ONLY CHAMORRO TO THE CHAMORRO

 

Tan Båcha' (u såga gi minahgong), pictured above, was a good friend of my nånan biha (grandma) and my grandma's sisters, the aunties who raised me.

She was born in 1909 so she grew up at a time when the Chamorro language dominated the island. English could be heard in far fewer places on Guam in the 1910s and 20s than in the 1950s. Tan Båcha' could speak basic English, but she was one of those older Chamorro people who would stick to Chamorro if she knew you were Chamorro, no matter how poor your Chamorro was.

That's my point in this blog post.

There was a kind of Chamorro in the past, and some probably remain to this day, who will speak only Chamorro to you, another Chamorro, even though your grasp of Chamorro isn't strong.

That's your problem, so to speak! LOL

Her sister, Auntie Kita (María Salas) was two years older than Auntie Båcha', and was the same way. Even though my Chamorro was at best the knowledge of 50 words, which I could hardly string into a sentence, in my teens and 20s, Auntie Båcha' and Auntie Kita would only speak Chamorro to me. It was my problem to figure it out, remember how they spoke, remember words I didn't know and go find out what they meant.

These two sisters weren't the only man biha (older ladies) to do that to me. Tan Ebe' (Nieves San Nicolás) from Sinajaña would look at me, a white-faced tanores (altar boy) in church and tell me to go do something (turn on a light, open a door) and only in Chamorro. Na' fañila' i kandet. Baba i petta. It was my problem to figure it out, and in so doing learn how to say those things in what was supposed to be my language. Auntie Ebe' could have said those same things to me in English, but she chose not to.

"AUNTIE EBE'" 

My face was white, but she only spoke Chamorro to me

Even though I had a white face, Auntie Ebe' knew who I was and more importantly who my family was. She considered me Chamorro, because my mother and grandmother and all my maternal side were Chamorro. Therefore, she would only speak Chamorro to me even though I could hardly reply to her in Chamorro. 

There was another white face in church, our pastor from New York, but she treated the two white faces, his and mine, differently. When she had to say something to him, she would say it haltingly in what little English she knew. Both the New York priest and this young kid from Sinajaña (me) had about as much Chamorro language between them, but she laid her Chamorro on me, and not on him.

This rose to a whole new level when I went to Saipan in the 1990s, and would stay for short periods in Luta and Tinian. There. a whole segment of the older population had almost no grasp of English, except for some words, and could only speak to you in Chamorro. If a non-Chamorro speaker came to the door, a child or grandchild would have to come along and act as interpreter. To a lesser extent, this also happened in Malesso' and Humåtak on Guam, where I was also stationed for a time in the 1990s.

But in Saipan I met more than a few middle-aged Chamorros who spoke English but who, when they found out I was Chamorro, immediately switched to Chamorro, even if I was only beginning to improve my Chamorro. These people could have continued speaking English to me, but they switched to Chamorro when they asked me, "Kao Chamorro hao?" and I responded "Hunggan." They didn't ask me next how good were my Chamorro speaking skills. They just switched to Chamorro and it was my problem if I couldn't catch every word.

Not only was this a way to learn Chamorro, it was a better way for them to communicate with me. They were much more open, more telling, more expressive when speaking their mother tongue.

If there had been more Auntie Båcha's and Auntie Ebe's, we might have more Chamorros speaking Chamorro today. My own nånan biha spoke mainly English to me. She was a teacher and school principal under the US Naval Government most of her early life before the war, so that could have been a factor.

People can say, "But we should do this now! Speak only Chamorro to other Chamorros!"

I'm all for it, with two caveats or cautions.

First, I would hope that it would be people who DO speak Chamorro speaking Chamorro to other Chamorros. It's sad but true that today, on Guam, there are many who at times speak incorrect Chamorro but think they're just fine. Sadly they can pass on their errors to those who know even less and won't know they're learning erroneous Chamorro. And as this effect ripples over time, we will find ourselves in a deeper hole I'm afraid. 

My advice to those who have some grasp of Chamorro is to, first of all, not be over-confident and to triple check what they have to say in Chamorro with a first-language speaker, meaning someone who learned Chamorro in childhood in their family environment (while we still have them!). Someone truly fluent, and not someone who guesses and "thinks" they're right. A language is passed down from the community that speaks it; books encapsulate only a part of the language. Books and videos cannot stop you and say, "Sorry, that was a mistake," or, "That's not how it's said."

Second, promoting the Chamorro language by speaking only Chamorro to other Chamorros will work only if it's done long enough and with people who want to learn. If a non-Chamorro speaker is "forced" to hear Chamorro once or twice a month, little will be gained. If a non-Chamorro speaker could care less, or think it's just too hard to learn, and the Chamorro goes in one ear and out the other, little again will be gained. Sure, a non-Chamorro speaker will have to learn a Chamorro word now and then if they hear it often enough, but they'll probably never learn to speak the language if they could care less or think it's just too hard for them to even try.

But, it could be, and probably there will be, cases where someone begins to learn to speak their language because people like Tan Båcha' came along and refused to speak English to someone they identified as Chamorro. Ta li'e'.