72, composed a kåntan despedida (farewell song) which she sang at the priest's farewell party at the parish. Here's how the song went. I will spell it my way.

1. Gi un silension konbento na hu establese yo' kulan propio gimå'-ho nai mafañågo yo'.

(In a quiet rectory I settled myself as if it were my very own house where I was born.)

Lao ti siña hu deroga sa' måtto i ora para bai ma trasfiere para Saipan.

(But I couldn't undo the order because the hour came for me to transfer to Saipan.)

Koro : O mames na lugåt, silensio yan trankilo iya Santa Rita.

(Chorus : O sweet place, quiet and peaceful in Santa Rita.)

2, An gaige yo' gi otro tåno' magof yan gefsaga lao este pinayon-ho ti siña yo' maleffa.

(When I am in another land I will be happy and comfortable but I cannot forget this familiarity.)

Lao ti siña hu deroga sa' måtto i ora para bai ma trasfiere para Saipan.

(But I couldn't undo the order because the hour came for me to transfer to Saipan.)

I wish I knew what the tune was Tan Angelina sang this to, but there is no recording as far as I know.

NOTES

(1) Deroga = some of the lines do not state the full meaning because the full meaning is assumed to be understood by the listener. Deroga means to "undo, break or cancel" an agreement or contract. The priest could not oppose the order from his superior to be transferred to another parish.

(2) Pinayon = this is difficult to translate into English. Påyon means "to be accustomed to, to be used to, to be familiar with," as in something habitual. Pinayon is the noun, and I cannot find an English noun for it except "familiarity," which doesn't quite do the trick. But the meaning of this line is, "I can be happy in a new place, but I can never forget Santa Rita to which I have become very accustomed to, as if it has become part of me."

ANGELINA CAMACHO ANDERSON

1919-1999

TÅYA' ILU-ÑA!

 

Manet came running as fast as he could to his father's ranch house in Luayao, just past Barrigada heading towards the eastern cliffs of central Guam.

He and his father were supposed to spend the night there and they had arrived there just after the noon hour, having taken a karetan guaka (bull cart) from Hagåtña. After feeding the pigs, goats and chickens, and repairing some fences, Manet's dad told him to take it easy and relax while the dad did some last-minute preparations before the sun went down when they'd have dinner and go to sleep. 

It was around 5:30 in the afternoon when Manet went, stick in hand, into some jungle trails surrounding their ranch property. Reaching dead ends, he'd go back and try another trail. One lead him to the edge of the cliff, where he was able to just see the horizon of the sea by stepping on some huge boulders to get past the tree line. The sun was setting on the other side of the island but Manet was able to get a glimpse of the dark blue sea.

As light was leaving fast, Manet jumped off the boulders and headed back towards the ranch. The scene was very quiet, as Manet was all alone in a secluded place and the ranch dogs hadn't even followed Manet all the way in. Bored, perhaps, or maybe hungry, the dogs had deserted Manet and returned to the ranch ahead of Manet. Every now and then, a faint bark from the dogs reminded Manet where the ranch was.

As Manet passed a håyon lågo tree, he distinctly heard some rustling to his left. He figured it could be benådo (wild deer) or a babuen hålom tåno' (wild pig), or maybe even a hilitai (iguana). Whatever the case, he thought to himself, it was getting darker and he'd rather be back at the ranch than fight off some angry animal. Picking up his gait, he sped his way down the stony trail.

But the further he went, the rustling seemed to follow him. He sped up some more. The noise on his left seemed to have stopped. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when all of a sudden he heard rustling on his right! "Asaina!" "Lord!" Manet thought. "Are there two animals tracking me? Or did the one cross to the other side?" Neither possibility was good, Manet thought.

Relieved he was nearing the main trail that took him directly to the ranch house, the periodic barks of the ranch dogs sounding closer and closer, Manet was now briskly walking down the trail. Ouch! His foot got snagged in an unseen crevice in the ground, hidden by nightfall's darkness. Down Manet went, but he broke his fall with his outstretched hands. But when Manet gathered his bearings, instead of the rustling of trees and bushes to his left or right, he heard the rough noise of moving gravel behind him.

Still on his hands and knees on the ground, Manet peered behind him. Looming high above him about ten feet away was a massive black shadow, with the broadest shoulders he'd ever seen on a torso. As dark as it was, this deep black shadow still stood out against the purplish dusk sky. When Manet turned around, the figure stopped walking and, without thinking, Manet jumped to his feet and ran for his life.

"Tåta! Tåta!" "Father! Father!" Manet screamed as he got to the ranch house, illuminated by coconut oil lamps here and there. "Påkkaka'!" Manet's dad yelled back. "Keep quiet"

"Manli'e' yo' taotaomo'na!" "I saw a taotaomo'na (ancestral spirit)!"

"Ha falagu'e yo'!" "It chased after me!"

Manet's dad explained, "Masea lao tåya' bali-ña i para un essalao. Esta hao maolek. Trangkilo." "Even if it chased you, yelling about it doesn't do any good. You're safe now. Just calm down."

"Lao tåta....tåya' ilu-ña! Tåya' ilu-ña!" "But dad, it had no head! It had no head!"

The fact that Manet only saw a huge black figure with broad shoulders but no protruding head lead Manet to the firm conclusion that the spirit was headless. The fact that it had no head was what really did it for Manet. The fear factor increased by a thousand percentage points because of it. How could a spirit know where it was going if it had no eyes in a head to see?

WHY SOME TAOTAOMO'NA ARE HEADLESS

If the taotaomo'na are the spirits of ancient Chamorros, then it's no surprise that some of them appear headless.

Our people in the days before European contact often took the skulls of deceased relatives out of the grave and placed them back in their homes. Sometimes the skull was put in a high place inside the home and other times the skulls were placed in baskets.

The skulls were valued as ways of venerating the deceased relative or of asking them to bring good fortune, or both. In any case, ancient Chamorros often separated the skull from the rest of the body remaining in the grave, so it makes sense that some ancient spirits chose to reappear on earth as headless beings.

As for the broad shoulders, this could be attributed to the fact that a lot of hauling of heavy stones and other artifacts was needed to be done by men for, let's say as an example, the building of latte stone sites, some of which were used in house building.

NOTABLE VICTIMS OF 1918 INFLUENZA

 

The 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic hit Guam like a ton of bricks.

It began in November and, by the end of that month, more people had died in one month than in entire years prior to the pandemic. Some 673 Guam residents died that month alone, and in the entire year prior to this, in 1917, only 243 Guam had died. So many people were dying daily that carts were brought up and down Hagåtña's street picking up bodies to be buried quickly at Pigo cemetery. 

The flu was very bad on the elderly. Some of the island's oldest people died in November 1918. Every human life is precious, but some stand out because they were patriarchs or matriarchs of large clans, or were notable people in the community or lived to a very long age. Here are some of them who died in November 1918 during the pandemic.

GREGORIO CRUZ PÉREZ

Goyo

HUSBAND AND WIFE DIE DAYS APART

Gregorio Cruz Pérez and Rosa Aguon Flores

GREGORIO CRUZ PÉREZ was the founder of the Goyo clan of Perezes, which has played an important part in Guam's recent history. Gregorio himself was a big landowner and held some civic posts, including Associate Judge. Some of his descendants include Guam politicians (including a Governor, Felix Camacho) and businessmen. He died at age 71.

Just two days later, in the same pandemic, his wife ROSA AGUON FLORES, of the Kabesa clan, passed away at age 75. They are buried in the family cemetery in Yigo.

NICOLÁS AND AGUSTÍN EVARISTO DUEÑAS

Brothers

Two brothers, from a respectable family who themselves are the patriarchs of many descendants, died days apart because of the pandemic.

NICOLÁS EVARISTO DUEÑAS was the grandfather of Father Jesús Baza Dueñas, only the 2nd Chamorro priest ordained in history and who was executed by the Japanese in 1944. He is also the great grandfather of Judge Cristóbal Camacho Dueñas. He was 87 when he died.

His younger brother AGUSTÍN died not long after. Agustín is the founder of Oting clan, and another branch coming from the Oting clan is the Kaila family. He died at age 74.

KATSON

One branch of Aflagues are known as the Katson family. VICENTE FLORES AFLAGUE was one of them, the son of Manuel Camacho Aflague who served as a judge during Spanish times. Vicente's mother was Saturnina Manalisay Flores.

Just 54 years old, Vicente died from the Spanish influenza.

He was the great grandfather of Governor Lourdes Aflague León Guerrero.

ANTONIO PANGELINAN MARTÍNEZ

Although he did not leave many male descendants, ANTONIO PANGELINAN MARTÍNEZ, while he lived, was one of Guam's highest level elites. He had tremendous land holdings, including a cattle ranch in Dandan. His several daughters married prominent men, including foreigners. He died from influenza at the age of 81.

KUETO

JUANA PÉREZ SAN NICOLÁS was the matriarch of the large Kueto clan. Her husband, who did not die from influenza and who lived many more years after the pandemic, was José Mendiola Taitano, a former whaler. When a Protestant mission was opened on Guam as soon as the Americans took over Guam, José'n Kueto joined them. Juana was 68 when she died, leaving behind many children whose descendants include many politicians, including a Governor (Carl Gutiérrez). She is buried in the Custino (General Baptist) Cemetery in what is now called East Agaña.

HUSBAND AND WIFE DIE SAME DAY

Down in Sumay, a husband and wife died from influenza on the same day. They were FRANCISCO GUZMÁN SABLAN, aged 80, and his wife ANDREA DÍAZ PÉREZ, aged 73. What a sad day for that family to have to bury both spouses on the same day. They left many descendants.

OTHERS

Others who perished in the pandemic were PEDRO GUZMÁN SABLAN, the grandfather of Baptist minister Reverend Joaquín Flores Sablan. He was 76.

FÉLIX BORJA PANGELINAN, of the numerous Kotla clan, died at age 45. Still being relatively young, his widow remarried.

TITO QUICHOCHO BAZA, patriarch of many Bazas in Yoña and a large landowner, died of influenza at age 59.

MARÍA LUJÁN IGLESIAS was 54 when she died of influenza. She was the grandmother of Agueda Iglesias Johnston. 

OLDEST

The oldest victim of the Spanish Influenza of 1918 we have on record was JOSEFA DEMAPAN TANOÑA. She was 99 years old, and possibly older, since ages were notoriously inaccurate in those days, as many people could neither read nor write and documentation was not only unnecessary but also useless to many people in those days.

Josefa was married to a Borja and they had land in Cañada, Barrigada.

And so, these members of Guam's past and present history pictured above, a Protestant minister, a Catholic priest, a leading island educator and a Governor of Guam all lost a grandparent or great grandparent in the Spanish Influenza pandemic in 1918 that took the lives of over 600 people on Guam in pretty much a month's time. 

FAMILIAN ANONAS

A branch of the Guerrero family on Guam is called the familian ANONAS.

The anonas is a tropical fruit, related to the åtes and laguaná, or custard apple and sour sop. There are literally dozens of different kinds of anonas in the tropics. They originated in Mexico, Central America and the Caribbean and were brought to the Marianas and the Philippines by the Spaniards. The name anonas comes from the Native American Taino word for the fruit. The Tainos were from Hispaniola, the island on which Haiti and the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean are located.

"Anonas" is also said in a number of Philippine languages.

Here's an early artistic portrayal of the anonas as found on Guam:

According to Safford, the Chamorros did not eat much of the anonas, preferring the åtes most of all, and then the laguaná. But the fanihi (fruit bats) relished the anonas and they grew wild in the jungle, so the bats had their fill of them.

DOMINGO BAE GUERRERO

The branch of the Guerreros known as the familian Anonas seem to be the descendants of Domingo Bae Guerrero who was born around 1849 or so. He was still alive, age 71 years, in the 1920 Guam Census. But he does not appear in subsequent censuses, so he must have passed away in or prior to 1930.

It is believed he was the son of Ignacio Guerrero and Andrea Quintanilla Bae.

DOMINGO'S SIGNATURE IN 1906

It was common to abbreviate Guerrero as Grro

Domingo married Ana Blas and they had five children.

SOLEDAD was the only daughter. She married José Garrido Álvarez but they had no children.

DOMINGO, a son, never married.

JOSÉ, another son, left Guam during Spanish times joining the crew of a ship.

JOSÉ BLAS GUERRERO

José was already out of Guam by 1897 as he is absent from the Guam Census taken that year. He may have gotten to the US during Spanish times, then. At any rate, he was married in California in the year 1900 to a Hispanic woman named Augustina Rodriguez, whose father was born in California and whose mother was born in Mexico. Originally living in San Francisco, the couple moved to Stockton by 1910. They had many children, so the Anonas family has had a branch in the United States for over 100 years.

NICOLÁS, another son, married María San Nicolás Luján, the daughter of Silvestre and Nieves.

They had a daughter María and a son Silvestre.

Nicolás married a second time, with Josefa Dueñas Crisóstomo, the daughter of José Tagaña Crisóstomo and María Camacho Dueñas.

Their children were Manuela, Rafael, Ana, Maria, Domingo and José.

Nicolás' children kept the Anonas clan continuing and spreading on Guam.

FRANCISCO, also a son, is listed in the 1950 Guam Census as the husband of Josefa Dueñas Crisóstomo. So it seems that, after his brother Nicolás died, he married his widowed sister-in-law Josefa. But both were too old by then to have children.

Domingo, the patriarch of the family, apparently married a woman named Nieves, perhaps after his first wife died. But by then he and his new wife were too old to have children.

I have not come across any information as to why Domingo's branch of Guerreros are nicknamed Anonas.

BAE

Domingo's middle name, Bae, which was his mother's maiden name, was a family here on Guam in the 1800s that has since vanished due to lack of male descendants. There are only 5 people with the surbame Bae in the 1897 Guam Census, and they are all women.

The Bae family goes back even further in time, and the name was sometimes spelled BAHE which means it was pronounced BA - E, since the Spanish H is silent and is used at times to separate tow vowels.

YOU NEVER KNEW WHO WAS SLEEPING

 

With the many risks involved for one's children nowadays, it's no wonder more and more parents are not allowing their teenage children, especially the girls, to have their friends spend the night at their house.

But in old Guam (and the Northern Marianas), and even up till today, a slice of old Chamorro home life was that you never knew who would show up and spend the night in your home.

The average home in the Marianas of old consisted of one, maybe two, rooms. Both the kitchen and the toilet were outside, in separate places. Thus, all you needed inside the house was a floor to spread the guåfak (woven mat), a corner for baskets or boxes (maybe a kaohao, a wooden chest) where clothes and personal effects could be stored and maybe a table or chest of drawers, often topped with religious statues and the kåndet Yu'us (the lamp or candle that burned all the time). 

Except in the homes of the more affluent, which had separate rooms, privacy in the average Chamorro one-room house was almost negligible. At night, everybody slept on the floor wherever you found a spot. One night it was your brother lying next to you, the next night it was your spinster auntie. There could be as many as a dozen people snoring away just inches from you.

But some nights, you didn't know who you were sleeping next to until you woke up the next morning.

"Kalan i chalan ha' i gima'-måme," said one old lady to me years ago. "Our house was like the street."  Just as people freely walk the streets, people came in and out of their house at will. No one worried about security; "Tåya' para ma såkke." "There was nothing to steal," she said.

Relatives would come visit at night and end up just sleeping on the floor when the hour got late. Good friends were also accorded the same courtesy if they came to visit at night.

It could be that a man came over to spend the night because the next day he would accompany the father of the house to the ranch to work on some project and they'd head out early. "Chågo' i lanchon-måme, ya tåftaf siempre i hinanao-ñiha si tatå-ho yan i amigu-ña. Ya siempre ma udai i dos gi karetan tatå-ho." "Our ranch was far, and they would journey early in the day, my father and his friend. And they'd surely ride in my father's cart."

"Pues maolek-ña yanggen maigo' ha' i taotao giya hame ya mungnga si tatå-ho man nangga gi sigiente dia. Ya mås angokuyon yanggen gagaige ha' i amigu-ña gi gima'-måme gigon ha' makmåta i dos." "So it was better that the man sleep just at our house and my father wouldn't need to wait for him the next day. And it was more dependable if the man were right there at our house as soon as the two woke up."

A few times, someone in trouble would end up sleeping at their house. "Un biåhe, mumu i primu-ho yan si tatå-ña sa' guaha båba bidå-ña si primu-ho. Måtto giya hame ya sumåga giya hame unos kuåntos dias asta ke pumås yan si tatå-ña." "One time, my cousin and his dad fought because my cousin did something wrong. He came to our place and stayed a few days until he and his dad made peace."

In other families, relatives or friends who were sort of free spirits could end up sleeping a night or two in your home. These were often single people with no home of their own, who ventured from the house of one relative or friend to another. These people were thus never a burden to just one family, as they moved around. But that also meant you never knew when they'd show up.

Some relatives, especially older ones, who lived far away, would come and spend two weeks at your house, in order to keep close to your side of the family.  "Guaha primå-ña si nanå-ho ni sumåga Sumay. Dos pat tres biåhe kada såkkan, siempre måtto giya hame para u såga un semåna pat dos." The mother had a female cousin. Since the woman lived in Sumay, and her family lived in Hagåtña, she'd stay with them two or three times a year to keep the family ties close.

This reminded me of my grandmother's cousin Carmen Guzmán. Though cousins, they acted more like sisters. Tan Carmen lived in Santa Rita, but two or three times a year all of a sudden there she was in our kitchen, and she'd live with us for a week or two. Tan Carmen had her own home and her own bedroom in that home, but she wanted to stay close to my grandmother. I never knew when she'd appear all of a sudden, but I always enjoyed her being around.

There was no spare bedroom for guests; not even a spare bed. So Tan Carmen would sleep on the same bed as my grandmother's spinster sister. I used to laugh when I was a small boy because it looked funny to me how two old ladies would be sleeping on the same bed, one head lying north and the other head lying south, which meant that both ladies' feet were in front of each other's faces.

Today, with hardships abounding all the more with modern life; with economic hardships, losing one's home, being evicted from one's apartment; with domestic troubles increasing with drug abuse and an unstable family life; it's no wonder that even today homes can be like an airport with people coming and going in need of a place to stay the night. You never know who will be sleeping on the couch tonight.

But this started a long, long time ago, even if it happened in the old days in more tranquil circumstances.

WHY THEY CRIED AT TIGUAK CEMETERY

 

Tiguak, usually spelled Tiguac, is Guam's one and only public cemetery. It's also perhaps Guam's most pitiful cemetery.

Recently, in the news, it's been announced that the cemetery has only 8 burial plots left. A bill has been introduced to give the cemetery more land adjacent to the present cemetery. But some community leaders are saying more land is not the only issue; properly maintaining the cemetery that already exists is just as important an issue, and that the Government has done a poor job of it.

Many might be surprised to know this is not a new problem. People were decrying the condition of Tiguak Cemetery right from the beginning.

The Guam Code authorized the Government of Guam to establish a public cemetery, but nothing was done to put this into effect in the 1950s. In 1961, Governor Flores designated nearly 20 acres in Talofofo to be used for a public cemetery, but it was never done.

Then in 1964, the need for a public cemetery was brought up in the Guam Legislature. Up to that time, your options for burial on Guam were just with the Catholic and Protestant cemeteries, and, much more rarely, the US Naval Cemetery in East Agaña. But these cemeteries were filling up fast. The Catholic cemeteries ordinarily buried only Catholics, and even Protestants who were not Baptists or Seventh Day Adventists depended on the good graces of those two churches to bury them. Then there would come the time when people with no religion, or non-Christian people, would need a final resting place.

The days of relying on the churches to bury everybody were fast coming to an end. Both Catholic and Protestant church leaders urged the Government to move on a public cemetery. In late 1965, Governor Manuel Guerrero chose Tiguak as the site of Guam's first and only public cemetery, but funding would have to come from the Guam Legislature.

EL PATIO FIRE IN 1957

Interestingly, the site Guerrero put aside for a cemetery had been the location of a popular nightclub called El Patio which had burned down! Perhaps that should have been an indication that the area was under a cloud of some sort.

By January of 1967, the news reported that Public Works was building a road leading into the cemetery. That February, a documented burial took place at the cemetery.

But it seems that building a road to Tiguak, and removing tall grass and trees, was all the Government did. The rest was up to the family of the deceased. No structures of any sort were built. No hall, no restroom, no parking. A grave was dug and the coffin lowered into it. It was the family's decision what marker was to be placed. 

Part of the challenge was the terrain. A lot of Tiguak is not level, but slopes down into gullies. The landscape makes it very hard to even the ground.

ALREADY COMPLAINTS IN 1968

"Pathetic, disgusting and shameful" were just some of the words used as early as 1968 to describe the situation at Tiguak.

Joe Murphy wrote about it in his column for the Guam Daily News, after receiving phone calls and personal visits from people who had attended a burial at Tiguak and found the condition of the cemetery intolerable. 

Since the cemetery was not maintained, reaching a burial plot meant walking through overgrown weeds, with sticker burrs all over your pants and socks. Pall bearers had to carefully step over loose boards lying all around. 

"No one cried until they saw the cemetery," one person said, who had attended the funeral at Tiguak. Guam was no place to die, they said, unless you could get buried at one of the religious cemeteries.

DECADES OF MINIMAL MANAGEMENT

THE FAMOUS HORSE GRAVESTONE AT TIGUAK

The only thing, apparently, that has changed at Tiguak since the first complaints in 1968 has been the increase of burials.

Because it is Guam's most affordable burial place, Tiguak has filled to over 4000 burials. Pigo Cemetery, Guam's largest Catholic cemetery, is still the most populated on Guam, with over 8000 burials. Guam Memorial Park in Leyang, a private business, is fast approaching with over 7000 burials.

Due to the large number of burials, graves are often very close to each other. Families freely augment the graves anyway they feel like it, recently creating controversy when a life-sized white horse was built on a grave. Weeds and debris are everywhere, and there are no paved roads nor parking lots inside the cemetery. The cemetery has also been a favorite dumping ground for illegal dumping.

Responsibility for the cemetery, considered a headache to handle by many, shifted from Public Health to Public Works to Parks and Recreation.

In the 1980s, the cemetery was named the Vicente A. Limtiaco Memorial Park, in honor of the long-time Commissioner (Mayor) of Piti.

Already in 1988, former Senator Ben Ada was saying that the problem wasn't the need for more cemetery land, but the need to fund and properly maintain the cemetery.

STEALING PORK

 

In March of 1928, Antonio Concepción Pérez from Sumay killed a pig and hung it up to dry, after cleaning it, in his kitchen, which was a separate structure by his house. The pig was to be cooked to feed the men helping him reroof his house. In those days, when most homes had thatched roofs, people joined together to replace the old leaves with new ones. Some people wove, some people threw the fronds up to others who were fastening the new fronds to the roof. Women generally did the cooking to feed the workers.

In those days, people often left their doors unlocked, and that night Antonio did just that. He went to bed without locking the kitchen door. His wife, Ana Rivera Babauta, discovered in the morning that some of the pork had been cut away during the night. Taken away were part of the pig's belly and its hind legs. An estimated 50 pounds of meat had been stolen.

Antonio tried to find out who could have stolen the meat. A woman named Rita happened to notice that a certain José had pork in his house, and Rita asked José's sister how did her brother get the meat. She said José had bought it from Antonio. Now Antonio had a suspect, and he reported it to the Sumay Commissioner (what we call Mayor now), Joaquín Cruz Díaz.

Díaz questioned José, but José denied stealing the pork. José said, at the time Antonio's pork went missing, he had been at his ranch in Chalan Taipilan, an area in the vicinity of Sumay, to look after a sick pig of his. He found the pig dead and cut it up. A witness, Pedro Taitano Santos, testified that he was with José the day after José said he was at his ranch, cutting up the dead pig, and that José was sleepy, and that José explained he was sleepy because he was up all night cutting his dead pig.

PREWAR SUMAY

HE PLEADS GUILTY

And then, just like that, José admitted his guilt before the court.

He was sentenced to four months' imprisonment and to pay Antonio for the stolen pork.

We do not know what induced José to change his mind. Did he think it would just be a matter of time that some evidence is discovered or some witness come forward?

Could it have been a troubled conscience?

It's noteworthy that a good number of accused on Guam before the war plead guilty when brought before the court, for a number of different crimes.

Perhaps people, being more religious before the war, had a stronger conscience. They might be criminals, but they were honest about it.

WASHERWOMAN'S STORY

 

Lavandera

by Fernando Amorsolo

As told to me by a grand daughter....

"My grandmother was married shortly before the war, but her husband was killed by the Japanese in March of 1944. A lot of people were being killed, or went missing or were simply beat up by the Japanese because the Americans were already bombing the island. The Japanese were in a hurry to build airstrips and shelters and everything else, and they were so afraid of the Chamorros, that they would help the Americans. So if anyone was late for work or didn't show up, or acted suspiciously or disobeyed the Japanese, you could get killed."

"Grandma had two children already when her husband was killed. They were just 3 years old and 1 year old."

"When the Americans came back, grandma needed to earn money to take care of her two children. The military had built a laundry facility on the outskirts of the village and grandma was hired to wash clothes for the US military. There were around 10 or 12 soldiers stationed in the village. They were supposed to stay in their area but since grandma washed clothes for them they came to the laundry facility, which was on the border between the civilian area and where the soldiers could be."

"One day an American soldier came to the laundry facility. Grandma was ironing and the American started talking to her. Nobody was around. The American came up to grandma and held her by her waist. She tried to shrug him off but he wouldn't let go, and he was big and grandma was small. At one point he threw her down and she started yelling. I guess the guy was afraid her yelling was going to bring people over, so he hurried even faster. He took down his pants and grandma was still holding the charcoal iron and she slammed it on his dågan (buttocks). The American screamed and got up and ran off."

"Grandma went straight to the Commissioner and reported what happened. The Commissioner went right away to the military commander. Grandma kept telling them, 'Look for the man with burn marks on his dågan.' The commander and the Commissioner rounded up 5 Chamorro men to look for the 10 or so American soldiers in the area, who were at different locations doing different work at that moment. One by one they told the soldiers to lower their trousers and reveal their rears. They saw nothing but, when they counted the soldiers, there was one missing. I guess the guy tried to avoid being seen but he knew he couldn't run forever. He came back to the tent and his dågan showed the figure of a pointy iron, all in red."

"My grandpa was one of the five Chamorro men rounded up to look for the American soldiers. So he knew what happened to grandma, and it was that that made a big impression on him. He saw that grandma was a strong woman and she could defend herself. She was courageous. My grandpa couldn't stop thinking about grandma and decided to marry her. He knew he couldn't court her like a first-time bride. She already had two children."

"Instead, grandpa went to grandma's father and said, 'I love your daughter and I will adopt those two children of hers and raise them as my own flesh and blood.'" Grandma's dad was cautious but favorable. Grandpa showed how industrious he was, always working at whatever the military or the Commissioner hired him to do, and he saved every penny. In time, grandpa built a wood and tin roof house and used the front portion as a store. Grandma's father was impressed. So was grandma. The two of them married, and had kids of their own."

AN OBSERVATION

This Barrigada village sign in 1945 reminds American servicemen that the village is out of bounds unless they had a permit.

This story reminds us of the fact that, after the war, the US Military had to keep the soldiers and the civilian population at some distance from each other. Every village had a sign telling soldiers it was off-limits to them. This was to avoid things that happened to Chamorro women, but also to prevent fights and drunken brawls and the like, between Chamorros and military men, and sometimes between the American soldiers themselves. Even the American Catholic missionary priests needed permits to move from one village to another.

An American writes in 1945 that the native villages are out of bounds on Guam.

HINENGGEN MAN ÅMKO' : I ABABBANG

 

YANGGEN ÅTTILONG NA ABABBANG HUMÅLOM GI GIMA', GUAHA GI FAMILIA PARA U MÅTAI.

If a black butterfly enters the home, there is someone in the family who will die.

Some mañaina (elders) believed that if a black butterfly fluttered around inside the house, it meant that someone in the family would be dying in the near future. It was a harbinger of death.

The butterfly had to be black or predominantly black.

YANGGEN OTRO NA KOLOT, GUAHA HÅYE NI ESTA MÅTAI MANBISISITA.

If it's another color, some already dead is visiting.

But if the butterfly was of different colors, or mainly of colors other than black, and it flew into the house, it meant someone who had already died some time ago was visiting.

People would say a prayer for the dead when they saw a butterfly (other than a black one) fly into the house.

ALABADO SEA

 

The Chamorro hymn U MA GEF TUNA, which is usually sung at the end of all devotions, is based on a Spanish hymn titled ALABADO SEA.

The hymn honors the Blessed Sacrament and the Immaculate Conception. The Blessed Sacrament means the True Body of Jesus and the Immaculate Conception refers to the fact that God prevented Original Sin from touching Mary from the very first moment of her existence or conception in the womb of her mother Saint Ann.

All of this was taught to our mañaina (elders) hundreds of years ago by the Spanish missionaries. Prayers and hymns were taught to them in Chamorro but also in Spanish. In Saipan, they still sing this hymn in the original Spanish, as well as in Chamorro.

Here is a Saipan family singing it at the end of their Christmas novena :

LYRICS

Alabado sea el Santísimo Sacramento del altar

(Praised be the Most Holy Sacrament of the altar)

y la Inmaculada Concepción de la Virgen María, madre de Dios

(and the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, mother of God)

concebida sin mancha del pecado original

(conceived without the stain of original sin)

y en el primer instante de su ser por siempre jamás. Amén.

(and in the first moment of her existence and forever. Amen.)

Here's the musical notation 

The little boy in the video is folding his hands while the Alabado is being sung. This was the custom whenever the Alabado or Umageftuna was sung, and we had to sing it on our knees, too.

VERSIÓN ESPAÑOLA

por Manuel Rodríguez

El himno chamorro U MA GEF TUNA, que suele cantarse al final de todas las devociones, se basa en un himno español titulado ALABADO SEA.

El himno honra al Santísimo Sacramento y a la Inmaculada Concepción. El Santísimo Sacramento significa el Cuerpo Verdadero de Jesús y la Inmaculada Concepción se refiere a que Dios impidió que el Pecado Original tocara a María desde el primer momento de su existencia o concepción en el vientre de su madre, Santa Ana.

Todo esto fue enseñado a nuestros mañaina (ancianos) hace cientos de años por los misioneros españoles. Se les enseñaron oraciones e himnos en chamorro, pero también en español. En Saipán, todavía cantan este himno en el español original, así como en chamorro.

Aquí está una familia de Saipán cantándolo al final de su novena de Navidad.

HINENGGEN I MAN ÅMKO' : MEAT ON LENTEN FRIDAYS

 

Yanggen chumocho hao kåtne an Kuaresma na Bietnes, siempre ma hågga' i katne.

If you eat meat on a Lenten Friday, the meat will surely turn bloody.

Well, that's what some mañaina (elders) told us to scare us when we were tempted to break the rules of Lent and eat meat on a Friday in Lent.

Even though the rule applied to only those 14 years old and up, most parents and grandparents applied the rule even to the small children!

Well who wants a mouthful of blood?

So the threat that the meat, no matter how well-cooked it was, will fill your mouth with blood was enough to scare some children from eating meat on a Lenten Friday.

ESTORIAN MARIA REAGAN

 

THE CHAPEL

A Catholic chapel stands in Chalan Laulau in Saipan, and it's all due to the strong faith of a Carolinian woman with an unusual name. She was Maria Reagan. Maria was Carolinian, but her surname Reagan was not. It's Irish.

John Edward Reagan was an American from New York who somehow ended up in Saipan in the 1880s. He probably came on a whaler or perhaps a commercial vessel. We don't know if John Edward was born in New York or in Ireland, but he was certainly of Irish blood.

He, like a few other Caucasians, liked what he saw in Saipan and stayed, marrying a Carolinian woman named Joaquina Kileleman. Their first child, a daughter named Engracia, was born in 1889. María and other offspring came later.

SPANISH PRIEST FR ANICETO IBÁÑEZ

teaching Carolinian children the Catholic religion

Saipan was still under the Spaniards then, and the Catholic faith the only religion publicly allowed. But no one was forced to convert to Catholicism. Many Carolinians embraced the faith, and little by little everyone eventually became Catholic. Joaquina, by her first name alone, shows that she had been baptized and given a Christian name, and was Catholic.

A descendant of John Edward Reagan, Malua Peter, shares how devout Maria Reagan was.

Here is a summary in English of what Malua shared :

Tan Maria is the sister of Malua's grandmother. She was the daughter of Edward Reagan and she had very fair skin. Before the war, the family would walk from Chalan Kanoa to Chalan Laulau and pray the rosary every day. This continued after the war. Then we built a chapel there in Chalan Laulau. Right after the war there were only two churches, Chalan Kanoa and Tanapag. From 2 o'clock in the morning we wake up and we pack our things and we walk to the church. We sleep outdoors on canvas that we spread out on the ground and wait for whatever priest will come along to say Mass around 4 o'clock. Some weekends we walk to Tapochao. We also had special Masses for Holy Week. Tan Maria taught us about our obligations to God, to always pray. We began to pray the rosary in Chalan Laulau, first to Our Lady of Fatima and then it changed to the Immaculate Conception. The story's not so clear but Tan Maria saw something in the chapel and that's why we changed it to the Immaculate Conception. 

Tan Maria was very devoted to the Blessed Mother. You only saw her face and her hands because she always covered her head with a shawl or veil. She wore the brown Franciscan garment and the koreas (blessed leather belt of the Augustinians). 

She grew corn and she would share it with the family and we would eat it off the cob. 

When we were kids, we had English comics. They probably came from her father's family in the US. 

Tan Maria would take me to the dentist in Chalan Kanoa and tell me stories of the Blessed Mother as we walked. 

This chapel in Chalan Laulau (Limeiyóól) in Saipan is part of the legacy Tan María gave her family

THE TIDY TAOTAOMO'NA

 

Siempre hao nina'manman yanggen un li'e' este na lugåt annai guaha siha åcho' latte.

(You will certainly be amazed if you see this place where there are latte stones.)

Man gaige siha gi apattao na lugåt, tåya' guma', tåya' chålan. Mappot ma hanaogue este na lugåt.

(They are in an isolated place, no homes, no streets. It's a difficult place to get to.)

Puro ha' nette, chå'guan yan trongko siha gi uriya.

(It's all swordgrass, grass and trees in the surrounding area.)

Lao ti un fañodda' chå'guan annai man gaige i acho' latte. Man måtai ha' i cha'guan annai man gaige i acho' latte.

(But you won't find grass where the latte stones are. The grass is simply dead where the latte stones are.)

Ya ti siña un ålok na sa' pot guaha taotao man måtto ya man ma gatcha' i cha'guan na man måtai, sa' håssan taotao guihe na lugåt.

(And you can't say that it's because people go there and step on the grass that it's dead, because few people go to that place.)

I taotaomo'na ha' muna' taiguennao.

(It's the taotaomo'na who make it that way.)

So it was said to me by an old-timer about a certain location which I won't disclose, so that the latte stones there may be preserved in its current state.

The traditional Chamorro belief is to avoid latte sites anyway.

The taotaomo'na live around latte stones, and it's best not to irritate the taotaomo'na by bad behavior, and only God knows what a certain taotaomo'na might consider bad behavior, so better to avoid the place completely. An upset taotaomo'na will make you sick or at least bruise you. Yelling, urinating and physically disturbing the place are all obviously bad behavior, but some have been punished by taotaomo'na for less than these, and some people claim they were extremely careful and yet were still punished.

Some people may look at the place and come up with a natural explanation for the dry and lifeless ground immediately surrounding the latte stones. Perhaps the tree cover blocks out the sun.

But, upon seeing the place, I must say enough sun and rain water could make the ground more grassy and green.

But you will never convince the old-timer I talked to that it's anything other than the taotaomo'na who keep the area immediately around "their" latte stones clear of tall grass. The taotaomo'na here like to be tidy.

Perhaps the taotaomo'na want a big enough clear space so they can meet and even have their dances, as has been claimed by some people long ago.

CAPITOL HILL CEMETERY

 

CAPITOL HILL "WIRELESS RIDGE" CEMETERY

In some countries where, in the past, almost everybody was Catholic, there are Non-Catholic Cemeteries set up to accommodate non-Catholics, usually people who are not native to the place. Rome has a famous Cimitero Acattolico, which literally means "Non-Catholic Cemetery," where some famous people like John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley, English poets, are buried. There are so many British and Protestant people buried there that the cemetery is often called the English Cemetery or the Protestant Cemetery, but Non-Catholic Cemetery is more accurate as there are a good number of Russians, Germans and many other nationalities, even Italians, buried here. And not just Protestants but Orthodox as well.

Keats and Shelley were Protestant, not Catholic, and, in those days, non-Catholics and even Catholics who committed suicide or who otherwise lived in public sin could not be buried in the Catholic cemetery proper, but only outside it, where the ground was not consecrated.

Saipan was a place where everybody, at one time, was Catholic, at least among its native population. In the 1950s, 60s and 70s it had no other cemeteries but the ones for Catholics.

So what was someone to do if one died in Saipan but was not Catholic?

This was Mike Marcus' situation in 1975. Marcus, a Chuukese Protestant and Saipan's safety officer at the time, was trying to bury his infant daughter on Saipan, and could only do so "outside the fence" at the Catholic cemetery. He did so, but began prompting government officials to look for a site in Saipan suitable for a public cemetery where anybody could be buried, regardless of religious affiliation.

WIRELESS RIDGE

The area selected was a far, isolated spot north of Capitol Hill called Wireless Ridge by the Americans after the war.

There are just a little over 100 graves at Wireless Cemetery today. If Marcus' daughter was buried there, either the grave can't be found anymore or her remains were moved. The oldest death we can tell from the grave stones was in 1975; someone named Kim An Montenero.

As can be expected, the cemetery has a good number of Koreans, Chinese and Micronesians from various parts of that region. There are fewer numbers of Statesiders and Filipinos. There are Protestant Christians and non-Christian Buddhists and at least one Jew.

DIFFERENT ETHNIC BACKGROUNDS AND RELIGIONS

There is at least one Chamorro we know of buried here, which is unusual given that most Chamorros are Catholic, but we're not sure why she is buried here. There could be a few other Chamorros buried here, but I'm not totally sure yet if they are Chamorro. If the surname is Spanish, the deceased could be some other race. It's also possible the deceased with a Chamorro name had been married to one but is not Chamorro herself.

Due to the fact that many of those buried here have few, and some no family at all, on Saipan, many of the graves are not cared for. Mother Nature has taken over a lot of the cemetery, with the grass so tall that it hides many of the graves. Many of the grave stones are no longer legible or lack signage completely. A few graves are reduced to just a small percentage of the cement that used to be there, and one cement grave is partially open.

Hillside fires, sometimes due to the heat of the dry season and sometimes due to deer hunters setting fires to scare the deer, typhoons and just the passing of time exposed to sun and rain have taken their toll on many of the graves. It's certain that some graves are now completely unseen. 

When you first drive into the cemetery, it appears to be rather small, but that's only because the tall grass and some of the tall trees obscure your vision. The cemetery is actually a good size, and goes all the way to the edge of the cliff. It has a great view of Mañagaha Island.

There was talk of closing this cemetery so that a larger, better-located public cemetery for Saipan can be opened, and the graves at Wireless transferred to the new one. But the new one has yet to be built, so Wireless continues till this day.