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.